It's a Wonderful Knife (15 page)

He raised both eyebrows at me, but I pretended not
to notice. Getting up, I crutched around the room, looking at all the memorabilia that he had.

I toured the room. I was behind him, and he didn't like that, but on his desk was a pile of bills that looked very similar to the ones ACB and I found in his apartment.

Oh, he was calling about his bills! Maybe he was trying to resolve the high interest rate or the late fees that had been attached. Probably he was trying to fix the fallout from Darlene's pull tab addiction.

I was just about to sit down, when I noticed several dozen unopened boxes on a steel shelving unit off the main part of his office in a small side room. All of them were stenciled in dark blue ink:
G
.
K
.
GAMING
AND
TOYS
,
BROO
KLYN, NY. PULL TABS
.

Fresh pull tabs.

This is where they were stored for the bingo games on bingo nights.

There was a paper clip on the floor, and I made like I was picking it up, when actually I was looking at the gray metal trash bin under his desk.

I didn't see any used pull tabs in his office.

I was convinced that the pull tab addict had to be Darlene.

And I'd just realized something.

By bingo night, the play would have been cast, and that would allow everyone to attend bingo in the community room. I decided to let practice out early to support the church and snoop at bingo.

And, even though I would've rather shot my eye out with a Red Ryder BB gun, I was going to play bingo.

Finally I sat down again, and Pastor Fritz hung up his phone. “Yes, Trixie? What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, really. I came to tell you that I was going out for lunch. Would you like me to pick up anything for you?”

“No. I'm fine. I'll make something for lunch in my apartment.”

“Okay. I'll ask Darlene, too. Her circle is about to break up.”

“Yes. Why don't you do that?”

“Pastor Fritz? May I ask you a personal question?” I asked.

“I doubt I could stop you.”

He chuckled, and I put on my serious face. “Does . . . um . . . Roger have a problem with me?”

“You mean because he thought you and Antoinette Chloe were snooping around in his apartment?”

“Well, that and other things.” I was going to glide over that one. “Maybe it's because I've replaced Liz in his eyes. Could that be it?”

Wow! That was quick thinking.
I was impressing myself.

Pastor Fritz shrugged. “Roger did like Liz. Maybe you hit the nail on the head.”

I got to my feet and adjusted my clothes. I could feel the flash drive in my blouse, and the tape was making me itchy.

Walking to the door, I turned and said, “It's always nice talking to you, Pastor Fritz.”

“You, too, Trixie.”

I crutched down the hall to the Ladies' Yarn Circle and opened the door. Much to my surprise, the ladies were intent on pulling piles of pull tabs.

My surprise must have shown. They all burst out laughing.

“This is our relaxation at the end of Yarn Circle,” Darlene said.

Like it was so grueling sitting in a chair and knitting or crocheting . . .

The pull tabs were flying, and a couple of people won a couple of bucks. I'd hate to tally up all the amount of money they'd spent on them.

But what I noticed the most was that the biggest stack was right in front of Darlene.

“Darlene, I'm going to lunch. Would you like me to bring you back anything?” I asked.

“I usually join Fritz upstairs for lunch. But thanks for asking me, anyway. You're not coming back, are you?”

Gee, it was so nice to be wanted.

“Of course I'm coming back. I'm working on the church bulletin, and there are auditions tonight, remember? We're running behind. We have to start practicing for the pageant or else there won't be one.”

“I hear that Margie Grace is out and about,” Verna, one of the knitters, said, not looking up from her pull tabs.

“I think we should be very cautious of her,” said
Darlene, making like she was shuddering. “She could become violent at a moment's notice.”

“Do you think that she stabbed Liz?” said Inez, a sweet, grandmotherly type.

“Margie is helping me with the pageant.” I didn't know why, but I felt like I had to stick up for Margie somehow with these gossips.

“Now,
that's
going to be interesting,” said Darlene. “I hope that the sheriff's department is going to be on hand.”

“I know that I'm just not going to talk to her or go near her,” said Verna.

“That's really too bad,” I said. “Margie is obviously lonely and needs friends. And you know what they say: Peace on earth, goodwill to men—and women. I have to leave now and get a breath of fresh air.”

And on that note, I turned and stomped out of the room on my crutches.

•   •   •

Steam was coming out of my ears by the time Antoinette Chloe pulled up to the back door.

“Gossiping hens!” I said. “The nerve of them! And Darlene should know better! She represents this church just as much as Pastor Fritz does.”

“What are you babbling on about?” ACB asked as she pushed my butt up the step to the passenger seat in her van. Fingers, the chef of Brown's Four Corners, must have taken another kielbasa run to Utica, because it reeked of garlic.

“It's nothing. No vampires will come near us,” I said, trying to lighten my mood.

But ACB was floating around the van to the driver's side in a poinsettia-covered muumuu and a red and green plaid cape. I was talking to myself.

Finally she pulled away from the church, and I could see the Yarn Circle watching out the window.

“You know,” I said, “I don't really know if Margie killed Liz or not, but I think you should be innocent until proven guilty in this country.”

“Beyond a reasonable doubt
and all that jazz
,” she said, singing and snapping her fingers like a Bob Fosse dancer.

“Antoinette Chloe, focus. Please. You're driving, and it's starting to snow,” I pointed out.

“We're supposed to get a blizzard either tonight or tomorrow, according to Flip a Coin.”

Heather “Flip a Coin” Flipelli, the local weather girl, was wrong more times than she was right, so the nickname given to her by the locals was rather apt.

“So we just might get a dusting, or it'll be cold and clear,” I said, glad that the auditions wouldn't have to be canceled.

“I brought you some pizza from the Silver Bullet, by the way. It's one of the specials for today. Cindy called it everything-but-the-kitchen-sink pizza.”

“Maybe that was the garlic I smelled.”

Cindy was one of my cooks and was definitely skilled in pizza making, and her cinnamon buns were to die for.

ACB pulled into the library's parking lot. It was under construction due to the major damage it incurred during a previous blizzard when the roof collapsed.
We joke that Sandy Harbor loses a roof a year due to the heavy snow.

“Pull up close to the building so we can get their network,” I said, picking up the black case which contained my laptop. Unzipping it, I turned it on and got it ready to connect.

Then I fished Liz's little flash drive out of my bra, peeled off the masking tape with some of my hair strands still attached, and tossed it into the litter bag that was hanging from a magnetic hook in the van.

“I can't wait to see what's on this little thing,” I said, hoping to get it to work. “Then we'll do searches on some folks and see if there's any information that could help us.”

I found where the drive should be inserted, and as if by magic, I could follow what to do next.

Then a list of things on the H drive appeared.

“‘Buff,'” I said. “There are a lot of
Buff
s. And we're pretty sure that it stands for
Buffalo
.”

“Let's see one. Pick the oldest one,” ACB said, getting a pizza box and setting it on the engine cover in the middle of the van.

“Oh my! We were right!” I said, skimming the article. “It's a newspaper clipping from the
Buffalo News
about someone named Darlene Osmond who was charged with a bunch of crimes because she had stolen over eight thousand dollars over the course of five years from—
are you sitting down?
—the church bingo games!”

“Who's Darlene Osmond?” ACB asked.

“Gee, I don't know. I was so excited . . . I don't know.”

ACB handed me a slice of pizza on a paper plate with a napkin, but I put it on the dash for later.

“Is she our Darlene? Darlene Robinson? I mean, Darlene is not a common name, and there isn't any picture,” I said.

“Open the next file. Buff2.”

I did. This time it was another article from the
Buffalo News.
“It's another article. Apparently Darlene Osmond couldn't pay the restitution of eight thousand six hundred dollars. She only paid five hundred. So she was sentenced to Bedford Hills Correctional Facility, but this time there's a picture.”

“Show me!”

I turned the laptop toward her so she could see the picture.

“That's our Darlene!” we both said together.

“If she stole from the church once, she might be tempted to do it again. Don't you think?” I asked.

ACB pulled the tab off an orange soda and handed it to me. “I mean, I wouldn't do it in the first place. But who knows what lengths people will go to for their addictions.”

“Me neither,” I said. “But let's think about this. Darlene seemed to be trying to throw suspicion on Margie Grace to the Yarn Circle gossipers. And she seems to be addicted to pull tabs—maybe she's hoping for a big score with them and is trying to make up money that she's already stolen from bingo before anyone notices.” I took a gulp of the orange soda. Thinking always makes me thirsty. “But I think Liz Fellows had already noticed. Remember when we broke into Liz's house?
Remember her answering machine messages? People the church owed money to, or whom the Robinsons owed personally, were calling Liz and asking her to intervene. Darlene is probably spending the church's money on pull tabs.”

“For sure, Liz noticed, too. Open Buff3, Trixie.”

Setting my soda down in the cup holder, I opened Buff3. “It's a dissolution of marriage, a divorce decree—Dirk Gregory Osmond vs. Darlene Southwick Osmond. It's dated before she was even arrested.”

“How did she become Darlene Robinson? Open Buff4. Hurry!”

“Buff4 is another article, again from
Buffalo News
. It's called ‘The Pastor and the Felon: A Love Story for Valentine's Day.'” I took another sip of orange soda as I read the screen. “Oh my, Antoinette Chloe, I have to read you the whole thing. This is so interesting. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Read it to me!” she said, taking a bite of pizza. It had peppers, onions, sausage, mushrooms, olives, pepperoni, and two kinds of cheese.

I was hungry, but something told me that the contents of this article were much more important.

 

The Buffalo News

Buffalo, New York

THE PASTOR AND THE FELON: A LOVE STORY FOR VALENTINE'S DAY

Pastor Fritz Robinson and Darlene Southwick Osmond met under unusual circumstances. She was one of the parishioners who volunteered to help with bingo at the Ontario Dunes Community Church in North Buffalo, and he was the pastor of the same church.

When it was discovered by the parish council that thousands of dollars were missing from the bingo proceeds, Darlene Osmond confessed to Pastor Fritz that she was the one who was responsible for the theft over the course of several years.

Pastor Fritz encouraged Ms. Osmond to contact sheriff's deputies and confess the theft. “Pastor Fritz was with me every step of the way, and gave me the courage to do what was right,” she stated. “I have a gambling problem, and I needed
help acknowledging that so I could turn my life around.”

The defendant claimed that pull tabs, a facsimile of a slot machine on paper, were sold during bingo, and they were too hard to resist. She said that all the money she stole went to buying the pull tabs.

Her case was adjourned several times for her to pay restitution to the church. “Unfortunately, she couldn't come up with the eight thousand dollars,” Pastor Fritz said, “and she had to go to jail.”

But the story doesn't end there. Pastor Fritz was a frequent visitor to the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility, and the two eventually fell in love. After her release, they married on Valentine's Day.

“There's something special about Darlene,” he said. “I owe everything to her.”

And that, dear readers, is what love is all about.

•   •   •

“Isn't that a sweet story?” ACB wiped her eyes with a napkin.

“I guess.” I had to think about that one. “But I wonder what Pastor Fritz meant when he said that he owed everything to her. That's kind of strange, isn't it?”

ACB chomped down on her slice of pizza. “People say all kinds of goofy things when they're in love.”

“Very true.” Then I looked at the rest of the files on
the flash drive. “There's a lot of Bing files. Ten of them. Wonder what that means?”

“Bing Crosby.” She laughed. “As in ‘White Christmas'? Just as you said before.”

“Speaking of which, it looks like it's shaping up to be a whiteout right now. Was Flip a Coin right and we are going to get a blizzard?”

“I'll turn up the heat. Now open one of those Bing files.”

“I'll go with Bing1.” I waited. “Oh, look, it's bingo receipts for the month of January of this year for the Sandy Harbor Community Church. Then expenditures. It looks like the church is in the red, even though a lot of money was taken in. Go figure.”

“Keep going. Try Bing2.”

“February receipts and expenses. Still in the red. It looks like Liz made a note that the number of bingo cards that were sold doesn't agree with the earnings that were recorded,” I said.

“So the amount sold doesn't agree with the money that was taken in? Huh. Looks like someone was dipping into the bingo money . . . again. My bet is that Darlene is up to her old tricks,” ACB said.

Finally I took a bite of pizza.
Yum.
“I have to agree with you, Antoinette Chloe. It doesn't look good for Darlene. And it might account for those stacks of used pull tabs in the Robinsons' apartment and the stack of unpaid bills on her desk. Bingo is supposed to pay for a lot of the church's expenses.”

“Skip down to Bing10. That would be the most recent one—from October.”

But before I could, there was a loud knock on my window, and I jumped a foot in the air. “What on earth?”

Through the heavy snow, I saw him standing there. Ty Brisco.

“It's Ty. Shoot!” I said to ACB. Then I rolled down the window. “Ty Brisco, are you stalking us?”

He didn't answer that, but I knew he was.

He gave a sideways grin and that dimple of his made an appearance. “Why are you sitting in Antoinette Chloe's van in the parking lot of the library in a blizzard? Has your car broken down? Do you need help?”

“No. We're just eating pizza,” ACB said, leaning over me. “Want a slice? It's Cindy's everything-but-the-kitchen-sink pizza.”

“Don't mind if I do.” He opened the back door of the van and jumped in.

I thought that ACB was just going to hand him a slice and he'd disappear so we could go back to looking at the Bing files.

ACB handed him the pizza box. “It might be cold, although I had the heater on and the box on it.”

He took the box. “Who didn't touch their pizza?” He pointed to mine on the dash. “Too busy with your laptop, Trixie?”

Geez, nothing gets by him.

“Yeah, I wanted to look something up. Caribbean cruises. I'm sick and tired of this snowy weather,” I
lied, pointing to the flakes falling outside. I didn't think I was fooling him, though.

“And you needed to do it here? Right now? You could have done it when you got home.”

“Uh, it'd be too late, as I have to head the auditions at the church tonight.”

“You could have looked it up on your laptop at work,” he said.

He knew that this was my laptop because of the New York Giants stickers on it along with a couple of stickers that looked like bullet holes. Ray had given me those as a joke.

I glanced at ACB and raised an eyebrow. She nodded. “Might as well give it to him, Trixie.”

I might as well. I think we'd found out most of what was on Liz's flash drive, anyway.

Pulling out the little thing, I handed it to Ty. “I found this under Liz's desk this morning. It was hidden under the desk with some masking tape. The tape stuck to my hair when I was under the desk picking up something.”

He held out his hand, and I placed the drive on it.

“I knew you two were up to something, and I was hoping that this would be found. Good work, Trixie, although I wish you would have given it to me right away, instead of snooping first.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What's on it?” he asked.

“Articles from the
Buffalo News
. There're about Darlene going to jail for stealing bingo money,” I said.

ACB popped the top on another orange soda and
handed it to Ty. “And there's an article about Pastor Fritz and Darlene falling in love at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility. It's so romantic!”

“She was married before,” I added. “To someone named Dirk Osmond. But she was divorced before she was convicted of the crime.”

“I know,” he said.

“And there are some files called Bing.”

He laughed. “As in Bing Crosby?”

“That's just what I said!” ACB snorted.

I took another bite of pizza. “As in bingo. It seems that Liz might have found some discrepancies between the bingo receipts and the church's overall earnings. She'd been tracking it all year. Up until the time she died. There's no November entry.”

“I'll check it all out when I get back to headquarters,” he said.

“Ty, do you think this flash drive is why Liz's house was tossed?”

“Yep. I think that's a good guess.”

ACB sighed. “Darlene Robinson needs a good swift kick in the butt from the Ghost of Christmas Past and the Ghost of Christmas Presents. And, since I'm the Ghost of Christmas Presents, she won't be getting any presents from Santa or me.”

“Ladies, you can't let on that she's a suspect. You need to carry on like nothing has happened. I can't prove that Darlene killed Liz. I can't prove that anyone killed Liz yet.”

ACB shrugged. “But the money that's missing from bingo—”

“That's theft, not murder,” he said. “It proves nothing.”

“If you ask me, it all adds up,” I said. “But then I'm the one who was convinced that Margie Grace killed Liz. Now I don't think so.”

“Does Margie Grace work bingo here?” Ty asked.

“I don't know,” I said, “but Antoinette Chloe and I plan on attending the next bingo. I'd rather drag a loaded sleigh up Mount Crumpit, but I will be playing bingo, as I observe.”

“Maybe I'll do the same,” Ty said. “And I'll bring the rest of the deputies.”

“You mean you aren't going to tell us to stay away?” I asked, amazed.

“Would it do any good?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said.

“Then I'm going to save my breath. But don't you let me catch you doing anything illegal or you know what I'll have to do.”

“Coal in our stockings?” ACB asked.

“The electric chair,” he deadpanned.

On that somber note, Ty took what was left of his pizza and his orange soda and went back to his car.

“We had to give it to him,” I said out loud.

“Of course,” ACB said. “But I still would have liked to look at the October files.”

“It was probably more of the same as the rest of the Bings.”

“Now what?” she asked.

I slapped my forehead. “I could have downloaded or uploaded the flash drive to my laptop.”

ACB let out a breath. “We're lucky that you did as much as you did before Ty came.”

That was my friend—always donning her gay apparel (or should I say donning her bright and shiny muumuus?) and looking for the bright side.

•   •   •

I had to remember what Ty told me. Not to let on that anything was wrong, and I reminded myself of that when I crutched back to the office.

Darlene was in the office, at her desk, busily working on her laptop.

“Hi, Trixie. Did you have a good lunch?”

“I did. But we had to cut it short due to the weather.”

“I hope the snow stops or we'll have to cancel auditions tonight.”

“That'll put us even further behind,” I said. “But I wouldn't want anyone getting hurt if this keeps up.”

There was silence between us. I took off my one boot and coat and hung it up.

“Um . . . uh . . .”

“Yes, Darlene?”

“I . . . uh . . . just want to apologize for saying all of those uncharitable things about Margie Grace earlier. It wasn't nice of me at all,” she said.

“You don't owe me an apology, Darlene, but maybe you can make it up to Margie by seeking her out and talking to her on occasion.”

“That's a good idea. I'll talk to her tomorrow night at bingo,” Darlene said.

“Is she a volunteer?” I asked.

“She is. She sells the bingo cards at the front desk.”

Uh-oh . . . Margie touches money, but would she steal it? Maybe Liz had been watching Margie?

Interesting . . .

“Is there anything I can help you with, Darlene?”

“No. It would take too long to show you, and you'll be leaving us soon.”

“So, you're not going to show me what you and Liz were working on? Getting all the handwritten ledgers on the computer?” I looked around. “Where are they all anyway?”

She looked very uncomfortable, but she answered me anyway. “I think they're in Fritz's office. He was doing something with them.”

“I see. Well, then I'll just work on the church bulletin,” I said. “It'll be pretty plain because I'm not able to do anything very fancy, but I do know how to insert pictures.”

“That'll be fine, Trixie,” she said. “Oh, here are some more announcements.”

Darlene pushed away from her desk, but in her haste to get up, she dropped several papers, and they flew all over. Scrambling, she picked them up.

When she finally handed them to me, she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

I took her hand. “What on earth is wrong, Darlene? Can I help?”

She let out a stifled sob, and her shoulders started shaking. I stood and hugged her close. “It can't be all that bad, Darlene. It's Christmas. Miracles happen.”

“I need a miracle, Trixie. I really do.” She composed herself and pushed away from me gently. “I'm sorry to bother you.”

“It's no bother. No bother at all. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help you.”

“No one can help me.” She pulled out some tissues from a box on her desk. “I'm sorry, but I'm going upstairs. See you tonight, maybe.”

“Sure. And if you need a shoulder . . .” I began.

But she was already gone.

•   •   •

The blizzard subsided and the auditions went on.

“Next up are Joey Faber and his twin brother, Joel Faber,” I announced. “They both want to be twin Cats in the Hat, but we are not going to have Cats in the Hat in the pageant. Would Joey and Joel's parents like to choose another role for them from the list I've prepared?” I said loudly.

“Well, I never heard of such a thing. No Cat in the Hat twins at a Christmas pageant?” said a woman with an electronic cigarette in her mouth. She must be Mrs. Faber.

“They either pick something on the list, or they won't be eligible to participate,” I said, using my no-nonsense voice. Then, I turned to the crowd of people sitting in the pews and milling about the aisles. “Everyone, please listen up . . . the parts that are available are on the list that I've prepared. Please see Antoinette Chloe for the list. Try out for one of those parts and you are in!”

“And no whining if a part's already been taken by someone else,” ACB added. “It's Christmas.”

“Nice touch,” I said.

Margie Grace had gathered all the parents who wanted to be in the adult choir and took them in another room to practice their singing. ACB told me that she appointed Mr. Cam Pulaski to be the choir director. Cam was a music teacher at the high school.

“Brilliant,” I said. “Now she can help with the children's choir, too.”

“She's on it,” ACB reported.

Then we got one adult to volunteer for each of the ten scenes that were in the pageant. That adult would oversee the players and make sure that the scene was polished and ready to be performed for dress rehearsal.