Santa Clawed (9 page)

O
n the eve of the winter solstice, sun sparkling on the snow kept humans and animals happy. Since light was in short supply, the wildlife that hunted in the day hurried to find food before sunset. The birds wanted food to ward off the cold, too. For the humans, some were so out of touch with nature that they failed to realize how the shortening of the days affected them. Some were depressed. Others felt sleepy the minute the sun set. Many ate more, not realizing the cold spurred their appetites. However, the humans all knew there were four more shopping days left until Christmas.

As it was Saturday, December 20, Harry congratulated herself on getting her shopping done early. Wrapped presents, with cards attached, would be given to her friends after the St. Luke’s party. Since everyone would be there—well, most everyone—she’d save gas money on deliveries. Saving money was more important to Harry than to Fair. He figured you can’t take it with you, but he wasn’t a spend-thrift.

“What’s she doing now?”
Pewter rested on the windowsill of the kitchen window over the sink.

“Reading a recipe. Christmas demands special dishes. You know that,”
Mrs. Murphy, also on the windowsill, replied.

“Well, I wish she’d start cooking so we could get tidbits.”

“Stuffed goose,”
Tucker dreamily said from her sheepskin bed.

“Oyster stuffing.”
Pewter purred.

“I don’t think she uses oyster stuffing for goose.”
Mrs. Murphy tried to remember past Christmas meals.
“Of course, she could roast a goose and a capon. Wouldn’t that be something?”

“More for us.”
Pewter raised her voice.

Harry looked up from the notebook, her mother’s fine handwriting still dark blue on the lined pages. “Getting pretty chatty around here.”

Tucker shot out of her bed and raced to the kitchen door.
“Intruder!”

The cats sat up to look out the window just in time to see Simon, the barn possum, scurry back through the animal hatch in the left barn door.

One minute later, Brother Sheldon, with Brother Ed in the passenger seat, rolled up in a one-ton truck.

Harry rose, saw the two monks, put on her jacket, and hurried outside. “Brother Sheldon, Brother Ed, what a welcome surprise. Please come in and have some coffee, tea, or maybe something stronger.”

Brother Sheldon smiled. “Thank you, but we’re here to drop off your tree. Brother Morris has us on many a mission.”

The two men climbed into the back of the truck and maneuvered the symmetrical Scotch pine. Once at the edge of the tailgate, they hopped off, hoisted it, then walked it inside. Harry preceded them to open the doors. The tree was placed in a corner of the living room.

“You wrapped the bucket in red foil.” Harry beamed.

“That’s beautiful.” The two started to leave. “Let me pay you for the tree. I never did pay.”

Now in the kitchen, Brother Ed said, “No. It’s the brotherhood’s gift to you.”

Harry reached into her pocket, pulled out bills, and pressed ten dollars into each man’s hand. “Please take this.”

“We don’t want anything,” Brother Sheldon protested.

“I know you don’t, but it’s cold, you’ve made a special trip, and, really, you’ve made my day.” She walked over to the liquor cabinet, which was an old pie safe, and retrieved a brand-new bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. She handed it to them. “Wards off the chill.”

“Yes, it does.” Brother Ed liked a nip now and then.

As Harry opened the kitchen door for them to leave, she noted, “You sure have a truck full of trees. You will be making the rounds all day.”

“Maybe even the night, with the traffic.” Brother Sheldon frowned. “Too much buying useless stuff.” He threw up his hands. “The bills aren’t paid off until April and half the stuff that people received is in the trash. We need to go back to the real Christmas.”

“I agree with you there. A present or two might be nice, but these days it’s a glut. Even people without much money way overspend.”

Brother Ed, who had a trimmed Vandyke, pulled out his gloves and said, “The American way. That’s one reason I joined the brotherhood. Kind of like stop the ‘ merry-go-wrong’ I want to get off.”

“I understand,” replied Harry, who did.

No sooner did the laden truck leave than Cooper pulled up. The tracks were already glossing with ice.

Tucker barked again, and Harry, seeing Cooper’s well-worn Accord, put up the coffee. Harry didn’t drink coffee but enjoyed making it for others.

Cooper knocked, then came in. She took off her coat, stamping the snow off her boots. “We’re making up for the last few years of little snow.”

“Coffee will be ready in, umm, two minutes.”

“Good.” Cooper carried two medium-size presents with big shiny bows. “Don’t open until Christmas.”

“Promise. Hold on a minute.” Harry walked back to the bedroom and came out with a long, oddly shaped wrapped present. “Same applies, although once you pick it up you may know what it is.” She leaned it against the wall by the kitchen door. It was a power washer, a useful present for a country person.

“Hey, a tree!”

“Brothers Sheldon and Ed just dropped it off.”

Cooper put presents under the tree, which caused Pewter to investigate.

“No catnip?”
The gray cat was disappointed.

“Will she tear open the wrapping?” Cooper cast a stern eye toward the living room. Pewter pointedly ignored her.

“You never know about that one.” Harry poured the coffee and also put out a dish of sliced cheese and apples.

“Thank God, no cookies.”

“It’s a wonder all of Virginia doesn’t go into sugar shock over the holidays.”

They caught up. Cooper, glowing, gave an account of Lorenzo. Harry hoped this was “the one” for Cooper. They talked about Big Mim, Little Mim, the fact that Fair truly needed a partner in business. They went on to political events—always dispiriting—and finally to Brother Christopher.

“It’s not a break, but it’s more information.” Cooper informed Harry that Christopher had received letters from an investor who felt Christopher should go back to work and pay off those who lost money.

“Contact the letter writer?”

Cooper half-smiled. “He was pissed that Christopher was dead. I suppose…well, I don’t know. The point is, the money is lost.”

“Somehow I think time lost is worse than money lost,” Harry thought out loud.

“Could be.” She put a piece of cheese on an apple slice, biting into it. “Any thoughts?”

“Ha. I can’t believe you’re asking me.”

“You can get in the middle of things and you’re often right, but, Harry”—Cooper shook her head—“you take some dumb chances.”

“I know,” Harry admitted. “Actually, I have thought of a few things. I believe that Christopher knew his killer.”

“Why?”

Tucker and Mrs. Murphy perked up to listen.

“No sign of him running away. No sign of struggle. If he’d fought, the snow would have been kicked up. No torn clothes, no bruises. Nothing knocked over.”

Cooper told her, “Right.”

“Another thing: if he’d run through the cut trees and the ones already in pots, he might have knocked some over. I believe he knew who killed him and didn’t fear harm from whoever did it. The killer brought him down. Fast.”

“It seems he didn’t fear whoever cut his throat. I wonder how they could have walked behind him, though. Most of us are uncomfortable with someone directly behind us.”

Harry spoke slowly. “It’s a Christmas tree farm. Any ruse might work. For instance, the killer is there to buy a tree but wants Christopher to measure its height. If he stood behind him measuring, it wouldn’t be so strange.”

“It sure makes you wonder if you ever really know anyone.” Cooper sighed.

“It’s hard enough to know yourself.” Harry smiled.

L
ush dark-green pine garlands were wrapped around stairwells and adorned the top of the hand-blown twelve-pane windows. At either end of the great hall at St. Luke’s, a magnificent magnolia grand flora wreath greeted celebrants as they opened three main doors to stand inside the vestibule with its coatroom, which was also decorated.

Alicia Palmer and BoomBoom Craycroft had knocked themselves out as heads of the decorating committee. They were decorated, as well. Alicia wore a shimmering dress of Christmas red, while BoomBoom wore a long white dress with expensive green bugle beadwork on the shoulders and arms. Stunning as they were separately, they were unbelievable standing side by side.

The Reverend Herbert Jones beamed at the lovely decorations and the crowd of people clearly enjoying themselves. He looked at Alicia and BoomBoom with gratitude for their work. When Alicia and BoomBoom had first announced their love, some church members pitched a fit. Most thought about it, questioned themselves in their hearts, and accepted it. That’s what Herb had hoped for. What good is a Christian who doesn’t think, change, and depend on compassion from one’s sisters and brothers?

Resistance flowed from Bill Keelo. He had even left the church for half a year, but his wife and children missed their friends, the wonderful programs, and, most of all, they missed Herb, who practiced what he preached.

While Bill was civil to the two ladies, no one could accuse him of being accepting. A few others remained implacable, as well. They also opposed women as ministers. Dr. Bryson Deeds was an interesting case. Love between women made perfect sense to him. Love between men did not, and he voiced this one too many times. After all, some of his patients were gay men, and he visited the AIDS patients, too. On a one-to-one basis, he was a caring and fine doctor, but he assiduously avoided gay men as a group. His friendship with Bill Keelo seemed to be reinforced by their mutual dislike.

Bryson liked Brother Morris but was appalled by the brother’s time of disgrace. Racquel just laughed when Bryson had wondered how any man could carry on the way Brother Morris once had. And who would sleep with such a fatty?

St. Luke’s reflected Herb’s outlook. Big Mim with her millions was as welcome as old Hank Malone, poor as a church mouse—not that Cazenovia, Elocution, and Lucy Fur would countenance mice in their domain. Rich, poor, intelligent, not so intelligent, old, young, all nationalities, all manner of pairings: Herb threw open the church doors for all.

His philosophy was that St. Luke’s was a workshop for sinners, not a haven for saints. And Herb believed in saints, those people who suffered for others or who quietly helped throughout their lives to no fanfare.

Not that people didn’t already know, but tonight demonstrated that his embrace of all drew many to him and ultimately to one another.

The fireplaces blazed at each end of the hall, which was jammed with three hundred people, give or take a few. An ebony Steinway built in 1928 was positioned between the windows in the middle. The rich tone of the big grand, rebuilt in 1989, thrilled people who loved music. This was all the accompaniment that Brother Morris, selected brothers, and the St. Luke’s choir needed.

After an hour of socializing, the program began, with rousing carols interspersed with special hymns like “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”

When Miranda Hogendobber stepped up to the dais with Brother Morris, the place fell silent with expectation. Although untrained, Miranda possessed a remarkable instrument that could melt a heart of stone. Her voice blended perfectly with the famous tenor’s as they sang duets.

The magical effect added even more to a glorious night. When the program was over, the applause rolled on. The two returned for an encore, performing “O Come All Ye Faithful” first in English and then “Adeste Fideles” in Latin.

Susan Tucker, favoring her right foot, which she’d twisted slightly slipping on ice, came up next to Harry and whispered, “Best Christmas party yet.”

Harry nodded through another encore.

The two singers bowed, then left the dais.

Harry and Susan made their way through the crowd to congratulate Miranda.

“Thank you.” The older woman beamed. “What an honor to sing with him.” She leaned forward to whisper, “I was worried that he’d be imperious, but he wasn’t.”

“Who could be imperious with you?” Susan complimented her.

“I put your present in the Falcon.” Harry loved that Miranda drove the old Ford from the ’60s, just as she drove her old truck.

“Now, you didn’t have to do that.” Miranda saw Aunt Tally heading for the bar and being intercepted by Big Mim.

“Oh, dear, we’re about to have a contretemps.”

Harry and Susan looked in the direction that Miranda was looking.

“Well, the old girl has a right to her martinis.” Harry laughed. “Probably why she’s lived so long.”

“Right. She’s pickled,” Susan remarked.

Miranda laughed. “Pickled or not, Aunt Tally is a handful.”

Resisting her niece, whose hand gripped her elbow, Aunt Tally burst into a smile as Bill Keelo walked toward her. “Bill, to my rescue.”

“Beg pardon.” He pushed his black-rimmed spectacles back up the bridge of his nose.

Under her breath, Aunt Tally hissed, “Unhand me, Mimsy, or I’ll crack you over the head with my cane, and I mean it.”

“You’ve had enough,” Big Mim whispered back.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” As Bill offered her his arm, Aunt Tally purred, “Wasn’t that the most beautiful singing?”

Big Mim conceded defeat—rare for her—turned on her heel, and bumped into Brother Speed. “I’m sorry.”

The wiry fellow replied, “I’ve had worse bumps than that.”

“Haven’t we all,” Big Mim agreed. “Do you ride anymore?”

“Funny you should mention that, because I was thinking about getting a job riding young horses. As long as I give back fifty percent to the brotherhood, I can work outside. It’s all I know, and I’m not much good at the jobs Brother George finds for me.”

“Come by the barn. Paul could use a part-time rider.”

“Thank you.” Brother Speed felt elated. “That is a Christmas present.”

Quite a few horse people would be at the Corbett Realty Christmas party at Keswick Club. Brother Speed planned to go there after this party to see if he could find more part-time work. In fact, quite a few people would be braving the roads to go to the eastern side of the county. The Corbett party could get quite frolicsome.

Bill waited patiently at the bar while Aunt Tally stood to the side. Brother Ed jostled him, not intentionally.

“Back off, Ed.”

“Sorry. I was shoved from behind,” Brother Ed mildly replied.

“Right.” Bill’s voice dripped with sarcasm, which Brother Ed ignored.

As Bill left to hand Aunt Tally her drink, Fair, also waiting, said to Brother Ed, “Bill’s been touchy lately.”

“Prima donna.” Brother Ed shrugged. “He’s always accusing Bryson of being a prima donna, but I say it takes one to know one.”

“Guess so,” Fair genially replied. “The prima donnas in my life are the cats.”

“Not Harry?” Brother Ed’s eyebrows raised.

“No.”

Brother Morris, surrounded by fans, was attempting to make his way to the bar.

With a straight face, Brother Ed said, “Here he comes with his disciples. Next performance he’ll walk on water.”

Fair laughed. “We’d pay to see that.”

“I’ll tell Brother Morris. He’s very eager to fill the coffers.” Brother Ed smiled.

Fair returned to Harry and Susan, handing both ladies their drinks.

“Where’s yours, honey?” Harry inquired.

“I’m good.” He’d had one hefty scotch on the rocks, and that was enough. “I checked. The tonic water is Schweppes.”

“Aren’t you the best?” Harry squeezed his hand, then stared at Susan’s drink. “When did you start drinking daiquiris?”

“Tonight. Ned’s politicking, and I thought I’d live large.” She laughed.

Her husband, Ned, was a first-term state representative, which was an exciting position, even if sometimes frustrating.

“Bill Keelo surprised me up at the bar,” said Fair. “He was curt, borderline rude, with Brother Ed. I’ve never seen Bill like that.”

“That’s because Brother Ed used to be gay.” Harry shrugged. “Bill works on my mood with this. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but I don’t remember him being this homophobic.” She turned to Susan. “What do you think?”

She dismissed it. “Oh, he’s going through male menopause. The old midlife crisis. He’s been irritable to everyone.”

Fair waved at a client across the room. “Maybe something’s come up in the family.”

“Who knows?” Harry’s attention was on Brother Speed, who was talking to Paul de Silva.

Then Brother Speed joined them, excitedly telling them about his hopes to work part-time at Big Mim’s.

“Ever met a horse you couldn’t ride?” Harry wondered.

“One or two,” Brother Speed admitted.

On the way home after the party, Harry mentioned that if Brother Speed could help her with the yearlings for a month or two, it would be good. “I didn’t want to open my mouth without asking you.”

“Great idea. We ought to be able to afford him.” Fair smiled, since he knew Brother Speed wouldn’t charge much.

“Great. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Tomorrow would be too late.