A violent thunderstorm thrashed the trees outside of Doreen’s 24 HR Eat Gas Now Café. Lightning flashed and the wind slapped rain against the large windows. Darkness was so thick that it seemed to be midnight.
The usual suspects were gathered around Doreen’s large corner booth. I stood and addressed the crowd. "I’ve called you all together because a crime has been committed."
Shocked, the Hunting Club recoiled when they realized that I, the Outdoor Detective, was on the scrap.
Doc leaned over. "Move your foot so I can pick up this scrap of paper."
He handed it to me.
"What’s this?"
"The bill."
"I don’t know any Bill." I hid it from Doreen’s sight. "I’ve gathered you all tonight..."
Woodrow rubbed his hands together under the table. "It’s one in the afternoon."
"This afternoon, then. In this room, there is someone, a potential criminal, who borrowed my skinning knife this past season and didn’t give it back."
The Cap’n sighed in relief. "I thought you were looking for whoever took your last sinus pill. I feel better, now that I know what you’re looking for."
"Do you feel better because you took the pill, or because you think you’re off the hook?"
"Both."
"I’ll get back to you later." I thoughtfully perused the room. "My handmade knife is gone and after a long investigation through my own house and car, I know one of you has it."
Delbert P. Axelrod tried to effect a Bogart sneer that looked as if his nose itched. "What makes you think it was any one of us?"
"Because you’re the only suspects I have," I argued, exasperated.
"I didn’t do it and I’m leaving," Woodrow started to get up.
"You can’t leave." I held out a hand, remembering the murder mystery movies of my youth. In them, the detective gathered the suspects in a spooky old house during a storm and interrogated everyone. "The bridge is washed out and the electricity will probably go out before we’re finished. Usually at this point a gun fires and some girl screams."
Wrong Willie looked embarrassed. "I’ve been known to scream like a girl if a gunshot surprises me."
"Isn’t someone supposed to faint at this point?" Jerry Wayne asked.
"That’s usually a female," I explained.
"I’ll just take a nap, then."
"I bet the butler did it," Wrong Willie suggested.
"We don’t have a butler."
"If we had one, he’d have stolen your knife, I bet."
In order to make the culprit nervous, I paused.
It didn’t work. I almost completely lost their attention when they went back to doing what they do, and that’s drink coffee and talk.
I tried not to whine. "Guys, one of you borrowed my knife and didn’t give it back."
"He’s not as good of an Outdoor Detective when he’s standing here in the café." Doc sipped his coffee and suddenly lLightning flashed, illuminating the large mole on Doreen’s chin in its harsh illumination.
Wrong Willie shrieked like a little girl.
Doreen didn’t bat an eye. "Are any of you idiots going to order?"
"Yes!" I shouted over the thunder. "I order someone to confess to having my knife!"
"I don’t have it!" the Cap’n shouted back. "Coffee!"
"What?"
"She said order. I want coffee."
"I want my skinning knife. I might need to skin something."
"What does it look like?" Willie asked.
"The Something I want to skin?"
"No, this alleged knife."
"It has a silver blade and a handle made from elk antler."
They pondered the description.
"It’s sharp on one edge."
They nodded in understanding.
"It cuts stuff."
They began to look uncomfortable. As a trained detective, I knew something was up. "One of you knows something. So just come forward with it and the rest of you can go."
Lightning flashed again, and in the super-sharp illumination, I saw the answer to my question. "Willie! You are the guilty one!"
The others looked upon the accused in shock. "Is he right?"
Willie put both hands on the table and laced his fingers. A bandage covered one digit. A digit that had been cut...with a very sharp knife.
"All right!" he cried. "I confess. I borrowed your knife and it’s in the truck. And you know what? I proud I did it."
We looked upon the Guilty One.
"And that old saying is right. Confession is good for the soul. I feel much better now. Doreen, bring me a chicken fried steak."
"And a dull knife," I told her. I try to take care of my friends, even though they’re guilty of overextended borrowing.
While he sawed at the steak, I rushed through the rain to retrieve my own very sharp skinning knife...so I could cut my own chicken fried steak that sat cooling on the table.
