“Dante! Ernie!” she said.
A sixth dog leapt up onto the table and scrambled onto the back of the last two dogs, forming a woofing pyramid of Pomeranians.
“Fergie!” Miss Penelope concluded.
“Yes! Fergie! Princess among the Pomerrranians!” the Ringmaster said.
“Dog trainer to English queens and princes, Miss Penelope and her dogs were shamefully banned by dog shows ‘rrround the world—no other dogs could win! Behold as her canines perform feats no child of man can match.”
Another whistle and two of the dogs leapt from the table. The four remaining dogs took their places in front of the four card players, Fergie in front of Miss Penelope, Albert to Verna, Buster to Angelita, Coco to Tsuritsa, and started playing the ladies’ hands. Angelita looked wistfully at her cards while the others simply laughed. Miss Penelope let out one last whistle and the four Pomeranians joined Dante and Ernie back at their pedestals and hoops.
“You will find no greater talent, no greater beauty, than the four queens of the Krrresge Circus.” The Ringmaster wound up his introductions with yet another flourish and broke into applause while the four ladies smiled, winked and nodded their appreciation. Morrison and I joined the ovation as the ladies sat down.
Looking over my shoulder, the Ringmaster gave a thrust of his chin and said, “The moron behind you is Pino the Clown.”
I’d been too absorbed with the introductions to notice that someone had come in after us. Turning around, I saw a man in pancake makeup wearing the baggy, disheveled clothes and cap of a traditional Italian circus clown. Rouge brightened his cheeks and there was a spot of black makeup on the tip of his nose. He produced four pink carnations out of his checkered jacket, tossing one to each of the card players.
“Suddenly” noticing me, he broke into a pantomime of a classic Elvis hip shake that became increasingly exaggerated with each gyration.
“I apologize for the presence of this miscreant!” The Ringmaster said. “He is the son of the original Pino the Clown and has membership as a legacy. Pay him no mind. If we are lucky, today will be the day he will trip on his shoes and break his neck.”
I don’t like clowns, so I accepted his advice. Morrison, however, stepped over to the clown and the two of them sized each other up.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your card game, ladies,” I said. “I’m looking for Roman Finney. I understand one of you may know him? Maybe know where I can locate him?”
Tsuritsa blushed. With her chubby cheeks she looked like she’d developed the mumps. “Oh, we all know that old goat. Likes to play cards with the ladies, if you know what I mean.”
“I understand he may have been seeing a bit of Miss Penelope lately?” I asked, turning to the dog trainer.
Angelita stood up again and threw her cards at Miss Penelope, who put up her arm to shield herself. Her act of self-defense wasn’t required though. The cards mostly scattered in all directions, making Angelita’s tantrum far less dramatic than what she had been going for.
“¡Mujerzuela! ¡Le dije permanecer lejos de él! Roman is mine! ¡Va la cogida una de sus perros, puta!”
Miss Penelope responded to Angelita in a prim English accent. “I simply cannot understand that barbaric tongue.”
Angelita sat down, crossed her arms and stared poisoned daggers at Miss Penelope, who turned to me and continued indignantly, “Furthermore, I’ve no idea what you’re referring to. And I don’t believe you were properly introduced to us before insulting my honor, young man!”
“Sorry. My name is Floyd, I’m a private detective, and this is my...partner,” I said, indicating Morrison, who was trying to catch Pino in the act of mimicking him.
“So why ya dressed like Elvis, honey?” Verna asked. She had a strong Brooklyn accent that didn’t quite mate with the idea of a trapeze artist.
“It’s a long story,” I answered. “Miss Penelope, I urgently need to find Roman. I didn’t mean to question your... Look, Sheriff Kresge sent me and she thought you could help. If you know anything at all about where I can find Roman, please, tell me.”
Miss Penelope thawed slightly, but said nothing.
“Wanda sent you? Is she eating? That dear girl is so thin, eats like a bird,” Tsuritsa said, biting into a candy bar.
“She does seem a bit on the scrawny side, doesn’t she?” said Morrison, who’d finished playing patty cake with the clown. “Maybe we three could go talk together, eh ladies? Angelita? Verna? I must say I rarely have the chance to spend time with fine talents like yourselves.”
Morrison charmed the two women with a few more well-spoken flatteries and convinced them to step away from the table. Pino beeped his nose, followed, and “accidentally” knocked his hat to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, but it kept getting knocked just out of reach by his feet. As long as it was leading him away from me, I didn’t care what he did.
Tsuritsa finished her candy bar, pulled out a second one, and gestured with it to everyone in case we wanted to share. With no takers, she happily opened the wrapper and took a bite.
“Miss Penelope, the way I understand things, the future of Old Kresge—this very building—is at stake if I don’t find Roman,” I said.
She looked away, treating me to a stony silence.
The Ringmaster broke in. “We all know you’ve been having relations with Roman in the prop closet, Penny. Tell the man what he wants to know.”
Tsuritsa choked on a bit of nut and caramel and began to cough. Miss Penelope turned bright red, but her resistance visibly crumbled.
“He so liked my dogs, you see. We, we had a...a spiritual connection, a bond. He said dog was God spelled backwards. How can a woman resist that?”
“I’ve heard Roman is a charmer,” I reassured her. “Any special place you two liked to go?”
“No.” Miss Penelope was being reticent again.
“I have it on good authority the two of you met up at Whispers. Is that right?”
The blush returned.
“It was only so no one would know. I insisted our...affair be discreet.”
“We heard the two of you professing your enthusiasm for each other through the cedar walls of the steam rrroom! That is the English idea of discretion?” asked the Ringmaster, sitting down in Angelita’s chair to hear the rest of the details.
“It was only once! He was very persuasive!” Miss Penelope protested.
Tsuritsa laughed again. “Try more like a half dozen times, honey. Oh don’t be modest, we were all jealous.”
As interesting as the byplay was, it was getting me nowhere.
“Miss Penelope, I believe you. I’m sure it was just the one time and I know how persuasive men can be. I’m not looking to embarrass you, but I really do need to know where I might look for Roman next.”
Her honor as intact as possible, Miss Penelope calmed slightly. “We were supposed to meet last night. At my place. But he didn’t come.”
“Did you two go anywhere else? Motels? Park in the car somewhere?”
“Of course not! What do you take me for? I am a proper lady!” Miss Penelope’s protest might have meant more if Tsuritsa weren’t turning red with the effort to suppress her giggles beside her.
“Can you think of any place at all I might look for him?”
“Roman liked the zoo. We went there a few times,” she admitted.
“And what about Guido? Could he have done something to him?”
Tsuritsa inhaled sharply. “You’re dating Guido too?”
“No. He means Luigi,” Miss Penelope corrected.
Tsuritsa inhaled again. “You’re dating Luigi too?”
The Ringmaster just shook his head and muttered something about gossiping women.
“So could Luigi have done something?” I asked.
Mi
ss Penelope looked genuinely concerned. “I hadn’t thought about that. Luigi is a very...ardent man, you know. Very jealous of my affections. Yes...yes! Luigi might do something to Roman to protect my virtue.”
I could almost see some romance novel scenario parading through her mind’s eye.
Morrison returned with Angelita and Verna, one under each arm, all three smiling. Pino came back with them, pretending to have a girl under each of his arms as well.
“Penny’s doing Luigi too!” squealed Tsuritsa, who finally let out the stream of giggles she’d been keeping dammed up.
Miss Penelope blushed. Again. Her attempt to put on a dignified expression failed.
Angelita started spouting something in Spanish and gestured wildly with her arms and hands.
The clown put the back of his hand to his forehead and mock-fainted.
Morrison pinched Verna’s cheek and said he’d see her later.
I decided that now might be a good time to make our escape and motioned to the Ringmaster.
* * *
“Women!” the Ringmaster said as the door to the stairwell swung shut behind us. “But that Penny, she’s quite a lady! Did you get what you needed?”
“No, not really,” I admitted. “I’d still like to talk to Luigi. And anyone else around here who might know Roman.”
“I didn’t understand a word of what Angelita said,” piped Morrison, “but Verna seemed to think the dog trainer might have, uh, locked Roman up in a love shack somewhere. Shackled him to a bed.”
I turned to the Ringmaster. “You know anything about that?”
His face turned a deep scarlet and he gave a weak smirk before answering. “Well. Heh. Miss Penelope, she eh, does like to take command. And there’s nothing wrong with wearing a, uh, dog collar, you know.”
He was squirming so badly now he looked like he was crawling with ants.
“I meant do you think she might have him tied up in a love shack,” I clarified.
“Oh. No, I don’t think so. But then again, I wouldn’t be surprised either.”
“Are you saying Miss Penelope is Mistress Penelope?” asked Morrison.
“Maybe we should converse with the Magnaninis now, eh?” the Ringmaster said as we crested the stairs. “They’re just down the hall!”
Down the hall was really down the hall, around the corner, through the men’s locker room and into the men-only naked pool and sauna room.
If the idea of an elderly dog-training dominatrix doesn’t give you the willies, a dozen 80-something year old men flipping from the high dive, playing water polo, and generally lounging around naked and wrinkly should. And if that doesn’t do it, being asked to towel off a naked octogenarian absolutely will.
“Youa gotta rub vigoroustly! Get between all de folds! Odderwise I get cheese in all wrong places.”
Carlo Magnanini was the only one of the four Magnanini brothers who spoke English. Or so he claimed. He also had arthritis and couldn’t bend or reach around himself to get a good toweling in. Again, so he claimed. But he was quick to inform us he could still perform the world famous Rolling Magnanini trick with his three brothers.
“Hey! Youa missed a spot!” Carlo turned his back to me and spread his legs a bit. I handed the towel to Morrison.
“Time to earn your pay.”
Morrison took the towel and dabbed at Carlo’s folds.
Finally satisfied, Carlo strutted over to a lounger and flopped his naked, sagging bag of bones on it.
“Grazie. Luigi, he no do anything. We Italiano. We gots de hot tempers. We say things. ‘Sides, he likes that Romani Jill now.”
“Who’s Jill?” I asked, trying to look in any direction but Carlo’s.
The Ringmaster corrected me. “No no. Jill is Parlari for circus girl. He means Tsuritsa, the Gypsy circus girl.”
“So Luigi wouldn’t want to hurt Roman if he was spending time with Miss Penelope?” I asked.
Carlo scrunched up his face and waved his hands in the air, indicating how preposterous the idea was.
“Eh! That buffer Toby Mush? Nah! No after she run him up de rigging!”
I turned to the Ringmaster.
“He says, ‘The dog lady? Not after she, eh, tied him up.’”
“I thought you said he spoke English?”
The Ringmaster shot Carlo a scolding look.
“Carlo, the josser doesn’t roccer the jib, eh?”
Carlo waved his hand in front of his face like he was swatting a fly.
“Prego!” the Ringmaster said, reverting to Italian.
“He’s a minger!” protested Carlo.
“So is Wanda! She sent him to help us!”
Carlo waved his hand again, but with less protest this time.
“Bona, what you wanna know?”
“So if Luigi wouldn’t care, is there anyone else you can think of who might want Roman out of the way?”
“We all lika Roman! He takes care of de donahs so we can chase de chavas. ’Cept Luigi. He lika de donahs, but he lika Tsuritsa now.”
He could see my total lack of understanding.
“Donahs is de old ladies downa stairs. Chavas are de young bella regazza dat come by.”
“Young girls,” the Ringmaster translated.
“A lot of young ladies come by?” I asked.
“Eh, no really,” admitted Carlo.
“So there’s nobody who’d want to get rid of Roman?” I pressed.
“Justa Danish fuckers, and I no think they got balls,” he said, grabbing his own testicles.
I’d seen men grab their genitals to make a point before, but never while naked. I hope to never see it again.
“Carlo, query your brothers, perhaps they can help our young friend?” suggested the Ringmaster.
Carlo nodded in assent and raised both of his wrinkly, sagging arms into the air, gesturing to his brothers to come closer. The waddle under his arms flapped as he waved. One by one the Magnanini brothers made their naked way over to us until Morrison and I were surrounded by four naked old men and one naked clown.
Pino was as silent as the little imp back at the Bombay Club and had managed to slink up at some point and join the conversation without being noticed. To the amusement of no one, he was mimicking one of the Magnaninis as they all shot rapid-fire Italian at one another. I don’t know if it is true for all clowns, but Pino’s makeup was a whole body affair.
“We can’t think of nobody wanna hurt Roman,” Carlo said.
“What about places I might try looking for him?”
Carlo shrugged. “Guido say to try zoo. Roman like it.”
Morrison tugged on my half cape. “I didn’t even know Kresge had a zoo,” he said.
The zoo was, apparently, a point of pride for Carlo, who puffed up at Morrison’s statement.
“Our zoo is best in all Wyoming!”
“The Krrresge Circus had one of the finest bestiaries traveling across this grrreat nation!” Evidently the Ringmaster felt the same way.
“We gotta elephants, an’ horses!” said Carlo. Pino contorted his still-naked, makeup-covered body into the shapes of the animals as Carlo counted them off on his fingers. “An’ a lion, an’ tigers! We even hava performin’ seals!”
Pino was squatting, scratching under his arm, and hooting.
“Yes, we have simians as well,” said the Ringmaster.
“Then I guess we’ll have to check out your zoo,” I said.
The refrain from “Too Much Monkey Business” came to mind.
Chapter Twelve
The Ringmaster insisted on giving us a full tour of the Roustabout before we could leave. Fifteen minutes and a half-dozen nearly identical rooms later, we’d finally made it out of the Lodge and back to the car, leavi
ng the smells of cabbage and pipe smoke behind.
“Are we really going to look for Roman at the zoo?” Morrison asked as he closed the Camaro door.
“Yes. Well, no,” I told him, pulling out of the Roustabout Lodge’s parking lot.
“If we’re really going to wait until tonight to check out Burrows’s address, we might as well look into other leads. Elvis liked animals. If Bixby’s Jon Burrows is the one I’ve been looking for, he’s probably visited the zoo. It’s possible someone there may know him. And who knows, we may even turn up something on Roman in the process.”
The back seat beeped. Then beeped again, more of a “beep-beep” this time.
An elephant charging across the road would have surprised me less. I mashed the brake, stopping in the middle of the street and throwing Morrison against his seat belt.
Neither Morrison nor I had seen Pino when we’d gotten into the car, but he was smiling into the rearview mirror at me now. Fully clothed, thankfully.
“Get out, Pino,” I told him.
I moved my foot from the brake to the accelerator and quickly pulled the car to the side of the road.
“Beep-beep.”
“Morrison, get out of the car. The clown is staying behind.”
“Good.” Morrison opened the door and stepped out, pushing forward the passenger seat.
“Beep-beep.”
I sighed to myself.
“You’re not getting out, are you?”
“Beep.”
“So is this a one beep for yes, two for no kind of conversation?” I asked.
“Beep!” Pino grinned and handed me a carnation from the inside of his jacket. I reluctantly accepted and it squirted me in the face. Do clowns really think this is entertaining?
Morrison was about to get back into the car.
“Un-uh. I didn’t say he was coming with us. Pino, get out, we’re going to the zoo.”
“Beep-beep.”
“If I carried a gun I would shoot you right now,” I warned him.
The sides of Pino’s mouth curled down, giving his painted face a melodramatic frown. He balled his fists and pantomimed wiping tears from his eyes as he pouted.
Elvis Sightings (An Elvis Sightings Mystery) Page 11
