Except the figure was smaller than Jasna's father, and did not stand up straight but sagged, head lowered until it rested on his chest, and there was no beard.
"It's Boozy Tim" gasped Mrs. Pollifax. "Willie—Kadi—it's Boozy Tim up there, she's going to kill him and call it an accident!"
"Not in my carnival," said Willie grimly. Eyes narrowed, he said, "We've got about one minute, she won't dare kill him on the first throw, I'd guess the second or third, but we can't crowd her, if she sees us she'll kill him right away."
Mrs. Pollifax said desperately, "I know karate but I'd never be able to get near her, not close enough."
"And I'm wearing a gun," Willie said furiously, "and at that distance—I'm not that good."
"Give the gun to Kadi," she told him quickly. "Kadi, she doesn't know you . . , walk fast to the other side of the bleachers and pray you can shoot the knife out of her—" She faltered as Jasna aimed and threw the first knife, and the audience gasped as it pierced the backboard next to Boozy Tim's left shoulder. "—out of her hand. Hurry," she whispered as Willie handed her the small snub-nosed gun. Kadi tucked it into her belt and vanished behind the bleachers.
Slowly Mrs. Pollifax began to move down the aisle as if looking for a seat, her mind running over possible karate strikes, all of them impossible with Jasna on a stage several feet above the ground, and too far from the edge of the stage to be reached with a blow to an ankle. She was aware of Willie following behind her, doubled over so that he'd not be seen, and she fervently hoped this sudden activity in both of the aisles would not catch the eye of the woman on the stage.
Jasna reached for her second knife, aimed it and sent it flying to a point an inch from Boozy Tim's right shoulder, where it hung, quivering; and now, picking up speed, she reached for the third knife, and—
A shot rang out. A woman screamed. The knife fell from Jasna's hand and for just a second she stood frozen, staring incredulously at the knife on the floor and then Mrs. Pollifax reached the stage, rushed across it and thrust Jasna off-balance with a blow across her shoulders. As she staggered, Willie grabbed both of Jasna's arms and held them tightly behind her as the Ten-in-One was suddenly full of police in uniform rushing down the aisles.
Mrs. Pollifax hurried to the figure slumped against the backboard and pushed back the hood. "Hand me one of the knives," she shouted to Willie. "He's unconscious and tied here with a rope."
Willie thrust a struggling Jasna into the arms of a policeman, handed Mrs. Pollifax a knife, and turned to the audience. "Sorry, folks," he said, "a little trouble here but the show goes on." To someone behind the curtain he shouted, "For God's sake bring on Shannon and Zilka," and then he joined Mrs. Pollifax in sawing the thick rope that had kept Boozy Tim barely upright. Released, Tim fell into their arms and they carried him off the stage.
"Is he alive?" whispered Mrs. Pollifax as they laid him on the floor behind the curtain.
Kadi, rushing in to join them, gasped, "Is he alive? Will he be alright?"
"He still has a pulse but it's weak," said Willie, on his knees beside him. "Heavily drugged, I'd guess. Damn them anyway . . . Kadi, call an ambulance, the phone's in my office and—ah, there you are, Bix, we need an ambulance on the double. Did you find Jasna's father?"
"Did you think I would?" His voice was bitter. "I'll phone in his description as soon as I've called the ambulance, he can't have gotten far if he's blind." He stopped, looking shocked. "But he can't be blind."
"No, not blind," said Mrs. Pollifax. "Call the ambulance. Take Kadi with you, she's seen enough for one day."
"Right," said Bix. "Come on, Kadi, let's go."
When she hesitated Willie looked up and said, "And give her a shot of brandy, bottom drawer my desk."
As they hurried away Mrs. Pollifax whispered, "He looks—almost dead. Are you finding a heartbeat?"
"That too is faint," said Willie. "If you're into praying, pray."
"I feel more like crying," said Mrs. Pollifax shakily.
"Then you cry and I'll pray," Willie told her and they sat with Boozy Tim between them while on the other side of the curtain Shannon and Zilka performed their bumps and grinds to the music of "Toot Toot Tootsie."
Twenty minutes later Boozy Tim was carried out of the Ten-in-One on a stretcher, and with sirens screaming the ambulance made its exit, Pogo and Jake following in Shannon's car. A shaken Mrs. Pollifax and Willie left the scene to walk back to his trailer and wait for news from the hospital. Even among carnies the show had to go on, and an equally shaken Kadi had returned to the Ten-in-One to join the Professor and Tatiana and be sawed in half. Crossing the compound, Mrs. Pollifax found it utterly unreal to hear in daylight the beat of the merry-go-round music and the usual screams from the ferris wheel. She thought it unreal, too, when Willie said, "I guess we move on tonight if the police are satisfied. A busy night ahead!" Abruptly he came to a halt. "What the devil!"
Mrs. Pollifax jumped. "What? What, Willie?" He pointed. "Helicopter landing in the field."
"Police?"
"No—no, it looks like Pete."
They stood beside Willie's trailer staring out at the field where the helicopter had come to a rest like a glittering insect in the bright sunlight; the hatch opened and two men jumped down, followed by Pete. The three of them began walking toward them across the newly clipped field: Pete in a scarlet zip-up jacket; a stocky gray-haired man in a business suit; and a younger man with sandy hair and an agreeable face that Mrs. Pollifax recognized at once. "It's Bishop!" she exclaimed. "It's actually Bishop, but what can he possibly be doing here?"
A moment later, nearing them, Bishop called out a hello to Willie, and to Mrs. Pollifax, "I've come to take you and Kadi Hopkirk back to Carstairs.... No time to waste, you've fifteen minutes to collect your gear."
Mrs. Pollifax stared at him blankly: two worlds were suddenly in collision here on this sunny field, and Bishop's world had nothing to do with the merry-go-round music behind her, or with Boozy Tim, or with Jasna, or the tide of voices from the midway. She said indignantly, "I can't possibly leave now, Bishop, we've just learned who knifed Lazlo, the police have taken Jasna away but nobody's found her father yet, Boozy Tim's been drugged and taken to the hospital and they may have killed him, and—"
It was Bishop's turn to look blank. Pulling himself together he interrupted to say, "But Carstairs needs you. I brought Charlie to replace you but now he can stay and find out what the hell you're talking about. Right now Carstairs wants to know about Chigi Scap Metal."
"Chigi Scap Metal?" she faltered.
"Fifteen minutes," he reminded her.
After the events of this day even the Chigi Scap Metal van felt distant to her. With a sigh of exasperation Mrs. Pollifax turned back to the midway and made her way toward the Ten-in-One to find Kadi, thinking stormily that it was obvious neither Carstairs nor Bishop understood carnivals, or that by summoning Kadi they were depriving Pogo of his stick and the Professor of Tatiana's feet . . , and of herself, she admitted, and was furious.
17
Mrs. Pollifax was still nursing a distinct feeling of anger when Bishop ushered her and Kadi into Carstairs's office. It was nearly seven o'clock but not even two and a half hours on a plane had diminished her indignation at being forcibly removed from Willie's. She was sure that absolutely nothing Carstairs had to say could make up for her being torn away from the carnival before she could learn whether Boozy Tim would survive, who Jasna was, and whether her father had been found yet.
After only one glance at her Carstairs said, "You're angry."
"Very," she snapped.
"And no doubt hungry, too," he added. "There are trays on the way up from the cafeteria with dinner for the three of you .. , and you're Kadi Hopkirk," he said, smiling at her. "Are you angry, too?"
She grinned. "Mostly hungry. But very curious, of course, it's certainly been a strenuous few days."
He nodded. "Chigi Scap Metal."
Mrs. Pollifax forgot her anger t
o say, "But how did you hear about Chigi Scap Metal?"
"Obliquely," he told her. "It looks as if it or they may be u a case i ve become interested in, and in which I've been pursuing a few tenuous leads. For instance, the men in the van may have been involved with whoever attacked Lazlo on Wednesday night at Willie's. A month ago the van was noted by Lazlo in Boston, parked outside a tenement house where he was also attacked, his arm broken, after possibly overhearing something of importance."
Mrs. Pollifax said eagerly, "Willie said Lazlo arrived at the carnival with a broken arm."
Carstairs nodded. "Yes, and we feel pretty sure the men he overheard in the tenement suspected that he'd heard too much and someone decided he was dangerous. Actually Lazlo had overheard very little but they didn't know that. Ah, but here comes your dinner. Bishop, bring in tray tables, will you, and then I want to hear about what I dragged you away from at Willie's this afternoon."
A bowl of hot chili was set before them, with corn muffins and butter, and a carafe of coffee for the three of them. Mrs. Pollifax, picking up a spoon, explained, "You have to understand first about Boozy Tim."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Boozy Tim was nice" Kadi said at once. "And he'd met God, you know."
Once this had been explained Mrs. Pollifax added, "He finally realized that the man who stepped on his foot after the 'Hey Rube'—the man with the Santa Claus beard—had to be Jasna's father. Perhaps the way he walked when he thought no one was watching—"
Kadi interrupted to say, "Except I wouldn't have put it past Boozy Tim to sneak under Jasna's trailer and listen, or peek in windows, and if once he guessed that Jasna's father couldn't be blind—"
"But his beard wasn't white," put in Mrs. Pollifax. "Once it was suggested to him that the man might have used a disguise, Boozy Tim walked into town, bought two false beards, and came back to experiment with what might change an authentic black beard for only an hour or so. Except unfortunately he confided in no one, and obviously the man was precisely the one we looked for. . . . We think Jasna and her father gagged him—there was blood on the table—and carried him back during the night to their trailer to decide what to do with him. He had to be killed, but it had to look like an accident, as if he'd taken the place of Jasna's father that night, and her aim—"
"Would have killed him," finished Kadi in an astonished voice, "Which I must say has left Jasna holding the bag once her father got away. Somehow ... I drew a sketch of Jasna," she told Carstairs.
"Yes and she's extremely good," put in Mrs. Pollifax, "it might help to identify her."
"Help we can use," Carstairs told her. "Otherwise someone merely named Jasna—"
Kadi dug into her knapsack for her sketchpad and turned the pages to her sketch. "Here she is."
Carstairs studied the drawing and frowned. Handing it to his assistant he said, "Bishop, get the files on Olga Broniewski; the Broniewskis were in show business in Europe, and except for the butchered hair, damned if this doesn't look like her." As Bishop abandoned his chili to search the files, Carstairs added, "If that's who Jasna is, that bearded blind 'father' of hers would have been her husband Tamas."
"Husband?" echoed Mrs. Pollifax.
He nodded. "In his mid-thirties, and a ruthless chap—a dangerous pair, they usually travel with a circus." After a quick glance at the two photos that Bishop handed him he nodded. "Take a look."
Mrs. Pollifax looked, and sat back satisfied. "That's certainly Jasna, but with longer hair."
Kadi, staring at the photograph of the man, stammered "B'but that's her blind father? He's young and incredibly handsome!"
Amused, Carstairs said, "A lesson for you in what disguise can do. It certainly explains how he got away. I'd guess that once he helped his wife dress and drug your Boozy Tim, and roped him to the backboard, he simply trimmed his beard and strolled through the gates when the carnival opened. A handsome young man returning to his car, or looking for his girlfriend . . ."
"But where's the connection?" asked Mrs. Pollifax.
Carstairs ignored this. "Any other sketches, Kadi?"
"I've a snapshot of Sammy," she told him, reaching into her knapsack and bringing out her wallet.
Carstairs reached out for the photo but his glance lingered a moment on Kadi's face, and Mrs. Pollifax decided that he didn't often see anyone so fresh and young in his office. Leaning over, Kadi pointed. "There's Sammy."
"Sammat, grandson of a king," murmured Carstairs. "Nice face."
"A good face," Kadi said firmly. "Can you, will you, help him?"
"Oh yes," he said.
Surprised, Mrs. Pollifax said, "It's important?"
"Very. Let me consider for a moment," said Carstairs, "because there's a great deal to do."
They sat and waited while he stared at the ceiling, glanced at Kadi, smiled vaguely at Mrs. Pollifax, and at last said crisply, "Kadi, I need the full name of your friend Sammy: how he would be registered at Yale."
"Sammat Yusufu."
"And his roommate's name?"
"He was introduced as Clarence Mulimo."
Carstairs wrote the names on a memo and said to Bishop, "Put through a call to the New Haven police department, will you, Bishop? Tell them I'll be there—" He glanced at his watch. "By nine o'clock at the latest, but first I want to speak to the chief on the phone."
"New Haven police?" gasped Kadi. "Oh, but please, that will—"
"Steady," counseled Carstairs. "I want two officers sent to the University to bring your Sammy to the police station for questioning about a stolen car."
"But Sammy would never, never steal a car," protested Kadi.
Carstairs smiled at her forgivingly. "He can explain that to the police at the station. It's the only way we can separate him from that roommate of his."
"Ah," murmured Mrs. Pollifax, intrigued by such beautiful deviousness.
"And you will be going with me to New Haven," Carstairs told them. "You, Mrs. Pollifax, and Kadi, too. Order a plane for us, Bishop, and after you've done that I want the passenger lists checked on every plane flying to Paris this weekend—names, Bishop, names. Who does wigs?"
"W-wigs?" stammered Bishop.
"Wigs."
"That would be Hazard's department."
"Good. Take Kadi with you and fit her out with a blonde wig, find some colorful touristy clothes for her, and above all a pair of dark glasses. Large ones. Mrs. Pollifax, I don't know what your plans may have been before this interruption in your life, or how much you care to tell that husband of yours, but I'm preempting you for a few days; you can use Helga's phone to call him. You and Kadi are accompanying me to Ubangiba."
"Ubangiba!" cried Kadi happily.
"Ubangiba?" repeated Mrs. Pollifax. "Accompanying you? YOU are going to Ubangiba?"
Bishop laughed. "You really are planning skullduggery— and going yourself?"
With a grin Carstairs said, "High time, Bishop . . , living behind a desk grows tiresome, and what I have in mind is going to need enormous tact, duplicity, diplomacy, and a great deal of bluffing, or the State Department will have my head. You'll take over for me, Bishop, I've cleared it with Mornajay." To the others he said, "Now carry those trays of food somewhere else—go away, out!—while I put in a call to the New Haven police, and to Paris. And while we're in New Haven, Bishop, have passports issued for Mrs. Pollifax and daughter Kadi—no, make it Katherine."
"Right, sir," said Bishop, added this to his list, and ushered Kadi and Mrs. Pollifax into his office, and Mrs. Pollifax into Helga's cubicle where she could call Cyrus.
The phone number of the hotel at which Cyrus was spending his last night was duly found, and she asked to speak with Cyrus Reed, present for the American Bar Association meetings. The desk clerk rang his room, and rang and rang. He said at last, "If he's with the Bar Association, ma'am, most of them are out celebrating the appointment of one of their members to a federal judgeship."
"That would be Gilbert Montano?" she asked.
&n
bsp; "Yes, ma'am, care to leave a message?"
Mrs. Pollifax sought wildly for a message that might sum up her past several days. "Tell him," she said carefully, "that his wife has been—has been called away. And that Mr. Carstairs—that's C-a-r-s-t-a-i-r-s—needs her a few days longer. Did I say that too fast for you?"
"No, ma'am, I've got it all down, shall I read it back?"
"Please do."
Once this had been accomplished she hung up and swallowed her disappointment at not reaching Cyrus. On the other hand, she reflected, he would probably have tried to reach her during the past several days and suffered the same disappointment, so it was only fair that she experience it, too. He would come home to an empty house—a house with bread crumbs and sardine tins in a closet, no wife, and possibly no car yet if Pete had not had time to retrieve it. She could only remind herself that in the refrigerator he would find salami and a chicken as well as the Garden Club sandwiches artistically arranged on a platter.
The Garden Club felt a very long time ago.
She stopped Bishop as he rushed through the office and asked for Willie's phone number in Maine and dialed it. He must have been sitting by his phone waiting for news, because he answered on the first ring. "Willie, it's Emmy Reed," she said. "How is Boozy Tim?"
Willie took his time answering. "I've been in touch, Emmy, he's coming out of it okay, but a real close call, believe me. Those two bengs nearly killed him with all that dope, and he's still pretty confused, but the doc's with him and he's had his stomach pumped out, poor guy. Jake and Pogo are with him, too."
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