Late Checkout

by Carol J. Perry

  “No kidding. Somebody must have twisted his head like a corkscrew to do that.”

  “How do you figure that?” I asked. Rhonda knows about an amazing number of topics.

  She shrugged and took a bite of her burger. “Used to date a karate master in San Francisco. Thon. Cute as a bug. Anyway, he taught me about all kinds of ways to defend myself.” Shrugged again. “Some of them were lethal.” She leaned forward, elbows on the table. “But what was the impossible part?”

  “The videos showed everybody who went up the main staircase to the stacks. It also showed everybody who came back down.” I paused. “Except Willie, of course. He was dead. But another person who went up apparently didn’t come down. A man. Besides that, there’s a video of a woman leaving the building, but no picture of her ever coming in.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “I know. That’s what I said.”

  “There has to be another way in and out then,” she pointed out. “Aren’t there videos?”

  “There are videos of both the front and side doors and of the stairs to the stacks. Pictures of everybody who went in or out, up or down.”

  “Wow. A real locked room mystery.” Her eyes sparkled. “Like in Clue. The colonel did it in the drawing room with a candlestick.”

  “Or in the library with a corkscrew.” I signaled for the check.

  Chapter 15

  Back at the station I put my address list and invitations aside and scribbled some notes for my news break. I texted Old Eddie and Marty McCarthy. I’d need a camera and a location pretty quickly if I was going to have an update ready for the five o’clock news and a couple of teasers for station breaks every half hour. I was pretty sure Francine had the day off. Marty was busy building a new set for Wanda’s cooking show, but Old Eddie was free for about an hour before he and Scott were due at a Salem-Beverly basketball game.

  “That’ll work, Eddie,” I told him. “Let’s set up in front of the library. That’s where all the action has been so far.”

  “Okeydokey, Ms. Barrett,” he said. “I’ll pick you up out front in five minutes.”

  Rhonda did a fast makeup job for me, three minutes maybe. I grabbed my cardigan and notebook, said, “See ya later,” to Rhonda, and headed downstairs. I was on the front steps when the VW pulled up. Old Eddie, always the gentleman, got out and held the passenger door for me. “Main library, right?”

  “Right. Thanks for making time for this, Eddie.”

  “No problem. This is a real interesting assignment for me. I knew Willie, y’know.”

  That was a surprise. “I didn’t know that. I just learned that he’d actually worked here at the station for quite a while on a sports show.”

  “Sure did. That Willie got around. I wasn’t working here back then, but I used to bet some on the ponies, y’know. I knew him from when he worked up at Rockingham.” Eddie gave me a kind of sheepish sidelong glance. “Used to give me tips on the races once in a while. He was a generous guy about some things. He had a lot of contacts in the sports world, you know? I heard once he brought both Bobby Orr and Larry Bird into the studio on the same day.”

  I figured that the gambling admission explained the sheepish look. Those races must have been the ones Willie had “fixed.” I didn’t comment on Eddie’s gambling habit. “He apparently did some acting too,” I said. “Hollywood Westerns and some local work.”

  He pulled the VW into the parking lot beside the library. “Yep. Saw him in a show once over in Beverly. Willie played a heck of a good vampire. Where do you want to set up, Ms. Barrett?”

  I didn’t see any police cars around. “Let’s try the front steps.”

  Eddie opened the back door of the VW and handed me a stick mic. “Noticed you like these,” he said, “and we got a new reflector too. Scotty says it makes the light softer on the face.”

  “I’m all for that,” I said. “Let’s get this done. You have a game to go to.”

  I picked a spot in front of the library doorway, while Eddie positioned the face-softening white circle to his satisfaction and set up his tripod. I read over my notes, took a peek at the previous night’s script, and signaled the cameraman to begin filming.

  “I’m Lee Barrett, reporting for WICH-TV from Salem’s main library on Essex Street. Yesterday evening this historic old building was the scene of what some authorities are saying may be a murder. The body of William Wallace, eighty, was discovered by a library volunteer in the little-used upstairs section of the building known as the stacks. The elderly man had sustained significant damage to his upper vertebrae near the brain stem, sufficient to cause his death.

  “Wallace, a one-time local baseball personality known as Wee Willie Wallace because of his short stature, had apparently been away from New England for more than two decades. He’d worked as a stuntman in some Hollywood Westerns and as an actor on stage. He’d also had an unfortunate stint as a trainer at the now defunct Rockingham Park racetrack in New Hampshire. He was convicted of doping horses and was sentenced to prison time. Long-time fans of WICH-TV might even remember Wallace as a frequent guest on a popular mid-century sports program called the ‘Larry Laraby Show.’”

  “Wee Willie Wallace’s short stature was an asset on TV too. Here on WICH-TV, he played some familiar diminutive characters. Who remembers Cactus on the Ranger Rob show? Or the St. Patrick’s Day leprechaun? Santa’s elf? The Easter Bunny? Or my personal favorite, Marvel the Robot on Professor Mercury’s Magical Science Circus?”

  I saw Eddie’s face register surprise and I imagined much of the viewing audience would be surprised too. I continued. “Police have no suspects in the matter, although security cameras installed within and outside the library have provided photographic records of all who entered the building and all who left it. Photo clips of the people library staff were unable to positively identify will be shown on this station. If you have any knowledge of unusual or suspicious activity of any kind in or nearby the library yesterday evening, please call the number at the bottom of your screen. This is Lee Barrett reporting from the Salem Main Library. WICH-TV will bring you updates on this developing story as they become available.”

  We shot a couple of ten-second leads for the teasers, Eddie sent the whole package over to Marty for editing, and we packed up our gear and arrived back at the station with time to spare. “Thanks Eddie,” I said. “Good working with you.”

  “Same here, Ms. Barrett. I never knew that stuff about Willie being all those other little guys and he never told me about it. I remember all of ’em.”

  “I do too,” I said. “So even if Willie wasn’t such a good guy, he gave people some cute and funny characters to remember. I’m working on finding some of the others I remember watching on WICH-TV when I was a kid. Mr. Doan is planning an anniversary show. Do you remember Katie the Clown? And Professor Mercury?”

  He beamed. “Sure do. My kids used to watch all those shows. Too bad the station doesn’t do live programs like that anymore.”

  “Too expensive for small stations I guess,” I said. “Actors and sets and all. Nobody does it these days except the big guys. Reality TV is a lot cheaper to produce. I’ll see you later, Eddie. Enjoy the game.”

  “See you later, Ms. Barrett. Oh hey. Did you know Katie the Clown is still in Salem? Lives over on Highland Avenue. I see her once in a while at the grocery store.”

  “Do you know her last name, Eddie? All I know is Agnes.”

  “Sorry. I don’t remember. I always heard that Agnes and Ranger Rob used to be an item though. He’s got a horse barn over in Rockport. You could check with him.”

  “I will,” I promised. “Funny how all the old employees stay linked together somehow, and they all seem to be connected to Wee Willie Wallace.”

  “Yep.” Eddie closed the back door of the VW and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Even me.”

  And now, me.

  It was a little after three when I checked in with Marty. “Was the piece from the library o
kay? Was it long enough?” I asked. “Eddie used the new reflector. Did I look all right?”

  She was about to attach a picture of a pumpkin pie to the wall of Wanda’s kitchen set. “It was okay. Good, even. You looked fine. I padded it with a little footage of the robot—Marvel visiting kids at the hospital. Guess the tiny twerp wasn’t all bad, huh?” She stood back to admire the pie portrait. “Did your cop boyfriend figure out yet who offed the little bastard?”

  “Not yet. Did you know Willie too?” I knew Marty had been with the station for a very long time, but she wasn’t as old as Old Eddie or Phil Archer. Still, I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that she had some connection to the dead man. Everybody else around here seems to.

  “Nah. He was here before my time. Want to take a look at your spot and the thirty-second promos?”

  “Sure.” She led the way to the control room. “Hey, is that good-looking security guard still working at the library?”

  “You mean Dave?” I’d never thought about Dave’s looks one way or the other. “Uh, yes. He’s still there.” I followed Marty into the small, equipment-filled room. “You know him?”

  “I’ve run into him a few times. Wish I knew him better.” She threw a few switches. “That thick white hair. Those bright blue eyes.” She winked broadly. “Yes sir, that Dave Benson is quite a package.” The monitor glowed and there I was in front of the library. “Here you go, Moon. See what you think.”

  Marty had done her usual good work—seamlessly cleaned up the places where I’d flubbed a word or where a passing car messed up the sound. The Marvel Robot segment gave just the right balance to the piece. The teasers were good too. She’d used the introductory footage of me, then used bits from the longer report as a voice-over while she showed old photos of Willie and a few seconds of the police cars and coroner’s van from the night I’d found the body.

  “Great job as always, Marty,” I said. “You make me look better than I really am.”

  “You’ve come a long way since Nightshades, kid,” she said. “And tell Dave I was askin’ for him.”

  I promised that I would. “Say, Marty. Rhonda says there are some Ranger Rob tapes in here. Can I borrow one or two?”

  “Sure thing.” She pointed to a shelf where a row of oblong plastic cases stood in a neat row. “Help yourself.”

  I selected two, each marked “Ranger Rob show,” and tucked them into the fast-expanding hobo bag. “Do I need to sign for them?”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Nah. I know where you live.”

  I thanked her again and made my way through the long, black-walled studio and up the stairs to the second floor.

  Chapter 16

  I picked up where I’d left off on the card-addressing detail. Rhonda had finished her left-hand side and was already working on the Templeton list. “Howie’s folks’ list looks like the society pages in the Sunday paper,” Rhonda said. “Look at this.” She held up her sheet. “An ex-governor, a couple of old TV stars, a retired Hall of Fame baseball player, and at least two Kennedys. Impressive.”

  “Yeah, well, look at mine,” I said. “A retired Salem bank vice president, the owner of the shop where Mr. Doan buys his suits, and Marty McCarthy. So there!”

  “Gotta admit it,” she said, laughing. “You win.”

  We were still giggling when Mr. Doan pushed open the glass door. “Glad to see happy employees,” he said. “How’re we doing on getting our invitations in the mail? Mrs. Doan wants to see those RSVPs coming in pronto!”

  “We’ll be finished by five o’clock, sir,” Rhonda promised, “and I’ll drop them all off at the post office on my way home.”

  I began to write faster, if not more legibly. Within about fifteen minutes I’d finished the Doan half of my alphabetical sheet and moved over to the Templeton side, which held a longer list. I’d moved from Marlboro all the way to Merriweather when Mr. Doan emerged once again from his office. “Mrs. Doan just called me with a great idea for the party,” he announced. “Going along with the Halloween theme, she thinks we need a magician. Guess who she suggested!”

  Rhonda and I looked at each other. Blankly. “I give up,” Rhonda said. “Who?”

  “Here’s where you come in, Ms. Barrett.” He pointed to me. “Have you located Professor Mercury yet? For the anniversary show?”

  “Not exactly,” I said, which was a blatant overstatement. I hadn’t the slightest idea whether the man was living or dead and I didn’t even know his real name. “I’ve just begun searching the old WICH-TV personnel records.”

  “Well, speed it up, will you? Buffy thinks an old-time magician associated with the station would make a good impression on the guests.”

  “I’ll get to work on it right away,” I promised. “And if he’s moved away or doesn’t want to do it, I’m pretty sure we can get the Fabulous Fabio.”

  “The cake decorator?” Mr. Doan wasn’t smiling.

  “That’s just his day job,” I said. “He’s really quite a good magician.”

  “Get Mercury.” The office door closed firmly behind him.

  “Okay,” Rhonda said. “You two lost me back there at ‘the Halloween theme.’ Who are Professor Mercury and the Fabulous Fabio?”

  “Professor Mercury had a kids’ science magic show on the station back in the eighties and I have no idea where to find him. Fabio is a local part-time magician. In real life he’s a baker at Pretty Party and I can get hold of him in two minutes.”

  “I guess I know which magician you’re rooting for.” She picked up her pen and returned to her A-to-L Templeton guest list. “But I guess he’s not Buffy’s first choice.”

  “Guess not.” What Buffy wants, Buffy usually gets. “Looks like I’ll have to find Professor Mercury.”

  “Good luck with that. Write faster.”

  I did as she asked, but my mind was no longer focused on penmanship. I’d have to spend some serious time on the old files. Maybe I can even take some home with me!

  I’d grab about half the personnel files from the old file cabinet, work on them at home, return them in the morning, and then take the other half. I’d probably have Agnes’s name even before Jim Litka could give her my card and with any luck, by tomorrow night I’d get enough information on Professor Marvel to make Buffy Doan’s Halloween wish come true. And first thing Monday morning I’d tackle the “Miscellaneous” drawer. I could hardly wait to get started.

  I zipped through the Templeton names as though I was on automatic pilot, paying little attention to the “Who’s Who” aspects of the upscale guest list. Rhonda still called out an impressive name every so often from her list and I made the appropriate oh wow responses. But my mind wasn’t really engaged.

  I’d already noticed that Wee Willie seemed to have some sort of connection to several past or present members of the WICH-TV staff. So far I knew he’d worked with Larry Laraby, Robert Oberlin, Agnes whatzername, Professor Mercury, and had a passing acquaintance with Old Eddie and Phil Archer. Was there a Mrs. Laraby somewhere in Salem? Some more staff or technical crew people who remembered Wee Willie? Or anything about him? I was especially looking forward to meeting Agnes, aka Katie the Clown. I was positive she’d be a wealth of information and as a former professional actress, she’d be a natural for a live interview.

  Thank you, Scott Palmer, for handing this assignment over to me so easily! It’s going to be fun from here on in. After all, when you start out by finding a dead body, there’s no place to go but up, right?

  I scribbled my way through the list, made shorter by the fact that my half of the letters contained the Qs, the Xs, and the Zs and there were few last names beginning with those. I reached the stamp-sticking part of the job not long after Rhonda did, and as we put our stamped postcards into neat piles, we finally had time for some conversation.

  I told her about how it was so interesting to me that Wee Willie had, over the years, somehow touched so many different people associated with the station—now including me. “I th
ink it may be important. But how am I going to figure it all out and then how do I make enough sense out of it to put it into a presentable report?”

  She put down her roll of stamps, put her hand under her chin, and got a faraway look in her eyes. She does that when she’s concentrating hard on something. I waited.

  “Okay. I’ve got it.” She resumed stamping. So did I. “What you need is a flowchart. You know, one of those charts with one name at the top in a little oblong box with lines connecting it to other names in oblong boxes further down on the paper. Then those names are connected by lines to other names in little oblong boxes on the chart until you can see how everybody is linked to the top name and to each other.” She gave a firm nod. “Yep. That’s all you need. A flowchart.”

  I visualized what she was talking about right away. “You’re right. I have to get a lot more information, and I can fill in boxes as I go along. Thanks, Rhonda.” I pointed at the white schedule board behind her desk. “Maybe I’ll even get a whiteboard and some colored markers. I can hardly wait to get home and get started.”

  “Hold your horses, girl. We’ve got a lot of postage stamps to stick on before we can leave tonight. So keep stickin’.” They were “forever” stamps. I looked at my watch. Maybe this is going to take forever!

  However, the stamp-sticking session gave me a chance to inspect each card for mistakes in addresses or illegible handwriting, considering that I hadn’t been exactly focused on the project when I wrote them. They weren’t in as bad shape as I thought they might be. Good thing there were extra cards though. I rewrote a couple that I’d messed up. I was all the way up to the Ws when what I’d written on one of them brought me to a complete stop. “Holy Halloween Party,” I practically shouted. “Look at this.” I held the card out so that she could read the name.

  Mr. Wallace A. Williams.

  She tilted her head to one side. “Who’s he?”

  “That’s one of Wee Willie’s names,” I explained. “I’m beginning to visualize a bigger white board.”