by Helen Goltz
‘I just baked that slice, Detectives and Mr Jo-Jo,’ Teddy said in good humour, placing it in front of them with a pot of tea, three cups, milk and sugar.
‘Looks wonderful,’ Mr Jo-Jo said. ‘What a treat. I wish you would continue with us when we leave here. You won’t reconsider?’
Teddy shook his head. ‘Tempting I’m sure, but a man has to put down roots somewhere.’
Mr Jo-Jo nodded. ‘One day for sure.’
When they were alone with tea poured and a generous serving of jam and coconut slice in front of them, the “freak” covered completely in soft, long hair studied them with dark eyes.
‘I am sorry if I offend. My appearance is not always easy to view,’ he said in a well-spoken voice.
‘Do not concern yourself,’ Harry answered on behalf of the two detectives. ‘If Thomas here does not soon find himself a razor, it will be hard to tell you both apart.’
The response got a laugh from both men, and Thomas’s hand went to his chin again. He had been remiss on the shaving of late.
‘True. But I assure you Mr Jo-Jo, you are not at all offensive.’
Mr Jo-Jo smiled and gave a small nod of thanks. Then Thomas began the interview in earnest.
‘We were led to believe that you could not speak English, Mr Jo-Jo.’
‘Please, just Jo, the other is a show name. And yes, I was instructed to answer in Russian and to not contradict anything said or to dare speak in English.’
‘By Mrs Wilks?’ Harry asked.
Jo nodded.
‘You were aware that might be obstructing justice?’ Thomas continued.
Jo exhaled. ‘Of course. But Detective, this is my life and my living. I don’t have many options, and to not follow instructions would most likely have seen me cast out. Where would I go? I’m millions of miles from home with very few career paths.’
‘Where is home?’ Harry asked.
‘Moscow. Although I haven’t been back there for decades,’ Jo said. ‘When I was six, my father sold me to a Freak Show. My grandfather bought me out of the contract, and I lived with him until well into my twenties when he passed away. Sadly, without him and with limited funds, I had to work. Here I am.’
‘I’m sorry, that can’t have been easy,’ Thomas said. ‘If we discuss the murders now, are you prepared to speak with us?’
Jo nodded. ‘I will if you can assure me of your discretion when speaking with Mr and Mrs Wilks. I need to retain my employment.’
‘I give you my word,’ Thomas said.
Harry offered his agreement.
‘Then yes, what can I tell you, if anything?’ Jo asked.
‘Where were you the night that Mr Burnham died, what did you see, hear, and I want to talk to you about your missing walking cane.’ Thomas laid it all out. It was strange for the detectives trying to focus on the words Jo spoke when he was such an unusual man in his appearance, but soon they fell into the rhythm of the conversation.
‘My caravan is the closest to the exhibition tent,’ Jo began, ‘so I hear and see quite a bit only by fault of its location. On that evening, I saw Mr Tufton and his wife, Anna, walking to the exhibition tent from our row of vans. Her husband was fired up – I could tell because he was walking fast and hurrying Anna along. He looked angry. Mr Burnham was smoking outside the main exhibition tent when they arrived. They shook hands, and it seemed cordial. I sat and read my book. I’m a voracious reader and I did not look up again until almost forty minutes later when I heard raised voices. I looked out of my window and saw that Anna had gone, and it was just Mr Burnham and Mr Tufton.’ Jo stopped to sip his tea and then continued. ‘Mr Burnham was making platitude noises and also motioning with his hands for calm.’ Jo imitated the motion. ‘Then Mr Tufton accepted his handshake and strode off.’
‘So he did actually leave, but did he come back?’ Harry asked.
Jo shook his head. ‘I can’t say for sure, but Mrs Wilks came out to join Mr Burnham, and they stood and talked and smoked together for some time; I could smell the smoke. That’s when I went for my evening stroll. I do several rounds of the oval behind us before bed and late in the evening. I feel safer and it ensures I don’t alarm anyone.’
‘I understand. Did anyone see you walking and can confirm your movements?’
Jo nodded. ‘The security guard saw me twice as I passed him on each lap.’
‘Good,’ Thomas said. ‘What happened after that?’
‘I returned to my caravan and prepared for bed. Before I turned out my lamp, I saw Mr Burnham standing there alone, his hands in his pockets looking skyward. He liked his astronomy. I heard nothing more but the next day I noticed my ornate walking cane was gone.’
‘What time of the day was it when you noticed?’ Thomas asked.
Jo thought about the question. ‘Not immediately, because I don’t use it as my everyday cane. I need one, but I have a practical one. The cane that is missing is of sentimental value… it was my grandfather’s. It has a brass knob and is ornate with engravings and filigree on it – quite beautiful. It is all I have left of his. It was probably after midday when I noticed. Normally, I’d be sitting for an audience, but we were closed because of Mr Burnham’s passing.’
Thomas and Harry exchanged looks; it sounded very much like the murder weapon.
‘When was the last time you used it?’ Harry asked.
‘Oh, not for some time. I keep it for ceremonial use such as official portraits. About six months ago Mr Burnham organised for a group photograph for the media – it took some time, but the results were amazing. Perhaps that was the last time I had it out of my caravan.’
‘And you had no grievance with Mr Burnham and no reason to harm him or Mr Tufton?’ Thomas asked.
Jo shook his head. ‘I didn’t really know Mr Tufton. As for Mr Burnham, I would not bite the hand that feeds me. Besides, I truly liked him; he was a gentleman and good company. He kept me supplied in books. It’s difficult for me to venture into a bookstore without alarming people. That is a loss I feel more than other people’s company.’
Thomas felt a wave of sympathy for the poor man which he rarely felt in his occupation, except for the occasional undeserving victim. Jo’s eloquent manner surprised him; his English was perfect and rounded for a second language.
Jo continued, ‘I am not the biggest man, detectives, and they were both considerably taller and heavier than me. I am not sure I could have felled them if I decided to go down the path of crime.’
‘Why do you think Mrs Wilks wanted to control your interview with us?’ Harry asked, finishing with relish his last bite of Teddy’s slice.
Jo thought for a moment and answered, ‘Maybe because she was one of the last people with Mr Burnham before his death. I imagine she did not want that known.’
Thomas’s eyes widened and he grunted in surprise. ‘Quite right, she has kept that to herself,’ he agreed. ‘One last question and we thank you for your candour… if your cane was the weapon, do you know of anyone who might want to single you out or try to incriminate you for the crime?’
Jo nodded. ‘I’ve given that some thought should the cane be found to be the weapon… it is extremely solid and could do damage. I have no enemies I know of here, no ambition to be the star or to move in on anyone’s territory. But I suspect I’m as good a man as any to frame and truthfully, a vicious crime like that must be done by a degenerate – we freaks are frightening creatures to the public… one can only imagine what we are capable of in their minds.’
Women’s Journal
Tuesday, 22 May 1888
Fortnightly edition Vol.1, No.13. Price, 3d.
Special Feature: The ladies of the travelling show
A report by Matilda Hayward and Alice Doran.
Illustrations by Daniel Hayward.
The fate of many a poor woman has been linked with or left in the hands of a man to determine her future. We recently had the pleasure of making the acquainta
nce of three charming and hard-working ladies, who in helpless innocence have been placed on display in a travelling Freak Show. We also had the pleasure of interviewing the Show’s co-manager, a sensible and strong woman who works behind the scenes with her manager husband.
The two young ladies who share one body have all the desires and needs that our readers do – to be safe, loved, happy, and to live their best imaginable life. Misses Ella and Elvira Hove are charming company and perfectly complement each other – Ella being the quieter of the pair and Elvira the livelier.
They share many interests and could find very few vexations despite being in each other’s company so permanently. Although Miss Elvira – a capable singer – did claim to listen to her sister sing, left something to be desired which her sister found most amusing and did not contradict. We did not have the chance to appreciate Miss Elvira’s lovely alto voice, but we will accept it is a fact.
Miss Ella on the other hand has a passion for drawing and informed us her inspiration comes from, “all things in nature, I especially like to paint birds.” One wonders how she attracts a bird to study and paint if her sister should sing loudly next to her, but perhaps they have mastered the art of compromise as well.
Born in Michigan, USA, twenty years ago, their parents abandoned them to an orphanage and later an asylum. Miss Elvira says of the experience that, “for some time we knew the charity of others and received an education in the orphanage.” Ella concurred, admitting, “my love of reading has come from the many isolated hours we spent in study out of the view of other children.”
It has not been an easy life being conjoined and on display, but as Ella said, they have always had each other.
Elvira explained, “Mr Burnham found us and offered us a role in his show. It allowed us to leave the asylum and afforded us a degree of independence. While we are on display during the day, we have some creature comforts, some adventures, good food and we can enjoy a few of life’s pleasures compared to our life at the asylum.”
The sisters admitted their greatest fear was dying before the other and being alone. We pray God may take them with the same breath when that day comes.
Mrs Anna Tufton, billed as the Freak Show’s “giantess” brings in an independent income for her family’s purse. Her husband, Mr Carl Tufton, manages his wife’s appearances and Mrs Tufton has travelled widely from one side of Australia to the other. As part of her performance, she lifts two gentlemen comfortably.
The giantess, as she is known, shared that she is not always at home in the spotlight, preferring her own company and privacy with no stranger to remark about her size. But she delivers upon the obligation to contribute as best she can to their family income.
As a young girl growing up on a farm in country Queensland with three brothers, Mrs Tufton was a strong and valued worker. That strength remains with her but her work these days is up to six appearances a day in front of a paying audience.
Mrs Tufton says the crowd often still surprises her. “I am regularly amazed at the attendees who think I am a fake. I am not sure how I can fake my size and strength but on seeing me they soon change their minds.” Mrs Tufton likes to ballroom dance and claims to be light on her feet for one so impressive in size.
Mrs Irina Wilks hails from Moscow, Russia, and works with her husband, Mr Morris Wilks, managing aspects of the show from catering to paying the artists.
When asked to nominate the most difficult part of her position, Mrs Wilks answered, “The loneliness. When you are on the road as often as we are, you miss your family, and you don’t make friendships except amongst ourselves.”
Sadly, the Misses Hove and Mrs Tufton do not feel comfortable leaving the show and exploring the areas they visit, which increases the need to build friendships amongst themselves.
In a matter of weeks, the ladies will be off again, their lives in a constant state of motion as they survive by the only means they know how.
The pleasure was ours, Mrs Wilks, Mrs Tufton and Misses Ella and Elvira Hove.
Chapter 28
For the first time at a Sunday lunch, for as long as he could remember, Thomas was seated next to Matilda. Right next to her. He could smell her fresh scent, feel her every movement, and it was excruciating. The fabric of her pale pink gown brushed against his dark trousers. Her hand was in reach, her tresses – adorned with crimson roses and perfectly affixed – he longed to let them down as they were the other evening. To turn and look at her would place her face, her lips, within inches of his own. He cleared his throat and sat back, distancing himself a little more from her.
There were three faces at the Haywards’ Sunday lunch table that weren’t Haywards – himself, his nephew Teddy, and the young English lady, Alice. She was quite a beauty with her light brown hair, intelligent blue eyes and English pale skin. She was also not short of an admirer around the Hayward table.
Alice bowed her head and accepted the honour of saying grace as the nominated guest; Thomas gave a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t been asked to do it, or Teddy for that matter who might have resorted to something less than reverent. Teddy’s last “prayer” several nights prior came to mind – Good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat!
Alice began:
‘Be present at our table, Lord,
Be present in our souls,
For those without family, friends and food,
Let faith and heart console.’
‘Amen and pass the potatoes,’ Gideon said as Alice finished.
Mr Hayward, sitting beside Gideon, shook his head but joined in the laughter as he passed him the dish as requested.
‘Really, Gideon, our guests will think you are a heathen,’ Aunt Audrey said, giving him one of her best stern looks, and then hiding a smile as he gave his aunt a wink.
Teddy, who was placed beside Aunt Audrey, spoke up. ‘Yes, we will, Gideon, and I can only speak for Uncle Thomas and myself, but I hope you don’t corrupt us,’ he joked, and flashed Gideon a grin. Gideon immediately liked Thomas’s nephew, who was only a few years older than him.
‘Too late,’ Thomas added.
‘I nominate Gideon to say grace next time as penitence for his less than gracious outburst at the end of my prayer,’ Alice said in her English accent, and all heads turned to her and then to Gideon. Then Alice laughed, and everyone relaxed.
‘I think the young lady may have actually shamed you,’ Mr Hayward said, ‘and we don’t see that often with the rascal of the family.’
Gideon grinned. ‘Daniel said you were a handful.’
Daniel spluttered. ‘I did no such thing, I merely said that Alice – Miss Doran – was very independent.’
‘There are worse things to be called,’ Matilda said, smiling at Alice and enjoying her brothers’ attentiveness to her guest.
‘Although I would have preferred, charming, beautiful, clever, witty even,’ Alice suggested, her quick wit a match for the men. She had directed her comment to Daniel, and all heads turned to him for a response; he looked unsure of whether to flatter her now or what the appropriate course of action might be.
Mr Hayward laughed again. ‘I think Miss Doran has claimed another scalp.’
Alice smiled, and Aunt Audrey nodded her head with approval.
‘Well done, young lady,’ she said. ‘These boys need a bit of pulling into line and the firm hand of a woman. It can be quite exhausting trying to keep them in line.’
‘Goodness, we’re all in our twenties, not ten,’ Elijah said. ‘Although Gideon might act that way,’ he said, and ribbed his twin.
‘But while you are sensible and a credit to your family, Elijah,’ Aunt Audrey added, ‘the same cannot be said for the rest of your brothers, with the exception of Amos.’ She managed to work both of her favourite Hayward boys into her compliment.
‘There’s no hope for us,’ Daniel sighed with a glance to Gideon.
‘None at all,’ he agreed.
Thomas
was happy to be out of the limelight and to focus on eating quietly beside Matilda and observing her smiles and laughter.
‘So where are Amos and Minnie today? I’m sure someone told me, but I’ve forgotten,’ Mr Hayward said from his seat at the head of the table directly opposite Aunt Audrey in the matriarch’s seat. He passed the gravy-boat along the side of the table where his sons sat and up to Daniel as requested.
Matilda answered, ‘Minnie’s niece is being christened and there’s a family gathering after the ceremony.’
‘Lovely,’ Aunt Audrey said, pleased at the recruitment of another soul. She thanked Teddy, who held a platter of mixed roast meats for her to select from and gave him a warm smile afterwards, once served.
‘So, Thomas,’ she said as she turned to the detective sitting a few seats down whom she had known him since he was a boy. Thomas bristled to find himself called into conversation action. ‘You are playing host to this charming young nephew of yours?’
Thomas studied his nephew and smiled.
‘I am indeed, and I am proud of him, Aunt Audrey.’ He addressed her by the familiar name she had invited him to use as a boy.
‘How is it you can have a nephew so near your age?’ she enquired, with no thought of there being any potential delicacy to the situation.
Thomas was not embarrassed and responded, ‘My mother married at eighteen and promptly had my brother, Sewell,’ he explained, ‘and then they were not blessed with a second child for another thirteen years.’
‘Good grief!’ Matilda said. ‘So your mother was two-and-thirty when she conceived you?’ She blushed after saying the words that blurted from her mouth.
Thomas gave her a nod and smile. ‘Indeed, and not excited by the prospect of a new arrival – but there I was. Hence, my brother is now nearing forty with his own adult son whom he has entrusted my way,’ he said with a nod to his nephew. ‘With luck, Teddy will find work soon and settle here for the long-term.’