"No one else ever went with you?"
"No. Just Brother Thomas."
"Would Brother Thomas ever have reason to steal a packet of blood?"
"No." Brother Andrew shrugged. "I can't think of any reason."
"Well, I can if the Blessed Virgin Mother is crying tears of blood."
This stopped Brother Andrew breathing for a moment. "Good Lord!"
"Seems obvious to me. And really, it should be obvious to you. Your surprise doesn't convince me or let me put it this way, it's a good thing you went into medicine and not acting."
"I resent that."
"Thought you might." Rick smiled. "You do confess that you have broken the law by keeping blood and administering transfusions?"
"I do," was the terse answer.
"Well, if you are willing to bend the rules in one area, I expect you would bend or break them in another area."
"Sheriff Shaw, I try to follow a narrow path. But sometimes one must break the rules."
A long silence followed this. Rick finally said, "I'm arresting you for the murder of Brother Thomas. You have the right to a lawyer. You waived it earlier. Would you like to reconsider?"
"Yes, but I don't know where to turn. And I only have one phone call, right?"
"Don't worry about that." Rick rubbed his forehead. "The state will appoint a lawyer if you don't have one. Or you can call someone you trust to find one. I'm not going to stick to one phone call. Your situation is unique because you have withdrawn from the world for the most part. Perhaps there's someone you treated whom you would trust."
"I trust Ned Tucker."
"Why Ned?"
"Brother Thomas. Susan would visit from time to time. Brother Thomas loved her and thought highly of Ned."
"Mmm. You can try. He might decline since you are accused of killing his wife's great-uncle."
"Are you going to lock me up?"
"Yes."
Brother Andrew's face registered his uneasiness. "I see. Will I be in a cell with other men?"
"No. I'll put you in your own cell. But remember, Jesus died with criminals. I would think being with the fallen would be an opportunity for you."
Brother Andrew dropped his head a moment, then looked up. "I will do my best, but I wish you wouldn't lock me up."
"Brother Andrew, you're my best suspect at this point." Rick lowered his voice. "And if you didn't kill Brother Thomas and Nordy Elliott, being in jail may just save your life."
35
We cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard." Miranda quoted Acts, Chapter 4, Verse 20.
"Miranda, what have I seen?" Harry bent over the large dining-room table at Miranda's house, where Miranda had spread the plans for her expanded garden and the blueprints for a small gardening shed. "Wow, this thing has running water, slanting windowpanes for forcing bulbs, staggered shelves, even long sinks for potting, watering, and replanting. You've thought of everything."
"Tazio was a great help to me. What a mind that young woman has; she can see things in three dimensions."
"That's why she's an architect." Harry admired the clapboard structure, a small weathervane on top. "What kind of weathervane will you buy?"
"Have to think about that final touch." Miranda put her hands on her hips. "This is a lifetime dream. Harry, I am so excited."
"You deserve it. I'm good with a hammer and nails, you know."
"You'll be called." Miranda hugged her.
"Now, about this quote, seeing and hearing. That's witnessing, right?"
"Yes, but witnessing isn't talking as much as it's living the Lord's word. You bear witness, you don't talk witness."
"I understand, but Herb said something to me and I can't get it out of my mind. It's this eye stuff. The tears, Nordy's death. I don't know, I'm fixated on eyes, and Herb said, 'What do eyes do but bear witness?'"
"It's a moot point, Harry. Brother Andrew is in custody."
"Circumstantial evidence, I say. Until we know why, well, let me put it this way: even if Rick has enough for a conviction, I can't rest until I know why."
"It's the Hepworth in you." Miranda mentioned her maternal line. "Curious as cats, every one. That's why your mother spent so much time in the library. Kept her from meddling, but she satisfied her curiosity."
"Well, that's a nice way of saying I'm nosy."
The older woman smiled. "You are wonderful as you are. Nothing wrong with being curious."
"Don't even think of it!" Harry snapped at Mrs. Murphy, who was wiggling her haunches, ready to spring onto the table. "Paw-prints on your plans."
"Spoilsport." Mrs. Murphy complained but didn't jump up.
"Gets crabby when she hits a dead end," Pewter observed.
"That's what worries me. What if it is a dead end? A man's in jail. She should leave it be."
"When she stops poking around we'll know she's ready to die. She wouldn't be herself." The tiger sauntered into the kitchen, the others following.
"Give me another example of witnessing."
Miranda rubbed her chin with her forefinger, then quoted. "So we are ambassadors for Christ, God making His appeal through us. We beseech you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God."
"New Testament, right?"
"Second Corinthians, Chapter Five, Verse Twenty. We aren't being asked to go around and preach so much as we are charged with living Christ's teaching. Of course, some are called. They go out and preach. I couldn't do it."
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid of speaking in public." She laughed.
The door flew open and Susan, madder than a wet hen, blew through it, shaking in her hand an expensive fly-fishing rod and reel. "Another mystery solved! I will kill him. He promised me he wouldn't buy this. I'm scrimping to paint the inside of the house. Do you know what this cost?" She answered her own question. "A thousand dollars. There isn't a fish in the James River worth a thousand dollars. I will strangle him."
"Susan, he's had that since summer." Harry opened her big mouth.
"Oops." Mrs. Murphy giggled in the kitchen, turning on her heels to better watch the show.
"Someone better pour Susan a drink. She's stressed out," Pewter sensibly suggested.
"You knew!" Susan's eyes widened. "You knew and you didn't tell me. I ought to strangle you, too."
"Now, wait a minute, Susan—"
Susan threw the rod on the table, saw that it plopped on blueprints and plans, and quickly picked it up. "I'm sorry, Miranda."
"Girls, a late-afternoon sherry might be in order."
"Thank God." Pewter rubbed against Miranda's legs.
"I'll take a baseball bat, thank you." Susan's eyes burned.
"Oh, Suz, come on. Take a drink. Sit down. I can explain, really, I can."
Once settled in the living room, Miranda handed each woman a sherry glass. Harry wasn't a drinker, but a sip of sherry on a cold day can provide a touch of warmth.
"You two sort this out and I'll bring in scones and tea. A bit of hot tea with sherry works wonders."
As Miranda bustled in the kitchen, the animals with her because she tossed them treats, Harry started in, "It's like this: Herb borrowed the new rod and reel. He made a bet with Ned last summer and, I don't remember what it was, but anyway, he won, so he got to use Ned's fancy rod and reel for a fishing trip over in Monterey on the Jackson River. Ned feared your wrath, so Herb kept the rod and reel at his house. Guess Ned took it back. Where did you find it?"
"In his clothes closet in the back. I usually don't go in there, but I wanted one of his Brooks Brothers shirts. How could you keep this from me?"
"Everyone needs their secrets. It seemed harmless enough. And isn't it better to know this than to think he's having an affair?"
"He could still be doing that."
"He probably has a guilty conscience about this. He knows how much you want to get those rooms painted. It's so much money."
"For just two rooms, seven thousand dollars." Susan slumped back in the chair. "The whole house needs it. I guess I could try to do it myself, but I just hate painting. The fumes make me woozy. And we just spent all that money on the apartment in Richmond. How could he!"