Santa Clawed (13 page)

S
ince it was December 23, the staff at the hospital functioned at skeleton level. Fortunately, Dr. Everett Finch, a friend of Fair’s, was on duty in the ER. He X-rayed Harry’s skull and, to be safe, ran an MRI.

Fair, worn out, slumped on a bench in the corridor, Cooper beside him. She’d fallen asleep from the tremendous effort of getting Harry down from the walnut stand.

The doors swung open and Everett walked up to them. “She’s fine. No cracked skull. A concussion, sure enough, but she’ll be okay.”

Tears welled up in Fair’s blue eyes. “Thank God.”

Cooper, awake now, also misted up.

“She’s coming to. She may be nauseated, throw up. And there is some chance her vision will be blurred. You never really know with these things. And I can just about guarantee you that she will remember nothing, maybe not even the pain of being clobbered.” He paused. “Any idea who did this?”

“No,” Fair answered. “We don’t know why she walked halfway up the mountain with a storm coming. She can read the weather better than the weatherman, so you know whatever happened up there, it was important. I hope she can tell us something.”

“I suggest we keep her overnight and you pick her up in the morning.”

Alert now, Cooper asked, “You’re at bare-bones staff, right?”

“Holidays.” Everett smiled.

“Fair, we can’t leave her here. We know whoever attacked her is at large. And whoever attacked her risked a blizzard as much as she did. Our numbers are down, too.” She meant that most people in the sheriff’s department were home for Christmas. “She can be better protected at home.” Cooper stood up to face Everett. “Doc, this is a dangerous situation.”

Upset by this news, he quietly inquired, “You really think someone would come into the hospital?”

“I do. And they will be armed. I’m pretty sure this may be connected to the murders of the two monks.”

What she didn’t want to say was that, if someone came in unarmed, given low staff numbers and part-time help, they might easily slip by a police guard. Also, the animals proved a good warning system at home.

“Jesus.” He whistled.

“You would help us if you’d instruct anyone who has seen Harry, and this includes the ambulance driver, not to tell anyone. They might actually keep their mouths shut if you inform them they could be in danger themselves if the perp finds out they had contact with her today.” Cooper breathed in. “We’re dealing with someone who is both twisted and ruthless, someone who arouses no suspicion.” Cooper thought to herself that Everett had no idea how ruthless.

“I’ll see to it.” Everett compressed his lips, then turned to his friend. “Keep her quiet.”

The ambulance crawled on the way back to the farm. The snowplows worked, but there weren’t enough of them to adequately deal with the weather. Virginia, blessed with four distinct seasons, benefited from mild winters compared to Maine. But winter did arrive, and Crozet rested near the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains, so it was colder there. Often the mountains and the close foothills got more snow than even Charlottesville.

Fair sat next to Harry, as Cooper followed in her squad car. Her feet felt like ice blocks since her pants and socks remained wet. The department allowed the officers to take their vehicles home. Cooper used the car for work, obviously, but when Fair had called, suspecting trouble, she prudently drove over in the squad car. She talked to Rick as she drove.

“We don’t have anyone to spare to set up a guard.”

“I know, boss. I’ll take turns with Fair. By December twenty-sixth, we might be able to round someone up or maybe I can find personal security. Fair will spare no expense.”

“Harry won’t stand for it.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid of that myself. I don’t know who’s out there and I don’t usually worry. I mean, we deal with thieves, con men, assault and batteries all the time, plus the occasional murder, usually fueled by alcohol or infidelity, but this—this is different. And I’m scared.”

“I know what you mean. I don’t think the killer is going to come after her, but we sure could find ourselves surprised.”

“Yeah, I know. I think this is someone who is acceptable to the community, someone we see most every day,” she replied.

Rick sighed. “Yeah. We’re lucky Harry didn’t have her throat slit.” He stopped.

“I think the storm saved her. That and Mrs. Murphy and Tucker.” Cooper had already told him about the animals.

“Could be right. Keep me posted.”

She clicked off, concentrating on the faint taillights in front of her. Initially, she’d been disappointed when Lorenzo went home to Nicaragua for the holidays, but now she was glad, because she wouldn’t have been able to spend much time with him. She liked him—more than liked him—cherishing every moment they could be together. He’d be with her for New Year’s. That was a happy thought.

In the ambulance, Harry finally regained full consciousness. She tried to sit up, but Fair gently kept her down.

“Where am I?” Then she put her hand to her head, wincing, feeling the tight stitches on the part of her scalp that was shaved.

“On the way home.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Here.” He held a plastic bag for her, since Everett had told him she might well throw up.

She did. Not much to it except excruciating pain. She flopped back on the gurney. “I’ve never felt so bad in my life.”

“Keep quiet, honey. You’ll feel much better tomorrow.”

“What happened?”

“You got hit over the head. Can you tell me why you were up there?”

She whispered with her eyes closed, as if that would diminish the pain: “At least one hundred thousand dollars in a green toolbox.”

He held her hand. “That’s enough for now. Do you think you can sleep?”

“Maybe. I’m dizzy.”

“Can you see clearly?”

“I can see you. Looks white out the back ambulance window.”

“Blizzard. Sleep, sweetie.”

She conked out again. He held his palm to her forehead. She was sweating a little, but he couldn’t discern a fever. A concussion doesn’t bring on a fever, but the vet in him made him want to check everything.

Once at the farm, the ambulance driver and his assistant rolled Harry into the bedroom and gently placed her on the bed. She awoke, then fell back to sleep again as all three animals sat quietly on the floor.

Fair gave the two men a one-hundred-dollar tip, reminded them to say nothing, and then wished them a merry Christmas.

With Cooper’s help, they got Harry out of the hospital shift, slid her under the covers, and walked back to the living room.

“Cooper, you go on home. I don’t think anyone is going to invade the farm in a blizzard, and Tucker will sure let me know if anyone does.”

Cooper sank into a wing chair and thought about this. “I’ll be over in the morning to take a turn. I don’t even trust leaving her alone while you do the barn chores.”

Relief flooded his face. “Thanks, pal.”

Tears formed in both their eyes again, a combination of recognizing what a near miss this was, pure physical exhaustion, and wondering what in the hell would happen next.

Cooper now struggled to get up from her chair.

“She told me there was about one hundred thousand dollars in a toolbox up there.”

Cooper dropped back down. “Damn!”

“Why the hell leave it by the walnut stand—” He stopped himself. “I think I know. Some of the monks know that stand. It belonged to Susan’s uncle. They may have seen it when they checked timber growth with him. And I expect there were some hard feelings when he didn’t leave it to the brotherhood, the old brotherhood.”

“Money can sure bring out the worst in people. The walnut stand isn’t all that far from the monastery.” Cooper rubbed her forehead with her right hand. “Ten thousand dollars on your kitchen table. How that money got here is anyone’s guess, but if Harry says there was a cornucopia up the mountain, then you know there was.”

“I brought the money.”
Tucker looked at them with her deep-brown eyes.

Fair reached out to pet the silky head. “I hope whoever hit her doesn’t know we have some of the money.”

Cooper shrugged. “No way to tell.”

“Well, we know one thing more than we did yesterday: the finger points to the top of the mountain.”

“Yes, it does. Well, let me get home. And let’s hope the power doesn’t go off or there will be pipes bursting all over central Virginia.”

“You’ve got a generator?”

“Do. Hooked up just in case.”

“Good.”

She pushed herself up once again. At the kitchen door, Fair hugged Cooper and kissed her on the cheek.

“I can never repay you, Coop.”

“That’s what friends are for.” She hugged him back. When she put on her coat, they both noticed some blood on the back. Fair’s coat also had blood drippings. They’d been too distracted to notice before now. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning bill.”

“Fair, no.”

She called when she made it home.

Fair stoked the fire. Next he warmed special food for the animals, because they had braved this storm, too. He owed them as much as he owed Cooper.

Then he stripped and took a hot shower, which almost got the chill out of his bones, and he stoked the fire one more time. He wanted to crawl in bed with Harry, but he was afraid if he turned in the night or bumped her, he’d hurt her. He pulled out four blankets, put two on the floor at the foot of the bed, two over him, and used one pillow. The three animals cuddled with him. He fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

Miraculously, the power stayed on.

F
aint light shone through the windows at seven-thirty on Christmas Eve morning. Harry reached over for Fair, touched empty space, and quickly sat up. The cut on her scalp hurt. Her head throbbed.

She tiptoed to where Fair, sound asleep, was spread out. Tucker, Mrs. Murphy, and Pewter snuggled with him.

She put her finger to her lips. Tucker knew that signal. Harry went into the bathroom and tried to look at her scalp in the mirror. The blood had been washed from the wound, but a little had seeped afterward. Since the wound was on the back of her head, she couldn’t see it. She picked up a washrag, wet it, and pressed it to the wound. Stung like the devil. Tears sprang up, but she kept the warm washrag there, then rinsed it out. She brushed her teeth, quite grateful that she was no longer dizzy or nauseated when she bent over. She had to laugh at her “do” and figured she’d be wearing baseball hats until the hair grew over the shaved wound.

Completing her morning ablutions, she threw on a terry bathrobe and went into the living room to rekindle the fire. The deep ash bed contained a layer of bright orange embers once she stirred it, so getting the fire up took no time at all.

Mrs. Murphy padded in.
“How do you feel?”

Harry scooped up the cat, kissing her cheeks. “I don’t know how either of us got down the mountain, Murphy, but I’m so glad we’re home.”

Tucker and Pewter walked in.

“Carried you down. You can’t believe how hard Fair and Cooper worked,”
Pewter informed her.
“I’ve never been so cold in my life.”

“You say that every time the thermometer dips below freezing,”
Mrs. Murphy teased her.

“This was worse.”
Pewter hoped something good would soon appear in the kitchen.

“It was. I’m a little stiff today. And still a little tired,”
Tucker admitted.

“Small wonder.”
Mrs. Murphy put her paws around Harry’s neck.

“Come on.” Harry, her knees hurting although she didn’t know why, walked into the kitchen to make a hot breakfast for all of them.

Her knees hurt because she had fallen curled up, knees bent. Harry, rarely incapacitated, was surprised when anything ached.

As she looked out the window over the sink, she was greeted by a magical land of pure white, dotted with bare trees and enlivening evergreens, boughs bent with snow. Flakes still fell, a light but steady drift. The clouds were low, medium to dark gray.

She knew she’d gone up the mountain; she was trying to remember why.

She was smart enough to know she’d suffered a concussion and grateful that she perceived no ill effect other than the thumping cut on her head. Her vision was fine. She had a dim memory of throwing up in a plastic bag in the ambulance, but her stomach now felt normal. She gave a silent prayer of thanks.

Frying some leftover hamburger for the animals, she pulled out another cast-iron skillet, rubbed it with butter, and put it on a cold burner. She intended to make scrambled eggs. When she put down the mix of warm hamburger and dry food, the three animals went crazy with delight. Made her happy to see them so happy.

Fair appreciated good coffee. She opened the freezer to grab a bag of ground beans. The others were whole-bean. She liked making coffee, even though she didn’t like drinking it. Once the coffee was put up, she plugged in the electric teapot and dropped a good old Lipton’s bag in a cup. She began mixing ingredients in a smallish Corning Ware bowl. Then she’d wake Fair.

Harry looked around her kitchen as though seeing it for the first time. Free of unnecessary adornment, her home reflected her in so many ways. She noticed the pegs by the door, coats hanging, a long bench with a lid underneath, boots within. A sturdy farmer’s table sat in the center of the room, and there was random-width heart pine on the floor, worn thin in places of high traffic by close to two hundred years of feet and paws.

A burst of love for her life, this kitchen, the farm, and, above all, her husband, friends, and animal friends, welled up. She didn’t know why she’d been hit. She felt lucky to be alive. She was determined to get to the bottom of it. She also decided to carry her .38. Thank God for the Second Amendment.

The teapot whistled and Harry shook her head at herself. Here she was trying to be quiet, but she’d forgotten about the whistle.

Fair, hearing the piercing note, awoke, feeling refreshed. Sleeping on the floor often made his back feel better. He smelled the coffee and rushed into the kitchen.

Harry laughed when her naked husband rushed into the kitchen, the floor cold on his bare feet. “Honey, put your robe on before you turn blue.”

He hugged her. “Are you all right?”

“Actually, I am, but my head stings. It’s pretty tender.”

He kissed her. “Thank God that’s all. I was afraid your skull had been cracked, but the X-rays and MRI proved what I have always known: you’re very hardheaded.”

She kissed him back. “Big surprise. Now go put your clothes on before you catch your death. Not that I don’t like seeing you in your birthday suit. You’re an impressive specimen, you know.”

“If you say so.” Fair had not one scrap of vanity, unusual for so well-built and handsome a man.

He finally did go put on slippers. His had fox masks embroidered on the toes. The terry-cloth robe felt good against his skin. By the time he returned to the kitchen—his teeth brushed, his hands washed, hair combed—breakfast was on the table.

Admiring the snowscape, they chatted. Fair avoided the obvious subject until he was on his second cup of coffee, she on her second cup of tea.

“Honey, how did you wind up on the mountain?”

The reason started to come back to her. “I came home from errands and Tucker and Mrs. Murphy were missing. When they finally came back, Tucker dropped a packet with ten thousand dollars on the floor. Put on my coat and hat and followed Tucker, who was dying to lead me somewhere. Well, on and on we went, and finally, at the walnut grove, Tucker and Mrs. Murphy led me to the low rock outcropping. Fair, there was at least a hundred thousand dollars in a green toolbox! I couldn’t believe it. That’s all I remember.”

“Brother George hit her on the head with the butt of a pistol,”
Tucker informed them.

“Don’t waste your breath,”
Pewter noted.

Fair then told her his part of the story. Harry got out of her chair, hugged and kissed the two cats and the dog. She stayed on the floor for a while, Fair finally joining her to play with and praise the animals.

“Cold down here,” Fair remarked.

“You know, I’d like to finally build a fireplace in the kitchen. There’s an old covered-up flue where Grandma hooked up the wood-burning stove. Might still work.”

“Might not work, but we’ll try. I’ve been thinking that if we turned the screened-in porch into an extension of the kitchen, a big step-down fireplace could be built at the end. Fieldstone.”

“That would be beautiful.”

And behind it we could build another screened-in porch. It’s nice to sit there when the weather’s good. Pleasure without the mosquitoes.”

“It will be expensive.”

He shrugged. “Can’t take it with you.”

Given her close brush with eternity, she nodded. “Let me call Coop and thank her.” She rose. “Not that I can ever thank her or these guys.” She smiled down at Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker. “Did Pewter really go all the way up there with you?”

“I did!”
Pewter stood on her hind legs.

“Every step of the way. Poor Tucker, she fought her way up and down that mountain three times yesterday,” Fair remarked.

“Well, the first time the weather wasn’t bad. After that, well, I…”
Tucker said no more.

“And, Mrs. Murphy, you stayed with me the whole time. I’d have a frostbitten nose without you.”

Murphy rubbed against her leg.

As Harry walked over to the old wall phone, Fair advised, “I know you’ll want to talk to Susan, but don’t. Not yet.”

“Why? I tell Susan everything. Well, almost everything.”

“Whoever hit you probably thinks you’re dead. Given this blizzard, it’s possible he thinks you haven’t been found. But it’s Christmas Eve, so we have two days, thanks to the weather and the holiday, where your disappearance not being in the news isn’t strange. If there isn’t something in the papers on Boxing Day”—Fair referred to the December 26 holiday that was celebrated by some people in the country—“then he’ll know you’re alive. And then”—he breathed deeply—

“we can’t take any chances.”

“I’m not. I’m carrying my thirty-eight.”

He shook his head. “Not enough. Someone is going to be with you twenty-four hours a day.”

She knew enough not to argue, plus she felt a shiver of fear. “Not in bed with us, I hope.”

He came right back at her. “You know, we never tried that. Any candidates?”

She punched him on the arm and picked up the phone. She reached Cooper on her landline, so the connection was clear.

“Harry!” Cooper’s voice was jubilant. “You sound like yourself.”

“I am, except for the clunk on the head. Thank you. Thank you a thousand times over, and am I glad I got you a good Christmas present.”

Cooper laughed. “You could paint a rock. I’d be happy.”

“You say. But really, Coop, I don’t know how you two got me down from the walnut stand with the winds and the blowing snow. It’s still snowing.”

“Found out how strong I am, and Fair’s stronger. I’m just so glad you’re all right. Wow. What a gust. This thing isn’t over. It’s snowing hard now. My house is shaking.”

Harry, hearing and feeling it, too, replied, “That must have been a sixty-mile-an-hour gust.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Harry repeated to her what she’d told Fair as he washed the dishes. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

“If something should occur to you, call me. I’ll be over to help Fair with the horses, too.”

“I will.” Harry felt another blast, plus the cold air seeping through cracks here and there. “Got enough firewood?”

“Yep. I watched the Weather Channel. Doesn’t look like this will let up until late afternoon.”

“Hard on the store owners. It will keep everyone at home.”

Not quite.