“Hey you, boy,” she said. “Where is he? My Jake says he was barred from ever returning.”
I remember her son. Tall and lanky. Total opposite of his mother. Came in last night and got handsy with one of our waitresses. He’s lucky that’s all that happened.
“I don’t think so,” I said and returned to playing my piano. “But I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
“I know who you are. No one’s ever seen you leave this place. Slave or friend, I wonder?” I want to wipe the smile off her face, if only I could follow after her.
Moon river, wider than a mile I’m crossing you in style some day Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker Wherever you’re goin’, I’m goin’ your way
Two drifters, off to see the world There’s such a lot of world to see We’re after the same rainbow’s end Waitin’ ’round the bend My huckleberry friend Moon river and me
#090 Taking a Chance on Love (Cabin in the Sky, 1943)
Mr. Horner returns, looking a lot different than he did last time I saw him. Clean shaven. New suit and lady on his arm.
She’s the kind any man would be proud to have on his arm till she opens her mouth and reveals her beauty only goes so far.
He flashes a wad of bills to enter the back room where only the high rollers are allowed.
On Vinny’s orders, I steer clear. A room like that can strip a man of more than his wallet. And Mr. Horner’s about to discover in that room the devil always wins.
Here I go again, I hear those trumpets blow again. All aglow again, takin’ a chance on love. Here I slide again, about to take that ride again. Starry-eyed again, takin’ a chance on love.
#089 Let’s Face the Music and Dance (Follow the Fleet, 1936)
One night a week I watch a couple walk onto the dance floor. Both tall and thin. He spins her mercilessly. Her movements match his precisely as they sway to music that isn’t playing.
She twirls across the floor and he quickly glides after. Brings her close and together they are melody in motion. She wants to resist. End the dance. Walk away. I see it in her face. The way her body leans slightly away.
Then they stop suddenly. The nightclub is closed. Nobody but me and my piano.
He reaches out and she places her hand in his.
There may be trouble ahead But while there’s music and moonlight And love and romance Let’s face the music and dance
#088 Beat Out dat Rhythm on a Drum (Carmen Jones, 1957)
“AAAAHHHHH!!!” I heard the screams and nodded to the conductor to play something louder.
At the start of our nightshift, Lace, one of our girls, came in with a shiner no make-up could hide. She knew it needed to be reported to Vinny. If there’s one thing he hates, it’s a man who raises his hands to a woman.
The door to his private office opened briefly and I could see a mound on the floor. Half alive. Half rat begging for mercy.
Lace entered his office for the best part. When the song finished there were no more screams.
I feel it beatin’ in my bones It feel like twen’y millyun tomtoms I know dere’s twen’y millyun tomtoms Beatin’ way down deep inside my bones
They wore matching dark cheaters, black berets, black pants, and long sleeve shirts, black, in the Summer time. After dark. I stifled a chuckle as they approached the bar and ordered two mint juleps brought to their table.
She carried their drinks while he led the way towards an empty table. Posers from a long forgotten era.
“Shall we stay a while, Herb?” she asked, swaying her hips to the music.
“I dig the vibe, Cyn. I ain’t never felt more alive.” Cyn started to sit but Herb pulled the chair out too far and she fell.
Two wasted juleps.
Clap yo hands Slap yo thighs Hallelujah Hallelujah Everybody come along And join the Jubilee!
I first “discovered” Murdle on my birthday when I went to Barnes & Noble. I go once a year on my birthday to buy books. Otherwise, I’ll admit I buy books from Amazon for the rest of the year. But it was on this occasion that I happened to see the cover. It stuck out to me and I almost bought it but for some reason chose not to! 👀
Then a few days later I received an email from Waterstones. I don’t shop there (because I don’t live in the UK and shipping to the US is really expensive) but I like to see the UK covers for books I want to buy just in case it’s cooler and I’m willing to shell out the extra cash. The email featured Murdle and this time, because I recognized the cover from seeing it on my birthday, I stopped to investigate (see what I did there?)…
For those who aren’t familiar with “Wordle” it’s a game that seemed to take the world by storm back during the pandemic when a man decided to make this game for his wife/girlfriend to play that involved trying to solve for a 5-letter word in as few tries as possible. He eventually sold that game for a “large” sum of money to the NY Times. But then there’s Murdle. It’s of similar concept, except it seems to me more like Clue, where the suspects, weapons and locations change with each mystery. I couldn’t believe this book, filled with 100 mysteries, was right there in front of me and I didn’t even bother to pick it up! As luck would have it, there was an opportunity to “kill time” and we decided to trek it back to Barnes & Noble where I was able to snatch the book off the table!
If you’ve ever played Clue then you might be familiar with the way it works. You have to figure out who killed Mr. Body? In which room? Using what weapon? Murdle is no different, except, each mystery has a different set of suspects, weapons, and locations. Each mystery comes with a board that you must use to get to the answer based on the various cryptic clues provided. The book is subdivided into different levels of difficulty ranging from elementary to impossible.
Which brings me to why I’m sharing this with you in the first place. I’ve got a couple reasons, actually:
I have OCD when it comes to my books and how I treat them. What exactly do I mean by that?
Absolutely NO bookmarks!
Dog ear? Are you mad?! I’ve ended friendships over such an offense! Not kidding.
Never ever ever break the spine. For those of you who don’t know, it’s when you open a book all the way. Even typing those words hurts my heart.
If it’s a hardcover with a jacket, remove the jacket while reading the book and store it in a safe place. But not like my grandmother’s idea of a “safe place” which means it will never be found, as evidenced by my Harry Potter book 5 which I loaned to her to read and she put the jacket in a “safe place” and now my book is forever jacketless…
Lastly, DO NOT EVER WRITE IN A BOOK OR USE A HIGHLIGHTER!
My OCD knows no bounds!
That last one is the real reason why I am here. I purchased the Murdle book, Volume I (of which there are a planned 3 volumes and I’ve already pre-ordered the other 2), but ran into a problem right away. I had no pencil or eraser anywhere in my house. Not because I don’t believe in pencils and erasers, but because I am in the middle of moving and for some strange reasons it was among the first things to get packed. But I’m glad it was packed because it meant I couldn’t commit the sin on my list of writing in the book! What was I thinking. Alas, this meant the book went untouched and unopened for several days.
Then a glorious friend of mine, , gave me a genius idea that I still can’t believe I did not think of myself! Create the chart on a separate sheet of paper and fill it in there! Duh!
So, I came up with this for the Elementary and Occult levels of difficulty:
And this one for the Hard Boiled and Impossible levels of difficulty:
I even went a step further! I duplicated these so that there are 8 on a page for the Elementary and Occult mysteries and 2 for the Hard Boiled and Impossible ones. If you should get the book(s) and are like me, not wanting to write in it, you can download each page for free below:
As you can see, I took the liberty of including a few cutting lines you can use to cut them out if you want and stick them in the book after you’ve solved the case! If you visit the website there is a daily puzzle of varying levels of difficulty that you could also use these for as well.
I’d love to know if you’ve heard this and Murdle too? And if you use my blank pages, snap a pic and share!
“I’m a salesman, not a miracle worker. Even I can’t make you thinner,” Gerald said. He was joined by a man so large his chair disappeared beneath his massive backside.
“Name your price. I’m good for it,” Fats said, a platter of cannoli’s placed in front of him.
“Well,” Gerald said, “I do have this one thing.” He placed a bottle of clear liquid on the table. “But I don’t recommend it.”
A stack of hundreds was dropped on the table and the bottle emptied without another word. Suddenly, Fats clutched his throat.
“Glue,” Gerald said. “Works almost every time.”
Now friends, let me tell you what I mean You got 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 pockets in a table Pockets that mark the difference between a gentleman and a bum With a capital “B” and that rhymes with “P” and that stands for pool
#085 What Good is a Gal Without a Guy (Skirts Ahoy, 1952)
We love whenever military men come round for a visit. They eat and drink for free. But what we don’t see often are women dressed in uniform. So, when three walk in, everyone notices. Present company included.
“Ladies, any requests? My fingers are itchin’ to play somethin’ just for ya.” I couldn’t quite place the colors but blood red seemed an odd choice.
“We’re just dying to sink our teeth into some fellas. Play whatever will bring them our way.” Lieutenant Drew winked at me and I smiled back cautiously.
There are some branches of the military I don’t question.
What good is a table set for two If nobody’s sittin’ there but you? What good is a moonlit night If no one’s there to hold you tight? What good is a gal without a guy?
“…I can do card tricks…” She answered, though rather timidly. The act we had just seen was really quite impressive and she knew it.
On Tuesday afternoons we hold auditions to find new talent. But shaky Ingrid seemed to be out of her element. That is, until she was bold enough to perform her card trick on Vinny.
Many womenn and men have crumpled just being near him. But not Ingrid. She was determined to impress us all.
And like me, he realized her true talent was wasted being a magician when she could earn twice as much catching thieves.
I thought that each expensive gift you’d arranged Was a token of your esteem But when I think of what you want in exchange It all seems a horrible dream
I was a panhandler. Scraping just enough to pay a quarter to Reems, the owner of a halfway house at the stockyards. It was more of a shack than a house but that’s not the point of this ‘ere story.
All I owned at the time, besides the clothes on my back, was a baby piano my momma scraped together and gifted me on my fifteenth birthday before she sent me into the world to fend for myself.
Vinny heard me playin’ one night and I was hired on the spot. I’ve lived at The Nouveau Revue Nightclub ever since.
I gets weary And sick of trying I’m tired of living and scared of dying But ol’ man river He just keeps rolling along
