It's a Wonderful Knife (18 page)

“You can move in with me until things get . . . settled,” Roger said, leaning against the door frame of the men's room. “We can move to one of the B&Bs in town.”

Darlene was staring straight ahead and not
blinking. It hadn't really sunk in yet that her husband had killed her friend.

“Darlene, do the pageant for the kids,” I said, taking her hand. “You're a great Zuzu. Then we'll both talk to Ty.”

She smiled sadly. “I'll do it.”

“Good,” I said, getting up. I wanted to hear the rest of the tape, but I had a pageant to put on.

“I just want to ask you one more thing, Darlene. It was Fritz who stole the money from the Buffalo church where you were a volunteer. Correct? And you went to jail . . . for him.”

“He convinced me that I was guilty because I didn't do some things correctly as a volunteer. He said that if I pled guilty, he'd get me out of jail early, and he promised to marry me. To give me a good name, he said, and because he loved me. That was music to my ears after a hateful divorce from my husband. Here he was the great pastor of a church, and I was going to be like the First Lady. How stupid was I?”

“You were young, Dar. Don't beat yourself up. You've always had a good heart and that was your strength, but Fritz Robinson took advantage of you, and you paid the price.”

“Thank you for that, Trixie.”

“Don't go near Fritz until we can talk to Ty. His life is crumbling around him. He could get desperate.”

I had to find Ty and keep an eye on Fritz.

But I couldn't find either of them. The place was packed and the adult choir was singing until the curtain went up in . . . ten minutes!

Where did the time go?

Two of my shepherds threw up backstage due to nerves and overindulging on Christmas candy. I found Margie Grace and asked her to find Roger for a cleanup. I guessed the nativity scene would be okay without shepherds tending their flock.

The Finch Who Stole Christmas was sucking on a candy cane through his beak.

ACB was ghostly in a white muumuu with white flip-flops, white makeup, and a white wig. A white fascinator with tiny, wrapped presents around a tiny Christmas tree jutted straight out from the side of her head. She was sitting down, holding hands with Judge Glennie.

Backstage, there was an excited buzz from the cast. Margie walked around telling everyone to please be quiet, so the choir could be heard. Forget it! Everyone was just too excited.

I walked farther into the area behind the altar/stage, got out my cell phone, and called Ty. I got his voice mail.

“Ty, please find me. Hurry. I'm behind the stage. I have really important information for you about Fritz.”

Just like Liz, I wasn't going to call him
pastor
anymore. He didn't deserve the respect of the title.

“You do, Trixie? What kind of really important information about me do you have for Ty?” Fritz asked through gritted teeth.

He was the Ghost of Christmas Future and wore a long black shapeless robe with a hood, and looked as pale as death. Which I guessed was the point.

“Trixie, my dear, why don't you come with me to my office, and we can discuss why you're upset. Shall we?”

“I'm not going anywhere with you, Fritz. You're a murderer, a gambler, and a thief. You aren't fit to be a pastor. In fact, you aren't fit to be in my pageant. You are hereby no longer the Ghost of Christmas Future.”

I was stalling for time.

Question: Why wasn't anyone around back here?

Answer: Because the pageant was about to start.

They wouldn't start without me, would they?

Suddenly Fritz grabbed my arm, and I felt a prick in my side. A knife!

If he ruined my Tiny Tim costume—faux lederhosen made out of brown felt with red suspenders, a white peasant blouse, and red-and-green striped Christmas socks, our wardrobe department . . . um . . . Agatha Lutz would be mad.

“A knife, Fritz? Just like the butcher knife that you used to kill Liz Fellows?”

He was half dragging me to a room behind the stage.

He pushed me, and I crutched along slowly. Then there was another prick.

“Fritz, I'm telling you for the last time, leave the lederhosen alone!”

“
You
just couldn't leave things alone, could you?” he whispered in my ear as he kept pushing me. “I know that the whole thing with Antoinette Chloe, that fake
suicide attempt on the bridge, was a ruse to get me out of here.”

“You still went.”

“I meant after. She overacted, and wasn't entirely convincing that she was going to jump because of Roger,” he sniffed. “You saw my two sets of books, didn't you?”

“And a ton of used pull tabs in your apartment. Tell me, what do you do with them all when you are done?”

“I toss them into the Dumpster out back the night before the trash is picked up.”

“So Roger won't see.” I nodded. “And you trashed Liz's house, didn't you?”

“I must admit that was beneath me, but I had to find that stupid little . . .”

“Flash drive,” I finished. “I found it the other day.”

We stopped walking, and I decided to jump in with both feet and see if I could get a confession out of him.

“Why did you kill Liz, Fritz? Did she find out about you? Did she figure out that Darlene took the hit for you in Buffalo? Did she find out that you were up to your old tricks and were going to lay the blame on Darlene again?”

His Adam's apple was bobbing in double time. “Who would believe that a pastor could do such a thing? It just wouldn't happen.”

“Sure they'd believe it. I believe it! Liz believed it.”

“And she's not here, is she?”

“Because you killed her!” I yelled, and got the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. “But Liz left the Sandy
Harbor Community Church's parishioners and the Sandy Harbor Sheriff's Department a perfectly wonderful Christmas present.” I held up Liz's tape recorder and hit the Play button. Fritz's voice was loud and clear.

“You wouldn't dare report me.”

Liz laughed.
“I sure will. I have a record of all the money you've stolen on a little flash drive that you'll never find. I have records of the pull tabs that were ordered and paid for by the church, ones that you took and used for yourself. But above all, I am working to prove that you framed Darlene to take the rap for you back in Buffalo.”

“Is that enough, Fritz?” I knew I was taunting him, and I slipped the cassette back into my pocket. I'd guard it with my life because that little cassette was the best evidence of Fritz's crimes. “Is that why you killed Liz? Because she knew way too much about your illegal activity, huh?”

“Shut up!”

He was clutching his knife so hard that his knuckles were white, but I had a plan in case he came at me. But first, as they say on the television shows with all the initials, I needed backup.

There was a phone on the wall, and it had an intercom that went into the public address system. Moving in front of the phone, I managed to hide it from Fritz's view.

Then I looked around for something to hit him with. Some kind of wood thing would do, like a stick or a baseball bat. Maybe a golf club.

Or maybe
crutches.

He made the mistake of turning away to see what I was looking at.

Whack!
I hit him with a crutch on the back of the head.

Whack!
I did it again.

He fell to the ground, and I hit the button on the intercom. “Attention, please. Your attention, please. Will Ebenezer Scrooge please report to Tiny Tim behind the stage, and hurry?”

Fritz started to move, so I plunked my casted leg on his back and shoved him back down.

“That's a major hurry, Ebenezer. STAT! Code Blue!” I said into the intercom.

Ty found me seconds later. The first thing he noticed was Fritz on the floor with his hands behind his back, and me with my foot on his butt like I was climbing Mount Crumpit. In the absence of handcuffs, I'd used one of my crutches and threaded his hands and arms through the middle of my crutch as far as they would go.

He looked like he was in the stocks.

“What have we here?” Ty asked me, picking up Fritz's knife, which I'd kicked away with my good leg.

“We have Liz Fellows's killer, the man who's been cooking the books and stealing from the church. The man who was wormy enough to talk a young girl into taking the blame for something he did many years
ago.
He dangled an early release and marriage in front of her.”

“Is that right, Fritz?”

No answer. I pressed my foot into his back until he groaned. Then he said, “I want a lawyer.”

“Good thinking.” Ty replaced my crutch with his handcuffs and got Fritz up from the floor.

I was hot and flushed and pumped full of adrenaline.

“I'll take him out back and deliver him to Vern McCoy,” Ty said. “Vern can start the paperwork. I'll be back.”

“Good.”

“Oh, and Trixie?”

“Yes?”

“Outstanding job,” he said, giving me a snappy salute.

Wow!

Just like Ralphie on Christmas morning when his dad gave him the best Christmas present of his life—a Red Ryder BB gun—Ty had just given me the best Christmas present ever. I was sure that I'd get a lecture later about leaving the investigating to him, but until then, I was going to revel in his compliment and the fact that I caught Liz's killer.

I'd revel later. At that moment, I needed to get the show on the road.

I crutched to the stage, took a deep breath, and said
to the audience, “Ladies and gentlemen and boys and girls, today's performance of our pageant is dedicated to the memory of our friend Liz Fellows.” There was clapping by everyone. “And the part of the Ghost of Christmas Future will now be played by Roger Southwick.” I hoped that Roger was okay with this. “And after the play, dinner will be served in the community room, and I hear that Santa and Mrs. Claus are going to visit.”

There were
ooh
s and
aah
s from the audience. Then Ty's dad, Justin Brisco, broke into a rousing “Jingle Bells” on the piano, and everyone sang along as I hobbled off the stage.

The pageant wasn't perfect, but everyone loved it. There weren't any accidents, or at least nothing that required hospitalization.

Ty even made it for his part in the play. I had planned to play two parts—Scrooge and Tim—if need be. I would've bet it would have been the first time Scrooge was portrayed in lederhosen.

Onstage, Ty whispered to me that Darlene was going to testify against Fritz. More charges would be coming as soon as the church's records were audited.

When the play was over, I was given roses by the cast and crew. I called ACB and Margie Grace to the stage to share the honor with me. Then I said my thank-yous.

Bob then called us in rows to file into the community room. Darlene read a little Christmas prayer that she'd found. Later, when we talked privately about
Fritz's arrest, her face glowed. “It's a Christmas miracle, Trixie.”

If anyone wondered where Fritz was, no one asked.

The word would be out soon enough, anyway.

The food was delicious and everyone went up for seconds and thirds until there was nothing left.

I sat with my family, Ty's parents, and my extended family, the Boca Babes.

Santa and Mrs. Claus arrived to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” and the kids just about jumped out of their skin. They were so cute to watch.

The gloves-and-hat sets were a hit with the first, second, third, and fourth grades of Sandy Harbor Grammar School. Santa and Mrs. Claus passed out candy canes and other trinkets. And then it really hit me that Santa and Mrs. Claus, or should I say Bob and Aunt Stella, looked very much in love!

“Mom, have you noticed Bob and Aunt Stella?” I whispered.

“Stella told me all about it. Apparently Bob left when Porky died because he felt guilty. Bob had always loved Stella, and wanted to give her some time and space to heal before he came calling. They've reconnected, but Stella feels like she's betraying her beloved Porky by being with Bob. It's all a big mess, but there is always—”

“A Christmas miracle,” I said.

I noticed Bob walk into the kitchen and return with a shiny black accordion. Clapping started as everyone noticed the person who Bob stopped and stood in front of.

Aunt Stella! Or should I say Mrs. Claus?

Aunt Stella grinned and held out her arms to take the accordion. Bob turned it around, gently handed it to her, and helped her with the straps. She unhooked it, let some air into the instrument, and ran her fingers up and down the keyboard and buttons.

The clapping increased and then a hush fell over the room. Aunt Stella played several songs for the kids with everyone singing along. She ended with “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.”

Santa stood and called for everyone's attention, and the room became silent.

“Will Trixie Matkowski please join Santa and Mrs. Claus?”

My heart started beating wildly. What was this?

I settled down in a chair in front of the Christmas tree where Santa had pointed.

“Trixie, it has come to Santa's attention that you've been a little out of sorts this Christmas with your broken leg, but Santa and Mrs. Claus know that you've touched a lot of lives since you've come to Sandy Harbor. So several people have put together a little presentation for you, Trixie.”

Aunt Stella stepped forward. “You've been like the daughter that I never had, Trixie, and I love you dearly.” Then she whispered in my ear, “There's no one I'd rather see running the point than you.”

Antoinette Chloe walked toward me. “You and I have had a lot of adventures, haven't we, Trixie? You've saved me from going insane on many occasions, you don't judge me, and we have a lot of laughs. BFFs forever!”