gnomes like to have sex around the clock. They drink to excess, too.” She rooted around in her bag for a cigarette. “Wonder if her idea is wish fulfillment?”
“Take one of mine.” He pointed to a pack of Camels he pulled from the back of the visor.
She accepted the pack from him, taking a cigarette for herself and handing one to Rick. Fishing a sturdy Zippo from the glove compartment, she lit his cigarette while it was in his mouth and then lit hers. Each took a deep, grateful drag.
“Swore I wasn’t going to get hooked, but I did.” Cooper sighed.
“In our job it’s drink, drugs, violence, or cigarettes. People haven’t a clue the toll this kind of work takes on a person. I worry most about the guys who get addicted to violence. Sooner or later they cross the line, make the news, and all law-enforcement officers suffer. And in those big-city departments, they’re bombarded. Jesus.” He drew out the name of Jesus. “We see enough right here in Albemarle County.”
“We sure do. What gets me is when we see murdered children—fortunately, very few. But we see a lot more abused children than anyone cares to admit. It’s like the whole damned country has its head in the sand.”
“Yeah.” He wanted to kill people who harmed children, preferably with his bare hands. “Ownership. Think about it. Children have no rights. Their parents own them the same way they own a car. Ah, here we are.”
“Before we deal with the brothers—do you mean that because children are chattel, owned, that people outside the family or the situation don’t want to interfere?”
“Same as spousal abuse. People know, but they don’t want to get involved. I can understand it, but, guess what, we do get involved. When that call comes, we don’t have any choice. And family situations are the worst.”
“Sure are. Well, let’s visit this big happy family,” Cooper said sarcastically, for she harbored a slight prejudice against aggressive do-gooders.
Brother George, in his mid-forties and with a trimmed gray beard, met them at the door. He ushered them into Brother Morris’s office.
“Brother Morris will be with you in a minute. He’s in the kitchen with Brother Howard.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the imposing figure of Brother Morris swept through the door. As flamboyantly as Brother Morris entered, Brother George, an attractive man yet devoid of charisma, left discreetly.
“Sit down, please.” He gracefully lowered his bulk into a large club chair with a cashmere shawl thrown over the back. Brother Morris pulled the shawl around his shoulders on the bitterly cold days, extra cold on the mountain’s spine.
Cooper pulled out her stenographer’s notebook, but before Rick could start, Brother Morris asked if they wanted a drink. They declined, although Cooper longed for a cup of hot coffee.
“Brother Morris, I know this is a very difficult time for you and the order, but I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. None of us will be completely free of doubt until the murderer is found. Odd, isn’t it, that one can be at peace but not at rest, so to speak?”
“Yes, it is.” Rick knew what Brother Morris meant. “I don’t want to offend you by these questions, but it is very important that you be forthcoming. Our ability to solve this case early in many ways depends on you.”
“I don’t see how it can, but I will be forthcoming, as you say. That’s a very Southern way to say, ‘Tell the truth.’”
Rick half-smiled. “Is there anyone in your order who has ever threatened Brother Christopher?”
“No.”
“Anyone who disliked him?”
“He was so easygoing. At times Brother Sheldon would get peeved. I don’t say he disliked Brother Christopher, because he didn’t, but he would get out of sorts. Brother Sheldon is quite the stickler for detail, and Brother Christopher was not, not in the least. The money from the Christmas trees would be in the desk drawer down
“Take one of mine.” He pointed to a pack of Camels he pulled from the back of the visor.
She accepted the pack from him, taking a cigarette for herself and handing one to Rick. Fishing a sturdy Zippo from the glove compartment, she lit his cigarette while it was in his mouth and then lit hers. Each took a deep, grateful drag.
“Swore I wasn’t going to get hooked, but I did.” Cooper sighed.
“In our job it’s drink, drugs, violence, or cigarettes. People haven’t a clue the toll this kind of work takes on a person. I worry most about the guys who get addicted to violence. Sooner or later they cross the line, make the news, and all law-enforcement officers suffer. And in those big-city departments, they’re bombarded. Jesus.” He drew out the name of Jesus. “We see enough right here in Albemarle County.”
“We sure do. What gets me is when we see murdered children—fortunately, very few. But we see a lot more abused children than anyone cares to admit. It’s like the whole damned country has its head in the sand.”
“Yeah.” He wanted to kill people who harmed children, preferably with his bare hands. “Ownership. Think about it. Children have no rights. Their parents own them the same way they own a car. Ah, here we are.”
“Before we deal with the brothers—do you mean that because children are chattel, owned, that people outside the family or the situation don’t want to interfere?”
“Same as spousal abuse. People know, but they don’t want to get involved. I can understand it, but, guess what, we do get involved. When that call comes, we don’t have any choice. And family situations are the worst.”
“Sure are. Well, let’s visit this big happy family,” Cooper said sarcastically, for she harbored a slight prejudice against aggressive do-gooders.
Brother George, in his mid-forties and with a trimmed gray beard, met them at the door. He ushered them into Brother Morris’s office.
“Brother Morris will be with you in a minute. He’s in the kitchen with Brother Howard.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the imposing figure of Brother Morris swept through the door. As flamboyantly as Brother Morris entered, Brother George, an attractive man yet devoid of charisma, left discreetly.
“Sit down, please.” He gracefully lowered his bulk into a large club chair with a cashmere shawl thrown over the back. Brother Morris pulled the shawl around his shoulders on the bitterly cold days, extra cold on the mountain’s spine.
Cooper pulled out her stenographer’s notebook, but before Rick could start, Brother Morris asked if they wanted a drink. They declined, although Cooper longed for a cup of hot coffee.
“Brother Morris, I know this is a very difficult time for you and the order, but I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course. None of us will be completely free of doubt until the murderer is found. Odd, isn’t it, that one can be at peace but not at rest, so to speak?”
“Yes, it is.” Rick knew what Brother Morris meant. “I don’t want to offend you by these questions, but it is very important that you be forthcoming. Our ability to solve this case early in many ways depends on you.”
“I don’t see how it can, but I will be forthcoming, as you say. That’s a very Southern way to say, ‘Tell the truth.’”
Rick half-smiled. “Is there anyone in your order who has ever threatened Brother Christopher?”
“No.”
“Anyone who disliked him?”
“He was so easygoing. At times Brother Sheldon would get peeved. I don’t say he disliked Brother Christopher, because he didn’t, but he would get out of sorts. Brother Sheldon is quite the stickler for detail, and Brother Christopher was not, not in the least. The money from the Christmas trees would be in the desk drawer down
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