It's a Wonderful Knife

by Christine Wenger

  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 ’50S, 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 well.”

  “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.”

  “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.”