“I will. Could you bring me something to drink? I’m a little shaky. I don’t have a scratch on me except for my head, but that doesn’t count.”
“I’ll bring you some hot tea with lemon and a tiny touch of something special.”
Harry rarely drank, but Fair thought a dollop of good whiskey wouldn’t be amiss. As he heated the water, Coop drove up.
Once in the house, Cooper closed the door and leaned against it.
“Harry, bless you.”
“Drink?” Fair was anxious to know what had happened.
“Beer. I want a big, fat, cold beer.”
He opened the refrigerator and handed her a St. Pauli Girl, her favorite.
Within minutes all were seated in the living room, Harry upright now, her feet on the coffee table.
Cooper first told them about visiting the monastery and the forlorn abandoned brothers who’d been locked into their rooms, except for Brother Luther, who’d been knocked out. “As it happens, the North Carolina state police picked up the perps as they headed for the coast. Brother Morris wanted the others to disperse, but no one trusted him to give them the money once they were safe. A falling-out among thieves.” She half-smiled, then took a sip. “And Brother Luther and Brother Howard were right: Brother Morris had a separate account; he was definitely blackmailing men. But he’s not a killer.”
“Good Lord,” Fair exclaimed.
“Where does Racquel come in?” Harry burst with curiosity.
“Bryson had had affairs at the hospital. The ones she initially pounced on over the years were with women. But as time went on, he couldn’t submerge his true nature. She sensed it. Over the last year and a half, his constant visits to the monastery for ‘medical reasons’ sent her red flags up. She started snooping. He really did think he was smarter than anyone else, didn’t take too many precautions. He assumed no one would dream he had fallen in love with Speed. Racquel found condoms, the occasional cryptic note in what seemed to be a man’s handwriting. Bryson made two fatal mistakes: he underestimated his wife, and he fell in love with Speed. At least that’s what Racquel says.
“Racquel initially thought he was in love with Christopher.” Cooper took a breath. “She was so humiliated that her husband was sleeping with a man that she lost it. She confronted him. He denied it.”
“Did she overpower them in some fashion?” Fair asked.
“No. Racquel is very attractive. She offered herself to them. Remember, both men like women, or liked them. All she had to do was slip behind them and slit their throats before they knew what hit them. Neither man dreamed he was in danger.”
“Didn’t their murders upset Bryson? If he was in love with Speed he would be devastated,” Fair said.
“He tried to hide it, but he was. His suppressed grief made her even angrier,” Cooper said.
“And Bryson didn’t suspect his wife?” Harry wondered how Bryson could be so obtuse.
“He was getting nervous, but he didn’t think Racquel was the killer. He thought he had her under his thumb. Apart from his inborn arrogance, he had a touch of smugness about women. He thought men were superior, or so Racquel says. He didn’t treat her badly, but she felt tremendous humiliation, and her desire for revenge overcame even her maternal affection for the boys. She never thought she’d be caught, though. She was so blinded by rage she didn’t think about being separated from her sons.”
“Those poor kids. Their mother killed their father. They love both parents.” Harry felt terrible for the boys. “Do you think Racquel would have killed me?” she asked Cooper.
“Probably. I don’t think she wanted to, but if it came down to your life versus her freedom, she would have shot you.”
“Lucky I have fast friends.” Harry dangled her arms over each kitty, now in her lap, and Tucker on the floor.
“No one messes with us,” Pewter bragged.
“Here’s something: Brother Morris won’t confess to blackmail. Big surprise. He only says people gave as their hearts moved them.”
“That’s not what was moving,” Fair said laconically.
The two women laughed.
Harry then inquired, “He’s not saying where the money is, is he?”
“Hell, no. He’ll hire a great lawyer, serve his time, and come out to unearth the money. Here’s something else: he admitted that Bryson was generous and that Bill Keelo made a sizable Christmas donation.”
“Bill is currently in jail, since he was uncooperative.” Cooper liked the idea of the lawyer cooling his heels. “Alex swears he’s not involved, but he fits the description of the man who accompanied Racquel to the coin store.” She paused.
“He’s in love with her, of course.”
“Bill Keelo.” Harry was surprised.
“Hoping to draw attention from himself, all that homophobic rant.” Cooper smiled ruefully. “People can be pretty nasty. When they can’t face who and what they are, it’s a real cluster you-know-what.”
“Yep.” Harry liked the tang in her tea.
“I’m willing to bet that Racquel’s lawyer will use in her defense that she was frightened that Bryson would commit incest with their sons.” Cooper knew how legal things worked.
“Gross.” Harry wrinkled her nose.
“And it will be very effective.” Fair, too, had seen enough legal arguments to know some slick lawyer could get Sherman’s March to the Sea reduced to trespassing.
“So Bryson never went out for milk?”
“He did. But he thought he was going for an assignation at Barracks Road. Racquel had sent him a text message, name withheld, to meet for sex. The man was a fool for sex. She howled with laughter when she described walking up to the Tahoe. She’d parked behind the buildings, then walked out into the parking lot. She said if she sits in jail forever, she’ll cherish that moment when he realized the game was up and he wasn’t half as smart as he thought he was. She had a gun on him and marched him to the fountain. Then she put the gun to his temple, told him to hold still, and slit his throat. He didn’t expect that, either. She’s totally unrepentant.”
“And the boys will never admit their mother left the house on Christmas Eve. I expect they knew she’d left the house,” Harry said.
“Probably. What a burden they’ll carry.”
“What’s the significance of the obol?” Fair inquired.
“To throw us off. She won’t tell us who accompanied her when she stole them. She laughed again when we brought that up. She said they’ll all go to hell and she paid the fare. She’s gleeful.”
Suddenly Pewter shot off Harry’s lap, raced for the tree, and climbed to the top, where she batted the gold star. “I’m the top of the top.”
“Demented.” Tucker sighed.
“I saved the day! Me. Me. Me.”
“There’s no living with her.” Tucker sighed.
“Can’t beat ’em, join ’em.” Mrs. Murphy leapt off the sofa and climbed the tree, hanging on the trunk across from Pewter.
The Christmas tree swung to and fro, the balls tinkling when they touched one another.
Harry got up and reached into the tree to steady it by grasping the trunk. Her reward was to be pricked by the sharp needles.
The cats hollered, “We’re the tops, we’re the cat’s pajamas.”
It was just as well that Cole Porter had gone to his reward and that Harry had no idea what those two were shouting about.
Ho Ho Ho
Isn’t Christmas the best? A trimmed tree to climb, presents to shred, food that falls under the table or is helpfully pushed off. Christmas is a cat’s favorite holiday.
There is one little quibble I have with how humans view Christmas. Who do you think kept mice away from Baby Jesus? Who curled up in His cradle to keep Him warm? The swaddling clothes weren’t worth squat. A cat. Oh sure, there was a donkey there and a cow and chickens, but it was a cat that did the work. A few humans remember because a tiger cat with an M on its forehead is a descendant of Mary’s cat.
/> Even if you don’t have a Mary’s cat, do shower your puss with tuna, chicken, beef, ham, capons, goose, catnip, and warm fuzzies to sleep on. It’s the Christian thing to do.
Sneaky Pie
Dear Reader,
For once I’ve read Sneaky’s missive to you all and I agree one hundred percent. Let me add one thing: give to your local humane shelter. Give as generously as you can. Some of the cats and dogs are there because their owner has passed away or is ill and can no longer attend to them. Most are there because of crass human irresponsibility. Personally, I’d like to bring back the stocks and put these sorry so-and-so’s in them for all to see. It’s humans who maim and abandon pets, not the reverse. So do remember Mary’s cat and all the others who are temporarily dependent on you. As Blanche DuBois said, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
Merry Christmas.
Happy New Year.
About the Authors
RITA MAE BROWN is the bestselling author of several books. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and poet, she lives in Afton, Virginia. Her website is www.ritamaebrown.com. She does not own a computer. God willing, she never will. Sometimes the website manager sends your queries. The safest way to reach her is in care of Bantam Books.
SNEAKY PIE BROWN, a tiger cat born somewhere in Albemarle County, Virginia, was discovered by Rita Mae Brown at her local SPCA. They have collaborated on seventeen Mrs. Murphy mysteries: Wish You Were Here; Rest in Pieces; Murder at Monticello; Pay Dirt; Murder, She Meowed; Murder on the Prowl; Cat on the Scent; Pawing Through the Past; Claws and Effect; Catch as Cat Can; The Tail of the Tip-Off; Whisker of Evil; Cat’s Eyewitness; Sour Puss; Puss ’n Cahoots; The Purrfect Murder; and Santa Clawed, in addition to Sneaky Pie’s Cookbook for Mystery Lovers.
Books by Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown
WISH YOU WERE HERE
REST IN PIECES
MURDER AT MONTICELLO
PAY DIRT
MURDER, SHE MEOWED
MURDER ON THE PROWL
CAT ON THE SCENT
SNEAKY PIE’S COOKBOOK FOR MYSTERY LOVERS
PAWING THROUGH THE PAST
CLAWS AND EFFECT
CATCH AS CAT CAN
THE TAIL OF THE TIP-OFF
WHISKER OF EVIL
CAT’S EYEWITNESS
SOUR PUSS
PUSS ’N CAHOOTS
THE PURRFECT MURDER
SANTA CLAWED
Books by Rita Mae Brown
THE HAND THAT CRADLES THE ROCK
SONGS TO A HANDSOME WOMAN
THE PLAIN BROWN RAPPER
RUBYFRUIT JUNGLE
IN HER DAY
SIX OF ONE
SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT
SUDDEN DEATH
HIGH HEARTS
STARTING FROM SCRATCH: A DIFFERENT KIND OF WRITERS’ MANUAL
BINGO
VENUS ENVY
DOLLEY: A NOVEL OF DOLLEY MADISON IN LOVE AND IN WAR
RIDING SHOTGUN
RITA WILL: MEMOIR OF A LITERARY RABBLE-ROUSER
LOOSE LIPS
ALMA MATER
HOTSPUR
FULL CRY
OUTFOXED
THE HUNT BALL
THE HOUNDS AND THE FURY
THE TELL-TALE HORSE
THE SAND CASTLE
HOUNDED TO DEATH
SANTA CLAWED
A Bantam Book / November 2008
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2008 by American Artists, Inc.
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Michael Gellatly
Bantam Books is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brown, Rita Mae.
Santa clawed: a Mrs. Murphy mystery / Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown; illustrations by Michael Gellatly.
p. cm.
1. Haristeen, Harry (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Murphy, Mrs. (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Women postal service employees—Fiction. 4. Women detectives—Virginia—Fiction. 5. Women cat owners—Fiction. 6. Cats—Fiction. 7. Crozet (Va.)—Fiction. 8. Christmas stories. I. Title.
PS3552.R698S26 2008
813'.54—dc22
2008034914
www.bantamdell.com
eISBN: 978-0-553-90592-2
v3.0
Santa Clawed Page 18
