Murder, Take Two. Carol J. Perry

to let Mr. Doan know that I’d secured an interview with Professor Armstrong. I was sure he’d be a lot more happy about that than I was.

      Super-efficient Rhonda had already contacted Marty and arranged for the in-studio interview with Professor Dreamy. Mr. Doan seemed pleased about it, although he wondered aloud why I couldn’t do it immediately, in time for the early news.

      “What does he think we are? Magicians?” Francine grumbled. “How many places can we be in one day? Dogs and cats. City hall. A couple of mayors. The chief of police. Whew!”

      “When you line it up like that, I’m impressed with us,” I told her.

      “Yeah. We’re worth more money,” she said, and we both laughed at that idea.

      So did Rhonda. “Fat chance of that for any of us. Hey, Old Jim should be back pretty soon from the mural unveiling at El Punto. So you can do the voice-over and add that to the list. If you hurry, you might even have time to check out the figureheads at the Peabody Essex Museum.”

      “Let’s save that one for another day,” I said. “It’ll be too interesting to rush through. I’ll wait for Old Jim and talk about the murals.” I like talking about El Punto. It’s a fairly new attraction in Salem—a three-block outdoor art museum that has revitalized a previously rundown neighborhood. Now over seventy-five large-scale murals, many by world-famous artists, decorate existing buildings. It’s an artistic extravaganza, changing the formerly bypassed streets into a welcoming riot of color and excitement.

      Old Jim is a darned good photographer. He keeps trying to retire, but winds up filling in every time the station needs him. He’s usually relegated to the aged Volkswagen van instead of the much newer mobile unit Francine drives, but he doesn’t mind.

      We fixed up a screen that looked as though I was actually standing in front of a giant mural of a rainbow-colored cat with a bird on his shoulder. Then as Jim’s camera panned the three blocks, I encouraged viewers to visit the place. We wrapped it up and exchanged high fives. By then it was time for me to leave, satisfied with my day’s work well done. I could hardly wait to get home to see what Aunt Ibby thought about the chief’s information—such as it was.

      I made a quick trip to Shaw’s with Aunt Ibby’s grocery list, then hurried home. As soon as I hit the remote and opened the garage door, I recognized Betsy Leavitt’s Mercedes in the driveway. Had my aunt called an emergency meeting of the Angels already? I parked and walked quickly toward the house, where O’Ryan waited on the back steps. He met me halfway, and together we went in. I knocked on my aunt’s kitchen door, while the cat scooted inside.