It's a Wonderful Knife

by Christine Wenger

  “No. I just stuffed myself at the Silver Bullet.”

  “I heard you helped decorate. Thanks.” I motioned for him to take a seat across from me.

  He nodded. “It was no trouble. They did a great job.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  There was a pause in the conversation, and I waited for Ty to tell me what was on his mind. I braced myself.

  “I spoke with Roger Southwick. He seemed to think that you and Antoinette Chloe were upstairs snooping around in the private apartments. He said that you two might have been in his place. I guess a couple of things were disturbed.”

  There’s going to be coal in my stocking on Christmas morning.

  “Well, Ty, Antoinette Chloe and I ran into Roger by the back door as we were leaving. Remember, we spoke in the parking lot and you warned me about Margie Grace. Oh, I have to tell you about Margie! Just listen to this!” I took a breath, but it was a big mistake.

  He held up a hand as if he were directing traffic. “This isn’t about Margie Grace. It’s about whether or not you and Antoinette Chloe were in Roger’s apartment.” He let out a deep breath. “Just tell me the truth.”

  “I always do, more or less.”

  “Make it more of the truth, not less. I have to crack this case, and soon. I don’t want a murderer walking around free.”

  “Will we go to jail?” I asked.

  He looked at me with those sparkling blue eyes, and I knew he wouldn’t lie, so why should I?

  “No. You won’t go to jail if you’re honest with me,” he said.

  “Then, yes. Yes, we went to his apartment. And we also went to the Robinsons’ apartment.”

  He sat back in his chair, hands folded.

  “How did you get in?”

  “Keys. I found keys in the office. We went up there when everyone was in church. Five more seconds and we wouldn’t have run into Roger.”

  “What did you discover?” he asked.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He nodded. “I interviewed the Robinsons and Roger in their respective apartments. Everything was clean. Then I got a search warrant, and went into both places, legally. Everything was clean.”

  “We found piles and piles of opened pull tabs in the Robinsons’ place—three towers’ worth of clear plastic garbage bags, stacked high, full of them. And there were more unopened pull tabs on their coffee table. I guess that one of them is addicted to pull tabs and opens them when they are watching TV.”

  Ty leaned forward. “Interesting. What else?”

  “A pile of unpaid bills were on their kitchen table and there were even more on Darlene’s desk.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I moved the afghan over my feet. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that I already knew they were in financial trouble. So is the church.”

  “Maybe Liz knew that, too,” I said. “And maybe she knew that one of them has a jones for pull tabs. She must receive everything that is ordered by the church.”

  “That’s my guess.” He leaned his arms on his thighs, intent on every word I said, or maybe he couldn’t hear over the screaming Boca Babes.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  I smiled. “The Babes are busy playing pinochle and chugging highballs.”

  He chuckled. “Got it.” He waited until the noise died down and then focused back on me. “Tell me about Roger’s place.”

  “There was nothing exciting there—only a picture of Roger in a marine uniform standing with Darlene Robinson. Darlene was formerly known as Darlene Southwick, Roger’s sister.”

  “I know.” He smiled. “Internet search?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know the stuff about the pull tabs?” I asked.

  “No, but it’s not illegal to have pull tabs.”

  “I know, Ty, but those heaping mountains of used pull tabs and unpaid bills seem to be an indication of a gambling habit. Don’t you think?”

  “Maybe.”

  There was silence between us for a while; then I said, “Did anyone find footprints or the like?”

  “No. But like I said, Roger thought that some things were out of place.”

  “He’s Mr. Clean. He would know. Now what?”

  “I think I convinced him that you were exiting the building, and that you’d never do such a thing. I hope you put the keys back where you found them.”

  “Fudge!” My stomach did a flip. How could I be so forgetful? All Roger had to do was look for the keys and know that we were there.

  “You two are not very good criminals. I think you both should give it up.”

  He seemed tired—tired of telling me the same thing over and over again.

  “Ty, I shared information with you. Can you give me any information about the case?”

  “You know I can’t, and do you have any idea how tired I am of telling you to butt out?”

  “Back atcha!” I said.

  “I know it bothers you, but you know I’ll figure out who did it.”

  “And you know I can’t just sit back and not do anything about it.”

  It looked as if he was going to reach for my hand, but he decided against it. My mouth suddenly went dry and I couldn’t swallow.

  This was one of those times where I enjoyed Ty’s company. It almost felt as though he trusted me, as if we were working together.

  “I don’t think Margie Grace killed Liz,” I said. “She’s just lonely, Ty.”

  “I’d still be careful. Anything can set her off.”

  “I used to think that, but no more.”

  There was silence between us, and I thought he was going to leave, but he seemed to have more on his mind.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?” I asked.

  “What’s your next move? I know you are keeping that job for some reason.”

  “I am going to help with whatever Liz was working on when she was killed. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get a clue or figure out who killed her.”

  “And you’re going to put yourself in terrible jeopardy.”

  “I can handle myself, Ty.”

  “With a broken leg? You can’t even run.”

  “Are you kidding? I can’t run even with two good legs.”

  He laughed. “Will you keep me informed if you find out anything?” he asked.

  “Sure, but only if you’ll play Ebenezer Scrooge in the pageant.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Typecasting, huh?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll do it.” He stood to leave. “Trixie, there’s one more thing.”

  “Lay it on me, Sheriff.”

  He looked like he wanted to disappear. I’ve never seen him so uncomfortable. It must be horrendous news.

  “My parents are coming from Houston for Christmas. They want to meet you, and they want to help out, too.”

  “That’s wonderful! You haven’t seen them in a long time, right?”

  “In over three years.”

  He shifted from foot to foot, staring down. The part about his parents coming for Christmas wasn’t all that was on his mind. Then finally he sighed deeply and looked at me.

  “I’d like you to accompany me to the Tri-County Law Enforcement New Year’s Ball. It’s on a Saturday. January nineteenth. It’s pretty fancy. But since I arrested you, I’ll understand if you don’t want to go with me.”

  Chapter 11

  I could barely sleep the past night.

  Ty asked me to the Law Enforcement Ball, and I accepted, cast and all.

  I didn’t have a clue that he was going to do that. I could tell he was nervous, and I’d never seen him like that. He was always so sure of himself, ready to take charge. He had the type of personality that everyone gravitated to, and the looks t
hat had the women stacked up to date him like cordwood. When he turned on that good-ol’-boy Texas charm, the most hardened criminal confessed.

  I was looking forward to the Law Enforcement Ball and being with Ty, but I was as anxious as Rudolph with a short circuit on a stormy Christmas Eve.

  I was back at the Community Church’s office and Darlene and Pastor Fritz were both thanking me profusely for the new laptops, but all I could think of was talking to Ty the previous night.

  I knew I had to get back to the present.

  “Darlene, I thought we could work on what you and Liz were working on.”

  I didn’t miss the look Darlene gave her husband.

  His expression telegraphed, Don’t do it.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “Oh, no. Nothing in the least,” Darlene said, waving her hand back and forth in dismissal.

  “Then let’s get to work,” I said. “I am here all day. Then, after work, there are auditions. My friends will be bringing the food for tonight at about three o’clock and setting up. It’s going to be a full day.”

  “Then I think you should rest and not do too much,” Darlene said. “Maybe you’d like come with me to the Ladies’ Yarn Circle this morning. We are making lap quilts for wheelchair citizens and baby blankets for the new babies. We’ll have a delightful time.”

  “I can’t even spell crochet, forget about doing it!”

  “We knit, too,” Darlene said.

  “Does knit begin with an n?” I joked.

  She chuckled nervously. What was it that she didn’t want me to see of Liz’s unfinished work?

  I smiled. “You go right ahead to the Yarn Circle, Darlene. Just give me the disk or flash drive that you two were working off of and give me whatever you want me to enter. Okay? I’ll figure it out.”

  Pastor Fritz tented his hands like a steeple. “Maybe Darlene’s right, Trixie. Maybe you just relax and—”

  “I insist that I pass the time doing something useful for the church,” I said. “I want to help. Remember, it’s my Christmas present to the church, and to you both. You’ve gone through so much lately. So let’s rock and roll.”

  That ought to end this “relax” stuff once and for all.

  “My dear,” Pastor Fritz began, “why don’t you show Trixie the church bulletin template and give her all the announcements, and she can begin compiling something for next week.”

  “That’s a good place to start, Fritz. I’ll do that.”

  “What about entering all the church’s records into a spreadsheet? Wasn’t that what you and Liz were working on?” I asked, remembering all the empty folders that I’d found on my first day there. “That seems like something I could help with. Right, Darlene? Or do you have a bill-paying program? I could enter the information and cut some checks for you.”

  Darlene turned to her husband. “What do you think, Fritz?”

  “Let Trixie work on the church bulletin first.” He looked at the clock. “Oh, I’m late for an appointment. Please excuse me.”

  “And I’m late for the Yarn Circle,” Darlene said, reaching under her desk for a tote bag.

  “What about the church bulletin things?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  She reached into her desk, got a set of keys, and opened a two-drawer metal file cabinet to the right of her desk.

  Pulling out a flash drive and a green folder, she handed both items to me, then made a point to relock everything, and check that she’d done so. Twice. She tossed the keys into the top left drawer of her desk, where all the other keys were kept.

  Hmm . . . what else was in that little file cabinet?

  I couldn’t resist. When I heard her footsteps fade out down the hall, I headed for that drawer.

  I hadn’t seen the ring with all the little file cabinet keys on them before, but I did now. They were way in the back.

  There were about ten keys on the ring, but only one silver one. The others were brass-colored, probably for the tall, five-drawer file cabinets against the wall.

  “Please let this work,” I said, fumbling in my attempt to hurry. Finally the little button popped up, and I opened the drawer.

  It was completely empty.

  I opened the second drawer. Empty.

  Huh. Where was everything?

  I closed the drawers gently, pushed the silver button in, and placed the keys where I’d found them.

  As I sat down at my desk, I realized that any kind of important folders had probably been moved because I might come across them.

  I looked at the other file cabinets, wondering if I should try to open them, one at a time.

  Nope. The important stuff wasn’t in this room.

  But where?

  Oh, yes! Pastor Fritz’s parlor!

  I would’ve bet my nonexistent paycheck that Darlene had moved anything important into his parlor!

  Getting into his office and snooping was going to take all my sneaky skills.

  ACB and I could devise some kind of basic plan that would involve getting both the pastor and Roger out of the building, while Darlene was busy with her Yarn Circle.

  Until I could talk to her and put our devious brains together, I’d play with the church bulletin.

  I moved the laptop around to see where the little flash drive should be plugged in, but as I did, I pushed the little thing off my desk, onto my skirt. Then it slid like a toboggan down my skirt and under my desk.

  Ugh. I dreaded trying to get it.

  I tried to move the little drive closer to me with the tip of my crutch, but I couldn’t quite move it. Besides, it was too dark to see where it was under there.

  I had no choice but to crawl under the desk and get it myself.

  It was agony, but finally I managed to wiggle myself under the desk and grab the drive in my hand. But then my hair stuck to something.

  Was that tape?

  Ouch!

  It was tape—masking tape—and there were several strips of it way back. And it was holding something in place.

  I got up on my elbows and picked at the tape with a fingernail. Finally the tape released its treasure.

  Another flash drive!

  This was the one! I just knew it. It was the drive that Liz Fellows had been working on. It had to contain some kind of information that would point to whoever had killed her, and I held it in my hand!

  I’d been under this desk before, but I hadn’t seen it. Guess the second time was a charm.

  “What on earth?” It was Darlene. She’d come back probably to catch me in the act of doing something strange . . . and she had. She was getting a nice view of me lying down on the rug with half of me under the desk.

  I slid the flash drive, tape and all, into my cleavage like ACB always does. It worked.

  “I dropped the flash drive that you gave me, and I was trying to get it,” I said, and I’m sure it came out muffled. “And now I’m trying to get up.”

  “How can I help?” Darlene asked.

  “You can’t. I’ll have to do it myself with this cast on.”

  I went into a backward crab crawl on my stomach. Finally I crawled into the light. Now to get up. I used my chair, the desk, the crutches, and it was all in vain. I was doomed to sit there like a slug.

  I adjusted my skirt, fixed my blouse and my cleavage purse. That was about when Roger Southwick came into the room.

  “What are you doing?” he snapped.

  “Oh, I just thought I’d work from down here rather than my desk—just for something different.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Darlene grunted as she bent over. “Let’s help her get up, Roger, for heaven’s sake. You take one arm, and I’ll take the other.”

  It wasn’t pretty, but finally I was out from under the desk, standi
ng.

  “Thank you both,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “It’s hard doing anything with this cast on.”

  “Even going up and down stairs?” Roger asked, eyebrow raised.

  “I can’t do that one bit. I sleep in my recliner in my front room because I can’t go up and down the stairs,” I said, looking right back at him. “I miss my comfortable bed.”

  He nodded, but it was the type of nod that meant I don’t believe you.

  “I don’t particularly care if you believe me or not, Roger. So far you haven’t done anything to make me feel welcome here.”

  His lips twitched as if he was going to smile . . . or sneer.

  “Excuse me, both of you,” I said sweetly. “I am going to get to work on the church’s bulletin.”

  “I’m going back to the Yarn Circle,” Darlene said.

  “Oh, did you forget something?” I asked. “That’s why you returned?

  “My tote bag,” she said.

  “Oh, I distinctly remember you took it with you,” I said.

  She should have come up with a better excuse to spy on me, but she was a pastor’s wife, so she was a definite amateur.

  “I did, didn’t I?” she said. “I’m just so scatterbrained today.”

  “Uh-huh.” Then I turned to Roger. “I don’t want to keep you from your work around here. I’m up, and I promise not to look for anything on the floor again.”

  He turned without a word and walked out.

  “Don’t mind him,” Darlene said. “He’s not very social.”

  “I noticed. Why did you hire him?”

  “Well, uh . . . he needed a job.” She paused and then continued, “Plus, he’s my brother.”

  “Oh! I didn’t know!” I lied. “You two don’t look very much alike.”

  “We used to—when I was younger, thinner, and less blond.” She laughed.

  “I wish I could work with my brother, but he’s in the Red Cross. Actually, both he and my sister work there.”

  “And I wish Roger would find a job elsewhere. He’s a little too . . . uh . . . overprotective. And he doesn’t really get along with Fritz.”

  I jumped on that. “Well, as we both know, your brother isn’t the friendliest guy on the planet. But you say he’s overprotective. Do you need protection from something or someone?”