Santa Clawed

by Rita Mae Brown

  “Brother Luther, what’s happened?” Rick quickly stepped inside, as did Cooper.

  “Brother Morris and three of the brothers have disappeared. Brother Sheldon, Brother Howard, and Brother Ed rounded up whoever is left.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because I was knocked out, and the others had been locked in their rooms. I finally found the keys.”

  “Where are the brothers?”

  “In the kitchen.” Brother Luther led them there without being asked.

  Shocked faces turned toward the sheriff and his deputy.

  Brother Sheldon wailed, “We’re ruined!”

  “Will you kindly shut up.” Brother Ed’s nerves were frayed enough; he couldn’t withstand increased histrionics.

  “Let him be, Brother Ed,” Brother Howard, sagging in his bulk, said. “Sheriff, we were going to call you, but first we wanted to figure out what happened.”

  The other brothers nodded in agreement.

  Cooper flipped open her notebook.

  Rick began. “When did you discover you were locked in?”

  “This morning. Rose for matins and couldn’t open the door,” Brother Howard, in charge due to his strong personality, informed them.

  “They did it in the middle of the night,” Brother Ed, furious, spat out.

  “Brother Luther, how did you wind up with jewelry?” Rick asked.

  “Beg pardon?” Brother Luther’s head hurt.

  “Sorry: jewelry, wounds,” Rick replied.

  “I couldn’t sleep. So I got up around midnight and went to my office. I double-checked the books. They balanced, but I wanted to be sure. I’ve had a funny feeling about money lately, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts. There was a knock on the door. I answered. Brother Morris stood before me and that’s all I remember.”

  “Did he take the books?” Rick appeared relaxed, but he was certain he was on the right track, eager to den his quarry.

  “No. Left them as he found them.”

  “Brother Luther, do you think he’d been pilfering funds?” Rick folded his hands together.

  “It’s worse than that.” Brother Luther’s voice shook.

  On cue, Brother Sheldon wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

  “Shut up!” Brother Ed seized Brother Sheldon’s arm, holding it in his vise grip. “None of us knew. Why the hell do you think we were left here?”

  “It appears he left you funds to continue your work and to live here,” Cooper interjected.

  “We can scrape by,” Brother Luther replied dourly.

  “I thought your order had received big contributions,” Rick said.

  “Yes, and that’s when I became suspicious,” Brother Luther said. “Those checks were given directly to Brother Morris or Brother George. I never saw them. Brother Morris always said he instantly put them into bonds. What a fool I was.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Brother Ed consoled him.

  “I do the books. I should have asked to see those bonds. I didn’t.”

  “If you did, you might be dead.” Brother Sheldon’s voice lifted to the teary note.

  Brother Ed cast him a stern eye. “You’ve got a point there, Brother Sheldon.”

  Calmly and deliberately, Rick asked, “Do you know where the money is?”

  “Presumably with Brother Morris and Company.” Brother Luther dropped his head in his hands. “I think it’s a lot of money.”

  Rick glanced at Cooper, a hint of triumph in his face, which soon enough shifted to disbelief. “So people gave large sums in gratitude for your services in Brother Morris’s name.”

  “No, Brother Morris isn’t that dumb. He had to have an account with a bank or with a brokerage house similar to the one here.” Brother Luther was sharp as a tack in his own way.

  “What do you mean?” Rick unfolded his hands.

  “Since I never saw the account, I can’t give you a specific name, but an easy one would be to have the checks made out to BOL instead of Order of the Brothers of Love.” Brother Luther’s mind crept into underhanded accounting byways in an attempt to figure this out.

  “A fairly straightforward scam.” Rick’s eyes met each brother’s gaze.

  “No. It’s far more clever.” Brother Luther nodded to Brother Howard, who took over.

  “My task for the order involved meeting people. You might say I am our public relations expert. I scheduled Brother Morris, I called on people. Brother George did, too, and I began to notice over the last two years…well, let me say that it wasn’t obvious to me at first, since my mind doesn’t run on that track.”

  Rick almost uttered the words, “What track?” but he waited patiently.

  “I swear I didn’t know,” Brother Sheldon whimpered again.

  “I called on the more middle-class people. Brother Morris and Brother George called on the richer ones.”

  “I’m not sure what the significance is,” Rick replied honestly.

  “Bigger checks, obviously, but I also think that Brother Morris and Brother George identified people with Achilles’ heels.” He paused. “I expect they threatened to expose them.”

  Cooper half-smiled. “Lucrative.”

  Rick continued questioning. “What kind of Achilles’ heels?”

  Brother Luther answered. “Gambling. Affairs. Shady business deals. And some of the affairs were married men with other men.”

  “How do you know that?” Rick pressed.

  Brother Sheldon, misty-eyed again and looking guilty, confessed, “Brother Christopher told me.”

  “Brother Sheldon, you withheld evidence.” Rick sounded stern.

  “How could I have revealed that?”

  “What did Brother Christopher have to do with it?”

  “He owed money,” Brother Sheldon said.

  “To whom?”

  “Alex Corbett.” Brother Sheldon’s chin wavered again.

  “Don’t start blubbering, Brother Sheldon.” Brother Howard pointed a finger at him.

  “Oh, shut up.” Brother Sheldon surprised everyone, then turned to Rick. “Alex runs a little betting business: football, horses, any large sporting event. Brother Christopher couldn’t resist the idea of winning money.”

  “So?” Rick shrugged.

  “He didn’t win.” Brother Sheldon stated what he thought was obvious. “He had to pay it off somehow.”

  “How did he do that?” Rick kept his voice even.

  “Sex for money.” Brother Sheldon cast down his eyes. “It was wrong, but I wasn’t going to rat on a friend.”

  “With women?” Rick had to admire Brother Sheldon’s loyalty, even if somewhat misplaced.

  “One man.”

  “Let me be clear: Christopher Hewitt sold his body to a man?”

  “He didn’t like it but the money was good. The man was head over heels.” Brother Sheldon wanted to make sure no one thought Brother Christopher was gay. “Brother Christopher was weak where money was concerned.”

  “Who was his partner?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Guess.” Rick pushed harder.

  “Bill Keelo or Bryson Deeds.”

  Rick’s eyebrows shot up. “Your reasons?”

  “Those were the men I saw him with, and they became increasingly helpful to our order.”

  Brother Howard butted in. “You think Brother Morris figured it out?”

  “Of course,” Brother Sheldon replied.

  “Blackmail.” Brother Luther shuddered. “I knew it!”

  “Why didn’t you come forward?” Rick forced his anger down.

  “Didn’t know for sure.”

  Cooper asked, “Was Brother Speed in debt, too?”

  Brother Sheldon nodded. “He bet on the ponies.” He sighed deeply. “Money. Money is the root of all evil.”

  “So they just wanted to pay off their debts?” Rick asked.

  “Yes. They swore they’d stop gambling.”
Brother Sheldon had believed them.

  “And Brother Speed…uh, serviced a man, too.” Rick said more than asked, as he watched Cooper’s pencil fly over her notebook.

  “The money is with men, Sheriff. I don’t think women will pay a lot for sex,” Brother Howard interjected.

  “So it seems.” Rick was surprised, for he didn’t see this coming. “Speed’s client?”

  “Either Bryson or Bill,” Brother Sheldon answered.

  “And Bill and Bryson knew about each other.” Rick focused on Sheldon.

  “They’d met the brothers together. At the Christmas tree farm or at the hospice. And they had good reasons to be there. They didn’t arouse suspicion.”

  Brother Luther allowed himself an acid comment. “Bill Keelo tried to cover himself by being publicly homophobic. Ass.”

  Brother Sheldon, scandalized at the language, chided, “That’s enough.”

  “Two men are dead and you’re worried that I said ‘ass’?” Brother Luther snorted.

  “So the question is, who was blackmailed and who killed?” Rick rubbed his jaw.

  “Well, I can tell you Brother Christopher never blackmailed anyone.” Brother Sheldon got misty again. “He tried to reform. He did. But easy money corrupted him. The flesh is weak.”

  “Obviously.” Cooper’s comment was fact.

  “Blackmail.” Brother Luther said the chilling word again and shook his head.

  “I don’t know if the order can recover from this,” Brother Howard mournfully said.

  Brother Luther replied, “People will always need help with the dying.”

  Driving down the mountain, Rick immediately sent out a call to pick up Brother Morris and his cohorts. Clever though the opera singer might be, hiding that bulk could prove very difficult.

  “Think we’ll get him?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know when.” Rick noticed how the water running over the rocks on the mountainside had turned to blue ice. “I hope we can get him to tell us exactly who they blackmailed. And mind you, Coop, this doesn’t solve the murders.”

  Rick then called to have Bill Keelo and Alex Corbett picked up for questioning.

  “They might be with Racquel,” Cooper suggested.

  “We’ll swing by, then.”

  People continued to come and go at the Deedses’, food being devoured with each successive wave of visitors. Racquel seemed more level, less prone to outbursts, at least so far. People understood that a sudden death unnerves those close to the deceased. Everyone made allowances for her.

  Rick instructed the officers he called in to form a barrier on both ends of the street. He also sent some on foot to the back of the house, in case Bill or Alex made a run for it.

  He parked the squad car alongside another car immediately in front of the house. Cooper couldn’t get through on the Deedses’ phone or Harry’s cell, but she was right in thinking Bill and Alex were both there.

  “Let’s see if we can’t do this calmly.”

  Coop, seeing Harry’s truck as well as those of their friends, truly hoped this would be the case.

  They knocked on the door, and Jean Keelo opened it. Initially, she wasn’t surprised to see them, assuming they’d come to pay their respects.

  This changed when Rick whispered, “Do you think you can get your husband and Alex Corbett to the front door without arousing suspicion?”

  Too late, for Biddy Doswell, not one to turn from any heightened emotion, squealed as she caught sight of Rick in the front hall. “Sheriff Shaw, how good of you to come.”

  Harry, in the kitchen with Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker, heard Biddy bray.

  “Bother.” Harry sighed.

  Cooper saw Bill in the dining room when she made her way through the people. She whispered to him, “Come with me.”

  “Why?” A belligerent note crept in his voice.

  “It’s better if you do. I’m sure you can give us the information we need. If you resist, I will arrest you. How will that look?”

  Bill blanched. “I have a right to know what this is about.”

  “The murders.”

  “I have nothing to do with that.” He was really belligerent now.

  “Well, you were sleeping with Christopher Hewitt and maybe Brother Speed, too.”

  His face crumpled. He whispered, “I’ll go.”

  “Do you know where Alex is?”

  “With Racquel.”

  He followed Cooper to the foyer, where she opened the door. Bill was surprised to see an officer standing outside.

  “Take him in.” Cooper stepped back inside.

  Racquel, ears perked up, cast her eyes upward as the two officers came into the room. She assumed, like everyone else, they were paying a social call.

  Harry had left the kitchen, joining everyone in the living room. She observed Cooper’s face and realized this was not a social call.

  Cooper walked over to Alex, who was standing behind Racquel. As she whispered to him, his face registered fear.

  “Something’s up,” Mrs. Murphy said, and her two friends felt it, too.

  Rick leaned down. “Mrs. Deeds, could we have a moment of your time?”

  “Now?” Her face registered suspicion while she tried to look a proper widow.

  “We have some urgent questions. I’m very sorry, but it’s critical we talk to you now in private.” Rick’s voice stayed low.

  Racquel shot up, pushing him away. To his extreme embarrassment—for he had never considered the possibility—she snatched his revolver right out of the holster and grabbed Harry, who had come up to stand next to her.

  Putting the gun to Harry’s head with her right hand while wrapping her left arm around Harry’s throat, she said in a not-unpleasant voice, “Harry, I truly like you, but you’re my shield. Don’t be stupid. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”

  Harry, speechless because Racquel’s left arm pressed hard against her throat, backed up as Racquel walked backward.

  “Mrs. Deeds, don’t make the situation worse than it is. Let her go,” Rick commanded.

  “No.” Racquel kept backing up, looking over her shoulder. She shouted to her visitors, “Don’t try anything. All I want is to get out of here and get away. Keep your distance and no one will get hurt.” She looked at her two sons. “Boys, I can explain this later. Stay where you are. I don’t want you in the middle of this.”

  They didn’t even twitch.

  “We could rush her,” Pewter suggested.

  “Need a better spot with less people.” Mrs. Murphy assessed the situation.

  “I can get behind her and trip her,” Tucker offered. “Then you two can rip her face off while I turn her legs into hamburger.”

  “Our best chance is the back door, when she has to reach back for it. If she turns around, then Harry will be in front of her. That won’t work for Racquel. She’ll have to open the door while still facing the people,” Mrs. Murphy said.

  Without further coordination, the three animals silently hurried to the back door.

  As Racquel continued to carefully back up, she said in a normal conversational voice to Harry, “I don’t know how you accepted Fair as you did. In some ways I admire you for it. In other ways, I think you’re a fool. Once a player, always a player. But let me tell you, so at least one person knows why I did what I did: Bryson was despicable. Completely despicable.”

  They reached the back door and, before getting her hand on the knob, Racquel slightly loosened her grip on Harry’s throat.

  Hoping to distract her, to slow her down, Harry rasped, “You killed them, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. Although I may have made a mistake with Christopher. Too late now.” Her voice was almost cheerful. Her heel struck Tucker, who was lying down. The corgi stood up and bit her calf.

  As Racquel started to tumble backward, Mrs. Murphy leapt up toward her face, delivering a slashing blow, while Pewter sank two serious fangs into the flesh between Racquel’s thumb and forefinger.


  Racquel still held the gun in her hand, which was pulled downward. She pressed the trigger without taking aim, shooting a hole in the floor.

  Harry wrenched free. The cats now attacked Racquel’s face, and Tucker, with greater jaws and more pressure per square inch, clamped onto her gun hand, biting so hard she severed a tendon and ripped through other muscles. Her grip shredded, Racquel dropped the gun. The mighty little corgi grabbed it in triumph and gave it to Harry. Harry quickly turned it on Racquel, who was still trying to swat away the cats.

  “Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, let her go,” Harry commanded.

  “Oh, pooh,” Pewter fussed, for her bloodlust was up.

  Mrs. Murphy ripped out her claws. Pewter, knowing she had to as well, did, but not without the satisfaction of noticing some tiny bits of flesh dangling from them.

  Rick and Cooper, who had followed from a distance so as not to provoke Racquel to harm Harry, now rushed forward.

  Rick took back his gun.

  Harry, wisely, said nothing.

  Cooper had Racquel on her feet. The woman’s well-tended face was bleeding all over her and the floor, and her right hand shook with pain.

  “Folks, after Sheriff Shaw puts Racquel in the squad car, best you all return home or to your hotels.” Miranda, now out of the kitchen, took charge.

  Coop called out to Harry, “Go home. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Harry knelt down to thank her animal friends, then stood up to follow Cooper’s orders.

  Jean seconded Alicia’s request. “People, none of us knows what’s going on. Please go. I’ll call you if I know anything.” She turned to Alicia. “I’ll stay with the boys until their grandparents get here. They said they’d be coming by at about five.”

  Once out the door, Pewter puffed up. “She didn’t have a chance.”

  “Yes, Rocky.” Mrs. Murphy smiled.

  Hurrying home after his wife called and thankful that no equine emergencies had sprung up, Fair blew through the door. “Honey! Honey, where are you?”

  “In the living room.”

  He walked in to find Harry stretched out on the couch, two cats on her chest and one corgi on her feet. “Don’t get up. Tell me everything.”