by Jerry eBooks
Finally Beefy Belly, after a powwow with the others, gave it up.
“All right,” he warned me as we all stood in front of the trailer. “You’re in the clear so far, but we’re watching every move. If anything else happens, I’ll close the show and jail the whole bunch of you. Night before last the hardware store in town was broken into and some dynamite stolen. That never happened around here, either, until your outfit blew in. So you watch your step or we’ll clean house.”
He didn’t have to tell me to watch my step, not after that hardware store business. Beanie always cracked hardware stores or construction jobs to get his dynamite. He’d take the stuff out of town and slit the contents into two small metal troughs running into a bottle filled with cotton. When the hot sun came out the following day, the nitro would melt out of the sawdust and run down into the bottle filled with cotton.
So my hunch had been right. Little Beanie was back.
The johns pulled out in their cars, and I went inside the trailer. There, sitting on my bunk, was Leota, a beautiful blond kid of twenty-two with the kind of shape that, in a G-string, made the yokels drool. She’d been good to me, and I don’t mean anything personal. Every guy on the outfit was after her, except me. Not with a pan like mine. I figured that was the reason she was around the trailer so much. It must have been a novelty not to have somebody ask her for a date after the show.
“Are they all gone, Mike?” she asked.
I told her yeah and said, “You look worried, Leota.”
“I am, Mike. I’m leaving the show.”
“If it’s because Joe and Ace are about to tangle over you, forget it. Take whichever one you want, and if the other doesn’t lay off, I’ll have Moose crack a few vertebrae.”
She looked at me out of those blue lamps, the kind of look that would make you get ideas—unless you had a mug like mine.
“I don’t want either one. But, Mike, I think there’s going to be some kind of a blow-off and I want out. For the past two or three days Joe’s been acting strange. He’s as nervous as a cat. While the police were searching, he slipped into my tent and said he’s going to blow the show tomorrow and that he’s taking me with him.”
“Moose can take care of that, too,” I said.
“When I told him nothing doing, he got rough. Ace overheard and came in, and when Joe started for him Ace pulled a knife; and Joe backed off, threatening to kill him if he didn’t keep out of the way. So I left them and walked over to town to the newsstand. Tony was there and so was another man with a newspaper in front of his face. Mike, it was Beanie.”
“That little can-opening rat,” I said. “Just wait until I get Moose. We’ll take that little sidewinder right into Beefy Belly’s office and throw him in that fat john’s face.”
She laid a soft hand on my arm, her eyes almost pleading. “For my sake, I wish you’d let it ride. First it’s Joe, wanting me to go to Mexico. Then Tony came over and said that if I spilled what I’d seen, about him and Beanie being together, he’d cut my throat. He’s a mean little devil and sore because I won’t go out with him. Then Beanie came over, grinning like a cat. He said that if he was picked up by the cops for that job across the Line last night, he’d swear he was working for the show and implicate us all.”
Clever little Beanie! Vindictive little Beanie. The little heist artist had never forgiven me for kicking him off the show. Now he had me over a barrel and he knew it. If he got arrested and then squawked—kablam! I’d end up as his cellmate.
I said to Leota, “You stick around a little while longer, kid. There’s something fishy about this whole business, and I’m helpless as far as the law is concerned. I can’t go to them and I can’t kill Beanie to shut his mouth. So I’m going to do some nosing around on my own.”
“Mike, be careful with Joe. He said there’s thousands in it and that he and I are going to spend it in Mexico City.”
“You better get the calliope going for the cooch bally. The boys have already put the truck out front,” I said and left. Leota played the calliope from the back of the truck, in not much more than a G-string and gauzy skirt and a couple of butterflies up above, to ballyhoo the yokels over to the cooch tent.
I WENT out to find Moose, but he wasn’t around.
The big lug never was when I needed him. The cook in the grease joint said he’d gone over to town to try to round up some locals to wrestle that night, ten percent of the take, with Moose and the other carny men losing every third match. So I went over to Joe’s tent to have it out with him.
He wasn’t in, but there were voices coming from Ace’s close by. I ducked in to find Ace and Tony the geek and none other than little Beanie himself, playing three-handed cutthroat poker. There was dough all over the place.
“Hi, boss,” Beanie greeted brightly, waving a hand filled with money. “Like old times, eh?”
“I’ll get to you later, you ferret-faced little rodent,” I told him; and almost added, “and Joe, too,” but remembered his threat against Leota. “Ace, where’s Joe?”
Ace shrugged his slim, well-tailored shoulders. He was around thirty-two, brown-haired, and the flashiest dresser in the outfit. He wore diamonds, a lot of them on his fingers and a bigger one in his cravat; and, as I said, the geek show didn’t pay off that kind of dough.
“Search me,” Ace said and picked up a card. “We had a little fuss over Leota, and he took off.”
I looked at Beanie. “What’s the matter—isn’t American money good enough for you?”
He grinned wickedly, as only a small, mean little man can grin. He was as tough as they come in small packages, with a police record from here to Singapore and back.
“You ain’t gonna open your trap about nuttin’, see? Maybe I busted that sardine can and maybe I didn’t. But if they put the heat on me for it, I’ll put the heat on you and Moose—and even Leota. Gimme two cards.”
The air smelled better outside. Some of us carny people don’t exactly come from the higher strata of society, but with that gang in there, plus Joe Wilson, I certainly had a prize outfit on my hands.
I made the rounds of the rides and grifter joints, cut back through the Athletic show tent, and went into the sideshow next to it. Bo-Bo was still asleep.
I’d like to make it sound bloodthirsty and say that his forty feet of coils were wrapped around Joe. As a matter of fact, the bum was snoozing right alongside him. The only difference was that Joe wasn’t going to wake up any more.
Somebody had put a shiv in his back and then taken a whack at the side of his neck for good measure.
I went back to Ace’s tent. The game was still in progress. Leota had come in, dressed in her dancing clothes. I looked down at the three sitting on a blanket; at Ace, in particular. There was a prominent bulge beneath his coat.
“Ace, you’d better get rid of your shiv before the johns blow in again,” I said. “And why the hell did you have to mess up Bo-Bo’s pit?”
“I never messed up Bo-Bo’s pit because I never associate socially with Bo-Bo,” Ace answered, without looking up from his hand. “I consider him beneath me—absolutely inferior in brains, looks, and personality.”
“Mike, what’s happened?” Leota cried out.
“Somebody put a knife in Joe’s back and dumped him out of sight into Bo-Bo’s pit,” I said. “One of you three must have done it.” Later I remembered that I should have included Moose, who had warned Joe about Leota.
Ace’s calm voice startled me. “Four, boss. Leota could have done it. She was afraid of him because he wanted her to take a little trip. It’s not the first time a woman ever bumped off a guy.”
“Ace, how can you say such a thing?” Leota gasped out. “I couldn’t—why, I would never think of such a thing.”
“Of course you wouldn’t, honey,” Beanie piped in. “All carny dames are too ladylike. But we’ll leave you in and make it five, meaning the boss himself. He had the best reason of all for knocking off little Joey. With that ugly pan of his he n
ever could get himself a dame on the show, not even the bearded lady, until you came along. You were the only dame who ever gave him a play. Everybody on the midway knows why you hang around his trailer all the time, and he wasn’t lettin’ little Joey take away the only dame he could ever get. Gimme two cards.”
JUST like that. Nobody got excited. I might as well have said that Joe had been seen taking a bath. It would have caused more comment. I certainly had some sweet characters on that carny outfit!
Beanie gathered up his money and rose. “I’m goin’ over to town. If I’m questioned by the johns, my fingerprints from Washington will point straight at that safe job across the Line. So nobody knows from nuttin’, see?”
He faded off toward town and, since I was running a show and not the deputy sheriff’s office, I let Tony and Ace go for the moment. It wouldn’t have done much good anyhow. Nobody in the world can clam up like a carny man. Leota mounted the portable steps to the calliope truck parked at the corner of the tent by the bally platform, and I followed Beanie. As I crossed the stretch of open ground toward town I heard the wail of the cally. It sounded as though Leota was missing a few notes, and somehow I didn’t blame her.
Beefy Belly was in the sheriff’s substation office on a side street when I went in, along with a couple of other deputies the sheriff had sent down to help out during the celebration. He looked up as I entered.
“Well?” he rasped out.
“Not very,” I said. “I’m a sick man. We got a guy in the snake pit with Bo-Bo, the boa.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Well, he’s stopped bleeding,” I said.
“That big snake kill him?”
“Bo-Bo can’t handle a knife,” I explained. “He’s too lazy, anyhow. We even have to shove his food down with a kind of ramrod,” I added, thinking he might be interested.
He wasn’t. But he damn well was interested in the demise of one Joe Wilson. We boiled out of there in a couple of cars, and in just about thirty minutes the area was roped off, there were a half dozen state troopers holding back the crowds, the sheriff was on his way from the county seat with the coroner, a town constable stood around in complete befuddlement, and big-shot Senor Villanova show up in a cloud of dust.
Bo-Bo slept through it all.
He was the only one that did. Brrrother, what a jam session! The sheriff was gray-haired and well dressed, including the perennial cowboy boots and big hat and was pretty intelligent and efficient. He took our names and all possible identification papers and sent a deputy to phone the FBI in Washington. By the time the body had been removed by the coroner and we’d all been taken over to the substation for more grilling, Washington called back.
It ran about like this: Leota Henderson, no prints on record. George Brugar, prints but no police record. Tony Perano, prints but no police record. James Leonard, prints but no police record. I knew that Moose wouldn’t have one; he was too dumb.
Ditto one Michael Padgett, meaning me.
Then came the ringer. John DeOrio, alias Joe Wilson, alias Tom Pezzetti, alias a half dozen more.
The sheriff said, “Mr. Padgett, your man, this Joe Wilson, is, or was, wanted by the FBI on several charges. The latest was as a member of a big gang of criminals specializing in jewel robberies. In their last job, they got sixty-five thousand dollars in uncut diamonds and gave this Wilson the proceeds to hide out with until such time as they could get together again and dispose of the loot. But Wilson followed the old one about no honor among thieves. He simply disappeared and apparently buried himself on your carnival until the heat cooled down. That is, providing he was working alone and not in cahoots with some of you people. That we’ll find out in time.”
I shot a look at Ace Brugar. He was using a nail file, as he did a good deal of the time, and the ice on his fingers and the big one in his cravat threw off blue-white lights. He was obviously bored. Like the rest of us he had clammed up as only carny people can clam. Nobody had been near the murder tent or seen anything. Everybody loved Joe like a brother. He was an easygoing roustabout, truck driver, and wrestler. Never any quarrels with anybody.
“I’ll cooperate with you in any way possible, Sheriff,” I told him and meant it. “I’m as anxious to get this mess cleaned up as you are. But remember that we hadn’t opened up the side shows yet, and anybody on the midway could have followed Joe into the tent and done the job.”
OF COURSE, I didn’t mention the joker in the deck—Little Beanie. He’d cracked a safe in which forty grand supposedly was taken. Sixty-five thousand in uncut ice would bring just about forty grand from a fence like Senor Villanova of the International Trading Company!
He’d come along with us, still oozing importance, and now I looked over at him. I’d heard that the Mexican police were working with two American deputies on the case of the busted safe, and I knew there were plainclothesmen snooping the midway.
Had Villanova had the money waiting in the safe for Joe and then lost it from nitro in the hands of an expert? Had he sent over a Mexican knife expert to square up for a double X? Had Ace done it on account of seeing too much of Leota in a G-string? Or had he, with his flair for diamonds, found them and killed Joe in the tent. And little Beanie—
I said to the sheriff, “There’s the possibility that, that mob back East found Joe and sent a man to put the finger on him. It might come up when you finish fingerprinting the rest of my personnel.”
My head was whirling when we got out of there. They had let us go with the stern admonition not to leave town. I think they actually hoped that whoever killed Joe would get buck fever and make a break for it. Or maybe they figured we’d get to talking and somebody would make a slip.
“That place is going to be swarming with officers tonight,” I said as we walked back. “So remember: no talking about this. It’s all clam. Don’t forget that little Beanie is still on the loose and is the joker in this deck.”
When we got back, the midway was jammed. Bo-Bo’s layout was doing a land office business, and the price was upped from a dime to four bits. I told Tony to get into his leopard skin and get the geek show grinding and watched Ace walk off with Leota. One thing was certain: Ace wouldn’t have to worry any more about Joe.
I went over to the midway and saw Beanie eating popcorn. He grinned at me felinely when I told him to keep the hell off the street, out of sight. The place would be swarming with officers. When I went back, Moose was already in wrestling trunks and ready to start his ballyhoo. He gave me the nod and I followed him inside to the wrestling ring.
“I rounded up a couple of farmers and one cowpuncher in town. Not much, but we can work ’em if they’ll slug us around enough. Can you beat it—Leota walkin’ off with Ace after what you said he said about her knifing Joe? I don’t get it!”
“Ace is good looking and wears diamonds. You’re a freak like me. Why don’t you forget it? You haven’t got a chance, if you did it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re just dumb enough to have knifed Joe to throw suspicion on the other boys, something any officer could see through. I heard you warn Joe twice that if he got rough with her, you’d get rough with him. You knew he was planning to take her to Mexico. If you were damn fool enough to have done it, you clam tight when they close in.”
“What’s your next move?” he asked.
“Beanie. After the show.”
“You wait for me,” he said. “I’ll twist him till he screams.”
I didn’t feel like cooking supper, so I went over to the grease joint. The deputy in the boots and cowboy hat, minus his cannon and badge, stopped at a nearby bingo game and looked on. I finished the burger and coffee and began making the evening rounds. Behind one of the tents I heard stakes being driven, and my breath almost stopped.
Beanie had driven in, and was blandly putting up his tent! I felt myself get all cold inside as I went on, checking tickets and the grifter joints that paid me forty percent of their take. The guy
in the boots threw baseballs at the cats and tried his hand at one of the wheels. He didn’t win. About eleven-thirty the crowds began to thin out and make for the baile across the Line. The geek show was closed and so was Moose’s At show and the sideshows. The rides and a few grifter joints hung on. Things were quieting down.
It was time to shake the deputy. I ducked between two tents and made my way behind the cooch tent where the calliope had been driven. I went up over the side of the truck and fell flat beside the pipes.
I’m not exactly squeamish, but wished I hadn’t eaten that hamburger when I landed full on top of Beanie and got one hand sopping wet and had to lie there and wait for the deputy to appear. He did, took a look around in the darkness, and legged off along a line of tents. I got up, wiped at my pants leg, let Beanie lay, and hit fast for the trailer to wash the blood off my hands and get rid of a pair of bloodstained pants. I had an idea Moose would be waiting for me, but there was no light; so when I opened the door and stepped in, the attack came out of the darkness.
I remember being knocked completely over the corner of my bunk and then my nose must have struck the side of the kitchen doorway. I went out like a light bulb that had been hit with an air rifle pellet. When I came to, I was on the bunk with my head in Leota’s lap. The hell of it was she still wore her G-string and gauzy skirt and right above my face were her tinsel butterflies.
I sat up but quick.
The trailer was a bit crowded—Moose, fully dressed, Ace Brugar, and Tony Perano. Tony had shed his leopard skin.
“Whoever it was,” I said, wagging my jaw with a hand, “he could sure hit. Or maybe it’s because I’m so light I bounce.”
“It was me that found you,” Ace said, the fingernail file going and his diamonds flashing blue-white. “The door was open and it didn’t look right. I wanted to give you your cut of the geek take after Tony and me split ours.”
“Same here, Mike,” Leota said. “The kids sat around and smoked a while and didn’t change clothes on account of the heat in this desert. And one of those big-hatted bulls has been trying all night to get a date. So I let him follow me over, hoping that Moose would be around to give him the heave-ho.”
