Ten Thumb Sam

by Rachel Muller

  The limo came to a stop a few yards away. The driver got out first and walked around to open the door for a large, cigar-smoking man.

  “Can I help you?” Max asked.

  The visitor tapped his cigar with a sausage-shaped finger, and a chunk of ash fell to the ground. “Beaverwick’s the name. I heard there was a circus set up out here. Thought I’d drop by and have a look-see.”

  Max shook his head. “Sorry, I’m afraid you’ve missed us. We’re just packing up.”

  “Where are you headed next, if you don’t mind me asking?” said Mr. Beaverwick.

  “All the way to Thunder Bay.”

  “Fine city, Thunder Bay,” said the visitor. “I might be heading there myself on business later this week. Perhaps I’ll catch your show there, Mister—?”

  “Stringbini, Maxwell Stringbini.”

  “Ah. The famous magician, Magic Max.” Mr. Beaverwick stepped forward to offer his hand. “And this is?” he asked, turning to Sam’s mother.

  “Irene Stringbini,” she said.

  “Truth is, Max, Irene, I have a particular interest in circuses.” Mr. Beaverwick reached into the breast pocket of his pinstriped suit and withdrew a small card, which he handed to Sam’s father.

  “Circus Enormicus,” Max read out loud. He handed the card to his wife.

  “Incorporated, since 1979. I’m the chairman, CEO and majority shareholder,” Mr. Beaverwick said as he tapped the ash from his cigar a second time. “Let me fill you in. Circus Enormicus is the largest live-entertainment provider of its kind in the world. Our head office is in Vancouver, but we have shows traveling all over the globe. From Argentina to Zimbabwe, Circus Enormicus is everywhere. We’re always looking to sign up new talent.”

  Irene held out the business card. “Sorry for your trouble, but the Triple Top has always been a small, family-run circus. Max helps manage the business side of things, but each performer owns a share in the show, and that’s the way we like it.”

  “But you could be part of something so much bigger,” said Mr. Beaverwick, waving the card away. “Talk it over with the other members of your little group. I’m telling you—Circus Enormicus is the wave of the future.”

  “We’re not interested,” Sam’s father said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

  Mr. Beaverwick smiled. “Come now. You seem like reasonable people to me. Why don’t you just let the idea sit for a few days? If you have any questions, you can call my private number. Anytime, day or night. The number is on the card.”

  Without waiting for a response, Beaverwick dropped his half-smoked cigar on the dry grass and climbed back into his limo.

  “That man spewed more hot air in five minutes than your brother Albert puts out in an hour,” Max said to his wife as they watched the limo disappear in a cloud of crickets and prairie dust. “And that’s saying something.”

  Sam’s parents seemed to have forgotten that Sam was still waiting a few feet away. “About what I was going to tell you,” he started.

  “Right,” Max said. He checked his watch. “Look, can it wait? We’re already running behind, and we’ve got a few things we need to discuss with Mr. Pigatto before we get on the road.”

  Sam let out a sigh. “Sure. Whatever.”

  Later that night as he lay under his blankets on the floor in the sleeping alcove, Sam listened to his parents arguing over Mr. Beaverwick’s proposal.

  “There’s no way the Triple Top is going to sell out to Circus Enormicus,” Max insisted.

  “Maybe we were too hasty,” said Sam’s mother. “We haven’t even heard Mr. Beaverwick’s terms yet.”

  “Come on, Irene. You’ve heard the same stories I have. Beaverwick is a tyrant. He has shows touring on six continents, and every single show is exactly the same. He might as well hire a bunch of robots.”

  Sam heard his mother sigh. “I was there tonight when you went over the Triple Top’s finances with Mr. Pigatto. We’re in serious trouble, Max.”

  “I know,” said Max. “We were just making ends meet when Albert and his family showed up with six extra mouths to feed. And now we have this morning’s fine to pay off on top of everything else.”

  “Exactly,” said Irene. “If things get any worse, we may have to consider Beaverwick’s proposal.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Have you talked to your dad about the man in the gray suit yet?” Harriet asked Sam as they prepared to enter the big top three days later.

  Sam shook his head. “Every time I try, he’s too busy.”

  “Maybe it’s just as well,” Harriet said as she adjusted the straps that held up her tray of cotton candy. “We don’t know for sure that he’s the one sabotaging the circus. Although I have to admit, he does look kind of familiar.”

  “Of course he looks familiar,” said Sam. “I bet he’s been in the audience every time something bad happened.”

  “He could work for the safety inspector’s office,” Harriet pointed out. “He could just be watching us for safety violations.”

  “No, it’s him,” Sam insisted. “It has to be. We just have to catch him red-handed.”

  The cousins were making their way slowly up the bleachers when one of their customers called them back.

  “What is this?” the woman demanded. The two children beside her were gagging and spitting out half-dissolved candy floss.

  “Are you trying to poison us?” someone else shouted as more people began to cough and make faces all around them.

  “There’s something wrong with the cotton candy!” Harriet whispered to Sam, her face white. “What do we do?”

  Sam pointed across the tent to the bleachers on the other side. “It’s not just us.” It was obvious from the noise coming from the other side of the big top that someone had been selling tainted cotton candy there as well.

  Mr. Pigatto’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the ringmaster began nervously. “I know many of you have already discovered that we’ve had a PROBLEM with our cotton candy this evening.”

  There were some angry boos from the audience.

  “We do truly APOLOGIZE,” the ringmaster continued from the center ring, wiping his rosy face with a handkerchief. “But you’ll be happy to hear that we’ve already identified the problem. It seems that a quantity of ALUM CRYSTALS were somehow introduced into the sacks of sugar that we use to make our cotton candy.”

  Mr. Pigatto had to shout into the microphone to be heard over the rising noise. “Ammonium alum u.s.p. is a common astringent. It is NOT poisonous. You probably have a bottle in your own medicine cabinets to treat canker sores or sore throats. It tastes absolutely TERRIBLE, but I repeat, alum is NOT poisonous.”

  The audience was still angry and confused. “So what’s this stuff doing in my cotton candy?” one man yelled.

  “We are TERRIBLY sorry,” said Mr. Pigatto. “I repeat, the cotton candy is not poisonous. It will NOT hurt you. There will be FULL REFUNDS, of course,” the ringmaster continued. “And FREE ice-cream bars or caramel corn will be offered to everyone who bought cotton candy this evening.”

  “Thank goodness it wasn’t something poisonous,” said Harriet, letting out a ragged breath. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the bus,” said Sam. “I’m going to be grounded when my parents catch up with me anyway.”

  “But you didn’t do anything,” said Harriet

  Sam looked miserable. “No one’s going to believe me this time. I helped make the cotton candy today!”

  Sam’s father took him aside into the shade of one of the equipment trailers late the next morning. There were dark circles under Max’s eyes. “The circus had a few special visitors this morning, Sam. Did you know that?”

  Sam shrugged, his arms folded across his chest.

  “We had a delegation from the city council of Thunder Bay to start. It seems the mayor and her children were among the people who consumed our tainted cotton candy last night. She wasn’t very happy a
bout it, let me tell you.”

  Sam traced an arc in the dirt with the heel of his sneaker. “I don’t know why you’re telling me all this. I told you I didn’t put anything in the cotton candy.”

  It was Max’s turn to shrug. “I just thought you should know that Thunder Bay has cancelled our permit to perform here this weekend.”

  Sam looked up in dismay. “That’s terrible!”

  “That’s right,” said Max, nodding. “That little prank had some very serious consequences. And it gets worse. The safety inspector, Mr. Burkenoff, showed up right after the delegation from the city. The Triple Top was fined again, this time for violating sections of the health code. That’s two fines in less than a week. We have ten days to pay up or we’re finished.”

  Sam’s face had clouded over. “But what does all this have to do with me?”

  “Nothing, I hope,” said Max. “But if there’s anything you want to tell me, now would be a good time to get it off your chest.”

  “I don’t have anything on my chest!” Sam shouted. “I’ve told you that! Why won’t you believe me?”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” his father said. “But you have to admit, it doesn’t look good that you helped make the cotton candy yesterday.”

  “Why does it always have to be me?” Sam sputtered. “Why can’t someone else be under suspicion for a change?”

  Max put his hands up. “Calm down, Sam. Until we figure out who’s been pulling these pranks, we’re all under suspicion. We can’t afford to take any more chances. From now on we’re all pairing up. No one can be alone—unless they’re using the bathroom.

  “It’s not just you,” Max continued as Sam opened his mouth to protest. “It’s everyone. We’re all going to be watching each other. Not much fun, but we’re running out of other options.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Want to be my ‘buddy’?” Sam asked Harriet after lunch that afternoon. “I need to get out of here.”

  Harriet looked up from the book she was reading. “Sure. Are we going anywhere in particular?”

  Sam nodded. “The Thunder Bay library. I checked a map; it’s only a few kilometers away. You might want to grab those notes you’ve been taking.”

  “What do we need my notes for?” Harriet asked as she put a bookmark in her book and stood up.

  “I’m tired of being the one everyone points to when something goes wrong,” said Sam. “It’s time to add someone else’s name to your list of suspects.”

  Harriet raised her eyebrows. “Okay, but what does that have to do with the library?”

  “It’s just a hunch I have,” said Sam. “I need to check something online.”

  When the cousins reached the library, a young librarian at the circulation desk directed them to the nearest available computer station.

  “I’ve been thinking about the conversation Mr. Beaverwick had with my father,” Sam said as he typed Mr. Beaverwick’s name into the search engine. “Is it just me, or is the timing of his offer to buy the Triple Top a little suspicious?”

  Sam’s search word immediately generated hundreds of hits. The first link took them to a recent article from a national newspaper site.

  “Wow,” said Harriet.

  Sam read the article aloud while Harriet took notes. “‘Circus Enormicus Incorporated has announced the addition of a new circus to its growing empire. The Leaping Lizard, a familiar name in Canadian entertainment circles since 1929, was recently rescued from bankruptcy by Bartholomew Beaverwick and his associates.’ Hey,” said Sam, “isn’t that your family’s old circus?”

  Harriet nodded, still scribbling.

  “‘The Leaping Lizard is the third Canadian circus Mr. Beaverwick has acquired this year,’” Sam continued. “‘The previous two circuses were also facing bankruptcy when they were purchased by Circus Enormicus. Mr. Beaverwick has announced his intention to persuade all remaining independent circuses in Canada to join forces under the Circus Enormicus banner.’

  “I knew the timing of his visit was suspicious!” Sam said excitedly when he was done reading. “Beaverwick persuades circuses to join Circus Enormicus by sabotaging them until they’re about to go under. Then he makes them an offer they can’t refuse. They have no choice!”

  “Try that link,” Harriet said, pointing to the screen. Sam clicked on a link that led to an article about one of Circus Enormicus’s previous purchases. He let out a whoop when he saw the photograph next to the text.

  “Shhh,” said the librarian at the circulation desk.

  “Sorry,” said Sam. His voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s the man in the gray suit! The mustache is a little thinner, but it’s him! I knew it—he must work for Mr. Beaverwick.”

  Harriet nodded. “You were right! And remember I told you I thought he looked familiar? Now I know where I saw him before. He hadn’t grown the mustache yet, but I’m sure he was hanging around the Leaping Lizard just before it went bankrupt.”

  The photograph the cousins were studying had been taken outside a courthouse in Vancouver. According to the caption under the photo, the owner of the Kit and Kaboodle Circus had taken Circus Enormicus to court to try to stop a forced bankruptcy sale. The photo showed Mr. Beaverwick next to his wife and two of his lawyers. Behind them was a fifth person: the man Sam had bumped into, the man Harriet had followed after the safety net fell on the clowns.

  “This photograph proves he’s connected to Mr. Beaverwick,” Sam whispered. “We’ve got them both!”

  “We haven’t actually seen him do anything,” Harriet cautioned.

  “Look,” said Sam. “There’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “Look under the photograph. Do you see Mr. Beaverwick’s wife’s name?”

  “Mrs. Audrey Burkenoff-Beaverwick. Nice name. Oh. Oh!” Harriet exclaimed, a light going on in her eyes. “Burkenoff!”

  Sam nodded. “It all makes sense! Beaverwick must be related to the safety inspector who fined us. We’ve got to get back to the circus,” he said. “We’ve got to tell my dad!”

  “Let me finish my notes,” said Harriet. “What am I saying—I’ll just print out these pages instead.”

  As soon as they had paid for the printouts, the cousins hurried out of the library. They ran most of the way back to the Triple Top.

  “Where’s Dad?” Sam asked Annabel when they reached the Stringbini bus. Annabel was sitting on the grass, playing with paper dolls.

  “In a meeting,” said Annabel.

  “Who with?”

  “With Mom and the Pigattos and the men in the long black car,” Annabel replied without looking up.

  Sam peered around the side of the Stringbini bus. Sure enough, there was Mr. Beaverwick’s limousine, half-hidden behind one of the circus trailers. “It’s his car all right,” Sam said to Harriet. “Mr. Beaverwick must be here right now!”

  “Where’s the meeting?” Harriet asked Annabel. “In the main tent?”

  Annabel nodded. “They won’t let you in,” she warned. “It’s private.”

  But Sam and Harriet were no longer listening to Annabel. They were already racing to the big top.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam and Harriet entered the tent just as Mr. Beaverwick and two other men in suits were leaving.

  “What happened?” Sam asked his parents and the Pigattos when the men were gone. “You didn’t sell the Triple Top, did you?”

  “Not yet,” said Max. “Mr. Beaverwick’s lawyers are still drawing up the contract.”

  “But you can’t sell out,” said Sam.

  Mr. Pigatto shook his head sadly. “We don’t have a choice, Sam. We can’t afford to pay our fines by the deadline. This is the only way to keep the Triple Top from going under.”

  “But you don’t understand,” Sam sputtered. “Beaverwick is the one sabotaging the circus!”

  “That’s quite an accusation!” Sam’s mother said. “Do you have any proof?”

  Sam and Harriet to
ok turns telling their story, from Sam’s first encounter with the man in the gray suit, to what they’d learned from their research at the library.

  “Did you ever actually see this man doing anything to sabotage the Triple Top?” Mr. Pigatto asked as he studied the picture Harriet had printed off the Internet.

  “No.” Harriet shook her head. “But like I said, he was in the audience when Loki flew into the trapezes and when the safety net came down.”

  “Sorry, guys,” said Sam’s father. “This is good detective work, but all you’ve proved is that this man has been in our audience watching us. That might make him a spy on a scouting mission for Circus Enormicus, but it doesn’t prove him guilty of sabotage.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least go to the police?” Harriet asked.

  “The police would laugh us out of the station,” said Mr. Pigatto. “You can’t make accusations against someone like Beaverwick without evidence, my dear. Circus Enormicus is an international corporation. We’re just a little traveling show—why would they believe us?”

  “We can still get evidence,” Sam said stubbornly. “It’s not too late.”

  “It is too late, Sam,” said Max. “He’s got us. If we don’t come up with the money for our fines by next Monday morning, the Triple Top will be shut down.”

  “Why can’t we come up with the money?” Sam asked. “We have a whole week. Our shows in Hamilton haven’t been canceled. That’s five performances between now and next Monday.”

  Mr. Pigatto let his hand fall on Sam’s shoulder. “Your father’s right, Sam. The fines are just too big. Even if we sold out every performance, we’d still be short several thousand dollars. We’ve talked to the banks, we’ve talked to the other performers—we just can’t raise enough money. Maybe if we had a little more time…”

  “As things stand, we’re out of options,” said Max. “We have to accept Beaverwick’s offer.”

  “I still can’t believe they’re letting Beaverwick get away with this,” Sam told Harriet two mornings later. The circus was all packed up and on the road again, bound for its engagement in Hamilton. Sam and his cousin had chosen to begin the journey in the back of the Fritzi bus, away from their siblings.