Margo Oxendine

I always loved ‘tuna fish’ sandwiches. They were among my top two lunchbox faves.

I always wanted to be a detective. My father was a great one; of course, this meant I could never, ever pull anything over on him. But, I wanted

to follow in his footsteps and make him proud.

The closest I got to being a detective was as an investigative reporter. And, with what little I had to “investigate” around this rural locale, I did a pretty good job. In fact, I won a first-place national newspaper award for investigative reporting. I went to Disney World to receive my award; I took Mom with me. That trip is a

fun column in itself, because we somehow blundered into a federal “sting” operation as soon as we landed at the airport. But, that’s another story.

My investigative skills have gone to waste as I’ve moved from hard-hitting, hard-bitten reporter into happy, frivolous columnist. I don’t mind. As we get older, some of us lose our “edge”; my sharp edges are sanded down quite smoothly now.

I did, however, encounter a puzzling mystery in my own home shortly after returning from my last hospital ordeal. I call it “The Mystery of the Missing Tuna.” It perplexed me for almost two months.

Here’s what happened: A dear friend who treks to Charlottesville every week offered to pick me up some fabulous, hard-to-find groceries. The delicacies on my list included brie, plantains, tarragon and fresh yellowfin tuna.

I always loved “tuna fish” sandwiches. They were among my top two lunchbox faves. Even as an adult, living on my own, I always keep lots of canned tuna around.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I finally experienced the real thing: Fresh yellowfin tuna, barely seared on each side, bright pink in the center. Oh. My. It quickly became one of my preferred choices to fix for dinner, and not just because it required very little cooking. Just make sure the iron skillet is smoking on a red-hot burner, drench the tuna steaks with olive oil, and drop them in for a minute on each side. Sure, you must open all the kitchen doors and windows, and turn the fan on high, but what a delicious meal!

So, my friend got me four tuna steaks on her supermarket mercy trip. She wasn’t coming all the way to my house after, so she packed them in ice and left them at another friend’s house. That second friend was driving me to the surgeon for a check-up the next day, so she ferried the groceries to me that morning.

She trooped in carrying bags of wonderful things. I hustled to put them away before we left. I remember the $16 worth of fresh tuna, packed in plastic bags of ice. I just don’t remember putting it in the freezer. As we left, I took all the bags outside to the garbage can.

A week later, I was craving tuna. I looked in the freezer. It was nowhere to be found. I unpacked the filled freezer, and looked at every darn thing. Nope. I did discover a pork tenderloin I didn’t remember buying, but no tuna.

I considered the Mystery of the Missing Tuna for a couple days. Then, it hit me: I had somehow stupidly tossed it out with the trash. Who does such a thing? I may as well have stood over the garbage can and tossed in $5 bills. I felt quite foolish.

From time to time, I’ve thought about that darn tuna in the trash. Indeed, I wondered shortly after why the garbage can smelled so bad.

Finally, I accepted my foolish mistake. The tuna is not the first thing I’ve stupidly tossed in the trash. I once had a Rolex watch that needed adjustment. I brought it home from the jeweler in a small bag and, somehow, in the flurry of putting away my shopping, tossed the bag in the trash. When I remembered it that night, I also remembered the housekeeper had taken away the trash that afternoon.

Yesterday, I remembered that pork loin. I’d fix it for dinner. I took the frozen pink block out of the freezer to thaw. I thought about that tasty pork all day. Yum!

When I opened the thawed package, what did I discover? The frozen pink block was not pork, but the missing tuna! I wasn’t so nutty after all!

Another mystery solved. Maybe Daddy would be proud. And, maybe not.