Madball (19 page)

"Why, he didn't seem to worry about it. Naturally we check with a patient, since we're not a charity institution, as to whether or not he's going to be able to pay our bill. In the case of an emergency admittance like Mr. Irby's we do it, of course, after emergency treatment has been given. In Mr. Irby's case, the hospital superintendent talked to him about it the following day. I happened to be in the room. Let's see, I'll try to remember as much of the conversation as I can."

She closed her eyes. "Dr. Harper, that's the superintendent's name, asked him first
-
I guess it's always the first question
-
whether he carried hospitalization or accident insurance, and Mr. Irby said he didn't. Dr. Harper then told him that if his hospitalization ran eight weeks the total bill would be close to a thousand dollars and that he'd have to pay it in cash before he could be released, and that if he didn't have that much money he should ask then to be transferred to a county institution. And Mr. Irby said
-
I think I remember exactly what he said
-
'That's all right, doc. Don't let it worry you.' "

Dr. Magus nodded happily, his face grave. Not that he needed more proof of Irby's being in the bank robbery, but there it was. At the time Miss Plackett was telling about, Irby's winter stake had been nine hundred and fifty in postal savings and a little over a hundred in cash, yet he hadn't even thought twice about agreeing to use almost all of it to pay a hospital bill. And before he knew
-
at least before he could be certain
-
that he had a settlement coming from the company that had issued liability insurance to the driver of the other car.

Money, to the tune of almost a thousand dollars he might have had to pay himself, hadn't counted, against the importance of getting the best of care and treatment so he could get back to the carnival before the season ended. And leave himself without a winter stake just so he could make a connection for next season? Nuts, Mack Irby was a good enough talker that he could have made a connection any time he wanted to.

"I see," he said again. Well, he'd done pretty well, he figured. He was now completely certain Mack had had the forty-two grand. He was reasonably certain now that it was with the carnival. The time and expense of his trip to Glenrock had been worth while. But there was still a random possibility that he might get more.

He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid, Miss Plackett, that I've just about run out of specific questions. Suppose you just tell me anything more that you may remember about him, or things he said or did, however unimportant or irrelevant it may seem to you. It is just possible
- Did he ever say anything that might have the slightest bearing on his childhood, for example?"

He hadn't, but she thought of and told him throughout the rest of dinner a hundred little things. None was remotely relevant. It was over dessert that Dr. Magus thought of the question he should have asked first of all.

"Ah
-
Miss Plackett, was his leg set under a general or a local anesthetic?"

"A general, Sodium Pentothal. He was still suffering somewhat from shock and still in pain from cuts and bruises so Dr. Kramer decided on a general anesthetic.

"Do not people often talk deliriously when they are coming out of an anesthetic? Sometimes nonsense, of course, but such nonsense as can come from things that are deep in their subconscious minds, things that are desperately important to them."

"Yes, doctor. And Mr. Irby did rave a bit when he was coming out. But I'm afraid that it was all in the nonsense category, to me, and that I don't remember any of it." Dr. Magus leaned earnestly forward. "Will you try very hard to remember, my dear? It's just possible that even a phrase or word of that seeming nonsense would refer back to his childhood, would mean something to me, would give me the very key I am searching for."

"I'll try my best, doctor. Let me think." She paused, staring off into space. "Some of it was swearing
-
I remember the word, 'Jeez,' a corruption of 'Jesus,' I suppose. And
-
and there was a number, but I can't remember what the number was."

Dr. Magus found that he was holding his breath; he had to let it out carefully before he could speak. He said softly. "I wonder
-
I punished him once, when he was about six years old, for using that very word, 'Jeez,
'
Miss Plackett. I didn't think of the punishment as being a severe one but
-
just possibly it was one that affected him psychologically more severely than I suspected. I temporarily deprived him of some toy soldiers he was very fond of. I believe there were, ah, forty-two of them."

"That's the number, doctor! He'd say, 'Forty-two, Jeez!' and then laugh. He said that several times. Oh, doctor, I do hope that's helpful. And I see now what you mean about things that sounded like nonsense to me being important to you. There was another phrase-" She stared into space again. Dr. Magus didn't move a muscle.

"Something about pickles," she said. "No, it was pickle punks, or pickled punks. And something about 'it,' whatever 'it' was, being stuffed in a two-headed calf."

Dr. Magus let himself relax very slowly. His head was swimming a little; he didn't trust his voice for a moment. Then he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that doesn't mean anything to me either. But the swear word and the oblique reference to the toy soldiers may be very valuable. I'll think about it and try to follow it farther. Thank you very much, my dear. And may we finish this delightful meal with a spot of brandy?"

Champagne would have been better, magnums of champagne, for forty-two thousand wonderful reasons. But alas that would have been out of character for a professor in search of the reason for his son's waywardness.

But he could and did insist on the best brandy they had, and he could and did touch his brandy glass to hers a
n
d say, "To you, Miss Plackett, with my deepest gratitude."

And his smile was beautiful.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

SAMMY WANDERED LONELY as a cloud. Jesse had knocked off a little early, just early enough to be sure of getting a seat in the poker game that was starting in the G-top.

And now the model show had closed, the unborn show had closed, the merry-go-round and most of the other shows had closed. Only the hanky panks and the grab joint and a few other things that didn't take much extra overhead to keep operating still ran to get a few more dimes or quarters from the few marks who still hung around the midway.

Sammy wandered once around outside the tops and then once around the midway, not knowing quite what to do with himself. If only Mr. Evans wasn't mad at him! But he was, and now he was afraid of Mr. Evans. Mr. Evans might hit him again if he even asked to see those books. And he wanted to see those pictures again, especially the ones in that big expensive-looking book, the first one he'd looked at. He remembered what the simpler ones of those pictures were like, but the others were getting foggy in his mind and he wanted to see them again.

He walked slowly, trying to remember.
Someone behind him said, "Hello, Sammy."

Sammy turned and his face brightened with a smile. "Hi, Mr. Magus." He saw that Mr. Magus looked happy, very very happy. There was a gentle smile on his face, but the real happiness showed in his eyes. It made Sammy feel good all over to look at Mr. Magus's eyes. He liked to see people happy. He said, "Gee, you look purty, Mr. Magus." Purty, or even pretty, wasn't exactly the word he wanted but it was the only word he could think of. Besides the happiness, there was the way Mr. Magus was dressed; he'd never seen Mr. Magus all dressed up like he was now. "Gee, the way you're all dressed up."

Mr. Magus put a finger to his lips and leaned forward confidentially. "Don't tell anyone, Sammy, but I'm to be Queen of the May."

"What's that, Mr. Magus?"

"It is a consummation most devoutly to be wished for. Sammy, I have a thought. There is welling up within me the desire to talk, and it occurs to me that you are the perfect audience for the occasion. In fact, you are the one and only person in this tinseled charnel house to whom I may, within reasonable limits, unburden myself. Will you listen to me?"

"Sure, Mr. Magus. Gee, I am listening to you."

"Ah, yes. But under better and more relaxed circumstances. In the privacy of my little mitt camp and over a flagon of
- Do you drink, Sammy?"

"Not much, Mr. Magus. Jesse lets me have a drink once in a while. Once I had three but it made me feel funnylike. I like cotton candy better."

"Ah, cotton candy. Is the booth still open?"

"Gee, I don't know. I can see if it is."

Mr. Magus reached in his pocket and took out a fifty-cent piece. "Go see if it is, Sammy."

"Spend all of this?"

"By all means, if your stomach will stand the gaff." Sammy raced to the booth. The Cotton Candy Lady was just closing but when he showed her the money and told her he wanted five cones of cotton candy, she sighed and turned the machine back on and poured more pink sugar into it. He ate the first cone of it while she was making the other four.

He raced back. The light was on inside the mitt camp. He called out Mr. Magus's name and Mr. Magus called, "Come in, Sammy."

Mr. Magus had his coat and tie off. He'd spread a blanket on the ground and was sitting on it leaning back against the foot locker. A whisky bottle stood on the little table where he could reach up and get it easily.

"Pull up a corner of blanket and sit down, Sammy," he said.

Sammy sat down, but Mr. Magus just sat looking at him, not talking like he said he was going to talk at all, just looking at Sammy. Mr. Magus looked like he was thinking hard.

Sammy ate cotton candy and it was good, but he kept wishing Mr. Magus would start talking. He didn't always understand much of what Mr. Magus said, but he liked the smooth sound of his voice.

But he finished two more cones of cotton candy before Mr. Magus spoke at all. Then he asked a question. "Sammy, could I trust you to do something for me and never te
l
l anyone?"

"G
ee, sure. Anything, Mr. Magus."

"You won't even tell Jesse?" Mr. Magus wasn't smiling.

"Not even tell Jesse. If you say not, Mr. Magus."

"I say not. And I believe you, Sammy. Listen now, and I'll explain it to you. Listen carefully. I
'
ll try to use all words that you understand and you concentra
...
you think hard. First, you know Barney King, don't you? He's talker for the unborn show."

Sammy nodded. "I know Mr. King."

Mr. Magus spoke very slowly. "I want to play a joke on Mr. King, Sammy. Just a joke, but I don't want him to know about it or to know I did it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Magus. You wa
nt to play a joke on Mr. King."

"Right. Now, Sammy, just before I met you on the midway I'd looked in the G-top and Mr. King was playing poker there. In a few minutes now, after you finish that God-awful mess of cotton candy you're eating, we'll go out together and you'll wait till I look in the G-top and make sure Mr. King is still playing. I can't play the joke on him unless he's still there. Understand so far, Sammy?"

Sammy nodded and stuffed more cotton candy into his mouth.

"If he is, we'll walk down to the unborn show. And you wait in front. You lean against the ticket booth and watch back toward the direction of the G-top, where Mr. King will be. You watch while I go around to the side of the top and under the canvas. Mr. King sleeps there, inside the unborn show top, in a bed roll, and that's where I'm going to get the joke ready for him. Still with me, Sammy?"

"Yes, Mr. Magus. I wait outside and watch while you go in to play a joke on Mr. King."

"Good boy. And while I'm in there
-
it will be only a few minutes
-
you watch and if you see Mr. King coming back, you start to sing."

"Sing what, Mr. Magus?"

"Sing anything. Any song you know. You can sing, can't you?"

"Yes, Mr. Magus. I can sing 'Three Blind Mice' and
-"

"
That will be fine, Sammy. If you see Mr. King coming, you sing 'Three Blind Mice'
-
or if you forget that sing anything, just so you sing loud enough that I'll be sure to hear you. This is very important, Sammy. All right, you're through with that damn floss candy now. Lick off your fingers and let's get going."

Mr. Magus took a flashlight from the foot locker and put it in his pocket, then went out.

Sammy followed him to the G-top but waited outside because if he went in Jesse would see him and might tell him to go to sleep and quit wandering around and he didn't want to go to sleep now because after he stood watch for Mr. Magus, Mr. Magus might still talk to him like he said he was going to. Mr. Magus came out and said, "Okay, Sammy, he's still playing."

He followed Mr. Magus to the front of the unborn show. Mr. Magus showed him just where to stand and which way to watch
-
as though he didn't know that. Then he asked, "And if you see Mr. King coming, what are you going to do?"