Rick's voice grew stronger. "And you carried him to his grave."
"I was one of his pallbearers, and if the coffin had been empty, I would have known. Of course, now I know three fifty-pound sacks were in the coffin, not Brother Thomas."
Rick switched tactics. "Nordy Elliott must have known the secret. Maybe he was in on it, a distribution ring, for example."
"He was ambitious, Sheriff, that doesn't mean he was selling drugs," Brother Andrew coolly answered.
"He must have known something."
"If he did, it's gone with him. And with Brother Thomas, as well, if he knew something. But what could he have known? If there is a drug ring, if the old man had stumbled upon it, he would have gone straight to the Prior. Straight to him."
"What if Brother Handle is in on it?" Rick paused as this sank in. "Did you tell Brother Thomas your secrets?"
"He saw me smoke. Occasionally, I took a drink."
"You were a successful physician in your other life. You made a great deal of money. Rarely does a man walk away from something like that."
"I did."
"Why?" Rick bluntly kept at him.
"My wife was dying of cancer. I couldn't save her and she was in terrible pain. When she finally died, I—there's no other way to put it, I broke down. If I hadn't chosen this life, to retreat and pray, I think I would have committed suicide or drunk myself to death. She wouldn't have wanted that."
Rick was silent for a long time, then said, "No, she wouldn't." He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table, then thought better of it. "You check your medical supplies daily?"
"I should but sometimes I let it slide. I figure Brother John has done it for me."
"Wouldn't Brother John report the missing morphine?"
"Not necessarily," Brother Andrew said. "I thought he'd have more sense. I thought I'd get to him before he talked, if he talked."
"He ran right to Brother Handle. How long did you know?"
"Hours." Brother Andrew put his head in his hands. "The cabinet is locked. So I naturally thought that it was John who took the bottle, see? I wanted to ease my way toward him on this. I thought he was the killer."
"A clever fellow could pick the lock. I'd be willing to bet anyone could have picked that lock. It might not have been John who took the bottle."
Cooper interjected. "Why would you think Brother John would kill Brother Thomas?"
"That's just it. I couldn't fathom it. I wanted time."
"Let me ask you this: the tears of blood from the statue of the Virgin Mary. Do you think this is a hoax?" Rick pressed.
"Hoax is a strong word. I think it's a natural phenomenon."
"One bringing in money, much needed money."
"If Brother Handle were unscrupulous, it could bring in more."
"How do you know he isn't?"
A shocked look passed over Brother Andrew's face. "I would know. Brother Frank gives a treasurer's report."
"What if Brother Handle and Brother Frank are in collusion and keeping the money for themselves?" Rick pressed.
"Never."
"Maybe Brother Thomas found out and tipped off Nordy Elliott. Brother Thomas probably wouldn't go to an outside authority, but Nordy was a reporter, not a cop. If the story got out it might pressure the schemers. Brother Thomas thought like that."
"He could have come to you," Rick said.
"I doubt he would," Brother Andrew replied.
"He found out you were in on the cut of the fake miracle," Rick stung him.
"I am not. I would never do something like that."
"You're here because you're a suspect for murder. What's a little fakery and ill-gotten gains compared to that?"
"I didn't kill anyone." Brother Andrew folded his hands together.
"Then perhaps you can explain this to me." Rick spoke as to a slow-witted child. "You keep your medical certification current. Right?"
"I do."
"And how do you do that?"
The monk resented this question because he knew that Rick had the answer, had done the legwork. "To maintain my license I must take thirty hours of study, updating my knowledge, every year."
"Required by the Board of Medicine and the Medical Society of Virginia, correct?"
"Correct. These requirements can be satisfied by lectures, conferences out of state so long as the board recognizes them. If I were to fall behind, my license would be yanked out from under me."
"I'm glad that you know the law in your profession, I mean so far as your certification goes. Tell me then why you keep a blood and plasma supply in the infirmary when you know it is against state regulations? A private physician cannot harbor a blood supply. If I read the law correctly, both nationally and for the great state of Virginia, you aren't even allowed to give a transfusion in a private home."
A pause followed this as Brother Andrew sat stock still.
Clearing his throat, the lean monk replied, "That is the letter of the law, Sheriff, but the spirit of the law, if you will, may be more flexible."
"Not in my business," Rick flatly said.
"We both save lives at our best but in different ways." Brother Andrew leaned forward. "I have no doubt you've bent the rules to save someone."
"Brother Andrew, you're the one being questioned, not me. But I'm listening and I like to think I'm fair about things."
"Driving rains, the outskirts of a hurricane, or a howling blizzard, make it impossible to get up Afton Mountain or down. Have you, in your detective work, looked at the average age of the brotherhood? The average is fifty-nine. I need to have blood and plasma on hand just in case disaster should befall someone. So yes, I have violated the letter of the law and I would do so again to spare a life. I simply must be able to give someone a transfusion in extremis."
"I understand that but I also understand that the blood supply is tightly monitored. How do you get it?"
"I won't tell."
"Do you steal it?"
"Of course not," was the indignant response.
"Do you have your own blood drives?" Rick slyly smiled.
"No. Look, Sheriff, I am not going to put someone else in jeopardy. All I will say is one can get blood from a blood bank, a hospital, or an ambulatory clinic, usually run by a nurse but with a physician overseer. Obviously, you know that."
"I do. I also know that if you wanted to kill someone it would be awfully easy to do it with tainted blood, shall we say."
"Blissfully easy. I don't even have to have infected blood. I can pump too much potassium in the blood and that's it. And being the presiding physician, I'm the one to sign the death certificate. It's so easy to kill someone and make it natural, literally of natural causes, if one is a doctor or nurse. But did I kill Brother Thomas? No. Besides, he didn't need transfusions on a regular basis. Brother Sidney is the one who needs those."
"You're a cool customer, Brother Andrew."
"A doctor has to be cool or he can't function."
"All right, let's consider something else. I would guess it's no huge secret that you gave Brother Sidney a transfusion. And no one has questioned the practice?"
"Why would they? Medicine is a different world. There's no reason that anyone up on that mountain would wonder about Brother John and I keeping a blood supply. The other thing is, as long as people are healthy they pay no attention to their doctors."
"Tell me, then, how would you bring up the supply?" Rick held up his hand. "I'm not grilling you on your source, just want to know if anyone would go with you."
"Brother John if we both could be spared, of course. Brother Thomas would occasionally go with me and we'd run all the errands he needed and pick up the blood last. He stayed in the car while I ran in and picked up the container. It's a blue container which can hold dry ice. But again, I'm sure you know that because your research must have told you how quickly the hemoglobin can break down if warm."
"Yes. Anyone else?"
"Uh, no."
"Think. Have you ever sent anyone to pick up blood without you or Brother John?"
"Never."