Chapter 4
Sam mixed drinks for both of us. As I sat watching him and listening to his idle chatter concerning the murder, I was trying to put the jigsaw puzzle pieces of this case together in my mind.
It was like trying to assemble a puzzle with key pieces missing. So far, there had been very little I could get my teeth into. I was slowly but surely getting an insight into the character ... or the lack of one ... of Sheik O'Dea.
Could the few things which had come to light so far possibly lead to establishing the identity of the killer? Or was there some other deep dark secret in Sheik's life, one that had not yet been uncovered? Who had had a strong enough motive to shoot him ... to want him out of the way, permanently?
I even had an uneasy feeling about my own client. Why had Sam Grass engaged me, actually? Was it to cover up his own guilt? He didn't have a real alibi, only that he was supposed to have been asleep at the time of the murder. I was sure that he hadn't come clean with me. I could sense that he was hiding something.
Then there was Lorette, his wife, who had seemed visibly upset during the conversation between Sam and me about the murder. And what about Sheik's wife, Dimples, the stripper, and his open affair with Dolly Vickers? Had one of these girls shot Sheik, in a jealous rage? One thing was certain; Sheik had been a ladies' man, and that usually spells trouble.
Also, what about Lucille Rodd who still had been legally tied to Sheik? I realized that Sheriff Johnson had Lucille at the top of his list of suspects. To me, that was too pat. I couldn't quite believe that she had done it.
All of the carnies hated Sheik. Somewhere among them could there be one who had hated him enough to kill him. But who? That was the needle in the haystack it was up to me to dig out!
"How about another drink?" Sam offered.
I rose. "I'd like one, but I've got work to do. I'm not earning that fifty a day, sitting here slopping up booze."
"Guess you're right," Sam admitted, with an appreciative smile. After all, he was the one who was shelling out the half a C note. "When will I see you?'
"I'll check with you as soon as I come up with something pertinent," I promised, setting my empty glass on the table.
"I hope it's soon," he sighed.
"It will be," I said, with a confidence I didn't feel. Then without further talk, I left the trailer.
I decided to look over Dimples' show truck. After all, Sheik had been murdered there. As I eased the door open, I heard Dolly talking, so I softly closed it behind me and tiptoed forward.
Dolly was kneeling down. She had a piece of paper in one of her hands; with her other hand she was slapping out a mean beat on a bongo drum, reading aloud in a soft seductive whisper, the following words:
"A young girl is dreaming of her lover. Who is far away across the sea. He is kissing her eyelids."
I glanced around in the dim light and noticed Dimples, lying on a couch in the middle of a stage, completely nude. She was listening intently to Dolly's singing:
"He is kissing her eyelids, He kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts."
Dolly stopped reading, and dropping the paper, she beat the bongo drum with both hands, harder and harder, in a kind of frenzy. Beads of sweat were forming on her brow.
I stood, as though hypnotized.
Dimples was busily interpreting Dolly's words, her lips moist and parted, her firm breasts heaving along with her rapid breathing as her hands cupped them in a light circular stroking motion. Then her hands dropped to her hips, continuing their sensuous stroking. She gave a low groan of ecstasy, and her hips gyrated in an unmistakable action.
With a loud moan, Dolly leaped up from beside the bongo drum. She ran over to Dimples, threw herself down beside the naked stripper, and the two female animals locked in a wild embrace.
Careless of who might be watching, each stroked the other's entire body with a hot, feverish tongue, then they locked in a rocking, rapturous motion, for all the world like a man and a woman in the last stages of a furiously satisfactory sex party.
Man, did my eyes bug! I now was bathed in sweat, and my hands were shaking violently. The scene really had disturbed me. I wrenched the truck door open and stumbled outside, then leaned against the side of the vehicle. With trembling hands, I fumbled for a cigarette and got it lit, then inhaled deeply.
Just then Clem walked toward me. He was mumbling to himself. He looked worried. When he spotted me, he frowned.
"What are you doing here, Donlon?" he asked harshly.
This Clem character really irritated me. "I don't think that's any of your business. But since you seem to know who I am and what I'm here for, I'd like a few straight answers from you."
His voice grew even more surly. "I don't know why I should have to answer any of your questions. I already told the sheriff all I know."
I shrugged. "Of course, if you have something to hide ... which is what your refusal suggests."
Clem's face flushed scarlet and he moistened his lips with his tongue. "Okay, I'll answer your crummy questions. What do you want to know?"
""Well, let's start with just what was your relationship with Sheik."
"I hated him."
I leaned forward, locking Clem's gaze with mine. "That isn't very damned explicit. Where were you at the time Sheik was murdered?"
Clem scowled. "I already told the sheriff that! I had a sick boa constrictor, and I was sitting up with it in the wild life tent."
"A sick boa constrictor.' Boy! I've heard a lot of alibis in my time, but this really takes the prize."
Clem's mouth tightened in anger. He spat his next words. "Come off it, chum. You know I work with wild life. It's my job to take care of all the animals and the snakes."
I smiled. "Score one for you, Clem. That alibi sort of threw me at first. How come you had to sit up all night with this unusual invalid?"
Again, Clem scowled. "In the first place, that sick boa cost Sheik ten dollars a foot and it's fourteen feet long. Secondly, I get a lowsy forty dollars a week pay and found ... at least, that's what it is when I manage to collect. The boa is part of my job."
"Sam told me you were the one who notified him of Sheiks murder. Did you hear the shot?" As I questioned him, I was mentally adding him to my list of prime suspects.
"Yes, I went to Sam's trailer. Dimples came over to the wild life tent that night. She was hysterical, and she had been drinking. She said Sheik had been murdered, and would I let Sam know. I quieted her down a little, then I went over to Sam's trailer."
"I asked if you heard the shot."
"I heard a noise, but I thought it was a car backfiring."
I looked at him speculatively, wondering if he was telling the truth. "Are you sure about that, Clem? It might be better to be on the up-and-up all the way."
There was thinly-veiled hatred in his eyes as he sputtered an angry answer. "Look, Donlon, I don't give a damn what you think, but don't call me a liar."
I was getting hot under the collar myself. "Take it easy, boy. No one called you a liar. By the way, did you argue with Sheik about your back pay?"
Clem's eyes flashed hatred, open now. "Sure, we argued about it, but I didn't kill him over it."
I decided to throw him a wild one. "How about your affair with Dimples? Did Sheik know that you loved her?"
Clem actually blushed, as he stammered, "Sure-sure, he knew. He also knew that Dimples didn't return my love. It was all one-sided."
We stared at each other in silence, each wrapped in his own thoughts. I lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then continued, "What did you do when you left Sam's trailer?"
"I called the police, like Sam suggested. Then I went back to the girl-show tent and waited there with Dimples for them to arrive."
"Was anyone else there with you and Dimples?"
"Francis was there when I got back. Later, Sleepy and Hedy came in. I think Red was there, and-oh yes, the bearded lady came in and threw a tizzy. She was gruesome."
"What was her trouble?"
"Her trouble! Are you kidding? She flipped when she saw Sheik lying there, dead. She was nuts about the jerk."
I stared at Clem, amazed. The bearded lady! She would have been the last person I would have picked to add to the list of suspects.
"How did Dimples react to the bearded lady's outburst?"
Clem regarded me with disgust. "Dimples was used to Sheik's affairs. She's naive about men-Sheik kept her that way. He had her conned into thinking that all husbands acted the way he did. For such a tough little cookie, she's awfully stupid where men are concerned."
I switched my line of questioning completely, trying to catch Clem off guard. "Do you have a gun, Clem?"
He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "I don't have a gun of my own. There's a shotgun kept here in the wild-life show, but I've never used it."
"Did you kill Sheik?"
Clem laughed, his eyes shining with hate. "I used to dream about killing him. I inflicted every possible torture on him in my mind, that I could think of and then some."
He tossed his head back, and more loud ugly laughter erupted from his throat.
I was more than a little dubious about this punk. He was definitely ready for a head-shrinker. I wondered what Sheriff Johnson had thought about his story. Then I caught myself up abruptly. I hadn't actually gotten an answer to my question. Clem hadn't said anything definite. He stopped laughing and regarded me, a strange look in his eyes.
"You didn't answer my question. Did you kill Shiekr
"No, I didn't kill him." Clem yelled. "Not actually, but I wish to hell I had!"
He smiled dreamily, and his voice trailed off.
I felt peculiar. For an instant, my mind conjured up a vivid picture of the actual crime, with Clem as the murderer. Holding back any response, I concentrated on lighting another cigarette.
Clem was speaking, as though from far away, seemingly unaware of my presence. "Sheik was a no-good, moronic sadist. I detested him-his overbearing way of lording it over me, his cruelty to Dimples, and all of the other women he dominated. The person who killed him deserves a gold medaL"
"Since you hated him so much, why didn't you leave?"
"He wouldn't pay me. He kept putting me off with excuses. Then there was Dimples. I love her."
"Seems to me you had plenty of motives, Clem. If I were you I would watch myself. Sheriff Johnson is getting desperate. He needs a scapegoat real bad."
Clem sputtered angrily. "Listen Donlon, you or no other fuzz is going to railroad me. Ask the bearded lady, Mimi Chanture, and her boss. Celeste Amand. Ask them about Sheik. They can tell you plenty, if they will."
"With these words he spun around, and walked hurriedily down the Midway.
I stood, staring after him.
What could Mimi Chanture and Celeste Amand know? I had better go find them and see what they had to say. Funny Sheriff Johnson hadn't mentioned them. I mulled this latest piece of information over in my mind as I walked toward the huge side-show tent.
Reaching it, I walked through the opening, glancing at the various raised platforms which were several feet apart. I could identify the individual performers by the placards on the platforms. At the far end of the tent which was curtained and roped off, a sign indicated that that part was reserved for Hedy La'Tuse, the hermaphrodite.
Two people were there. A woman, seated on a straight-backed chair, was holding a mirror in one hand and an electric razor in the other. She was shaving. Sleepy, the midget, was tumbling and doing somersaults. The woman was speaking.
"You know, Sleepy. I can't make up my mind whether to let my whiskers grow and wear stud attire, or to keep on shaving and wear dresses."
Sleepy laughed, loudly. "Hedy, do you think that's a problem? I know a lot of people who would welcome such a challenge. Just imagine, you can follow the dictates of your heart-male or female."
Hedy giggled. "Really, Sleepy, what a sense of humor! Imagine thinking of that."
I coughed, loudly.
Sleepy whirled, facing me, a big grin on his wrinkled face. "Well! Is the private dick slumming?"
"Hi, Sleepy. I was looking for Celeste Amand and Mimi Chanture."
Sleepy pointed one pudgy finger toward the rear of the huge tent. "You'll find an open flap in the back. Go through it, and follow your nose."
I smiled. "Thanks, Sleepy. While I'm here, suppose you tell me what you know about Sheik's murder."
Hedy eyed me, curiously.
Sleepy screwed up his face. "I don't know much. I could take Sheik, or leave him. I didn't particularly like him. But I didn't hate him like some did."
"Can't you be more specific, Sleepy? How about mentioning a few names?"
"Snoop them out for yourself. I'm no squealer," Sleepy said, nastily.
"All right. Don't explode!"
I gazed at Hedy. She was staring at both of us, intently.
"How did you like Sheik, Hedy?" I asked her. "Or didn't you?"
She toyed with the razor, now in her lap. Her lips were set in a grim line.
"I admired Sheik as a fellow trooper. He knew show biz. And he had a way with women." She paused and raised her eyebrows suggestively. Then she continued ," He'd made a play for me, mostly because I was different. I intrigued him. I wasn't playing. I figured he already had all the playmates he could handle."
"Wait till I get my violin; I'll play Hearts and Flowers," Sleepy mocked.
I glanced from Hedy to Sleepy.
"Go to hell, Sleepy," Hedy said.
"Getting kinda touchy, aren't you?" Sleepy, jeered.
"I'll go find Mimi and Celeste. Maybe they can tell me something," I said.
Sleepy watched me, calculatingly.
"Yeah. You do that," he said.
"I'm sure Mimi and Celeste will welcome you with open arms," Hedy said sarcastically.
"Could be," I responded. Then I turned and walked slowly to the rear of the tent. I looked back at the odd pair before I stepped outside.
Neither spoke. They had fallen into a mood of silence, the way they had been when I had entered their tent. I quickly relegated them to the back of my mind. Actually, I didn't think either of them had anything to do with Sheik's murder.