It's a Wonderful Knife

by Christine Wenger

  “Okay, Ray. Here’s the deal,” I said, handing him one of my credit cards. “Buy two laptops for me, as soon as you can. I’m donating them to the church. And here’s what I’d like.” I handed him a sheet of paper with Liz’s make and model number on it. “Tomorrow, if you could. Oh, and get two flash drives. And, Ray, you’ll be on the clock.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I can probably drive over to Oswego tonight and get them. It depends on how busy the diner gets.”

  He was such a good kid, and he worked like a rented mule. I was so glad that I’d given him a chance to prove himself.

  During the next three hours, we all ate, talked, and laughed. It was so good to see my parents again.

  “Have you heard anything from John or Sue?”

  “They both called not too long ago. They’re really busy,” my father said. “But they’re both happy doing what they do.”

  My sister and brother were in the Red Cross and moved around from place to place as needed. We always joked that they followed the disasters, but what they did was serious business.

  Sue was a nurse by trade, but now was an administrator and coordinator of nursing for them. John was a doctor.

  And I was a diner owner . . . or would be after I paid Aunt Stella in full.

  Sometimes I had the feeling that I was a major underachiever. What was I doing to save the world like Sue and John were?

  Well, I was going to save my little corner of it by finding out who killed Liz.

  It was going to be difficult to do the things I needed to with my parents there because I wanted to visit with them, but I did have a job at the church and was in charge of the pageant.

  They just had to keep themselves occupied. Or else they’d have to audition for the pageant, too.

  If I was going to be Tiny Tim, my parents could be Mr. and Mrs. Cratchit.

  Yes!

  • • •

  An hour later, there was an impromptu party at the Big House when Aunt Stella returned with the Babes and Bob. Clyde and Max stopped over as well, bringing hot pizza and wings. Ray came over with the two laptops and the new flash drives and stayed for some pizza and wings. Then Bob left to cook and Juanita arrived after her shift.

  Around midnight, the party broke up.

  My parents left for their cozy motor home, Clyde, Max, and Juanita went home, and everyone from Boca went upstairs to their bedrooms.

  Just ACB and I were left. She was wiping off the counter, and I was sitting as I wiped off the table.

  I whispered to ACB, “I think I’m going to break into Roger Southwick’s apartment. I’m pretty sure he’s living above the church, where the Robinsons are living.”

  “How? When?” ACB asked with a gleam in her eye. She was ready to help, but it probably would be better if I did it myself.

  “Preferably when the three of them aren’t around, if there’s ever a time like that. And I hope to find a set of keys somewhere that would let me open the door to the upstairs. From what I can figure out, keys are kept in the top drawer of Darlene’s desk. Hopefully they’re labeled.”

  “Liz was so organized. I’ll bet they’re labeled,” ACB said.

  ACB handed me my crutches. “Liz’s flash drive would be the thing to look for. Oh, and remember she was working on something called ‘Buff’? Well, in her personal phone book are phone numbers all with the Buffalo area code. Buff has to mean Buffalo.” I pulled out a copy of Liz’s phone book from my purse. “Next to the first one, she wrote in ‘B.N.’”

  “Let’s call some of the numbers and see if we can figure it out,” ACB said.

  “Just what I was thinking.” I punched in the first set of numbers.

  “Hello, Buffalo News. How can I help you?”

  “I’m sorry. I have the wrong number,” I said, then turned to ACB. “It’s Buffalo News.”

  “The next one is labeled ‘BVS-CH,’” ACB said. “I don’t have a clue.”

  I dialed and apologized for calling the wrong number again. “It’s the Bureau of Vital Statistics in the courthouse.”

  The next was the Erie County Department of Corrections, Buffalo, New York.

  “I wonder who or what Liz was checking into,” I said.

  The next was the New York State Parole Department.

  My first guess was Roger. Just because he’d acted suspiciously. Maybe he acted suspiciously toward Liz, too, and she’d decided to check him out. But Roger had let it slip that he had some kind of relationship with Liz. Maybe it was a negative one. I could see that.

  “This is really good, Trixie. We at least know that Liz was snooping around Buffalo. Remember how Ty said that we’re not law enforcement professionals?” ACB asked.

  “Yes, I do. And it bothered me. Just because we don’t have a degree in it, we can’t figure things out?”

  “Someday he’ll discover that we are professionals.” She laughed. “Now let’s figure out a plan for breaking into Roger’s apartment like the pros we are.”

  • • •

  “Didn’t Ty Brisco tell you that we wouldn’t need you today?” Pastor Fritz asked on Sunday, before services. He’d been trying to get rid of me since I’d started volunteering.

  I was about to lie to a pastor again. I surely was going to hell.

  “Gee, no. . . . I don’t remember. . . . But I’m here now and my ride left, so I can help all day if you need me. I’ll answer the phone while you, Darlene, and Roger are in church. Right?” I’d found out during the week that Roger passed the collection basket, so he’d be occupied while ACB and I did our snooping.

  “No. That isn’t necessary. We have an answering machine, and—”

  “Pastor Fritz, it’s no trouble at all. Really. People love it when they get a real person. Don’t worry about a thing. I am happy to help. I really am.”

  “But—”

  “I just love this room. It’s so cheery and bright. Will Roger be passing the basket today?”

  “Roger?”

  “Roger the maintenance man.”

  He looked at me like I had two heads. “He usually does, I guess.”

  “Fine. Then I won’t look for him.”

  “Look for him? Why would you look for him?”

  “You know, give him things to do,” I said, babbling. “I can always find things to do around the point. I certainly can find things to do around here.”

  “But it’s a Sunday.”

  “Of course! He has the day off.” I picked up a pen and notebook. “I’ll make a list for him for tomorrow.”

  “He’ll love that,” Pastor Fritz said, shaking his head. “Trixie, see if you can get a ride home early. There is really nothing to do here. If you can’t, I’ll drive you home after services.”

  “Okay, Pastor Fritz, but take your time. I have a lot of things to do. I bought these laptops for the office, and I’m going to set them up.”

  “That’s very generous of you. Thank you so very much.”

  “You know what they say about computers: Can’t live with them; can’t live without them,” I said. “And you’re welcome, very much.”

  “Well, I’d better get going. My parishioners will be coming in soon.”

  “Yes.” I said, checking the clock on the wall. “It’s almost time for the services.”

  I should be over at St. Luke’s of the Lake. St. Luke’s was my and ACB’s church. She was there now for the nine-o’clock Mass. At the coffee and cake gathering after the mass, ACB was going to ask about Roger Southwick and show the grainy picture that I took. Then she was going to meet me back here.

  I had already checked out Darlene’s desk and found a set of keys with a small tag labeled DOOR TO APARTMENTS. On another tag was a set of eight keys that read APARTMENTS.

  I was one happy snoop.

  This should be as easy
as baking a cake.

  My plan had to be executed with perfect timing. The Robinsons would be in church and so would Roger Southwick starting about eleven o’clock. We had a good hour to snoop around Roger’s apartment without being seen.

  Now, if only Antoinette Chloe would call from the back parking lot.

  I took the laptops out of the box and plugged them in to charge. That was about the extent of my setup knowledge. I’d pay Ray to come down here. Or maybe Darlene knew how to set them up.

  I passed the rest of the time scratching under my cast with a yardstick. I couldn’t wait for that thing to come off. I’d had it on for only a handful of days, but it felt like decades, and I was tired of wearing skirts. The bright Christmas socks that I chose to wear were a minor consolation because they made me laugh.

  Speaking of my cast, I needed more time to get around than ACB, and I wanted to make sure we could make a quick getaway if necessary.

  As I’d told Ty, I didn’t have time for jail. So we couldn’t get caught. We just couldn’t.

  My cell rang, and my heart began to race. “Trixie here.”

  “Antoinette Chloe here. I’m parked way out back by the tree line, half in a snowbank. I hope I don’t get stuck.”

  “Why did you park way back there, then?”

  “I thought it was a good idea at the time. And, by the way, none of the Catholics knew Roger. He’s not from around here.”

  “Okay. Thanks for trying. Now, let’s get our plan under way. You sure you want to do this?” I asked. “I can do it alone.”

  “We’re in this together. I liked Liz, even though I understood where Margie was coming from. Besides, Liz doesn’t have anybody else.”

  “Meet you inside. By the door to the apartments. It’s opposite the kitchen door.”

  “Got it.”

  I wore my coat and slung my purse across my body. After this, I was going to go home with ACB, just as Pastor Fritz wanted.

  Leaving a note that read “I’m going home after all. All my best, Trixie,” I crutched my way to the back door.

  On my way, I paused at one of the small windows to look into the church. Pastor Fritz was greeting everyone. Darlene was next to him. But where was Roger?

  There he was. By the collection baskets and the big metal money hopper. It seemed as though he was either guarding the contributions with his life or was about to line his pockets. I hoped that someone was watching him.

  I caught up to ACB, and, heart racing, I opened the steel door to the apartments.

  “Let’s do it,” I said.

  Her flip-flops left a trail of water and small stones up the clean and dry stairs. My crutches and the boot I wore on my left foot left more prints. Uh-oh.

  Maybe we needed to wipe down the stairs before we left. I’d never thought of it.

  By the time I reached the top landing and looked down a long, shiny hall, I didn’t have any air left in my lungs. I handed ACB the other ring of keys as I tried to catch my breath.

  “Can you make it down this hallway, Trixie?”

  “Yes,” I said, looking at a couple of doors. “But how do we tell which apartment is Roger’s? There are eight doors here. It’s like a hotel. And there’s nothing on any of the doors except numbers. So what do we do?”

  “We get the keys out,” ACB said, holding a massive amount of metal in her hand.

  She tried the first door and every key on the ring. The second to the last key worked.

  “Here goes!” She opened the door and we both looked in.

  “Nothing,” I said. “There’s no sign of anyone living here. Let’s try across the hall.”

  The fourth key worked on that door. “Someone’s living here.”

  I swallowed hard. “Let’s do it,” I whispered.

  We walked in quietly. I started for the pack of mail on the coffee table, but then I noticed all the . . . huge trash bags. They were clear plastic bags, stacked tall and loaded to the brim with colorful little papers.

  “Look at this, Antoinette Chloe. What on earth?” We both inspected the tower of bags.

  “They’re pull tabs,” I announced. “Like the ones they sell during bingo. You know, you pull the little tabs to see if you win . . . maybe get three cherries or bars . . . you know, like a slot machine. But these are all open!”

  “Maybe these are the old ones from bingo,” ACB said.

  “Why are they here, then, and not put out with the bingo trash?”

  ACB snapped her fingers. “Roger Southwick must have an addiction to pull tabs. He sits here on the couch, gets a fresh order right from the vendor, and starts pulling.”

  “Wow! That’s a real addict! I wonder how much those towers of pull tabs cost Roger to buy.”

  “Not a clue. I know at bingo here at the Community Church, they sell for a dollar each or six for five dollars. It all depends. They’re probably more at bars.”

  I shook my head and went to the kitchen, where there was a cute built-in desk with shelves above it. The shelves contained dozens of cookbooks. The desk was loaded with coupons, Frank Sinatra CDs, and fancy flowered stationery with Darlene lettered in tiny purple buds. I noticed a stack of mail on the desk and looked at the addressees.

  “Uh . . . um . . . Antoinette Chloe, this apartment is Pastor Fritz’s and Darlene’s, not Roger’s. These are all bills. A lot of bills—personal ones and what looks like church bills on Darlene’s desk.” I took a peek at one, and it was stamped THIRD NOTICE. Another was marked SENT FOR COLLECTION.

  I wondered why Darlene wasn’t paying the bills. I remembered the messages on Liz’s ancient answering machine. The merchants were obviously desperate enough to call Liz for payment instead of dealing with Darlene again, who was obviously avoiding them. This seemed to have been going on for a long time.

  Why wasn’t Darlene cutting checks and sending them out?

  “Let’s get out of here, Antoinette Chloe, and find Roger’s place.”

  She was still staring at all the pull tabs, mesmerized.

  I pulled on the sleeve of her muumuu. “C’mon.”

  I checked over my shoulder to make sure that everything was in place, and we locked the door and went across the hall.

  We were in on the first try. I opened the door slowly. “I think this is his place. It smells like oil and gas. It’s probably from those gloves on the floor.”

  “I can smell it.”

  “I think he was working on the snowplow,” I said.

  “Other than the smell, the place is immaculate.”

  I looked at the clock on his stove. “We have to hurry. Let’s look for a flash drive.”

  We opened drawers, looked in his underwear drawer and in a small desk full of military fiction books. There was more military fiction on shelves in his bedroom and stacked in the bathroom.

  “I think he was a marine,” ACB yelled from a small second bedroom. “He has all kinds of marine memorabilia. But I don’t see a flash drive anywhere.”

  “Me neither, but I think I found something even better.”

  ACB flip-flopped toward me. “What?”

  “Look!” I did a double take and picked up a picture in a fancy silver frame. “It’s a picture of Roger Southwick with his arm around Darlene Robinson!”

  “She doesn’t seem his type.”

  “That miserable man is no one’s type,” I said. “I wonder what their relationship is.”

  “Brother and sister? Cousins? Friends?”

  I put the picture back and adjusted it so it was in the exact same spot.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “We’re cutting this too close.”

  We couldn’t get the door locked for some reason. We tried with the key and with the button on the doorknob.

  “Leave it,” ACB said. “Maybe he won’t notice.”

  “Oh, he’ll
notice all right.”

  Finally we got it to work, and we hurried out of there. I sat down on the stairs and mostly slid down on my butt. It was quick . . . but painful. One good thing—I was cleaning our dirty footprints off the steps.

  ACB waited for me and then bent over to lock the big steel door.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” said a deep, gnarly voice.

  It was Roger Southwick.

  I moved to cover ACB, who was now done with the door. “My friend’s flip-flop came off her foot, and she was just putting it back on. Why are you flipping out? And why are you swearing in church?”

  He had the good sense to look uncomfortable.

  “Uh . . . sorry . . . I thought you were going into the apartments.”

  “Why on earth would you think that, Mr. Southwick? We have no reason to go up there,” I said, glaring at him. “Do you have something to hide?”

  I loved seeing bullies back down, and he backed down.

  “I have nothing to hide,” he said.

  “Then let my friend put on her flip-flop so we can leave. Apparently I’m not needed in the office today,” I said, teeth gritted.

  “Um . . . okay. See ya.”

  I nodded and we made a quick exit.

  When we got outside, I took several breaths of the crisp, cold air. “That was a close call.”

  “I can’t catch my breath, and I need a drink of water. Maybe it’s an adrenaline dump,” ACB said.

  I gulped the air. “One more second and we would have been caught by Roger.”

  “And three more seconds, Ty would have caught us, too,” ACB pointed to the sheriff’s car driving into the lot. “Angels are protecting us.”

  We hurried to ACB’s van and slid in.

  Safe!

  Or so I thought.

  Ty pulled his car to a stop in front of ACB’s van and shouted out the window, “What are you two doing now?”

  Chapter 10

  Oh my! Was there a silent alarm upstairs, or what?

  My heart began to race and my face flamed.

  “Oh crap.” Antoinette Chloe summed up my feelings perfectly.