It's a Wonderful Knife

by Christine Wenger

  She quickly looked at the door, to either make a fast exit or to find out if she was overheard.

  “Is everything okay, Darlene?”

  “I have to go,” she said, on the verge of tears.

  “Darlene . . . wait!”

  But she didn’t. I could hear her running down the hall.

  Huh. What just happened?

  She’d stated that her brother was overprotective, and I’d asked her if everything was okay. Then she’d burst into tears.

  The masking tape was sticking to me and to my bra. I readjusted the flash drive that I’d found, but I didn’t want to lose it, even though it was well cushioned.

  I couldn’t wait to get home and investigate Liz’s flash drive and do some name searching.

  Liz had hidden that little thing for a reason, which meant that there was good stuff on it. ACB and I were absolutely correct when we checked out Liz’s laptop. She did have an external drive. And her house was trashed by someone looking for it. But by who?

  And Ty and his deputies didn’t find the flash drive when they searched the church’s office. Ty was thorough, but unless his hair got stuck on masking tape like mine, he would never have found it.

  I called ACB on my cell phone.

  “Hello. This is Antoinette Chloe Brown, formerly Brownelli, but that’s a long story.”

  “It’s Trixie. Are you alone?”

  “I’m having such a good time with your parents, Aunt Stella, and the Boca Babes. We’re decorating the Big House.”

  Translation: She couldn’t talk, and she wasn’t alone.

  “Okay, then just listen, and don’t make any funny expressions on your face. I found it, Antoinette Chloe. I found the flash drive. It was taped under Liz’s desk.”

  She was silent for a while.

  “Uh-huh. It’s such a rewarding job doing work for the church.”

  Translation: She knew I’d find something sooner or later.

  “And, get this, something’s bothering Darlene. She seems pretty distraught over something, and her brother seems to be at the heart of it.”

  “I love the fact that you’re getting closer to Darlene and her brother.”

  Translation: Keep talking to Darlene and find out what’s going on with Roger.

  “And Ty Brisco asked me to go to the Law Enforcement Ball with him.”

  “Wow. ’Tis the season to be jolly!”

  Translation: She was very happy for me.

  My stomach still flipped whenever I thought about going on a date with Ty. Or maybe I was just hungry.

  “Antoinette Chloe, do you think you could drive here with my laptop and pick me up? I think that it’s charged. I figure that if we drive to the parking lot of the library, we could pick up their network. Then we can look at the flash drive that I found and do some searches.”

  “Oh, you need to stop at the dentist and get your front tooth glued back in? I’d be thrilled to pick you up at noon. I’ll meet you out back.”

  Translation: She couldn’t wait. She’d meet me out back.

  It was only ten o’clock, and for two hours, I wandered around the halls for no reason, and peeked through the window of Pastor Fritz’s parlor twice. He was talking to someone on the phone both times and seemed . . . distraught.

  I guessed it was a tough business saving souls.

  On one of my trips down the hall, I knocked on the door while he was still on the phone. He held a finger up for me to wait, but I nodded, walked in anyway, and sat in one of the flowery Queen Anne chairs in front of him.

  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, BROOKLYN, 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 s
weet, 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 Buffs. 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.

  Chapter 12

  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 the
y 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.