by Mona Marple
“I guess not,” Frances said. “But that doesn’t help Glory. If she was going to kill him, showtime would be the most logical time. The site’s so noisy and pretty much everyone’s away from the vans.”
“Why weren’t you?”
Frances took a sip of her own drink. “I work the ticket booth. I sell tickets, I don’t check people in. In a way I work a flip shift; when everyone else is off work I’m in the booth, then they start work and I finish.”
“And of course this was before they added the security check,” Ellie said.
“Of course,” Frances said. “Windbanger’s all about saving money. Even if that security check added five cents to expenses, he’ll resent it. That’s probably why he’s insisting we move on early.”
“He doesn’t want to stay and see what happens in the case?”
Frances shook her head. “He can’t get out of here quick enough. Says it’s for our safety, but I don’t think anyone believes that.”
“So Glory went over and argued with him, then Windbanger. Did they argue?”
Frances considered the question as Zoey climbed on her lap. “You want dinner, little girl? Okay, okay, I know.” She padded across to the kitchen area and opened the fridge, cut up smoked salmon and set it on a little plate, then added a dash of parsley to garnish. She placed the plate not on the floor, but on the kitchen booth table, and the dog sat on her lap to eat.
Ellie raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
“That’s one pampered animal you’ve got there,” Violet said with a chuckle.
“She’s my best friend,” Frances said, and that was that.
“Okay,” Ellie tried to manoeuvre the conversation back on track. “So, Windbanger’s gone over and…”
“Nothing,” Frances said. “I didn’t hear a peep out of anyone after Glory left him.”
“Could Windbanger and Old Man River really have left him for dead?”
“Well, someone called 911,” Violet said.
“That was me,” Frances said. Violet looked across at her. “I walked down to the phone box and rang them, then I came back here. I thought they weren’t coming out, so I took things into my own hands.”
“Literally! With a crowbar!”
“It might not have been my best idea.”
“I need to speak to Glory,” Violet said. She jumped up from the table and was out the door in a flash.
17
“I wondered when you’d arrive,” Glory slurred as she opened the door. She was dressed in denim shorts that revealed bruised legs, and an oversized sweater proclaiming loyalty to some college that Violet didn’t know the acronym of. She held the door open and Violet stepped inside.
The caravan was neat apart from the kitchen table, where three empty wine bottles stood to attention as if having a meeting. Glory opened the fridge and pulled out a fresh bottle, then grabbed a second glass and held it out for Violet.
“Never met you before in my life and now you’re here twice in one week,” Glory said. The music was loud, some ballad about loving and losing and tractors.
“Can you turn that down?” Violet asked.
Glory picked up a tiny remote and pressed a button. The music stopped.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’ve been worse,” Glory said with a cackle. “Are you glad he’s dead?”
Violet pursed her lips. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” Glory said. “I was at first. Now I’m not so sure. He lied to me my whole life but at least he was there, ya know?”
“He wasn’t a great man,” Violet said. “But I think he did his best.”
“Better than my mother, at least.”
“You confronted him that night? Before he was killed?”
“No,” Glory said. She took a swig of wine. Violet’s glass remained empty. “I went over to see him, like I did a few times a week. And he sat me down and destroyed me.”
“He loved you,” Violet said.
“You hated him.”
“I did for a long time,” Violet admitted. “That’s why the police think I killed him.”
“You can’t have,” Glory said. She was whip smart and quick as a fox. “I saw him after you’d left.”
“Yes.”
“I see,” Glory smirked. “You’re here because you need a favour. You want me to tell the police that?”
“Definitely not,” Violet said. “If you do that, you’ll make yourself the new suspect. You’ll have had the motive.”
Glory eyed her warily. “So you’re not here because you need something?”
Violet sighed. “I’m here because the Sheriff’s going to close the case tonight, and I expect that means I’ll be hauled off to jail. You’ve had one heck of a life, Glory, and I’m truly sad we won’t be able to get to know each other.”
“I’ve got by on my own before, I’ll do it again,” Glory said. Her mouth was set hard but Violet could glimpse the scared girl hiding inside.
“Do you need anything? Money?”
“I’ll be getting half this place, won’t I? I’ll be alright.”
“He left it to you?”
“I’ve got his Will here,” Glory said. She stood up and reached into a cupboard, pulled out the yellowed document. “I’ve always had it here for safe keeping. Here we go, his share of the circus to be split equally between his children and if he has no children it passes to Windbanger. I just never knew I was an heir.”
Violet frowned. She reached into her purse and pulled out some bank notes, laid them on the table. “Deals like that can take a while to sort. Take this to tide you over in the meantime. Who else knows about the Will?”
“Just me and Dusty, I reckon.”
Violet felt a chill pass through her and, impulsively, she reached across and squeezed Glory’s hand. The charge of electric that passed between them was enough to confirm her suspicions.
“Whoa!” Glory exclaimed. “Did you feel that?”
“I most certainly did,” Violet said. She stood from the table. “But that story will have to wait for another time. Now, lock your door and stay safe in here, okay?”
Glory gave her a puzzled expression but nodded.
**
Back in Frances’ van, Violet paced back and forth in the cramped space.
“I know who did it,” she said.
“Me too,” Frances said. “Your friend here just told me about the ring she found. There’s only one person on this site with clean hands and jewellery.”
“Your reaction to the ring threw me off the scent,” Ellie addressed Violet. “I was sure you’d seen it before.”
“What?” Violet exclaimed. “No! I just didn’t want crime scene evidence in my house!”
“Let’s call the Sheriff,” Ellie suggested.
“There’s no time,” Violet said. “We need to act now. Let’s go.”
The three of them left the caravan and Zoey climbed up to the window and watched them go.
“This way,” Frances said, and they moved quietly across the mud field. They reached a caravan and took shelter against it, each watching as two shapes moved inside. “This must be it.”
“But whose van is this?” Ellie asked.
“Old Man River’s,” Frances whispered. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Violet hissed, but Frances had already moved ahead and pushed the door open. Violet moved quickly to catch up and all three of them burst into the small van.
“What the heck in high nations is this?”
Frances swallowed and said nothing.
In front of them, stood Dusty Windbanger, his cheeks crimson as he waved a kitchen knife around madly. Across from him, with a pistol in his hand, was an elderly, weaselled man who Violet guessed must be Old Man River.
“You shoot that thing and everyone around here’s going to hear,” Violet said. “You don’t want to do something so dumb with so many witnesses. Put it down and take a seat.”
The old man groaned and dropped the weapon to the
floor, then backed away from it. He walked slowly.
“What’s going on?” Violet asked. She focused her gaze on Old Man River, noticed that his hands were shaking.
“I ain’t got nothing to say to you,” he said, finally.
“What is this, Frances?” Windbanger asked. “You haven’t done enough intruding in other people’s vans?”
Frances’ face flushed. “I never hurt Rufus.”
Dusty Windbanger shook his head. “Tell that to the Sheriff. That poor man lived for this place, this circus! All I hope is that I can do his memory proud running it without him.”
“I’m sure you and Glory will do your best,” Violet said.
Dusty glared at her. “I’ll take her ideas on board. Lord knows I’m a team player.”
“The Lord knows no such thing,” Frances snapped. “Ain’t that the truth, Old Man?”
Old Man River glanced between her and Dusty with a desperate look in his eyes. “I ain’t having no opinion on that, woman!”
“You’ll have to take her ideas on board, Mr Windbanger. She’s your new business partner. She inherited Rufus’ share.”
Windbanger scoffed. “I guess you misread the Will, lady. Plenty of people get confused with these here legal documents. I was there with Rufus when he had that thing drawn up, and the circus is all mine now. Not that it makes up for our sad loss, of course.”
“Glory is his daughter,” Violet said.
“Niece,” Windbanger said. He offered a patronising smile, one that suggested she was doing the best she could with her poor, female-sized brain. Violet resisted the urge to turn him into a toad right there and then.
“Daughter,” Violet repeated. “She was conceived right here in Mystic Springs, by Rufus and my sister. She’s the reason he never wanted to come back to this town. He knew I’d be here, knew I’d recognise her.”
“You have some evidence to back up these wild claims?”
“The evidence will be found,” Violet said.
“Just as the evidence will be found that you killed Rufus,” Frances said. She stood by Violet’s side with her chin straight and her arms folded.
Windbanger laughed. “I get it, I do. You two ladies know the police are on to you and you’re going to attempt to stitch me up? Nice try.”
“You reported me,” Violet whispered as the realisation dawned on her. “You told the Sheriff I was arguing with Rufus that night.”
“You were. There’s no evidence to suggest I was anywhere near Rufus that night.”
“Yes there is,” Frances said. “Old Man River saw you leave. And you know he did. That’s why you’re here now, isn’t it? To finish him off?”
“You saw the scene! He had a gun! I pulled the knife in self-defence. Maybe Old Man River’s the killer!”
Old Man River put his head in his hands at the table.
“No,” Frances said. “It was the other way around. You came in here with a knife and Old Man River grabbed his pistol. Nobody would plan a murder and choose a gun as their weapon, not on this site. Everyone would hear.”
“The old guy isn’t so smart anymore,” Windbanger said.
“Drop the weapon, Dusty,” Ellie said. The light was fading outside but the metal of the knife caught in the sunset and glinted.
“You killed Rufus because you missed one vital conversation that night. You missed his argument with Glory because you were out doing what you do best; standing in the ring getting applause. If you’d paid attention, you’d have realised that getting rid of Rufus doesn’t solve your problem. His share just passes to his daughter,” Violet said. “You want to pack up early before you become a suspect yourself.”
“Nonsense,” Dusty said, but the knife remained in his hand. He took a step towards the three women.
“Talking of the ring, aren’t you missing something?” Ellie asked. She pulled out the signet ring and held it in between her thumb and forefinger. Dusty’s face contorted.
“Who else does so little work around here that their jewellery looks freshly polished all the time?” Frances asked with a sneer.
Old Man River glanced at the scene through his fingers and let out a groan. He tried to push himself up from the chair, but his body failed him. He scouted the room desperately, Violet guessed looking for his walking stick. He was too frail to do much. He was better off staying in his seat.
“That man was a hindrance to my business!” Dusty said as he advanced towards them.
“He was the only one of you genuinely interested in the circus!” Frances exclaimed. To Violet’s horror, she took a step toward Dusty.
“Frances, don’t do anything foolish.”
“What does it matter?” Frances asked, her voice heavy with tears. “I’ve lost everything already. This circus is all I’ve got.”
“Think of Zoey,” Violet urged. She reached out and grabbed Frances’ sleeve, pulled her backwards away from Dusty.
“You killed him so you’d profit,” Violet said. “It was all about money.”
“Business is business,” Dusty said. “You women don’t understand these things. That’s why there’s no way I can run a business with Glory!”
Dusty reared forward and Violet put her arms up in front of her face, as if they would be any protection at all. But Dusty simply pushed her to one side, opened the caravan door, and stalked out.
Violet raced after him and watched with horror as he began to hammer on Glory’s caravan door.
“Don’t open it!” Violet screamed. Caravan doors began to open and faces peered out, but as soon as people saw that it was Dusty out there, they retreated indoors and closed their curtains. “Are you kidding me? Cowards!”
Dusty continued to hammer on the door and then moved on to kicking it. After just three kicks, the door gave way and burst open. Dusty disappeared inside and Violet followed.
“Glory! Dusty’s in here, he has a knife. Wherever you are, stay hidden!”
“You interfering old woman!” Dusty roared. He turned to her, his face almost purple with rage. “Get out! Leave this to me!”
“Never,” Violet said. She saw the blade and felt her stomach flip. “Glory’s my niece and I love her. I won’t let you harm her.”
There was a movement at the far end of the caravan and Violet tried not to react, tried not to give any sign that she had seen it. Glory appeared in the corridor and began to move towards Dusty.
Violet had to keep him talking, it was the only chance Glory had of getting out of the caravan to safety.
“You never liked Rufus, did you? Me neither.”
Dusty sneered. “You were just a woman scorned. He played you like he played all the others. The only person he ever loved was Glory. I should have known he was more than her uncle! My issues with him were more serious. He had a small time vision. He limited how much we could grow. The places I could have taken this circus over the years! The opportunities we’ve lost because of him!”
“You hated only owning half of the circus, didn’t you? Even though Rufus let you have all the spotlight. It wasn’t enough.”
“Nothing wrong with hunger,” Dusty said. “That’s the way men are supposed to be. Hungry, driven, ambitious.”
“So ambitious that you’d kill.”
“I offered him the chance to walk away first,” Dusty said. “Now I know why he said no. He was looking after her share. You know he only kept her to see if she was a witch, right?”
“What?” Violet asked. His words had made Glory stop moving.
“He was convinced her mother was a witch. You too.”
“You just said Glory was the only one he really loved,” Violet said. As much as it hurt, she believed that was the truth. For whatever reason, Rufus had been an awful cad, a womaniser and a coward. But he had raised Glory as well as he could, and for that she had to offer him some small thanks.
“What does it matter? I don’t care about your family drama. And neither will you, for long. You’ve heard too much. I’ll be on the road s
hortly.” He made a final move towards her, the knife raised over his shoulder.
Violet extended her fingers and tried to blast him away from her, but nothing happened. She repeated, but still nothing. Darn it. Something was interfering with her magic. Love, she realised. She glanced behind Dusty and saw Glory’s face, met her eyes for a moment. She loved that girl - woman, really. She loved her and wished she’d had the chance to know her. She made a last attempt to use her powers as the knife approached her chest, but it was pointless.
She closed her eyes and awaited the end. Sirens blasted out in the distance and the thought made her smile, but they were no help to her.
And then a flash of blue filled the caravan and Dusty took a sharp intake of breath.
Violet opened her eyes to find him sprawled on the floor, the knife beside him. He’d been stunned, Violet saw, which was exactly what she had been attempting to do to him.
Glory stood over him and then rushed into Violet’s arms.
“You?” Violet asked.
Glory nodded. “I just copied what you did. Have I killed him?”
“No, no, dear girl, he’s stunned. He’ll come around in an hour or so. You wonderful child! You saved my life!” Violet pulled her in tight. She smelled of incense and cigarettes and fear.
“So… I am a witch?” Glory asked.
“You most certainly are,” Violet said with a grin. The sirens grew louder and Violet gathered her niece - her niece! - to her and led them both out of the caravan. Ellie and Frances scooped them into a hug and when Sheriff Morton arrived, the four of them were holding hands and sobbing.
“He’s in there,” Frances said.
18
Dusty Windbanger just couldn’t keep quiet. He didn’t say a word to the Sheriff, of course, but when a national newspaper contacted him and offered him a life changing sum of money to reveal all about the murder of Rufus Wellington, Dusty couldn’t resist.
He was given a life sentence, but with that life sentence came the level of fame that he had always wanted. It was a different type of success, but he claimed it nonetheless.
