Читать книгу Murder, Take Two - Carol J. Perry - Страница 13

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 friends involved. “You’d be surprised. All of them knew Professor Bond. Cody McGinnis’s uncles are friends of ours, so we’re all trying to put together anything we can think of that might help clear their nephew.”

“That’s nice,” she said politely. “Listen, Lee, I don’t know if this is important, but you remember my roommate’s brother’s muscle-bound trainer, Rocky?”

“Sure.” I did remember Rocky. He’d been instrumental in helping to dig up some really important information for me not too long ago—information that may have saved Aunt Ibby’s life.

“Well, according to my roommate’s brother, Cody McGinnis has a membership in one of the gyms where Rocky works out. He said the cops came in the other day with a warrant and emptied Cody’s locker.”

Yes, that could be important. “Interesting, Francine. Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said. “Anyway, I doubt this student thing will take long. They’re always getting riled up about some cause or other. It was that way when I was there too. I carried signs for all kinds of stuff. Save the whales. Free lunches for students. It was fun.”

“Did Rhonda give us a hint about what they’re protesting this time?”

“Nope. Want to give her a call?”

“Sure.” I tapped in the station’s main number. “And speaking of clues, that Clue mystery party idea might be something we should try. Hello? Rhonda, we’re on our way to Essex County University. What’s going on over there?”

We could hear the noise before we turned onto Lafayette Street. We drove onto the campus without being stopped, parked in one of the student parking lots, and unloaded the camera and mic once again. It didn’t take long for us to figure out that the students weren’t protesting anything at all. It was actually a rally to gather support for the Cody McGinnis Defense Fund—and it seemed to be going well. “It’s almost time for the noon news,” Rhonda said. “Tell Francine to send, we’ll edit as you go, and maybe we’ll get some of it in before twelve-thirty.”

Francine motioned for me to follow her. She pointed to where much of the crowd seemed to be gathering in front of one of the school’s older buildings. A man in a white shirt, his arms upraised, a megaphone in one hand, appeared to be about to speak. We pushed our way through the mass of young people—we’re both getting pretty good at that—and staked out a position a few feet away from the man.

I activated my mic, and Francine began recording. “Lee Barrett here reporting to you from the campus of Essex County University, where a rally is in progress.” I spoke to a young woman standing close to me. “Could you tell me who the speaker is?” I asked. “Is he a student here?”

“That’s Alan Armstrong,” she said, “aka Professor Dreamy because he’s so handsome. He started the GoFundMe for Professor McGinnis.”

The man lowered the bullhorn and spoke into it. “Can you hear me okay?” A quick roar of approval answered. I wished we’d brought a good sound engineer with us. Filming was going to be a challenge between the bullhorn, the crowd noise, and a recording of “Where in the World but in America” playing somewhere in the background.

“Thanks for coming out,” he said. “This is important.” The crowd noise stopped. The music stopped. Just like that. Unusual. The man had somehow commanded instant full attention. I was impressed.

“Cody McGinnis is a friend of mine,” he began. “You all know that. There’s no way he could have done what the papers, the TV, even some members of the administration right here in this fine university—what they’re saying he did.” There was a dramatic pause, and still the crowd remained silent. “Samuel Bond was a friend of mine too,” he said. “Professor Bond was my teacher and my mentor when I was a student here, some twenty years ago. Now one good man is dead, and another good man is facing imprisonment. Nothing we can do will bring Samuel Bond back to us.” His voice grew louder, more urgent. “But there is something we can do for Cody! We can help him pay for the best defense money can buy! We can facebook and tweet and instagram. We can contact all of our friends and family and neighbors. We can dig deep in our own pockets. We can save Cody!”

Cheers erupted. The man lowered the bullhorn and came down the steps directly toward me. I stuck my mic right in his handsome face.