Madball (9 page)

"And you left him and came with the carney. But you believed him when he came here later and told you he was changed. And you shouldn't have, Maybelle."

"Doc, you mean he was lying to me?"

"Lying to you and lying low, Maybelle. Think, think hard, and see it for yourself."

"You mean
-
damn you, Doc, I tried not to see it. Not that it matters now, but it did then. I think he was planning something, maybe Mack with him. That week in Glenrock just before the accident, it rained a lot that week, remember, we played only I think three days out of the week, and two of the days we didn't play Charlie was gone all day and then one day Charlie and Mack were both gone all day, that was Thursday I think, the day before he got killed. Doc, did they pull a job or were they just still casing one?"

"You tried hard not to see, didn't you, Maybelle?"

"I
-
I guess I did. They were tense, keyed up. I guess I knew they were going to do something and tried not to see. Did they do it, Doc?"

"I can't
-
the crystal doesn't show because it's you, things that happened to you, that I'm seeing there, Maybelle. Charlie's lying to you, his still being a criminal and your knowing it and still loving him, that is here because it affected you. But not-" He looked up at her. "But Maybelle, you ought to be able to answer that yourself. Think back about Monday night, the time you spent with Mack."

"You mean I should be able to tell from the way he acted whether or not they'd already
–
I
-
I don't know, Doc. We didn't talk much, I guess, in those two hours. He did say he wanted me to go somewhere with him for the winter and that he had a big stake, but he must have meant just that money from the insurance. And he acted -
well, kind of like he was tight inside and happy as hell at the same time, but I thought that was natural, just getting back from the hospital and everything."

"Of course it was, Maybelle. Yes, I imagine the accident stopped them in whatever they planned to do." He looked down again at the crystal. "It's changing now. Yes, the shadows of the past are dispersing and I am seeing-" He looked long and in silence again. Then he sighed deeply and as though with relief.

"The future is good for you, Maybelle. I see no trouble. And yes, I can definitely tell you no more will come of your questioning by the police about Monday night."

"Gee, thanks, Doc."

"There is a good life ahead for you. But there is a warning. Beware not only of breaking the law yourself
-
in serious ways
-
but of loving any man who does."

He pushed the crystal aside and sighed even more deeply. He got up and brought back the bottle. "And since the word was good, my dear, a drink to celebrate?"

She drank, a bit more deeply this time, and handed the bottle back. "Thanks, Doc, thanks a million. I guess I just realized how much I still was worried about Monday night and the cops and all. But I'm not any more."

She leaned forward and put her hand on his. "And listen, Doc, any time you want to give me another alibi like you did Monday night just say the word."

Dr. Magus smiled. "Thank you, my dear. I will say the word because I know the word, the perfect word, the word that ends unnecessary words. The word is Now."

CHAPTER TEN

BY THREE O'CLOCK the rain had completely stopped. The Murderer leaned against the bally platform of the freak show and watched the cat men putting shavings on the midway. He'd been here half an hour now, since he'd seen Quintana and Linder leave the lot together. He hoped Dolly would come out of her own accord so he could talk to her without having to go in looking for her. But if she didn't come out within a few minutes he'd go on in the freak show top.

He saw Wiggins, the owner, standing over by the ferris wheel watching the cat men too. He strolled over.

Wiggins saw him coming and nodded. Wiggins, he saw, had mud splashes on his suit and his shoes and the cuffs of his trousers were caked with it. But it didn't make him look much sloppier than usual. Wiggy was fat and always looked sloppy; expensive tailor-made suits looked on him as though they'd been bought used at a hock shop; his necktie was always crooked and his beard so heavy that he looked as though he needed a shave even when he'd just had one. You'd never have guessed, to look at him, that he owned and ran a carnival and cleared fifty or sixty thousand dollars a season on it.

Right now Wiggins looked more like a roustabout, the man joining him thought.

"Think tonight'll be okay, Wiggy?" he asked.

"Weather bureau says so; I phoned them."

"Swell. We might get a good play this evening if they're right. The murder got us publicity and a lot of people are going to be coming out on account of it."

"I imagine we got most of that trade last night."

"I doubt it. There's only an evening paper here so most people read about it yesterday evening and too late to make up their minds to come out."

"Hope you're right. If so, maybe we should have murders oftener."

He chuckled. "We should at that. Well, cheer up, maybe we will."

"Maybe we should put one on as a free act instead of the tank dive. Only
–
seriously
-
by God, if there is another killing. I hope the son of a bitch gets caught."

"Why?"

"Cop trouble. Another unsolved one and they might slough us. Damn if I didn't have trouble yesterday talking them out of coming out with a search warrant for the whole lot."

A chill went down The Murderer's spine. He hadn't thought of that possibility, and it would have been a rough break if it had happened. Maybe he should get that suitcase out of the trailer and off the lot.

He asked, "How'd you talk them out of it?"

"Convinced 'em it wouldn't do 'em any good. And it wouldn't have. All that was taken off Irby was cash and they couldn't identify it if they found it. I told 'em about weasel sacks and winter money and that they'd find plenty of dough stashed away in amounts over the two hundred thirty bucks or so they figured Irby had and so what?"

"Yeah. The killer wouldn't be dumb enough to keep it separate; he'd add it to whatever roll he already had. So even knowing the exact amount wouldn't help them."

The Murderer thought, Well, after tonight if everything goes all right they'll find the money in Dolly's stuff and it will be the exact amount because she didn't have any to add it to. And they'd think they had Irby's murder solved. He chuckled a little about how neatly they'd be fooled and Wiggins looked at him so he had to say something to explain his amusement.

He said, "Just thinking about something that happened last night. When I got back to my trailer after we closed I found I'd left the light on and the door unlocked. I don't ever do that but this time when I'd left earlier I thought I was going back right away and something came up and I didn't, and forgot
.
But you remember that little collection of pornography I showed you once?"

"Sure."

"Well, some magazines I had in a cabinet were out on the table so I knew somebody'd been there
-
and who it was. That halfwit kid, Sammy. Jesse's punk. He used to come and ask to look at pictures and I'd let him. Well, then after I put the magazines back I saw the pornography books weren't in the same order
-
he'd been looking at them too."

"End of story?" Wiggins looked at him. "What's funny about that?"

"Guess you'd have to know Sammy to see what's funny about it. You see, Sammy doesn't know what women are for
-
or didn't until he looked at the pictures in those books. He got News last night. Wonder if he's going to start giving Jesse trouble now."

Wiggins said, "Oh. Well, I hope he does. None of my business, but that's something I don't like. Why doesn't Rau get himself a broad?"

He shrugged. "Some guys are that way, that's all. In Sammy's case I'd say it's a break for him Jesse's like that; who'd watch out for him if Jesse didn't take care of him? He'd have to go to a nuthouse or starve to death."

Wiggins just grunted. Then he said, "I better phone and see what's holding up that other load of shavings." And headed for the office wagon.

The Murderer had watched the freak show top all the while he'd been talking. I'll give her another few minutes, he decided.

In telling Wiggins about last night he'd left out one little thing. The fact that he'd damn near had heart failure when he'd found he'd left his trailer unlocked and that somebody had been there. He'd had trouble breathing until he'd got that suitcase out from under the bed, unlocked it and checked its contents. It was only later, when he realized who'd been there and why and had found the pornography books in a different order, that it had seemed funny to him. And he still didn't understand how he could possibly have been so stupid and careless as to have forgotten even for a moment, let alone most of the evening, that his trailer was unlocked.

He glanced at his watch. Three-fifteen. And just as he was deciding to go in after Dolly Quintana she came out. She was alone and heading toward the chop top. He cut across the midway so he'd intercept her. He said, "Hi, Dolly," and then under his breath as they passed. "Something to tell you. Sit alone. Join you in a minute."

He kept on walking into the penny arcade, which was the direction his course of interception had taken him, and stopped inside to talk to Jay Klein, who was re-stocking the two machines that dispensed postcard pictures of movie stars. Then he went to the chow top. Dolly was sitting alone and at an isolated table; whatever she'd ordered was already on the table in front of her so rather than have to be interrupted to have his order taken and brought to him, he got a cup of coffee at the counter and strolled over with it. He sat down across from Dolly.

He said, "Don't be scared, Dolly. Leon went into town with Joe Linder. He won't be back for a while yet and nobody's going to tell him I sat down across the table from you. Everybody with the carney, Dolly, dislikes Leon and feels sorry for you."

"I
-
I hope you're right. But if he ever-"

"Don't let's waste time talking about Leon. Let's talk about you. You're afraid to run away from him, aren't you? Now, now, don't get a look like that on your face, honey. We're just talking about the weather if anybody should look this way. Act casual."

"I'll try." She took a deep breath. "Yes, I guess I'm afraid to run away. You don't know how-"

"Let me do the talking. Pretend you're eating while you listen. Dolly, I know somebody who wants to help you. With his help you can get away and Leon'll never find you. This guy is in love with you, Dolly."

She stared at him across the table, her fork motionless halfway from the plate to her lips.

"Joe Linder," he said. "He loves you. He wants to help you get away. But he'd stay here till the end of the season so Leon'd just think you went away alone. Then he'd join you
-
and protect you."

"Joe Linder wants to do that?" Dolly's voice was wondering. "Bu
t
why? He hasn't ever even-"

"Why hasn't he ever said anything to you or made passes? Because he didn't know you wanted to leave Leon. And if he even acted nice to you he knew Leon would take it out on you, beat the hell out of you. Will you let Joe?"

She drew in her breath sharply. On the way out it said, "Oh, my God yes," as though it was one word.

He smiled. But he said, "Damn it, Dolly, act as though we're talking about the weather. Now listen carefully, here's his plan. Joe's brother and sister-in-law got a little farm in northern California. He's going to spend the winter with them. You too. You'll take off tomorrow or the next day
-
some time when he or I can arrange to get Leon off the lot again
-
and go there ahead of him. He'll give you a letter to them. And Joe'll still be here after you leave, the last ten days or so of the season, so Leon won't guess any connection between you.

"By next season Leon'll have another woman and have forgotten all about you. I'll watch that and let Joe know. If not, you and Joe can stay out there, tie up with a West Coast carney, until Leon has got over it."

He could hear her breathing. Damn it, he'd better talk fast and get away from her. She was damn near crying.

He said, "Take it easy, honey. Here's the pitch. You and Joe will need a chance to talk this over, tonight. I got something for you here that'll make it safe as houses." He took a quick look around to be sure no one was looking their way and then reached over and put a tiny glass bottle under the edge of her coffee saucer. "Stick that in your purse quick, out of sight."

He waited until she'd done it. "That's some sleeping stuff. Safe but powerful. If he drinks all of that it won't kill him, and if he drinks even a little he'll sleep like a log, not a chance in a thousand of his hearing you leave and come back or waking up while you're gone. He always takes at least a drink or two after the last show, doesn't he?"

She nodded, wide-eyed.

"All you got to
do is get this in the bottle he drinks out of, Dolly. And then wait till he's sound asleep
-
remember this won't put him to sleep. But once he's sawing timber you can count on at least five or six hours before even a bombing raid would wake him up.