It's a Wonderful Knife (16 page)

“Delegation,” I said to ACB. “It's the key to my survival.”

“Don't forget to enlist some help for putting up the scenery. You probably should ask Roger Southwick to chair that since he's in charge of church maintenance,” ACB said. “And he's sitting all alone in the second pew. I triple dog dare you!”

There was a glaring breach of etiquette when ACB skipped over the double dog dare and went right to the triple.

“Oh, all right!”

So over I went to Roger. He watched me coming, and couldn't be bothered to meet me halfway or acknowledge me until I was standing right in front of him.

“Roger, would you mind accepting the chairperson
job on the scenery committee? You are here and know where everything is. You're perfect for the job.”

He shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Thank you so much. If you'd like to gather some men or women from the pews here, you could go to a corner somewhere and meet with them.”

“I'll do that,” he said like a sullen teenager who was just asked to clean their room for the hundredth time.

“And, Roger?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Margie, ACB, and I cast the Grinch scene—the one where he's stealing everything from the Whos. The 911 operator, Fanny Fowler, was going to be Cindy Lou Who. And the children's choir was going to sing the theme song.

We also cast the
A Christmas Story
scene—the Red Ryder BB gun scene.

And more of the same followed.

ACB, as the Ghost of Christmas Presents, and I, as Tiny Tim, were going to do the scene where the Ghost takes Scrooge to Bob Cratchit's house to watch them have a meal and toast him. Scrooge would be played by Ty. The Cratchits would be played by my mother and father.

The Boca Babes were going to be Santa's reindeer. Bob was a definite for Santa Claus. And Aunt Stella was a definite for Mrs. Claus.

My waitresses insisted on a choir of their own, which was fine with me.

“Is there anyone left who doesn't have a part in this play?” I asked loudly. “Speak now.”

The two boys whose mothers were fighting because they always played the part of a camel—front and back—were left. I decided to get them into the light. One was going to play a Who from Whoville. The other was going to be one of the Cratchit kids.

At last count, I thought Bob Cratchit had a brood of twenty kids.

I had everyone covered! I was done.

“Dinner will be served in the community room,” I announced. “Please adjourn there and help yourself to some food. Rehearsals will begin before bingo with each group rehearsing on their own for now.”

•   •   •

By the time I got home, I was pooped. Information was whirling around in my brain like a tornado. All I wanted to do was sit in my recliner and not think about anything for a little while.

As we drove down Route 3, I let out a yell of awe when my house came into sight.

“Look at the Big House!”

It was beautiful. The eaves of the huge farmhouse were outlined with white icicle lights and lights of every color outlined the windows. The pines and shrubs also had lights, and lighting up both sides of the sidewalk up to the door were red-and-white candy canes.

“It's so pretty!”

The inside was exquisite, with more lights and decorations, but the tree was the most amazing. Colored lights twinkled, and a hand-painted manger set was under the tree. The tree had Polish glass ornaments sparkling from most every branch, courtesy of Aunt Stella, and glass candy canes were scattered on the tree.

I sat down and just stared at the tree, trying to take everything in.

I smiled, trying to offload all thoughts of Liz's murder and replace them with Christmas magic, like the scent of pine emanating from a beautifully decorated tree and the glow of lights.

“Antoinette Chloe, will you drive me to the Silver Bullet? I haven't seen the decorations there yet. Besides, I'm in the mood for a roast beef club sandwich.”

“Sounds good to me!”

I hobbled down the stairs and the walkway and back into her van for the short drive up to the diner. I loved how each window was decorated with multicolored twinkle lights and how the candy cane theme from the Big House was continued there as well. There was a sign that read,
SANTA, PLEASE STOP HERE!
and big plastic ornaments hung from various pine trees, which were bright with white lights.

It was just beautiful.

Everyone shouted my name as I entered, and I stopped at every booth and table to greet people. Then I went into the kitchen to see Cindy. She gave me a big hug, ever careful of my crutches.

Then Antoinette Chloe and I took a booth in the
back. When Bettylou came over, we ordered two roast beef clubs and two cups of split pea soup, hot tea, and two cherry hand pies.

“I love the tree in here, too.” The overhead lights were dimmer than usual, and diners ate under the glow of all the colored lights and the tree.

Brilliant.

But it was time to get back to business—the business of Liz's murder.

“Antoinette Chloe, got any idea how we can get Pastor Fritz out of his parlor, so I can see what files Darlene might have put in there?”

“Of course. I'll have a spiritual crisis, and ask him to meet me somewhere. Maybe here at the diner or in my restaurant,” she said.

“What spiritual crisis?” I couldn't wait to hear this.

“Hmm . . . I think I'll tell him that I stole eight thousand bucks from . . . I don't know . . . a store's cash register when the cashier wasn't looking, and I don't know how to put it back.”

“Brilliant,” I said. “He can counsel you just like he did Darlene before he married her. Or he might tell you to go to St. Luke's—your church!”

She giggled. “When do you want to break in?”

“As soon as possible.”

“I'm going to have my crisis tomorrow, then. Any particular time?”

“I think Darlene has her gossipy Yarn Circle tomorrow again. About nine-ish should work, but I'll call you for sure. The Yarn Circle is all morning long. She's in
the front of the building, so she might not know if I'm in the pastor's parlor. I'll keep the lights off.”

“What about Roger, our not-friendly maintenance man? He's all over the place, isn't he? I don't want him to see you. I think he's creepy with a side of dangerous.”

“Yeah, I know, and he already caught us once.” I shrugged. “It doesn't seem like he believed we were leaving at the time. He talked to Ty and blew us in. I'm just glad I slid down the stairs. I probably wiped away our tracks. But we'll have to get him out of the way, too, somehow, for this to work.”

We made small talk, mostly discussing the beautiful decorations, talking about plans for the holidays, and we giggled like high schoolers about my going to the Law Enforcement Ball with Ty.

The pea soup was divine and the club sandwiches were loaded and nicely displayed with homemade potato chips and fancy-cut garnishes like radish roses, zigzags of carrots, spiral twists of cucumbers, and slices of tomatoes.

We lingered over tea and Sara Stolfus's cherry hand pies, and then we both started yawning.

“Let's hit the road, Trixie. We have a big day tomorrow,” ACB said. “And we'll need all our energy if we're going to successfully pull this off and stay out of jail.”

Back at the Big House, I heard a lot of noise coming from the dining room. “Sounds like the Boca Babes are having another pinochle and highball tournament. Boy, can they get loud.”

“Do you want me to help you upstairs to your
bedroom, Trixie?” ACB asked. “You'll never sleep down here with that racket.”

“If you wouldn't mind. Oh, and my folks are having a late dinner at the Silver Bullet with some friends. They'll go right to their motor home, so we can lock up.”

I had never locked my doors, but since Liz's death, I had every night.

I meandered to the stairs and hoisted my cast up every step. At the landing midpoint, I had to catch my breath. “My New Year's resolution is to lose weight and get in shape.”

Antoinette Chloe rolled her eyes. “It's an annual thing, isn't it?”

“Yep.”

“What are you going to wear to the Law Enforcement Ball?” she asked.

“No idea. I liked that brown sparkly dress of Aunt Stella's that I wore to the Miss Salmon Contest.”

“He's seen it. Let's figure something else out. You need a sparkly red dress or maybe a royal blue. No, definitely red. You need red with your coloring. I'll see what I can find,” ACB said. “Oh, and by the way, I'll be going, too.”

“What? Really?” I asked, thrilled that I'd know someone besides Ty. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want to spoil your thunder, but Judge Glennie asked me to be his date.”

We both did a high five, and I returned to climbing the stairs.

As I crutched to my room, I noticed that the upstairs
smelled like perfume and powder. Lots of perfume and powder. I think it was time to crack the windows open a bit or maybe let the ceiling fans do their thing.

“Um . . . Little Red Riding Hood, looks like someone has been sleeping in my bed. And their stuff is in my room,” I said.

“Oh, I forgot! it's Hattie McDougal. I didn't think you'd ever want to climb the stairs,” ACB said. “So I said she could sleep in your room.”

“But you kept asking me if I wanted to use
my
bedroom!”

Calm down, Trixie. It's not the end of the world. Let Hattie have the room.

I didn't know who was whispering in my ear. Maybe it was Clarence, the angel from
It's a Wonderful Life
, who was trying to get his wings. Either way, I was thankful for it.

“Hattie can have the room,” I said. I'll go back downstairs. It's not a problem. Just let me get some more clothes while I'm up here.”

I found a tote bag and stuffed it full of the things I needed or wanted.

“I'm awful sorry, Trixie. With everything going on, I just plumb forgot all about it.”

“It's no problem. Really. Plus, on the bright side, it'll be nice to sleep by the Christmas tree.”

I went back downstairs, feeling like I was going to have a blue, blue, blue Christmas without my bed, bedroom, and my pillows.

I didn't know how long the Boca Babes were staying,
but I'd heard they were spending Christmas there, and maybe even the first couple of weeks in January.

I was just cranky and tired of my cast and crutches. But I was grateful that everyone was there to help me. Letting Hattie use my bedroom was a small price to pay. The recliner
was
really comfortable, and now I could look at my Christmas tree as I drifted off to sleep.

Nice.

I tossed the tote bag downstairs, so I could concentrate on the stairs. When I got to where I'd tossed the bag, I picked it up and crutched to the laundry room. I noticed that the laundry had been done, and my things were piled neatly in a laundry basket.

Tears stung my eyes. I was mortified that I'd even thought about kicking Hattie out of my room.

I felt a hand on my back, and I jumped, having thought that I was alone.

“What's wrong, Trixie?” Aunt Stella said.

I shrugged, wiping my eyes on my blouse. “Just tired. It's been a long day. My brain is on overload. I'm tired of this cast and not being able to do much. Ty asked me to his Law Enforcement Ball, and I don't want to go in this cast. And I need something to wear.”

I took a deep breath. Where had all this come from?

“But, Aunt Stella, I'm so very grateful for all the help, and the beautiful decorations, and it's great to see my parents again, and . . . and . . . I love you all.”

She put her arm around me. “But you wanted to decorate yourself because you love Christmas and always have. I remember when you were young, Trixie. From after Thanksgiving dinner until midnight on
Christmas, you embraced all the magic that Christmas has to offer. It's like that time recharged you for the whole year.”

I sniffed. “Yes, and I haven't been able to do my own traditions and all of the Christmas rituals that I love.”

“What's stopping you?” she asked. “Certainly not a broken leg.”

“I've been kind of busy, Aunt Stella.”

“So? Make the time to do what you like to do. Everyone's busy at Christmas.”

How could I tell her that I had a murder to solve first?

She walked me to the front room, had me sit in the recliner, and tucked the afghan around me. “Get some rest, sweetie. I'll leave the tree on for you, and I'll tell the Babes to keep the noise down.” She moved my bangs from my forehead and gave me a kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Aunt Stella.”

The magic. I had to find the magic again, and I would. Right after I solved Liz's murder.

And I felt that I was close to doing so.

Very close.

I
t was the day to search Pastor Robinson's office.

Gee, I hoped it worked.

If all the conditions were perfect, I'd be able to see what Darlene had hidden—like the contents to all of those empty files.

I'd found the key to Pastor Fritz's office earlier in Darlene's key drawer with the others. It wasn't hard because it was marked
PARLOR
, and I'd taken it home one night and ACB had made a duplicate at the hardware store, and I'd replaced the real key along with the keys to the upstairs.

The phone rang, and I answered it. It was Antoinette Chloe, right on time. Nine thirty.

My friend was never on time for anything, ever—with the exception of this cloak-and-dagger kind of stuff.

Or should I say parka-and-butcher-knife kind of stuff?

“Ready?” she asked.

“As I'll ever be.”

“Are you at the Salmon River Bridge?” I asked.

“Yeah, and it's freezing out here.”

“Remember how we rehearsed it?” I asked.

“Yes. I'm basically Jimmy Stewart, and everything in my life is going wrong. I lost my husband, Sal. My boyfriend, Nick. And now that it's Christmas, I'm depressed. I am alone in life and am very attracted to Roger, but he's not paying attention to me. I am going to jump, but I'd like to tell Roger that I love him before I do. Also, I'd like to speak with Pastor Robinson to confess my sins. I want them both to come before I end it all.”

“Most excellent,” I said. This was the best scenario yet.

“Is Clarence, the angel earning his wings, going to appear on the bridge and show me how life would have been in Sandy Harbor without me, like in
It's a Wonderful Life
?”

“No, girlfriend. That only happens in the movies.”

“Darn it.”

“Ready? I'm going to turn into Donna Reed now,” I said.

“Hurry already. I'm freezing.”

“Oh, no!” I screamed. “Antoinette Chloe, don't do it. Please, please don't do it. I'll get him. I'll get Pastor Fritz!”

I didn't have to go far down the hall because his head appeared out of his door, and he'd met me halfway.

“Pastor Fritz, please help my friend. Antoinette Chloe is going to jump off the bridge because she's despondent over Roger. She loves him, and he doesn't notice her.”

“Roger? Roger Southwick?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Roger must have heard his name, as he appeared and hurried toward us.

“Oh, please go! Go now. There's no time. She's going to jump off the Salmon River Bridge.” I made like I was going to faint.

They stood still, probably in shock.

“Go! Antoinette Chloe loves you, Roger. You can save her. You both can. Hurry!”

I could only hope that Pastor Fritz didn't have time to hide his things in his office.

“My coat is in my office,” he said. “I'll be right back.”

Luckily Roger had his coat on already. He looked puzzled. “Who are you talking about?”

“Antoinette Chloe Brown! Muumuus and flip-flops. Big hair. Fascinator on the side of her head.”

“Fascinator?”

“Hat. She's partial to plastic peacocks.”

“Oh, yes. I know her.”

I passed the rest of the time with Roger with my hands over my face and my crutches under my arms, making like I was crying.

It didn't take Pastor Fritz long to get his coat, but he did lock the door behind him.

No problem.

Finally the two of them raced out of the building.

Yee-haw.

I went back to the office to make sure I saw them both leave toward the Salmon River Bridge. Then I called ACB, the frozen.

“The elves have left the workshop,” I said.

“Gotcha. I am ready for my close-up, Mr. Capra.”

•   •   •

Three minutes later, I was unlocking the door to Pastor Fritz's parlor, and I pulled the café curtains shut as he often did.

His desk had two of those huge ledger books on it, both opened. I looked at what he'd been working on, compared the two books, then looked again.

He was “cooking the books,” as they say on television. I didn't know much about things like that, but the book on the left was in the red, and the book on the right, had some of the same entries, but in different amounts. That book was in the black.

Interesting.

I opened up the drawers of his desk. Used pull tabs. More used pull tabs. I went over to the side storage room and lifted the lids on a couple of the boxes that I'd seen before. The boxes had been unopened. Now they were opened, and they were full of—wait for it—used pull tabs.

Darlene had confessed to pull tab gambling before, stealing money to feed her habit, and had gone to state prison. History was repeating itself.

He must be hiding the evidence of Darlene's addiction right there in his office, I thought. I assumed he was going to tape the boxes shut and dispose of them somehow.

If Pastor Fritz was cooking the books for the parish council's audit, it must mean that Darlene was up to her old tricks, and he was trying to protect her.

And he must be dumping the boxes of used pull tabs somewhere, so Roger wouldn't have to do it and get suspicious that his sister was committing the same crime as she had in the Buffalo parish when she ran bingo.

I couldn't wait to snoop at the next bingo night.

I crutched out of the parlor, pausing along the way to look through the window at the ladies of the Yarn Circle. Their needles were working their magic and their tongues were wagging.

Darlene saw me watching and motioned for me to come in.

“Hello, ladies,” I said. “How's everything going?”

There were nods and a chorus of
good
and
okay
, and I even got a couple of
Merry Christmas
es.

Maybe they weren't the gossips I thought they were.

“The Ladies' Yarn Circle would like to donate hats and mittens to some of our needier children,” Darlene said. “I have a list from teachers at Sandy Harbor Grammar School. The teachers have noticed that some of the kids come to school without mittens and hats. We are going to wrap them, put names on them, and Santa will pass them out on Christmas Eve.”

“That's a lovely gesture, ladies, but with all due respect, that'll probably hurt the ‘needier children' instead of helping them.”

Someone grunted. “How so?”

This was bringing back sad memories of fourth grade.

“The kids who get your gifts will be mortified and embarrassed because they'll be singled out.”

“Oh, I hadn't thought of that,” a knitter said. “Maybe you're right.”

“This happened to one of my friends in fourth grade. She was singled out because she didn't have a good winter coat and boots. Sister Mary Mary generously presented them to her, from a mother whose daughter had outgrown them. My friend Debbie just about died of shame. We all knew that the coat came from Patty O'Brien because of the fake fur around the collar and cuffs. Patty was one of the more popular girls in school, and her parents had a lot of money. And when it got around that Debbie was given Patty's coat and boots, the kids in my school either kept bringing her things out of the goodness of their hearts, or they teased her for being poor and wearing other kids' clothes.”

“I understand now,” Darlene said. “I'm so glad we talked to you about this, Trixie. We want to help, not hurt.”

“It's a great idea, but I think you'll have to give hats and mittens to
every
kid in that grammar school, or if you don't have enough inventory, pick a grade with the greatest need, and give to everyone in that grade.”

“Excellent idea, Trixie,” Darlene said. “We'll do that.”

She looked so happy to be doing a good deed. It was hard to believe that she was my number one suspect.

•   •   •

“Trixie, can you talk right now?” It was Antoinette Chloe.

“I've been waiting for your call. How did the bridge drama go? Do you think they bought it?”

“Hook, line, and sinker. Roger even asked me to have lunch with him sometime, and Pastor Fritz wants me to leave St. Luke's and join him at the Community Church. But I told him I won't do that because my Italian Roman Catholic ancestors would haunt me.”

“I'll tell you what I found out when you pick me up.”

“Be there at four o'clock.”

“Make it three. I want to have time to freshen up before bingo tonight. Oh, and I have tomorrow off. I have to go to the doctor's in Syracuse for my checkup. Can you drive me?”

“Sure can.”

At three o'clock, ACB and I were headed back home. I filled her in on the double set of books and the boxes of used pull tabs that used to be new and unopened.

“Darlene must have callouses on her hands from pulling all those tabs. Maybe we can see what's going on at bingo tonight, and finally get to the bottom of Liz's murder,” I said.

“I hope so, too, Trixie.”

•   •   •

To me, bingo was like watching grass grow, but I passed the time watching Pastor Fritz, Darlene, and Roger flitting about. I also watched Margie Grace for a while, but she was very particular counting out cards, logging in what she'd sold, and making change for patrons.

Every so often, Roger would make a trip around the room. He'd pick up cash boxes from Margie, from the
ladies selling pizza, donuts, and drinks, and from Darlene and her crew, who were circulating and selling pull tabs at the cost of a dollar each or six for five dollars, which I still thought was pretty steep.

He'd exchange a full box with another, which I was assuming was empty. Then he'd do it again and again. I wondered where he was taking all the money when he disappeared for a while—maybe his own apartment or another room in the complex. But he always looked over his shoulder and made sure no one was following him when he had the full cash boxes.

Were Darlene and Roger working together to steal the church's money?

Pastor Fritz was calling the numbers and making jokes. Periodically he'd announce that the pull tabs were for sale and would ask that everyone, “Please support our church.”

Antoinette Chloe nudged my arm. “Every time he says that, I keep thinking about all the bags of used pull tabs in their apartment. Do you think they could possibly be from bingo nights, and not Darlene?”

“No way. Roger keeps clearing piles of them off the tables and scooping them into a trash can along with used bingo cards and other paper trash. Then I see him tying up the plastic bags. The bags we saw were loaded with used pull tabs and only used pull tabs—there was no other paper. I wonder where Roger takes the plastic bags. Probably the Dumpster.”

“I'll follow him and see what he does,” she said, standing and smoothing down her magnolia-covered muumuu. She pushed up her fascinator, which
displayed a snowman with a cardinal on its black top hat and white feathers. The snowman looked like it was doing a belly flop off her ear. “Remember, I'm supposed to be in love with him. I might as well keep the ruse going.”

I listened to Pastor Fritz's corny jokes until I was ready to scream and listened to the bingo chatter around me. If I had convinced my mother, Aunt Stella, Juanita, and the Babes to come, it would have been more fun, but they all had things they were doing tonight.

The men were heading to Ty's apartment for Texas Hold'em poker along with Bob, Ray, Clyde, and Max.

And here I was, barely watching my bingo cards.

“You have bingo, Trixie. Yell it!” ACB said, returning.

“I do?”

“Yes! Bingo! Bingo!” ACB yelled. “Trixie has it.”

Margie Grace came over and called back the numbers.

“We have a winner,” said Pastor Fritz. “Pay Trixie twenty-five dollars, unless she'd like it in pull tabs.”

“No. I'd like the cash, please.” I knew just the people I'd like to give the money to, and much, much, more. And I was going to stop there tomorrow on my way back from the doctor.

After we moved on to the next game, I whispered to ACB, “What did you find out?”

“Roger takes all the bingo trash out to the Dumpster. In fact, he said all trash goes out there.”

“Must be that he never visits the Robinsons' apartment.”

ACB shrugged. “And maybe Pastor Fritz takes the pull tab trash out to the Dumpster at night because he doesn't want Roger to know of Darlene's habit. Or he drives it to a paper recycling place.”

“Poor Pastor Fritz is doing a lot of extra work to cover up for Darlene. I feel so bad for him,” I said.

“Yeah, me, too,” ACB said. “He must be exhausted.”

“And Liz Fellows knew exactly what was going on, too. I'm starting to think Darlene had a very good reason for keeping her quiet.”

I shuddered at the thought. Looked like Darlene just moved up to suspect number one on my list.

•   •   •

We drove to Syracuse bright and early the next morning.

“I think we can take this cast off after the first of the year,” said Dr. Fanning. “You're healing very nicely. Are you keeping it elevated at night?”

“I've been sleeping in a recliner since Thanksgiving. Every night.”

“It's done wonders.”

“Really?” And here I was cranky at Hattie for being in my room. Actually she was doing me a favor. At this rate, I'd have the cast off before the Law Enforcement Ball!

“I still want you to sit as much as you possibly can, and keep it elevated.”

“Will do.” I would've done just about anything to have that cast off faster.

After the visit, I asked Antoinette Chloe to stop at a grocery store. “I'm shopping for the people under the highway bridge.”

“Excellent idea! I will, too!” she said.

We filled her van with staples and a lot of canned goods, plus fruit, veggies, and Christmas cookies, bread, chocolate, and fruitcake. We added cereal and oatmeal and juice boxes for the kids. And we cleaned the store out of rotisserie chicken, baked ziti, ham salad, and chef salad.