Perilous Pleasures

by Patricia Watters

  Joanna stared at Helen. "But I thought you wanted to stay in the house."

  "I wanted Alonzo's happiness more. So he rounded up his cats and we rejoined the circus. And it all started again, the terrible fear, the waiting, the worry, and finally... the end. We were married for almost twenty-five years. He was killed two days before our twenty-fifth anniversary." She gave Joanna a hesitant smile. "It's strange. When Stefan's grandmother was told about the accident that day, she had already laid out her clothes for the funeral and was sitting in the dark waiting, yet she had no way of knowing."

  "You mean, she knew before it happened?"

  "She'd warned Alonzo that afternoon not to go into the ring, pleaded with him, said she saw Death taking him away. But Alonzo shrugged it off. It was the last performance of the season... the Jinx performance. But he insisted."

  Joanna looked at Helen, dubious, then waved off her uncertainty. "I don't believe that nonsense... that the final performance is jinxed. But it does seem a coincidence that Stefan's father was killed that particular night."

  "I never believed it either until then," Helen said. "I'd always thought all final-performance accidents were the result of nerves, or maybe because everyone is expecting something to happen. Now I don't know. Alonzo was killed. Klaus Haufchild was injured. Heinz Erlich, the aerialist, fell to his death, each during a jinx performance. And there are hundreds of other incidents."

  "If a study were made of accidents during first-night performances, I suspect there would be just as many," Joanna insisted, trying to shrug off the uneasy feeling creeping over her that their own final performance in New Orleans was quickly approaching, and Gene was insistent on dropping the nets for it.

  "Probably," Helen replied, but Joanna knew she was not convinced.

  Joanna looked at Stefan, her eyes drifting over the bandage and moving down to rest on his face. How close he'd come this time. What if he hadn't put the sledgehammer by the cage door? What if the bucket of ammonia water had not been there, or had dumped over. What if Walter had not gotten to him in time? Did Tekla Janacek possess a gift of prophecy? She glanced over at Helen. "How do you think Stefan's grandmother does it?"

  Helen shrugged. "I don't know. Over the years I've tried to come up with a logical explanation. First, I decided she'd cultivated her powers of observation and subconscious reasoning to a degree that made an open book of the person she was giving a reading to. But that didn't explain it all. In most cases she'd had no contact with the person and no time to study them. She believes in the truth of dreams and attributes her powers to supernatural causes, sometimes reading fortunes in tarot cards, or the palms of hands, or beans in a kerchief. I've seen her read twigs and broken glass and even sludge in a tea cup. I still don't know how she does it, but I don't question it anymore. All I know is, her predictions are amazingly accurate." She stood. "Are you going to be here for a while?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "I have a stack of costumes at the lot waiting to be mended, so I have to go. But tell Stefan that I stopped by and will be back in the morning." She squeezed Stefan's hand, then looked at Joanna, and said, "If you stay with Stefan as his wife, I will welcome you as my daughter-in-law. But in the end, you'll have to follow your heart, and your heart might take you away from him. It is the nature of things when married to a man like Stefan."

  Joanna looked down at her hand covering Stefan's and said, "I could be carrying Stefan's child now." She looked up and saw compassion in Helen's eyes.

  "Do you have signs that you are with child?" she asked.

  Joanna shook her head. "Only that we have been together several times."

  "Then you must consider a child as well, if you and Stefan stay in this marriage you claim. If you must leave Stefan, what would you do about the child?"

  Joanna shrugged. "I don't know... Love it, cherish it, devote my life to it because it would be all that I would have of Stefan."

  "But Stefan would have to know."

  Joanna heaved a labored sigh. "I know."

  Helen walked around the bed and gave Joanna a hug. "I know I should be telling you to keep Stefan out of your bed—I would if you were my daughter—but I understand the need to have a man like Stefan close to you for whatever time God allows. I would not have let anyone keep me from Alonzo. When he was in my bed, he was all mine. And he was safe. I would have kept him in my bed forever if it had been practical." She smiled, knowingly. "It would not have been a difficult cross to bear. I'm sure you understand."

  Joanna nodded. "Yes. Stefan is an exceptional man. I too would keep him in my bed to protect him from his cats... And to keep me happy." She smiled in memory then.

  Helen squeezed her shoulder, and left.

  It was some time before Stefan opened his eyes. He looked at Joanna and held out his hand. "Come closer. You're too far away," he said.

  Joanna took his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. "Your mother stopped by. I explained about the marriage. She knows what happened."

  "Everything?" he said, brows pulling the dressing over his eye inward.

  "Not in so much detail but yes, she knows we were together as man and wife."

  Stefan looked at the single rose in the vase by his bed and studied its golden hue. "Yellow, the color of suffering," he said. "Is that why you brought the rose?"

  "I'm sorry," Joanna replied, "I shouldn't have brought yellow. But when I saw them carrying you out on the stretcher with your head bleeding, and you weren't moving—" she blinked as moisture dampened her eyes. How long would that image hover in her mind?

  Stefan trailed a finger along her cheek. "I'm sorry I'm doing this to you," he said. He pulled her to him and held her against his chest.

  Joanna heard the strong beat of his heart, the steady rhythm reminding her how fragile life was. With the strike of a paw, or the snap of a neck, that heart could be stopped.

  A profound weariness descended on her like a leaden weight. For a while, neither spoke. Then, barely breaking the silence, Stefan said, "I love you, sweetheart." He tipped her face up to meet his and kissed her lightly, then looked into her eyes and whispered again, "I love you."

  His words suffused Joanna's mind and body, drawing her to a state of confused reverie. She started to tell him she loved him too, then looking at the bandage, she tightened her lips and said nothing.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  While standing in the entrance to the exhibition pavilion, Stefan peered through the magnifying glass and studied the frayed fibers of the rope. "It was cut part-way through so it would break with strain," he said. He looked toward the cage that was being rolled in, and saw Shani pacing restlessly.

  "If that's the case," Walter replied, "it explains why the cats have been acting up. They've been harassed, possibly struck with a stick or maybe even prodded."

  Stefan glanced at the sleek black leopard. "That would also explain why Shani turned on me." He looked at Tony, who was ladling water into a cage, and motioned for him to come over.

  Tony replaced the ladle into the bucket and walked over to join them. He glanced at the rope that Stefan held out. "What's the problem?"

  Stefan brushed his thumb over the frayed end. "You're going to get your chance in the ring for the next three performances," he said.

  Tony flashed a confident smile. "I'll do my best."

  "That may not be enough," Stefan said, uneasy about Tony going into the big cage. He was a promising young trainer, but he lacked the years of experience needed to react in a crisis. "This rope was cut part way through so it would break. Take a look through this." He handed Tony the magnifying glass. "You'll see that the fibers have been cut."

  Tony looked through the glass, then handed it, along with the section of rope, back to Stefan. "Why would anyone want to do that?" he asked.

  Stefan scanned the grounds, hesitating on the shadowy areas between wagons while searching for a one-armed man. "Klaus Haufchild has a reason. I just can't figure out when he would have had a chance to get
to the cats, or to this rope. Between the three of us, those cats have never been left alone—"

  "Except during performances," Walter cut in. "We're tied up for at least thirty minutes during that time."

  "But Haufchild was spotted in the pavilion, not the menagerie," Stefan said, "so he would have had to do it some other time." He looked up to where Gene Marquis was practicing high above, and said, in a weighty voice, "Unless it wasn't Haufchild..."

  ...and you keep in mind that your lions could get to you first...

  Stefan's eyes narrowed. "It wouldn't surprise me if Gene Marquis didn't try to pull something like this," he said, following Marquis' movements as he spun in space and was caught by his brother. His eyes rested momentarily on Joanna, who was poised to fly, then returned to Gene Marquis, who had returned to the platform. "Marquis is here most of the time, he has access to the equipment, and he sure as hell has the motivation, and the guts. With me out of commission he's got top spot again, unless of course Tony can take over." He turned to Tony. "Rope off the cats. No one allowed near them. And keep all the equipment trunks locked and make sure the animals are never alone. One of us, or one of the handlers, should be on guard at all times."

  Tony nodded. "When do you want me to start working with the cats?"

  "Right now," Stefan said.

  Tony motioned to the handlers and left for the menagerie tent to get the cats.

  Stefan looked up to see Joanna swing free from the trapeze bar, tuck her body and spin. Unfolding, the sharp slap of hands on wrists verified the catch. He followed her graceful body as she hung from Otto's hands while swinging in a wide arc. Hopefully, she wouldn't learn what they now knew. She didn't need that worry. As she swept downward, she released her grip and sailed to the net, bouncing several times. Walking in long springy steps to the edge, she tumbled over the framework. Moments later, Gene bounced into the net and tumbled over the framework to stand beside her, then Otto followed.

  Otto squeezed her shoulder. "Good practice," he said. "You won't have any problems when the—" he stopped short.

  Joanna caught a knowing glance pass between Gene and Otto. When neither man spoke, she looked from one to the other and waited. Otto's eyes moved restlessly to Gene. "I take it you didn't tell her yet."

  Joanna glanced at Otto. "Tell me what?" She waited while Gene wiped his face with a towel and slowly passed it over the back of his neck and under his chin. He was obviously stalling. "Well?" she said to Gene.

  Gene shoved the towel in his satchel. "Porter made us an offer."

  Joanna looked with suspicion at Gene. "What kind of an offer?"

  "He'll split the program cover in New Orleans and feature us along with Janacek. He's considering giving us equal billing with Janacek all next season, if we agree to drop the nets."

  "No. The nets stay. Karl Porter has no intention of signing us on next season." Joanna swirled her cloak around her shoulders. "All he wants is a spectacular season finish—nets down, lions and tigers fighting, unicycles flying off ramps." She tossed her gymnastic shoes into her satchel and clipped it shut. "You're fooling yourself if you believe otherwise."

  "You're wrong," Gene said. "Porter assured us that we'd have a contract before the New Orleans performance. A contract's a contract. He can't back out of it."

  "That may be so," Joanna said, "but if we start performing without nets, eventually one of us will fall. You know the odds."

  "Porter said we'd only be required to do five performances without nets. The final performance coming up in New Orleans, and next season, performances in St. Louis, Memphis, Natchez and New Orleans, opening nights only." He splayed a hand, five rigid fingers pointing up. "We're only talking five performances and we'll have top billing."

  "You're being naive," Joanna said. "Karl has been talking about the big cat fight ever since it happened. He knows Stefan's act brings danger and thrills, and that's precisely what he wants. I don't know exactly what he has in mind, but he has no intention of giving our mundane act equal billing with fighting lions and tigers."

  "You're right," Gene said. "He doesn't intend to give a mundane act equal billing. But a trapeze act without nets isn't mundane. We drop the nets in New Orleans and we're in. Who knows, we might even be approached by scouts from Barnum or Ringling."

  "You're a gullible fool and Karl knows it." Joanna turned abruptly and went to join Stefan and Walter at the far end of the arena, where the big cage had just been assembled. She slipped her hand into the curve of Stefan 's elbow. "How do you feel?" she asked, looking up at him.

  Stefan covered her hand with his and bent down to kiss her. "Other than having a hell of a headache, pretty good."

  Joanna looked at the bandage covering the shaved spot on the back of his head. "I see the doctor stole your turban," she said, relieved that the ominous reminder had been reduced to a white patch, the accident and its implications seeming less portentous.

  Stefan patted the bandage. "I guess I can't pass myself off as a guru anymore."

  Wheels rumbled near the entrance to the pavilion, drawing their attention to where Tony and the handlers were pushing several cages toward the arena.

  "No, Stefan!" Joanna exclaimed. "You're not going in there!" She glared at him, her lips pressed in exasperation.

  Stefan looked into narrowed eyes and saw the flush of anger rising in Joanna's cheeks. He gave her a wry smile. "Tony's playing gladiator for the next few days, so you can relax."

  Joanna's face brightened. "I'm sorry to feel happy about your having to miss some of your performances," she said, "but I can't help it."

  As Stefan looked at Joanna's glowing face, he felt loved and wanted in the way that only someone totally committed to him could make him feel. A wife. As he peered into her sparkling blue eyes, it came to him then that if she were carrying their child, it's eyes would be the blue-green of the Mediterranean. An oddly gratifying thought—a child part him, part her. If Joanna were carrying his daughter, she'd be a beautiful little gymnast, quick and agile like her mother. But his son would be robust and courageous...

  ...I will not raise a child while moving from show to show...

  "Stay with me, Joanna," he said impulsively, then kissed her palm and held it against his chest. She frowned, and looked at him curiously...

  The clank of heavy metal drew his attention to the ring, where handlers connected cages end-to-end to form a long chute. Dropping his hand from Joanna's face, he turned and called to Tony, "Work with the tigers first as a warm-up so you'll be more relaxed and ready for the lions. Start with basics like sit-ups."

  Tony nodded, reached for the whip and a pedestal and entered the cage. The barred door went up and four tigers stalked into the arena, eyed Tony with suspicion, and mounted their pedestals. Tony cued a tigress to leave her pedestal and crouch. The animal jumped off her pedestal and dashed for the closed door to the chute. Tony moved toward the animal, whip swirling over his head, pedestal in hand. The tigress backed away. When Tony moved toward her, Stefan said, "Stop. Give her a chance to come to you."

  Stefan looked at the tigers on their pedestals, some with ears flattened, others with twitching tails. Something wasn't right. The cats were not responding as they should. They seemed mistrustful and wary of Tony. He was also swirling and cracking his whip far too much. In fact it was a damn flamboyant display. "Cut the whip cracking," he called to Tony. "You're confusing them. Go at it easier. Coax."

  Walter stepped up beside Stefan, and said, "He's probably being overly aggressive because of the rope being cu—" he stopped short when Stefan nudged him in the ribs.

  Joanna picked up on it and said, "What about the rope?"

  When neither replied, Joanna said to Walter, "You were about to say that the rope was cut, weren't you?"

  Walter looked at Stefan, whose face said it all. Joanna turned to Stefan, and said, "Is that why Rafat got loose? Because someone cut the rope?"

  Stefan nodded. "At least we know why Rafat and Shani have been acting up.
Someone has been harassing them. It won't happen again though," he assured her, "because no one is going to get close to either of them."

  "You forget," Joanna said, "if someone is harassing the cats, that same person also cut the rope. Someone is obviously trying to kill you, and you're taking it all too lightly."

  "We're taking extra precautions to keep whoever it is away from the cats," Stefan said, "the whoever being Klaus Haufchild, so we'll be watching for him."

  "Don't eliminate Gene Marquis," Walter interjected. "He also has motivation."

  Joanna eyed Walter, dubiously. "Why do you say that?"

  Walter's eyes shifted nervously. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

  "If you have reason to believe Gene is behind it," Joanna said, "you should say so. I've worked with Gene for six years, but he's changed. I don't know him anymore."

  Stefan curved his arm around her and pulled her against him. "Don't worry, honey," we'll be keeping an eye on him as well."

  "You might as well add Karl Porter then," Joanna said. "It's not beyond him to spice up an act, especially if he can get back at me by doing it."

  Stefan knew she was right. And Porter had access to the animals, as well as the equipment. But, the prime suspect was still Klaus Haufchild. There was no reason for him to be following the show, yet he'd been spotted on the day the lock jammed, and on the day the rope broke. But, Karl Porter and Gene Marquis had also been present both days.

  Hearing the loud crack of the whip again, and seeing no cause for it, Stefan called out, "That's it for now. Send them out."

  Handlers opened the doors to the chute and the tigers filed out. After they were back in their cages, Stefan went up to Tony and said, "Cut all the damn whip-cracking. It might dazzle the audience, but it confuses the cats. As for tonight, since you'll be working a mixed ring, concentrate on routine tricks. And keep Sophie and Trista separated. Ever since the fight, Sophie's been lying in wait for Trista. Cats hold grudges, and they can be deadly when it's a lion after a tiger. We don't need two cats fighting out an old grudge during the performance tonight."