Cat's Eyewitness (24 page)

“And how do you do that?”

The monk resented this question because he knew that Rick had the answer, had done the legwork. “To maintain my license I must take thirty hours of study, updating my knowledge, every year.”

“Required by the Board of Medicine and the Medical Society of Virginia, correct?”

“Correct. These requirements can be satisfied by lectures, conferences out of state so long as the board recognizes them. If I were to fall behind, my license would be yanked out from under me.”

“I’m glad that you know the law in your profession, I mean so far as your certification goes. Tell me then why you keep a blood and plasma supply in the infirmary when you know it is against state regulations? A private physician cannot harbor a blood supply. If I read the law correctly, both nationally and for the great state of Virginia, you aren’t even allowed to give a transfusion in a private home.”

A pause followed this as Brother Andrew sat stock still.

Clearing his throat, the lean monk replied, “That is the letter of the law, Sheriff, but the spirit of the law, if you will, may be more flexible.”

“Not in my business,” Rick flatly said.

“We both save lives at our best but in different ways.” Brother Andrew leaned forward. “I have no doubt you’ve bent the rules to save someone.”

“Brother Andrew, you’re the one being questioned, not me. But I’m listening and I like to think I’m fair about things.”

“Driving rains, the outskirts of a hurricane, or a howling blizzard, make it impossible to get up Afton Mountain or down. Have you, in your detective work, looked at the average age of the brotherhood? The average is fifty-nine. I need to have blood and plasma on hand just in case disaster should befall someone. So yes, I have violated the letter of the law and I would do so again to spare a life. I simply must be able to give someone a transfusion in extremis.”

“I understand that but I also understand that the blood supply is tightly monitored. How do you get it?”

“I won’t tell.”

“Do you steal it?”

“Of course not,” was the indignant response.

“Do you have your own blood drives?” Rick slyly smiled.

“No. Look, Sheriff, I am not going to put someone else in jeopardy. All I will say is one can get blood from a blood bank, a hospital, or an ambulatory clinic, usually run by a nurse but with a physician overseer. Obviously, you know that.”

“I do. I also know that if you wanted to kill someone it would be awfully easy to do it with tainted blood, shall we say.”

“Blissfully easy. I don’t even have to have infected blood. I can pump too much potassium in the blood and that’s it. And being the presiding physician, I’m the one to sign the death certificate. It’s so easy to kill someone and make it natural, literally of natural causes, if one is a doctor or nurse. But did I kill Brother Thomas? No. Besides, he didn’t need transfusions on a regular basis. Brother Sidney is the one who needs those.”

“You’re a cool customer, Brother Andrew.”

“A doctor has to be cool or he can’t function.”

“All right, let’s consider something else. I would guess it’s no huge secret that you gave Brother Sidney a transfusion. And no one has questioned the practice?”

“Why would they? Medicine is a different world. There’s no reason that anyone up on that mountain would wonder about Brother John and I keeping a blood supply. The other thing is, as long as people are healthy they pay no attention to their doctors.”

“Tell me, then, how would you bring up the supply?” Rick held up his hand. “I’m not grilling you on your source, just want to know if anyone would go with you.”

“Brother John if we both could be spared, of course. Brother Thomas would occasionally go with me and we’d run all the errands he needed and pick up the blood last. He stayed in the car while I ran in and picked up the container. It’s a blue container which can hold dry ice. But again, I’m sure you know that because your research must have told you how quickly the hemoglobin can break down if warm.”

“Yes. Anyone else?”

“Uh, no.”

“Think. Have you ever sent anyone to pick up blood without you or Brother John?”

“Never.”

“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

W
e 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. “Pawprints 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!”

“Look, I’m not working. It’s winter, so I can’t put in any crops. I’ll do it for you. Let that be my Christmas present to you. You buy the paint. I’ll do the work.”

Susan burst into tears, got up, threw her arms around Harry. “I love you!”

Harry, surprised, hugged Susan back, although she had to get out of the chair to do it. Susan was so overcome, they both fell back into the chair just as Miranda walked into the room.

“Girls, don’t you dare hurt each other!” She put the tray down.

Susan, tears rolling down her cheeks, extracted herself from Harry, who was wedged in the big chair. “We fell over. Really, Miranda, I wasn’t hurting her.”

“Child, what is wrong?”

“Harry is going to paint the inside of my house for a Christmas present.” Susan bawled all over again.

“What a special gift. That is the best Christmas present ever.” Miranda put her arm around Susan’s waist. “Now sit down. I’m going to serve you scones and tea while you sip your sherry.” When Susan sat back down, Miranda brought over the large tray, placing it on the graceful old coffee table. “Honey, you’ve been under quite a bit of heavy weather. You’ve been so troubled about Ned and you loved Thomas. It’s been a very hard time. It’s in God’s hands. You relax and let’s enjoy one another’s company.” She then served Harry, and Harry had to shoo away Pewter, who was perishing of lust for the clotted cream.

“If I beg like George Packard, that long-haired red tabby, think she’ll give me cream?”
Pewter mentioned a local cat who imitated the dogs.

“Here.” Miranda put down a little bowl of the rich cream as Pewter’s new trick worked.

“If she gets any fatter I’m going to have to get her one of those children’s car seats where you strap them in.” Harry laughed at her cat, whose dark gray whiskers now had a cream coating.

Mrs. Murphy stuck her face in there, too, while Tucker contented herself with a large Milk-Bone.

“I spoke to Coop this morning,” Susan said. “Andrew did not confess.”

“Not surprising,” Harry replied.

“You’d think a monk would be truthful.” Susan thought the scone, with little currants in it, was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.

“Guess that’s why the different orders of monks have had cleanup periods over the centuries. They become corrupt.” Harry broke open a scone, the aroma and heat within rising.

“The question is, Susan, are you satisfied? Do you think justice is being served?” Miranda drove straight to the point.

“I don’t know. I told Harry right around Thanksgiving that I had this odd sense of foreboding. I still have it.”

“What we need to do is crawl over the Virgin Mary.”

“With all those praying people?” Susan’s eyebrows shot upward. “Can’t, and you can’t do it at night. Also, its snowing again on the mountains. If she has been tampered with you aren’t going to find it in the snow.”

“If she’s been tampered with it will be up through the middle, a line buried from underneath. We won’t see it. Wish we had one of those heat-imaging things. If the line is wrapped in heat tape, we’d know.”

“God, I never even thought of such a thing.” Susan was dismayed.

“Has to keep the line warm somehow or it will burst.” Harry munched, paused, then said, “Unless the line is drained each night.”

“Now, there’s a thought. If the line comes out far enough away from the statue, someone could sneak out and drain it. But it would still be under the snow, don’t you think?” Susan pondered this.

Harry got up, brought Miranda’s plans back to the coffee table. “See how Tazio’s laid out her water lines?”

Miranda and Susan studied the gardening shed. “Yes,” they said in unison.

“Miranda is going to install leaky pipe. All she has to do for her gardens is turn on the spigot, set it to a timer. She doesn’t have to turn it off if she forgets or is busy. The pipes will drain out. Now, granted this is a leaky pipe, has those little holes so it will drain, but the regular water line here into the gardening shed is regular pipe, copper pipe. She’s got the pipe packed in PVC up from the frost line, and between that and the copper it’s going to be wrapped in heavy-duty insulation, the kind that won’t blow up if it gets wet. The insulation runs into the gardening shed, so in theory, those pipes should never freeze. And the gardening shed is heated. Now, she didn’t set those pipes up to drain, because it ought to be unnecessary, but if she wanted to, she could set up a small drain field over here, put a runoff pipe to it, and drain it nightly in the cold. See?”

Even the animals studied the plans.

“She’s got it.”
Mrs. Murphy simply said with admiration.

“If the Virgin Mary is rigged,” Miranda shook her head, “who could do it without drawing attention to himself?”

“Brother Thomas,” Harry replied. “He’s the only one with the knowledge.”

“Oh, God.” Susan sat back down with a thump.

“And he was the one who repaired her last summer.”

“With Brother Mark’s help. At least, I think so. Brother Mark was his apprentice.”

“Girls, I just can’t believe, not for a single second, that Thomas would stoop so low to create a false miracle.” Miranda’s face flushed with emotion.