Chapter 10

Dan had never seen a guiltier look than that on Cotty Starke's face as he stared down at Greer in the casket. Dan had been standing with his back against the center platform, moodily smoking a cigarette, when Cotty came in with Paula. He had been waiting for them and was pleased they didn't give him a glance as they passed. He wanted to observe their reaction when they saw Greer. He watched them closely now. They stood for a long moment as though frozen, then Paula swayed, seemingly on the verge of fainting, but Cotty gripped her arm tightly and held her upright. He seemed to come out of his daze. He dug out cigarettes for them and lit them.

Dan toed out his own cigarette in the sawdust and moved quietly in behind them. "Starke ... Mrs. Greer."

Cotty's head snapped around, his eyes wide and staring. Then a film drew over them as though he'd jerked the cord on a shade. "Oh, Patch. Paula ... Mrs. Greer and I missed the damned train! How about that?" The man's laughter had a false ring to it. "I went uptown after teardown to an all-night restaurant. I ran into Mrs. Greer. We decided to have breakfast together. We got to talking, my watch had run down without my knowing, and so ... we missed the train!"

It was about as lame an excuse as Dan had ever heard, and he was positive it had been concocted on the spot. As Cotty had talked, Dan had switched his gaze back and forth between Cotty and Paula. She had nodded now and then in agreement, but her glance kept straying to the casket as though against her will.

Dan said, "In missing the train, you missed quite a bit of excitement."

"That so?" Cotty said casually, too casually. "What was that?"

"On the train last night Gil Meeks ... You knew Meeks, I believe, Starke? In fact, wasn't he a good friend of yours? He got down the train to the flat car carrying Greer's trailer. When Greer, who was ... uh, a little under the weather ... opened the trailer door, Meeks tried to push him off the train. Now why on earth would he try to do a thing like that, do you suppose?"

Dan took out a cigarette, cupped his hands to light it. He never once removed his gaze from Cotty's face. A muscle twitched in the man's cheek. Dan knew he was seething with impatience. He let him wait; he was enjoying Cotty's discomfiture.

Finally Cotty said, "Gil tried to kill him? What happened V

"Juval, that's what happened." Dan grinned. "Juval was under the trailer."

As though he'd heard his name spoken, Juval suddenly appeared at Dan's side, face asunder with a watermelon grin. Dan ruffled his hair and glanced up in time to see hate spasm Cotty's face as he stared down at the dwarf.

Dan continued, "At the sound of a scume, Juval woke up and threw himself at Meeks' legs. Meeks was knocked off the flat car and down into the gorge." Anger crept into Dan's voice. "I'd say he had it coming to him. We had to scrape him up with a shovel."

Cotty's gaze was still on Juval. "But I thought Juval always...." He broke off abruptly, his glance coming up to meet Dan's.

Dan nodded. "That's right, he usually sleeps in the sleeping car on hops, but I suppose he got worried when Mrs. Greer missed the train and he hid under the trailer. At least that's what he told Greer. I'd say it's a good thing he did, wouldn't you say that, Mrs. Greer?"

Paula started. "What? Oh ... Yes. Yes, of course."

"There's one other strange thing. ... We found two thousand dollars on what was left of Meeks' body. That's a big roll for a flat-joint operator to be carrying." He looked straight at Cotty. "Would you have any ideas about that, Starke?"

"Me? Why would I know, Patch? Maybe he had a good week."

Dan had talked to Bart Roberts about that and had learned that Meeks had had a lousy week. And Dan also knew about Cotty winning over two thousand in the G-tent a few nights ago. He would be willing to swear that the money found on Meeks was money Cotty had paid the man to kill Greer. Yet Dan knew he didn't have a prayer of proving it. He said, "It also strikes me as odd that you and Mrs. Greer missed that train the very night all this happened."

"Odd? What's odd about it? Coincidence. Nothing more than coincidence." Cotty had regained most of his composure. The look he gave Dan was bold, arrogant. "If we're going to give a show tonight, I'd better get a bally going." He turned to Paula. "And you'd better go change."

"Yes. Yes, I'd better," Paula said quickly. She hurried off.

Dan leaned against a tent pole and lit a cigarette, his glance following Cotty out of the tent. He made a hell of a detective! He knew intuitively that Cotty had conspired with Gil Meeks to murder Greer, yet he knew he hadn't a snowball's chance of proving it. The police, not being overly concerned with the death of a carnie, had dismissed Meeks' death as an accident. Dan, having nothing more than a hunch, hadn't disagreed with them orally. In the back of his mind had been the thought that he might know more when he'd had a chance to confront Cotty and Paula Greer. His hunch, now, was stronger than ever, but he knew he couldn't go to the police with a hunch.

He straightened up with a grunt. Why was he playing detective, anyway? He was a lawyer and a disbarred one at that.

He left the tent with loping, angry strides.

Yet he lurked near the freak show, was in and out of the tent a dozen times during the evening. He was there when Greer came out of the trance and was dug up by Juval.

Both Cotty and Paula were there. Dan had to admire Cotty's guts. Or his brass. Of course, it would have looked odd if he hadn't been there.

Greer came up out of the casket truly like one returning from the dead to confront his slayers. His abnormally pale features took on a dark flush when he saw Cotty and Paula, and his eyes blazed. He advanced on Cotty with the stiff-legged gait of Frankenstein's monster. "I'm not going to kill you, Starke," he said glacially. "I swore I would but I'm reneging on my promise. You're not worthy of soiling my hands. But you're fired as of this moment. I'll manage without a front talker if necessary. Now get out of this tent and don't ever set foot in here again!"

Cotty had backed a couple of steps before the man's threatening advance. "Aren't you even going to listen to our story?"

"Your story?" Greer roared. "I don't need to hear your explanation. It's written on your faces. You've been rutting together like animals. Now get out!"

Cotty stood his ground for a moment. He looked uncertainly at Paula, who refused to meet his glance. Then he muttered, "I'm going, I'm going." He wheeled around and strode out.

"And me, Basil? Are you going to throw me out, too?" Paula asked with a show of defiance.

Greer turned his fierce glare on her. "I should.

If I had the courage of my convictions, I would." He sighed heavily. "But if you'll give me your promise to stay away from Starke...."

Paula's brief show of spirit crumpled away and she leaped at Greer's small concession. "I promise. I swear I won't see him again."

"Not that your promises are anything but counterfeit currency."

"It'll be different this time, Basil. I promise."

Dan had stood to one side all the while, listening closely. He was struck by the falseness of Paula's humility, yet Greer seemed to accept it at face value. This gave Dan a brief insight into the man's character; he liked for those around him to grovel before him. Apparently Paula knew this and took advantage of it. Dan hadn't thought about Greer much one way or another. Now he felt a ping of dislike for the man.

For the first time Greer appeared to notice him. "Fields ... There is an ancient aphorism about airing one's dirty linen in public. I'm afraid much of my private life is already common knowledge around the carnival, a subject for much gossip."

It was more of a question than a statement, but Dan didn't feel obliged to respond to it. His distaste for the sordid scene he'd witnessed, and for its participants, mounted. "Your private iife doesn't concern me, Greer, so long as it doesn't interfere with carnie business."

Greer acknowledged the thrust with a slight inclination of his head, an ironical gleam striking the deep-set eyes. "I'll do my utmost to see that it doesn't in the future."

It had been Dan's intention to warn Greer that he was positive Cotty had paid Meeks to push Greer off the train, but the man's manner had put him off. Greer's reputation for arrogance, his contempt for carnies, Dan included, was well-deserved. Dan gave him a short nod, turned on his heel, and left the tent.

Yet it nagged at him. He felt it his duty to warn the man. He didn't have a chance to speak to him the next day; he had business at the city hall taking up the day and didn't return to the lot until that evening. But he made it a point to be at the freak show at the time Greer was due to come out of the trance. As he approached the darkened tent, he heard Greer's voice raised in anger. He hurried inside.

Only Greer, Juval, and Paula were in the tent. Dan knew of Greer's aversion to being observed while being removed from the casket. There were standing orders for all side show people to be out of the tent at these times, only Juval and Paula allowed to remain. Now it appeared that Paula was no longer exempt.

"You were looking at me as though I were already a corpse!" Greer raged at her. "I saw you!"

"Basil, you're imagining something that simply isn't so!"

"Imagining? Does that mean I'm supposed to be losing my mind?" Paula stamped her foot. "You're simply impossible these last two days! I don't have to listen...."

"You will listen, my dear," Greer said in a silky voice. "And you will do as I say. From this night forward, no one is to be in this tent, not even you, when Juval releases me from that coffin. Do you understand?"

Paula tossed her head. "Oh, I understand. And you don't have to worry. Do you think I like to be here, for heaven's sake, and watch you come to life like a zombie every night?"

Dan, watching carefully, saw Greer flinch at the taunt, but the man said nothing. Paula flounced off without another word. Before she was out of the tent, Greer had seized Juval by the arm and communicated with him by some hand signals that Dan made no attempt to understand. Juval bobbed his head rapidly and darted away.

Greer turned to Dan. "Fields...."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Greer," Dan said awkwardly. "I didn't mean to overhear all that."

The other gestured wearily and heaved himself up onto the two-foot-high center platform. "It's all right, I understand. And it's I who should apologize, apologize for my ill manners of last night. Perhaps you're wondering why I put up with a strumpet like Paula. Perhaps you've heard that I'm impotent...."

Dan made a sound of embarrassment.

Greer brushed it aside. "No, I want you to understand. You're an educated man, perhaps you can appreciate my position. Paula is all I have, all I've ever had. Oh, there's Juval, but that's something different. I wasn't always like this. When I married Paula, I was a whole man and it was all right between us. I had my work and I had Paula. Then my work was lost to me...." A spasm of anguish contorted his face. "That is also when I began to fail with my wife. Now I cling to her, allowing her to humiliate me, accepting her abuse. ... Ah!"

The last was uttered as Juval came hurrying into the tent with a bottle of whiskey. Greer seized it, uncapped it, tilted it up and drank without offering it to Dan. When the man finally lowered the bottle, an unhealthy flush stained his cheeks.

"I don't know why you're telling me all this, Mr. Greer."

"I'm telling you this because I often yearn for an ear to confide in. I can converse with Juval by the hour, and often do when drinking, but he is less than a satisfactory conversational companion."

"Mr. Greer," Dan interrupted, "there's something I must tell you, warn you about. I don't know if your wife is involved, but I'm convinced Cotty Starke paid Meeks to kill you. The thing is, I have no proof. But he may try it again."

"It is of little importance," Greer said indifferently. Already the liquor was taking effect; his speech had thickened. "Oh, I'm sure your deduction is probably correct, but I can't find it in me to care. Sometimes I think it would be a blessed relief. ... Death in a normal manner, even if violent. You know what I live in deathly fear of?" He jerked his head toward the pit, gaping open like a wound. "I have constant nightmares of dying in that casket, of coming out of the trance some night with no one there to get me out, the air slowly going. And I scratch and claw at the lid in vain, until my fingers are raw and bleeding."