It's a Wonderful Knife (6 page)

“About three years,” Ty answered. “Pastor Fritz told me that Liz was working on computerizing the church's records. She organized the cemetery records and the weekly bulletin, and she was working on the accounts and the bookkeeping. Seems like Liz was bringing the Sandy Harbor Community Church into the twenty-first century.”

“Sounds pretty routine,” I said.

ACB sighed. “Who on earth would kill her? All I can think of is that some of the parents might have gotten crazy mad at her because she didn't give their darlings a good part in the play. But I don't know if anyone would be so upset that they'd kill her.”

“I noticed that, too,” I said. “And then there's Margie Grace. Who would have thought that sweet Margie Grace would have turned into such a fruitcake? And she was absent from the church when Liz's body was discovered. Ty kicked her out due to the cell phone incident. Remember?”

ACB chuckled. “I never would have expected that Margie would attempt to throw a cell phone at anyone. She's such a sweet lady. And she's no spring chicken either. She's old enough to remember when Joshua Bilten's wagon threw a wheel, and he founded Sandy Harbor.”

“Shush, Antoinette Chloe! Here she comes,” I said.

“So, Trixie Matkowski, I hear that you are going to take over directing the pageant.”

“Yes. I am, Margie.”

“And what are your credentials?” she asked.

“I was present when they were looking for volunteers, and I volunteered.”

“But what are your credentials?” she asked again, and I thought for a second she was going to fling a fox fur over her shoulder like a twenties movie star.

“I was in the chorus of
South Pacific
in the fifth grade. We all had on green crepe skirts and danced the hula. We didn't have any coconuts, though. We had to wear white blouses instead.” If that wasn't a satisfactory credential for Margie, I could always mention that I was a lonely goatherd in sixth grade in
The
Sound of Music.
I still wasn't sure what a goatherd was.

“Another outrage!” Margie yelled. “What is Sandy Harbor coming to? How do they expect to see a quality show when amateurs are directors?”

“Margie, Steven Spielberg had to start somewhere.” I should have just changed the subject, but I couldn't help myself. “This pageant is for the kids, so I'm going to try my best. I have to be here anyway, since I'm catering the auditions and practices, so I might as well help out. I hope that there won't be any hard feelings between us.”

“Humpf. That remains to be seen,” she said, turning around, ready to exit, stage left. “Margie, wait! One more thing. Have you been telling everyone that a Hollywood talent scout is going to come to the pageant?”

She squinted at me. “I might have said that. You never know who might be in the audience.”

“Margie,” I said calmly. “How about stifling that rumor? Let's go back to peace on earth—or at least peace in our little slice of the earth. The mere mention of Hollywood has everyone acting a little strange. Things need to calm down, Margie. Know what I mean?”

I think I got my message to Margie. She looked a little embarrassed. Moving my leg to a better spot, I got more comfortable in the seat and watched Margie as she walked away.

Ty and Margie crossed paths, and before Ty could say something to her, Margie scampered out like a church mouse.

“Are you doing okay, Trixie?” Ty asked me. “I hope that Margie didn't upset you. You've had a bad day.”

“I can handle Margie. But I'm fine, Ty. Just moving around a bit. This cast must weigh five hundred pounds.” I took a deep breath and asked, “Did you interview Pastor Fritz and Darlene?”

“I spoke with them informally, but I'll talk to them more back at the sheriff's department.”

“What did they have to say?” ACB asked, sitting down next to me.

“I can't answer that, Antoinette Chloe, but if I did, I'd tell you that, according to them, Liz Fellows was a model employee and a good friend.”

“That tells me nothing,” ACB snapped.

“And that's just what I'm going to tell you—nothing.” Ty grinned.

Ugh! What a cunning play on words.
I exchanged eye rolling with ACB, and vowed that I'd solve the case before Ty—just because.

“And I want to remind you two to stay away from this case. It's my job to find the murderer. It's Trixie's job to direct the play, and it's Antoinette Chloe's job to, well, to do whatever it is that she does. Stay away from this case. Got it?”

I could have set my watch by Ty's
butt out
lectures.

“Trixie? Do we have an understanding?”

I smiled. “Of course, Deputy Brisco.”

“What about you, Antoinette Chloe?”

“Why, certainly, Ty,” ACB was sitting behind Bob. I couldn't see her hands, but I'd bet the change in my car's cup holder that her fingers were crossed.

Just like mine.

•   •   •

Ty took Blondie, our mutually shared dog, out for an evening jog. Ty said he needed to think.

Antoinette Chloe and I immediately sprang into action and got out Liz's purse and laptop and started snooping.

We started with her purse. It didn't have anything exciting in it. It could have been anyone's purse, because it had a wallet, credit cards, makeup, tissues, keys, a checkbook, and a cell phone.

I looked at her cell phone. Nothing jumped out at me except for several calls made to Buffalo, New York, and several to the church's office.

The calls made to the church's office were probably
pertaining to her job. And she probably had friends in Buffalo. But I wrote down the numbers anyway. I'd call them later if I thought they were important.

“Did you find anything on the computer?” I asked ACB.

She gave me a thumbs-up. “There's a list of the people who auditioned so far. She gave them a plus or a minus sign. I think we both know what those stand for.”

“Yeah, either they had some talent or they were going to be the camel's butt.”

We laughed, fixed some tea, and then went back to work.

“I do see some plans for the pageant. Oh, she was doing scenes, so it's like a variety show. She planned on a scene or two from
It's a Wonderful Life
and a scene from
The Nutcracker.
Here's one from
A Christmas Story
—it's the one where Ralphie and Randy are visiting Santa, and Ralphie asks for a Red Ryder BB gun.” ACB laughed. “And then there's my scene. She jotted down a line of dialogue I gave her: ‘If you're not good boys and girls, you aren't going to get a present from the Ghost of Christmas Presents.' Brilliant, huh?”

“Definitely brilliant.” I chuckled. “What else did she have planned?”

“A nativity scene with a children's chorus singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem.'”

“That sounds wonderful.” There wouldn't be a dry eye in the church, and I'd be the first to get sentimental.

“And—get this—she planned on an adult chorus. That would quiet down all the stage mothers and dads and keep them busy.”

“Another great idea! I'm going to keep those ideas. What else?”

“That's about it, but I'll keep looking.”

“You know, Antoinette Chloe, it seems pretty heartless that we are continuing on with everything when Liz Fellows has just been murdered.”

She nodded. “I know, but that's one of the reasons that we are going to find out who killed her and get him or her arrested. Then everything can return to normal, and we can all enjoy the season.”

“Let's hurry and find the killer, okay? Then I can put my whole heart into this pageant. We can dedicate it to Liz.”

“Excellent idea, Trixie. Let's see what else is on her laptop. Maybe we can find something that gives us a clue as to where to start.”

Instead of searching, ACB pushed the laptop over to me. Then she got up, filled our two mugs with water and fresh tea bags, and put them both in the microwave.

She tapped on the counter with her long acrylic nails as she waited.

I looked at the “recent documents” section. She was working on something called Buff, but it looked like the folder was on a removable drive, like a flash drive. Matter of fact, there were a lot of Buffs and a lot of Bings.

Looking though her black laptop case, I unzipped
all the compartments and checked all the pockets, searching for a flash drive, but no luck. “Antoinette Chloe, did you happen to find a little flash drive in Liz's purse?”

“No, but I'll look again. Why do you ask?”

“Looks like she was working on something called Buff and Bing quite a lot. They might be important.”

“I wonder what it means,” she said. “Buff . . . as in no clothes?”

“I didn't know Liz very well, but I doubt if she meant
buff
as in no clothes. I don't have a clue what it stands for. But maybe Bing means Bing Crosby and ‘White Christmas.'”

She brought over the mugs and set them down. “I'll go through her purse again.”

Dumping everything on the table, she turned the lining inside out and felt the cloth, then the leather. “Nothing here.”

The two of us searched everything. Then I sat back and took a sip of tea. “Maybe it's in her house. Or it could be in her office at the church.”

“We're going to have to look in both places, Trixie.”

“In case you haven't noticed, I can't get around all that great.”

“I'll help you.”

“And I can't run,” I said. “Not that I ever really could.”

“Then I'll roll you.”

I tried not to laugh. My ribs were still hurting, and I hated to open my mouth due to my missing front tooth. Speaking of which . . .

“Antoinette Chloe, I wanted to remind you that I need a ride to the dentist's office tomorrow. Hopefully he can glue something on temporarily so I don't look like a Halloween pumpkin.”

We both heard a shuffling on the porch outside the kitchen.

“It's Ty!” ACB said jumping up. “He's back with Blondie.”

I pulled the sleeve of her magnolia muumuu to get her to sit back down. “Toss everything back into Liz's purse. Hurry!”

While she did that, I put Liz's laptop back into the case and put it under the table.

When Ty walked in, all he saw were two friends having a cup of tea.

After he got done wiping Blondie's paws with a towel that I keep by the door, he looked up. “You both look guilty. What are you two cooking up?”

“Why, nothing, Ty,” ACB batted her eyelashes, feigning innocence. Ty didn't buy it.

“I know guilty looks when I see them. Spill,” he said.

“You're mistaking guilt for sadness. We were talking about Liz's murder.” I wasn't lying. We
were
doing that in a roundabout way.

“And I was reminding Antoinette Chloe that I have to go to the dentist tomorrow. She's going to take me.”

He turned to ACB. “I can drive Trixie if you can't.”

“No, I'm free. It'll be my pleasure. Would you like some tea, Ty?”

“No, thanks. I'd better get home. It's been a long day,
and tomorrow will be even longer,” he said. “I have to find Liz's next of kin.”

“Pastor Fritz should know. Or his wife, Darlene,” ACB said.

“They don't seem to. They said that Liz was kind of quiet and never spoke about any family members.”

“Maybe there's a will in her papers,” ACB suggested.

“If we can find one. Or if someone steps forward,” Ty said. “Speaking of that, where's Liz's purse?”

“Here you go.” ACB lifted it up and handed it to him. It was a little more lumpy and sloppy than when we'd gotten it from the church. He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything.

“Is there anything in the purse that might help me with finding Liz's next of kin?”

“My goodness, Deputy Ty Brisco. How on this snowy earth would we know?” ACB put a hand on her throat and looked appalled. “Do you think we'd purposely dig through a woman's purse?”

“In a New York minute!” he said.

“Well, maybe, but in this case there was nothing in it of interest.” ACB tried not to smile.

“See you tomorrow, ladies.”

“See you, Ty. And thanks for all your help,” I said.

He nodded and headed out the door. Ty lived across my lawn, past the diner, past the boat ramp, and up the stairs above the Sandy Harbor Bait Shop. Uncle Porky
had helped the owner of the bait shop, Mr. Farnsworth, build the extra room. It was going to be used for overflow guests of the cottages, but then they both offered it to Ty when he moved down here from Houston.

“He's a good guy,” ACB said.

I took another sip of tea. “And he's a
smart
guy. If he catches us meddling in this case, he'll have our heads.”

“He'll lock us up. That's what he always threatens us with.”

“We're going to have to be really careful this time,” I said, thinking that with a cast and broken ribs, I'd be a handicap.

“I know,” ACB said. “Great minds think alike.”

“First thing in the morning, we'll head to Liz Fellows's house. Oh, crap! We should have lifted her keys from her purse.”

ACB dangled a key chain loaded with keys in front of my face. “Who said I didn't?”

“Antoinette Chloe Brown, you are magnificent, just magnificent.”

“I realize that your senses are not up to par considering your problems, but tomorrow you'll have a tooth filling that gap of yours, so you won't look like the Wicked Witch of Sandy Harbor.”

“Let's get to sleep early, Antoinette Chloe. We have a lot of things to do tomorrow.”

But the microwave bell dinged, signaling that our tea was ready. Instead of going to bed early, we talked about our plans to break into Liz's house tomorrow.