Murder, Take Two. Carol J. Perry

of good salt air before I go inside. It was a beautiful morning, my tummy was full of good breakfast, and I looked forward to an interesting day at work. I was scheduled to cover the opening of a new toy store first, then a tour of a historic candy store after lunch. Toys and candy. What could be more fun? I love my job. Naturally, those cushy assignments would be cancelled if there was breaking news somewhere else in town.

      I crossed the black and white tiled floor of the lobby and pressed the UP button beside the polished brass doors of the elevator. We call it “Old Clunky” with good reason, and I thumped and bumped my way up to the second floor. I pushed open the glass door marked “WICH-TV” and greeted Rhonda, the receptionist. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, isn’t it? Am I still on for Toy Trawler?”

      Rhonda is surely not your everyday average receptionist. We don’t know exactly how many degrees she has, but she is one smart woman, and Bruce Doan has always left most of the scheduling up to her. She keeps track of all of the on-air reporters on a white board next to her desk. She pointed to the board where “Barrett: Toy Store: 10:00 a.m. America’s Oldest Candy Company: 1:00 p.m.” was written in purple dry marker. “Francine’s driving and filming. I’ve got some prep material for both places printed out for you. I understand the owner of the toy store does a good interview.” She handed me a folder.

      “Thanks, Rhonda.” I rifled through the pages. “I wonder why it’s called Toy Trawler.”

      “That’s easy,” she said. “Remember that old restaurant on Route One that was shaped like a ship? It’s in there.”

      “I don’t think that was a trawler.”

      “It is now. They took the masts off and cut it in half. The owner is a retired Gloucester fisherman.”

      “Ship ahoy,” I saluted her and tucked the folder into my hobo bag. “I’ll go down to the dressing room and slap on some makeup, then find Francine and get going.”

      Francine is my favorite mobile photographer. We work together well, and we’ve produced some darned good TV. We’ve also been through a few pretty hairy shoots together too. I took the stairs down to the first floor, where the dressing room has a good mirror and decent lighting. Rhonda’s a Mary Kay rep, so there’s always a box of samples down there to work with. I cut through the long, dark room with its black painted walls and an assortment of show sets—Sports Roundup, The Saturday Business Hour, Cooking with Wanda the Weather Girl, Shopping Salem, Tarot Time with River North. That last one was the same set where I’d done my short-lived call-in psychic show—Nightshades. My best friend, River North, has had much more success in that space than I ever did.

      I ducked into the dressing room and added a little more eye shadow and redder lipstick, then smoothed out and sprayed my too-curly red hair. I texted Francine. “Where are you?”

      “Outside. Motor’s running.”

      “On my way.”

      Francine had the WICH-TV mobile unit facing Derby Street, ready to roll. I climbed into the passenger seat. “Ever been to the Toy Trawler before?” I asked. “I haven’t, but I’m dying to see what the fisherman/toy guy has done to the place.”

      “Captain Billy,” she said, pulling onto the street. “Wait ’til you see it. I took my sister’s girls there. I think adults like it even more than the kids do. He has a room full of the old collectible toys as well as the latest ones.”

      “Sounds like fun. Then after that we go to a candy store. Gonna be a good day,” I promised, opening the facts folder Rhonda had prepared, trying once again to push all thoughts of murders, past and present, out of my mind.

      Chapter 5

      Captain Billy’s Toy Trawler was every bit as charming and interesting as Francine had promised. She started shooting as soon as we got out of the mobile unit. I carried the stick mic, talked to the audience, and walked backward toward the gangplank entrance to the store. Smart idea. Nautical and wheelchair accessible at the same time. It’s taken me a while to master that walking backward while smiling, talking, and facing the camera trick. Rhonda had phoned ahead, so Captain Billy, in full captain’s regalia, waited for us at the entrance.

      “Welcome, welcome aboard ladies,” he boomed. He looked every bit the fisherman part. Think a kind of attractive cross between Spencer Tracy in The Old Man and the Sea and Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. Francine followed the captain and me with her camera as he led me from a rubber raft full of teddy bears, to a fully outfitted yacht peopled by Barbie and all of her well-dressed friends, to a walk-in fish bowl where the Little Mermaid, the Ninja Turtles, Nemo and other toy denizens of the deep were artfully displayed.

      “Come along to the game deck,” Captain Billy ordered. “This month’s special is board games—all the ones you remember from when you were a kid, along with all the newest ones.”

      Francine and I dutifully followed him into a large room where the walls were papered with board game labels and box covers. Kids climbed on giant Monopoly game pieces and others played on a slide from Candy Land. Counters were stacked with hundreds of games. A central display featured an enormous game board from one of my favorites, Clue. “Clue is our game of the month,” Captain Billy explained. “Lot of interest in it locally lately, of course.”

      “Why so?”

      He looked at me as though I wasn’t quite bright. “The murder. Lots of folks think that the game of Clue was inspired by the murder of Captain Joseph White. Happened in Salem and Parker Brothers games were made in Salem, so why not? Look, there’s a game character named White, like the murdered guy, Joseph White At first they’d thought the old man had been killed with a lead pipe like the one in the game. Dick Crowninshield hanged himself with a silk scarf—so there’s the noose. Perfect tie-in for me and my games with the murder of that professor.”

      So much for getting my thoughts away from that topic. “That’s really interesting,” I said. “Especially the tie-in aspect of the Captain White murder. That’s something to think about, isn’t it? Are you selling a lot of Clue?”

      “Not only the games. People all over are throwing Clue mystery parties. Here.” He handed me a colorful brochure. “All the directions for hosting a Clue party. We even sell life-size plastic weapons. The wrench, the rope, the lead pipe, the revolver, the knife, and the candlestick. Say, you ought to throw one and take the video. It would make a good TV show. I’d even sponsor it!”

      Francine tapped her watch and gave me the “cut” sign. That meant something must have come up at the station. It looked as though we’d have to leave early.

      “Thanks, Captain Billy,” I said. “We’ll think about that. Thanks so much for showing us the Toy Trawler.” I gave the store’s address, hours, and website, and signed off.

      Francine reached for my mic. “Come on. Let’s roll. Rhonda says there’s some kind of student protest going on over at the college.” I hurried to keep up with her. I wore heels because, after all, I was on camera, while Francine can wear sneakers every day if she wants to.

      “Is the candy store gig cancelled?”

      She stashed camera and sound equipment in the back of the van, and we climbed into the front seats. “She told them we’d be a little late. They said they’d be open until nine tonight.”

      “Looks like we might be in for a long day,” I said.

      “You don’t sound too happy about it.” She turned on to Route 1, heading back to Salem.

      “I kind of have plans,” I told her.

      “With Pete?”

      “He’s probably working late tonight himself on that murder. No, it’s a get-together with my aunt and a few of her friends.”

      She raised an eyebrow. “No offense to Aunt Ibby, but that doesn’t sound very exciting.”

      I had to smile, thinking of the particular