It's a Wonderful Knife (17 page)

We parked in front of the Ride 'Em Cowboy Saloon as we had before and waited. Soon our old friends Jud and Dan walked over.

“Ladies, you returned,” said Jud.

“I said we would,” I told him. “And we have a car full of wonderful things. Can we drive over to the bridge and drop it off?”

“Let me tell everyone that you are friends, not foes,” said Dan. “When I give you the signal, come on over.”

A short time later, Dan waved to us and we drove over. My heart broke for the people living under the bridge. As we unloaded, their gratitude was overwhelming, the hugs and handshakes were plentiful, and there were tears frozen on cold cheeks.

Both ACB and I passed out our business cards, and invited anyone who could use a free hot meal in Sandy Harbor to come on up.

Then we handed Dan and Jud a pile of cash so they could get what else the people needed for Christmas.

As we drove home, I felt the magic of Christmas glowing bright inside me.

Finally.

•   •   •

When we got home, the ladies were having tea and Christmas cookies at the kitchen table.

“She's here,” I heard my mother say. “This is going to be great!”

“What's going on?” I asked, turning to ACB.

“You'll see.”

Pretty packages wrapped in Christmas paper appeared on the table.

“It's a surprise party for you, Trixie,” my mother said.

“Me? What on earth for?”

“Because you need a little Christmas spirit, right this very minute! Because you love Christmas so much and because we wanted to. So these are some pre-Christmas presents for you,” Aunt Stella said. “Now sit down, put your foot up, and open the big one.”

I enjoyed looking at the paper and the pretty silver bow, and then I tore the paper and tossed it on the ground as my father had us do every Christmas. It's a great tradition.

Our rug was always covered with colorful paper and bows on Christmas morning, like a big mosaic, until my mother made us clean it up.

I opened the box and parted the white paper with glitter on it.

“Oh my. It's beautiful!” It was a fabulous red-and-gold dress. The bodice was awash with gold and red sequins. But I wanted to see more! “Can someone hold this up for me?”

The rest of the dress draped into pretty folds and it was floor-length.

“Oh, Mom! I love it!”

“And, Trixie, I am an outstanding seamstress and used to work in the Garment District in New York City, so I can make any alterations you may need,” said Frieda, one of the Boca Babes.

“Open the smaller ones,” said Aunt Stella.

I opened a small green package that contained beautiful earrings that looked like diamond-encrusted snowflakes. “Oh, no! I couldn't!” I protested.

“You most certainly can,” Aunt Stella said.

“If you insist . . .”

“This is for you, too, Trixie,” Aunt Stella said, handing me a big box.

I tore open the beautiful paper. “A new Lenox crystal bowl. Thank you!”

“One more thing,” ACB said. She pulled out a mug from behind her muumuu. “Look what I found online!”

It was the Santa Claus cocoa mug that my grandmother had given me years ago—the one that I broke when I fell.

“Oh, Antoinette Chloe!” That was the sweet white icing on the cupcake of my day. I was going to cry. “All of you are just wonderful. Thank you for helping me, and thank you for just being here.”

“Don't cry, sweetie. Try on the dress,” said my mother.

ACB got up with me, picked up the box, and we both went into the laundry room.

“I pray it fits,” I said.

It did, and I loved it. I loved the way it draped from the bodice, the way it glittered, and the way it made me feel so special.

All I needed now was a pair of glass slippers!

•   •   •

Ty's parents arrived at Syracuse's Hancock International Airport in the late afternoon two days later.

Ty brought them immediately to pageant rehearsal so they could meet everyone and have something to eat.

I met them in the community room, where dining was under way. I had just walked into the room and deposited my notebook and a pen at a table, so I could make some notes on the pageant.

Ty's father, Justin Brisco, was an older version of Ty. His handshake was warm, friendly, and so enthusiastic that it rattled my teeth.

“When we used to rent a cottage here, I remember you running around in a purple bathing suit, playing in the sand for hours, and bobbing on the waves in a pink tube.”

“I still do those things, pink tube and all.”

He threw his head back and laughed. I wished that Ty would do that more, but he was always so serious.

His mother, Marylou, was tall, dark-haired, and looked like a model. Her smile lit up her face,
especially when she looked at her son and husband, and her sense of humor had everyone laughing.

I remembered when Ty and I had shared a polka at my first summer Dancefest on the big deck by the Silver Bullet. He'd saved me from a world of embarrassment.

I was shocked that Ty could do the polka. He'd said that his mother taught him, and that her maiden name was Karpinski.

Ty was Polish on his mother's side, and I thought he'd said that his father's ancestors were from England.

That made Ty a Polish and British cowboy from Houston.

Hmm . . . fish and chips, pierogi, and chili.

Those would be my next specials at the diner in honor of Justin and Marylou Brisco.

I'd let Juanita, Cindy, and Bob know.

“Trixie, is there anything we can do for the pageant?” Marylou asked. “We've both done a little community theater.”

“Professionals? Wow! I am sure there is.” I raised my hands and crossed my fingers. “Can you sing or play the piano?”

“Justin is an outstanding pianist. I can sing a bit.”

“She sings like an angel,” Justin said, putting his arm around Marylou's slim waist.

With that tiny waist, she must have a black belt in Pilates!

“Then it's really fortunate for us that you're visiting. Our pianist, poor Mrs. Stump, has developed shingles.
I have sheet music somewhere. I'll find it and give it to you, Mr. Brisco.”

“Justin. Please call me Justin.” He had a smile just like Ty's, or vice versa, and he had the same little dimple on his right cheek.

Ty walked over. “Can I steal my parents away? I want them to meet Aunt Stella and Bob and your parents, too.”

He nodded in the direction of where everyone was sitting. But it was Aunt Stella and Bob that I noticed first. They were sitting side by side at a back table not far from us. And, if I could believe my eyes, they were holding hands.

Holding hands?

When the Briscos approached, they dropped hands. My father and Bob stood, like the gentlemen they were, and three chairs were pulled out for them to sit.

Justin and Marylou sat down after Ty introduced them and the laughter and joking began as if the Briscos were long-lost friends.

That's what I liked about my family. No one was a stranger.

Ty said good-bye to them and walked toward me. He had a purposeful gait, combined with a bit of a swagger. His cowboy boots thumped on the floor and he wore a white Stetson hat (white, because he was a good guy). He sported a green and red long-sleeved shirt that had tiny gold threads woven into it. The Christmasy-looking shirt was tucked into a pair of
dark blue jeans with a black belt, the buckle of which took up the same square footage as a toboggan.

Not that I noticed.

“Trixie, can I get you something to eat?” he asked.

“I'd love some chicken and biscuits. And a cola.”

“You got it.”

I caught his scent—pine and leather—over the chicken and biscuits that Bob and Juanita had made. The Boca Babes had made the salads with Aunt Stella, my mother, and ACB.

Darlene and Roger were eating together. It looked like they were having a serious, very secret discussion. I wondered what was up. It still tweaked me that they might be in cahoots together.

Ever since Darlene had had the mini-meltdown in the office, she'd made herself scarce. I'd often seen her eyes pink and puffy as if she'd been crying, but I'd stopped asking if I could help because whenever I did, it brought on a fresh batch of tears.

Ty came with the food and drinks on an orange plastic tray and sat down across from me.

I was surprised that he didn't want to eat with his parents, since they'd just arrived.

Something must be bothering him.

“What's on your mind, Ty?” I asked.

“Let's talk.” He stabbed a piece of lettuce and swung his fork around in a tiny circle. “Tell me what you've been up to and why.”

Okay, so I told him about how ACB had faked a jump on the Salmon River Bridge to get Pastor Fritz out of his office. I told him about how I'd found two sets of
books and more boxes of used pull tabs. I even told him that we found out that Roger took all the bingo trash to the Dumpster, so the other pull tab trash was personal.

I asked Ty if he knew who had the pull tab habit.

Instead of answering, he asked me if
I
knew.

“Ty, do you suddenly have a policy of our working together on this?”

“I do not.” He shook his head. “You're a civilian.”

“So it'll be always a one-way conversation?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “So, who?”

“I'd bet on Darlene. She has a past record of thievery. If anything, I think that Pastor Fritz is covering up her stealing by making up another set of books. Books that Liz was supposed to be computerizing. I think it's safe to assume that Liz probably confronted Darlene about it, and Darlene—who didn't want another scandal—killed Liz to shut her up.”

He rubbed his forehead. I knew what he was thinking. How would he prove that Darlene had done it?

“Ty, put pressure on Darlene. She seems ready to snap anyway. Something's bothering her. She's been crying. Maybe she's just an emotional mess because she's overcome with the guilt of killing Liz.” I took a sip of cola. “I also think you should check out if Roger has anything new to say. He's here for some reason, unless he really needs a job. And why is Roger the one collecting all the bingo money and all the church collection money? Doesn't he trust his sister? Or, more likely, they might be working together.”

“All good questions. Thanks for the talk, Trixie. Gotta go.”

He turned to walk away and gave me a smirk over his shoulder. “Oh, Trixie? It's standard operating procedure with suicide attempts to send the individual for a mental health evaluation. Ask Antoinette Chloe if she'd like me to make an appointment for her with a mental health professional, and let me know.”

“I'll be sure to ask her.”

Not!

T
ime zoomed by in a frenzy of catering and mass consumption of Christmas cookies and cocoa.

I did a lot of catalog shopping since I couldn't get around, and spent a lot of days watching rehearsals at the community church.

Speaking of Christmas gifts, I couldn't wait to see the expressions on the Babes' faces when they saw the pink and white bowling type shirts that I had embroidered for them at the Sandy Harbor Stitchery. Their first names are on the pockets and “Busy Boca Babe” is across the back in black. I knew they'd love them, but I owed the Babes more than just fun shirts.

I also decided that Bob was finally a part of the Silver Bullet staff, so I ordered chef pants with air planes on them and his own white chef's coat. I hoped that he'd stick around, but I had a feeling that he would be headed for Boca with Aunt Stella.

The first dress rehearsal for the first half of the pageant was a major disaster with a couple of exceptions. The Busy Boca Babes did an excellent kick line as Santa's Reindeer.

Marylou did sing like an angel. Justin was an
incredible pianist, and he developed a sound track for each “scene,” if needed.

My part as Tiny Tim, with Ty as Scrooge, and my parents as the Cratchits, went well. I had the famous line, “God bless us, everyone,” which always makes people happy and full of Christmas cheer.

The dress rehearsal for the second half of the pageant didn't fare much better.

Ralphie almost fell off the stage, and Randy just sat down and cried because he wanted to be either Captain America or the Hulk.

An angel decided that she couldn't be an angel without twinkling like a star, and wouldn't go on until her mother found some glitter and sprinkled it all over her.

The angels' halos wouldn't stay upright either, and someone had accidentally sewed their wings on upside down.

The Three Kings wanted to bring in three ostriches from their farm to act as camels. In fact, the ostriches were waiting in a trailer in the parking lot.

I asked ACB to handle that one.

The Grinch's costume was a furry, fuzzy, gray costume with orange, yellow, and purple feathers and shaped like a bird. The wardrobe department, Agatha Lutz, had thought I said we needed a
finch
costume. Oops.

Since it was too late to make another costume, we were going with
The Finch Who Stole Christmas
.

Other than that, we were ready to go!

•   •   •

All too soon, it was Christmas Eve, the night of the pageant and the Christmas Eve dinner. Santa would visit after dessert, which was a buffet of pies, cakes, and cookies.

Juanita, Cindy, and Bob were busy deboning cooked turkeys. The Babes, Marylou, and my mother had helped prepare big aluminum pans containing squash, gravy, mashed potatoes, and stuffing. There were cranberries, shaped like the can, which I loved, homemade applesauce donated by Harbor Orchard, and lots of pickles and olives and rolls for the tables.

The tables in the church's community room were already decorated and ready for hungry revelers. The Christmas tree was up, too, and had been decorated by Roger.

As many of us as could possibly fit piled into ACB's van. My father drove more people in my car, and Ty drove even more in his SUV.

When I got to the church, I sought out Roger Southwick. I wanted to tell him to lower the curtain after the pageant, then raise it again, because I had several people that I wanted to thank, him included, before the feast started.

I found him cleaning the men's room. “Roger, can we talk for a moment—outside?”

We took a seat on the bench in the hallway and I told him about raising the curtain. “And I want to thank you personally for everything you've done. I know you've done a lot of things behind the scenes, so thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“And I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I'll be quitting my job here after the pageant. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I was pretty distraught after Liz's murder, so I was rude. I liked Liz a lot, and we went out several times. Besides, she was going to help my sister,” he said. “But no one can help Darlene now.” He got up to leave, but I grabbed on to his arm.

No one can help Darlene now?

“Roger, please. It's a season of miracles. Darlene can be helped, but first, tell me how Liz was going to help Darlene.”

He let out a big sigh. “Liz was looking into getting Darlene's conviction overturned because she wants to be a reverend.”

Whoa!

“Darlene wasn't upset at Liz because she found out about Darlene's troubles in Buffalo?” I asked.

“Oh, so you know about her prison time? I thought that no one would know because she was Darlene Osmond back then. She didn't do it, you know.”

I couldn't believe that this was Mr. Congeniality opening up to me. It
was
a Christmas miracle.

“Darlene is innocent?” I asked again. Of course he'd say that. “Who stole all that money, then? Was it you?”

He snorted and went back into the men's room.

“Wait . . . I have more questions!”

For heaven's sake!

That was all I was going to get from him?

I walked by Pastor Fritz's office and stopped when I
heard a loud voice. “I want your brother out of here. Tomorrow. I saw him talking to that nosy Trixie Matkowski. I always knew she was up to something.”

“It's Christmas and he's my only relative. You owe me, Fritz.”

“How many times are you going to throw that in my face? I made you what you are.”

“You made me a felon, Fritz! And I won't go back to prison. I will not. I can't. Don't even think it.”

“When this stupid pageant is over, I want your brother gone! And I want Trixie Matkowski gone. And you're not to speak to Ty Brisco or anyone else without me there. Do you hear me?”

“I've already talked to a lawyer, Fritz. I want a divorce. You want my brother gone? Fine. I'm going with him.”

“I'm not going to let you leave!”

“You can't stop me, Fritz. Don't even try.”

“I must have been crazy when I married you!” he shouted.

“And you're still crazy,” Darlene yelled.

This was Pastor Fritz? I never thought in a million years that he would speak to anyone like that. But maybe the stress of covering up for Darlene had finally gotten to him.

I didn't have time to think about it, though. It was almost time to get the pageant under way. I felt that I was close to finding out who killed Liz, but was still missing a crucial piece of evidence that would pin all of it on Darlene. There must have been something that
I had overlooked, but I couldn't think of what it could be.

You made me a felon, Fritz.

I won't go back to prison.

From what I overheard, there was real trouble in Robinson land, and they were headed straight for divorce. Darlene had already seen a lawyer, but whether that was because she was filing for divorce or for something else, I couldn't say.

And what about Darlene's pull tab addiction? Why did her own brother keep the church collection and bingo money away from her? Or were they stealing together?

What was I missing?

I sat down at my desk in the office, exhausted, and suddenly remembered finding the cassette player on my first day in the office. I wondered whether Liz had made an incriminating tape and had hidden it underneath something, as she did with the flash drive. But where could it be?

What about Liz's car?

Without putting a coat on, I crutched to Liz's car, which was still parked out back and covered with snow. Ty hadn't taken it to be impounded yet.

I tried all the doors and they were locked—all except for the hatchback. I laughed, and then climbed in, closing the hatch behind me. I dove over the backseat, then did the same over the front seat, lifting my cast as I went.

I felt under the dash. “C'mon, Liz. You must have left something here . . . somewhere.”

My fingers were numb from the cold. It seemed even colder inside Liz's car than outside.

Nothing was there, and it was getting dark.

On a whim, I opened the console in the middle. Nothing but some CDs and a few homemade cassette tapes, labeled
ASSORTED
SONGS
FROM
THE
'50
S
,
F
'
S
GREATEST
HITS
,
ELVIS
BLUE
HAWAII
.

I put all three of the cassettes into my cleavage purse.

I checked for anyone watching, but it was impossible to tell with the windows all frosted over. Opening the driver's-side door, I hobbled back to the office to get both me and the tapes warm.

I opened Liz's middle drawer and got out the little cassette player/recorder. I was going to listen to F's Greatest Hits.

My heart started beating faster as I popped open the plastic door to the player, slid the cassette in place, and hit play. I put the buds into my ears and jumped as I heard a man's voice. I lowered the volume and slipped the player into my pocket.

“Did you tell anyone about this meeting, Liz?”

“No. I didn't tell anyone, Fritz.”

“You don't call me ‘pastor' anymore. Why not?”

“You don't seem like a pastor to me anymore. As a matter of fact, I think you should resign and turn yourself in. You'd save this parish and this community a lot of embarrassment. When I think of how the good people of Sandy Harbor donated their time and money to feed your gambling habit, it . . . well, let's just say it doesn't sit well with me. And you
let Darlene take the rap and go to prison for you. How can you wear that collar? Where's your conscience?”

It hit me then. Liz wasn't using Darlene's criminal past against her. Liz was
helping
her.

“I didn't ask you to meet with me to talk about Darlene, or anything else for that matter,”
Fritz continued
. “I called you in to let you know that I've asked for a transfer, so all will be we
ll.”

“You'll just commit the same crime again, won't you? First there was Buffalo, then Sandy Harbor. . . . You'll do it again wherever you go. It ends here, Fritz. I'm going to let your superiors and Ty Brisco know.”

“You wouldn't dare!”

I heard Antoinette Chloe's voice as if from a distance. “Trixie? Trixie, everyone is asking for you. What are you doing in here?”

I pulled the earbuds out and noticed the time. Thirty minutes before the curtain went up.

“I didn't think it was this late. Let's go!”

“What are you listening to?” ACB asked.

“Liz recorded her meeting with Pastor Fritz. I found the cassette in Liz's car just now.”

“Anything good on it?” she asked.

“Definitely! I have to finish listening to it, though. But let me just tell you one thing: I think Fritz killed Liz. He's the pull tab addict. And Liz was trying to help Darlene, not hinder her. Darlene wants to be a priest.”

“Wow!”

“Liz figured out that Darlene took the rap for Fritz or else he framed her or something. And I think he's
about to do it again. I overheard them arguing. I'd love to find Darlene and talk to her.”

“You don't have to look very far, Trixie. She's coming right down the hall.”

“Antoinette Chloe, will you please go and handle things for me for a while? I'll be right there.”

“You got it.”

Darlene crashed into me as I headed toward the ladies' room.

“Have you seen my brother?” she asked, clearly shaken.

“He was cleaning the men's room earlier. Maybe he's stocking it now. But are you okay, Darlene?”

“No.” She stomped to the door of the men's room and stuck her head in. “Roger, get out here, please.”

“What's wrong, Dar?”

“Just like we thought. It's happening again. We're leaving.”

By this time, I'd caught up to them. “Darlene, I couldn't help overhearing. If you have a problem, talk to Ty. He'll help you.”

“No way.” She shook her head. “He'll help me right to jail. I'm leaving.”

“If you leave, you'll look guilty, and I know that you didn't do anything. At first, I thought you murdered Liz because she found out about your crimes in Buffalo. I thought that you were stealing money from the church because you have a pull tab addiction and that maybe Roger was helping you—”

“No!” Darlene gasped. “My brother was helping Liz
keep track of the receipts from bingo and the Sunday collections so Fritz wouldn't dip into it.”

“Roger, you were helping Liz?” I said. “You and Liz were keeping track of receipts?”

“Yes. And finally Darlene had enough money to write checks,” he said.

I smiled. “Liz saved the day on more than one occasion. I found a tape she made. She recorded a conversation between Fritz and herself. I haven't finished listening to it, but Fritz is clearly the culprit. Liz accused him of stealing money. She told him that she was going to turn him in to Ty Brisco, and therefore, he had a good reason to kill Liz.”

Darlene slumped into the chair near the men's room, then looked up at me, sobbing.

“It's all over?” She was taking short, puffy breaths, and I thought she was going to pass out. “I loved Liz! She was my friend and confidant, and she was trying to help me. She was trying to help this church, too.”

“I know she was. I know. But you have to talk to Ty, Darlene. And you can't let on that we know your husband is guilty of Liz's murder. Just do your part in the play. Do it for the kids.”

“Fritz killed Liz,” she whispered to herself. “I thought so, but I couldn't let myself believe it. I just couldn't.”