“Maybe the killer is one of the monks,” BoomBoom said logically.
“Could be. Bryson may have figured it out.” Harry tied up yet another garbage bag. “We’re going to need more of these things.”
“I’ll pick up some on the way home,” Alicia volunteered.
“The thing is”—Susan paid no attention to the garbage bags—“something is wrong up there.”
“The monks are probably making moonshine. A lucrative trade if you’re good at it,” BoomBoom said.
“Two monks weren’t killed over moonshine. Moonshine boys know how to get even, but murder wasn’t necessary. It’s something we can’t imagine. But what could have aroused this fury, this frenzy?” Harry hated not knowing something.
“The sheriff has been up there. Don’t you think if something were out of whack, he’d notice?”
“Apparently not.” BoomBoom then said, “Honey, write down who takes what. I’m going to round up the girls and have everyone take a dish or dishes. Are you ready, Miranda?”
“Until the next wagon train pulls in.”
“While you all do that, let me go let Tucker out of the truck to go to the bathroom.” Harry walked into the front hall and retrieved her coat. The cats had stayed home today, although not by choice. She was glad for the cold, fresh air as she walked carefully over the icy sidewalk.
Despite the rock salt on it, the ice was so thick that only patches of it had melted.
Just as Harry opened the door for Tucker, Brother George and Brother Ed pulled up.
When Brother George opened the door, Tucker attacked. “You hit my mother!”
“Tucker! Tucker!”
“I’ll kill you.”
Brother George screamed as the fangs sank through his pants. Finally Harry got the corgi off, bustling her back into the truck.
“He’s the murderer! He hit you and left you in the blizzard.”
She ran over to Brother George, who had pulled up his pants leg, where blood was trickling down.
“I am so sorry. I’ll pay for any doctor bills. I don’t know why she did that. She’s never done that.”
Brother George knew exactly why Tucker had attacked. “No need, no need. Given all that’s happened, this is a small worry.”
Brother Ed, on his knees and nearly stuck to the snow, examined the puncture wounds. “You’ll be all right. Let’s go inside and see if we can wash this with alcohol.”
“Don’t,” Harry bluntly ordered them. “Racquel told Brother Luther that he was responsible for Bryson’s death, that the whole monastery is responsible. Best not to show your faces right now.”
“Where is Brother Luther?” Brother Ed couldn’t believe this.
“He must have left about twenty minutes ago,” Harry replied. “Look, it’s nuts, but she’s understandably out of it, and you...well, you all won’t be helpful at this moment.”
“Thank you.” Brother Ed propelled Brother George into the old Volvo, another of the beat- up vehicles owned by the order.
Before he closed the door, Brother George said again, “Don’t worry about this, Harry. Really.”
It was a toss-up as to who felt most relieved when the two monks left, Brother George or Harry.
After another hour of organizing, cleaning, throwing garbage into the back of trucks so people could dispose of it, Harry and Fair drove back to the farm.
She’d told him about Tucker and Brother George.
“Not like Tucker. For some reason she’s taken an extreme dislike to Brother George,” he said.
“Won’t anybody listen to me?” the dog whined in frustration.
Back at the farm, the dog relayed events to the two cats. All three animals agreed to continue being alert.
Finally in bed, Fair breathed a sigh of relief. “Emotional scenes exhaust me.”
“Me, too. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Well, she’s drinking a lot. I expect she’s been loaded ever since the news was broken to her. I don’t know if she can control it anymore.”
“I don’t know, either, but Racquel, who’s not a shrinking violet, still isn’t the type to scream at somebody in front of everyone, no less.”
Harry flopped back on two propped- up pillows. “What else can go wrong?”
She really should have known better than to ask that question.
30
Saturday, December 27, promised more snow. Cooper volunteered to work that weekend so she could have the next weekend off, when Lorenzo would be in town.
Harry told her of the scene at Racquel’s. As it turned out to be a slow day, Cooper thought she’d drive to the monastery and ask a few more questions. Since no one was expecting her, she hoped to catch a few of the brothers off guard.
She knocked on the large wooden door. No answer. She knocked harder this time. Finally the door swung open. Brother Luther invited her inside. “Is Brother Morris expecting you?” “No.” “Let me see if he’s available.” Brother Luther started to shuffle off. After a ten-minute wait in silence, Brother Morris swept in. “Officer Cooper, please come into my office.” She followed him. “Where is everybody?”
“Working or praying. Here we are.” He swept his arm outward, indicating where she should sit. “Can I get you anything?”
“No. I have a few questions. I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Anything to help. These events are beyond terrible.” He settled in the oversize chair opposite hers.
“Are you aware of Racquel’s outburst yesterday?”
“Brother Luther told me. The poor woman. I’d called on her that morning and she showed no hostility toward me.”
“Dr. Deeds treated many of the brothers, did he not?”
“He was extremely generous.”
“Did you ever have occasion to be with him during such times?”
This surprised Brother Morris. “No.”
“Did you ever see him in the hospice?”
“Yes. He tended to our patients sometimes.”
“Was any patient ever angry with him?”
“No. Quite the contrary.”
“Did you ever hear any whispers of Dr. Deeds making a mistake? Say a mistake that cost a patient his or her life?”
This again surprised Brother Morris. “No. Again, Deputy Cooper, it was quite the reverse. He was above reproach in his profession.”
“Ever hear or suspect he was having an affair or had had affairs?”
A silence followed this.
Brother Morris cleared his throat. “People talk.”
“Tell me.”
Shifting uneasily in his chair, he finally spoke. “There was talk about a liaison with a very pretty nurse. But you always hear that type of gossip. I certainly never suspected him of anything improper. I never even saw him flirting, and most everyone does that.”
“No trouble with your brothers?”
“No. Granted, Dr. Deeds wasn’t always sweetness and light. He was accustomed to giving orders.” He smiled. “I half-expected him to yell out, ‘Stat.’ He was a caring physician. Bryson truly cared about his patients’ welfare. I can’t believe he would be murdered, but then I can’t believe Brother Christopher and Brother Speed are gone, either.”
“Do you know what an obol is?”
“Of course. In ancient Greece, it was placed under the deceased’s tongue so they could pay Charon to ferry them across the River Styx. Why?”
“Brothers Speed and Christopher and Dr. Deeds all had an obol under their tongues.”
Brother Morris paled slightly. “How very strange.”
“Racquel thinks all these murders point here.”
He met her eyes. “They do. But why?”
“I hope to find out. Brother Morris, I don’t think there is a human being alive who doesn’t harbor some secrets. If you’ve been withholding something, please tell me. If it’s something illegal, I’ll do what I can for you. Given the situation, I need all the help you can give me.”
He sighed deeply. “I would have told you by now if there was something. That doesn’t mean a brother might not be covering up something, but there are no flashing red lights. The only thing that I return to is that Racquel was quite suspicious of Bryson. That’s not a secret, but perhaps she saw demons when there were none.”