It's a Wonderful Knife (10 page)

“Whoever killed Liz didn't need a target painted on her back. The coward just waited for her to turn around.”

“Exactly my point. And I don't want you two contaminating my crime scene. At Liz's house, you might have trampled on evidence that would have been important.”

“Did we?” I asked.

“Not that I can tell—yet.”

I was relieved about that. “We were pretty careful, Ty. But the place was a mess. And all we discovered was a tiny ice scraper instead of a—”

“Flash drive?” he asked. “I think that the burglar was looking for a flash drive, too.”

“Okay, Ty. We're good. I know that you arrested us to prove a point. Point proven. Now get something to eat.”

I made a motion to Nancy with my head. She rushed right over. She always hurried to wait on Ty.

I took that opportunity to crutch into the kitchen to see how Juanita and Bob were doing.

They were busy, and it seemed like they were doing
the Silver Bullet Shuffle as if they were on
Dancing with the Stars
. The Silver Bullet Shuffle is what I call the ballet of the diner chef—a twirl to the fridge, a twirl back to the grill. A leap to the toaster Ferris wheel, another leap back to the fryer.

“Hi, Bob . . . Juanita. How is everything going?”

“Couldn't be better, boss Trixie,” Juanita said. “We have lots of help with
las chicas
here.”

“Las chicas de la Boca Raton?”
My Spanish was hit-or-miss. “I think I just said ‘the girls from the mouth of the rat.'”

Juanita and Bob chuckled.

“
Sí. Boca Raton.
Mouth of the rat,” Juanita nodded. “Very good, boss Trixie.”

“How is everything going for the shower tomorrow night?” I asked Bob.

“We have help making the appetizers, you ordered everything that we needed, and Ray, Stella, and I and the Boca Babes are going to make the delivery, set up, and serve. Louise McDowney and the kid she's marrying will have a bridal shower better than White House dinners for heads of state.”

Bob flipped the page on my calendar. “I see you have Chet and Lottie Campbell's fiftieth wedding anniversary. That's on December second. We'll have to get ready for that, too.”

“I already ordered the food for it while I was in jail,” I said. “They want prime rib, chicken parmesan, and broiled haddock. Everything should arrive tomorrow.” I was relieved that I was on top of things. “Tomorrow there's a Christmas party for the library workers and
the library volunteers. That's from two to six. They want finger foods, various cheeses, wine and beer, and my rum cake for dessert.”

“That sounds easy enough,” Bob said. “We'll be ready. If it starts at two at the library, we'll leave here at noon, with the van loaded. I'll handle it, Trixie.”

“Perfect,” I said. “I'll make up a couple of cheese platters right here. You can add the crackers, pita, and sliced baguettes later. Juanita or Cindy can make the cake. We're probably going to need four of them. And we'll want to make some Christmas cookies. Maybe we can put the Boca Babes and ACB on that.”

“Got it.”

“Who's going to help you for the library party?” I asked.

“Stella, Ray, and the Babes.”

“I have the Christmas tablecloths, cups, paper goods, and plastic utensils ready to go. We had better take two cars. Aunt Stella can drive my car.”

He whirled around Juanita and got a handful of hamburgers from the fridge and put them on the grill like he was dealing a deck of cards. After a perfectly executed pirouette, he had a tray of freshly baked hamburger rolls and placed six on the Ferris wheel toaster. Another twist later, he was setting up plates with lettuce, sliced tomato, and sliced onion, a handful of carrot curls, and some radish roses.

Beautiful.

In the meantime, Juanita was preparing plates of spaghetti, ziti, and Spanish rice.

One of the plates of spaghetti must be Ty's. At any
other time, I'd grab a tray and serve him. But not now. It was hard to serve with crutches, and even if I could, I think we needed some distance from each other for a while.

Speaking of Ty . . .

“Bob, is Ty Brisco helping you tomorrow?”

“Nope. I told him about the Boca Babes and Stella when I was flying us from Hatteras. He said that he and the other two deputies were going to concentrate on interviewing everyone who was at the church when Liz was killed.”

“Oh! The church! Tonight is the memorial service for Liz. I'd like to attend.” I checked the clock on the wall. “It starts in an hour. I'll see if Antoinette Chloe wants to go, along with Aunt Stella. Juanita, how about you?”

“Oh,
sí
. I'd like to go, too.” She wiped her hands on her apron and looked down at her chef's outfit: red and green chili peppers on her pants and a red blouse monogrammed with her name and
SILVER BULLET DINER
under it. “But I don't look so good.”

“You'll have a coat on. Don't worry about it.”

The memorial service would be a good opportunity to watch and learn, and to pay my respects to Liz, of course. And I could do this all without being scrutinized by Wyatt Earp, who was at the counter right this minute eating spaghetti and meatballs.

I didn't count on the fact that he was going to attend also, and was going to take as many as could fit in the Sandy Harbor Sheriff's Department paddy wagon.

•   •   •

Pastor Fritz looked appropriately serious, overly pious, and very pompous. But it struck me that his tribute to Liz was pretty generic, like he didn't know her very well.

Darlene had more to say about Liz. “Liz was a hard worker and had the sweetest disposition of anyone that I'd ever met. She was brilliant with computers and was bringing our bookkeeping methods into the modern age. I'm afraid that all of Liz's progress will be halted now. But most of all, when Liz saw an injustice, she strove to correct it. And that is the mark of a genuine person and a true friend. God bless you, my friend.”

Now, that was a curious thing to say. Did Darlene or someone close to Liz suffer an injustice? A friend? How was Liz trying to correct it? I filed this in my brain for future consideration.

“Now, Margie Grace would like to say a few words,” Pastor Fritz said as Darlene sat down.

“What?”
ACB nudged me in the ribs, and I gasped from the pain. Margie stopped in her tracks, gave me a scathing look, then continued to the podium.

“It's no secret that I didn't like Liz Fellows and that we fought over the Christmas pageant. It was her fault that I was unceremoniously dumped as director and she took over.”

Ty sat up straighter next to me. Was Margie confessing?

Margie continued. “I had a wonderful vision for the pageant this year. Santa's sleigh was going to be pulled by a team of salmon with red noses, and the elves were
going to be trout. I believe in showcasing the resources of Sandy Harbor, but my vision wasn't shared by Liz.”

Someone ought to get the hook and get Margie off the podium.

But Margie didn't stop. “Now, I understand that Trixie Matkowski is going to be in charge of the pageant, but this individual is also new to our community. She's only been here three years, whereas I grew up here and know all the talented members of our community. Again I was shunned. And she can't even teach the dance numbers with her broken leg—that is, if she even knows how to dance, which I doubt.”

ACB grunted. “Why isn't someone getting her off the podium?”

“I am here to tell you that maybe Liz was a nice person, but not in my experience, and maybe she was murdered for a good reason, and—”

“That's it!” both Antoinette Chloe and Ty said at the same time. Muumuu flying and flip-flops slapping, ACB raced up the aisle, followed by Ty.

Ty held her back, walked up to Margie, gently put his arm around her, and escorted her out of the room. Vern McCoy hurried out to assist.

Pastor Fritz called for a moment of silence for everyone to regroup. Then he called upon several more people, who told some wonderful stories about Liz.

Then it hit me. Liz and I had been in town for about the same amount of time. Whereas Liz had made such an impact on others, all I'd done was cook at my diner and rent out my cottages.

She worked at two churches and volunteered where
she saw the need. And anyone who had a glorious garden like Liz had the magic touch.

Liz had left a positive impact on the people of Sandy Harbor—with the exception of her killer. I just added calories to their daily diet.

Okay. No more feeling sorry for myself. It was Christmas. It was time to find poor Liz's killer.

ACB leaned over to me and whispered, “We have to find Liz's murderer.”

“Just what I was thinking.”

“I think that Margie is crazy enough to kill her.”

I nodded. “Maybe Ty will get a confession from her.”

“Shhh!”
Josephine Piranelli turned and rolled her eyes at us. I remembered from Liz's notes that Josephine's daughter and son were auditioning for the pageant. They were both singing and playing kazoos to “White Christmas.”

I couldn't wait to hear that—not!

Pastor Fritz announced that everyone should gather in the community room for a reception.

I'd decided to donate all the food that we'd prepared for the first audition. Because I couldn't bear to go into the kitchen just yet, I turned it all over to the members of the Elks Lodge. They did a wonderful job getting everything ready and setting it out.

Most everyone who attended church came to the reception. I couldn't help but think that just as she had during life, Liz would have enjoyed all the camaraderie and friendship from the people of Sandy Harbor. Several people attended whose lives she'd touched: the pastor and some parishioners from St. Luke's, a shut-in
who she shopped for, a Girl Scout troop that she led when their leader got sick . . .

What a wonderful legacy.

But even then it wasn't enough to stop someone from plunging a knife into this lovely woman's back.

I took a seat as far away as I could from where I'd found Liz, and leaned my crutches against the table. Slipping out of my coat, I let it scrunch down behind me.

Then I watched everyone, hoping for some kind of clue.

Hal Manning, the owner of the Happy Repose Funeral Home and our resident coroner, sat down across from me. Hal loved to talk about his latest case, and usually spilled more beans than Ty ever would. All I had to do was ask leading questions.

“Been busy, Hal?”

“You know it. This thing with Liz has everyone stumped.”

“What do you mean?”

Hal shook his head. “Liz was a pillar of the community. Everyone loved her. She had a clean rap sheet. And when she was killed, it seems that everyone was in the church at auditions or in the rest rooms with the exception of Margie Grace. Ty told me that he escorted her out of the church.”

“I was one of those in the ladies' room,” I said. “Me, some mothers, some girls, and a lot of hairspray.”

“And what about that Margie Grace?” He whistled. “She's the number one suspect in my book. I don't know about Ty's book. I think Margie's cheese has
slipped off her cracker. You be careful, Trixie. Ty's worried that you might be next. He wants to cancel the pageant.”

“Yeah, I know. Ty told me that I may as well paint a target on my back. But I can handle myself, and I won't cancel the pageant. No way. It's for the kids, Hal. They love the pageant, and everyone loves the community dinner after it. And the visit from Santa. It'd break their little hearts. I'll talk to Ty about it and convince him that it shouldn't be canceled.”

“I knew Liz, and she'd want the festivities to go on.”

“Hal, what do you think about some of the stage mothers and fathers? Do you think that any of them are on Ty's radar?”

“Definitely. Especially some of the more vocal ones.”

“I don't know. I don't think any of the parents are killers.”

Hal took a big bite of a ham sandwich. “As the investigation continues, there will be more suspects. The big project will be to figure out who disappeared from auditions long enough to sneak into the kitchen, get the knife, and off Liz.”

“Yes. That would be difficult. The window of opportunity isn't that big. I think that I was only gone for ten minutes or so. It would have been shorter, but I had to wait a bit, and I had to crutch back and forth.” I hated to point a finger at Margie Grace again, so I kept my mouth shut this time.

Antoinette Chloe joined us. “How have you been, Hal?”

“Busy.”

Knowing Hal, he'd start all over again, so I gave ACB an eye. She got the hint.

“Where's Joan?” ACB asked.

Joan Paris was Hal's girlfriend. They lived together over the Happy Repose, and Joan was a good friend of mine.

Hal took a long draw of punch. “Joan's busy getting tomorrow's edition of the
Lure
out. She's doing a minibiography of Liz, but it's been difficult for her to write because Liz didn't have any relatives.”

Pastor Fritz and Darlene walked by the table, and ACB motioned for them to join us. Another man was with them, whom I didn't recognize. He shot us a side glance and kept on walking.

“Your friend can join us, too,” I said, pointing to his departing form.

“He's not very social,” Darlene said.

“Who is he?” ACB said. “I don't recognize him.”

“The church's maintenance man,” Pastor Fritz said. “He's fairly new.”

“Oh. That's nice. Is he from around here?” ACB pushed.

“No,” Darlene said. “He's from the west.”

“He must have known Liz,” I said, “since they both worked at the church.”

Darlene's eyes narrowed. “Yes. I believe they knew each other.”