“In 1980 the carnival came to Valdosta. We had a week booked here with the American Legion as sponsors.”
Jimmy nodded. He remembered the carnival coming to town every year. Most folks in Valdosta called it a “fair” instead of a carnival.
“People came to the carnival in droves with money to spend—Valdosta was always one of the carnival’s best stops. Valdosta had just played their big football game with Lowndes and tempers were running hot. Folks came out to play and let off steam.
“We had a few scuffles break out—townies and carnies—but that’s normal. Folks sometimes get riled up at the games. Townies are convinced the games are fixed and the carnival is cheating them.
“Uncle Lewis ran a first class operation. He never let the games cheat. He kept the games clean and honest. If they got out of hand, he’d close the game for a day and give the operator a week’s suspension.
“He kept his sideshows clean too, no girlie shows, no gambling and the freaks were ordinary by most shows’ standards. Uncle never called them ‘Freak Shows,’ always called the venue ‘Oddities.’ Uncle said it sounded softer, nicer and more respectful to the unfortunate folks that most people called ‘freaks.’
“Whenever a carnival comes to town, there’s always kids coming around wanting jobs. Some to earn a little cash, others to witness the curiosity of it all. But a few are sad souls, unhappy with their lives and want to use the carnival as their ticket out of town—run away with the circus, so to speak.
“Uncle had a boy like this during the week in Valdosta. He came to the office trailer one day and insisted on speaking to the owner. Uncle went out to meet him and the young man demanded that my uncle give him a job and let him travel with the carnival.
“One rule that Uncle set in stone, no hiring townies, no good ever came from it. Uncle Lewis tried it a few times and there were always fights or problems. No employment for the townies meant that no one could use the carnival as their way out of town either—no running away with the carnival. Uncle feared problems with parents or the local police if he allowed this.
“Anyway, this teenage kid came that day demanding that my uncle hire him. Uncle told him no and the boy became angry. He tried offering my uncle money, fifty dollars. Uncle Lewis laughed at him and told him to get lost. The kid became enraged and shouted at my uncle, told my uncle that ‘his carny ass would regret this.’ Two ride operators witnessed it and escorted him off the carnival grounds.
“Uncle Lewis forgot about this and finished the week out. The fair ended on Saturday night. They stayed open until eleven and then break everything down in the early hours of Sunday morning.
“Uncle Lewis finished his last hypnotism show around ten that night and went back to his motor home to eat and sleep a little before overseeing the breakdown. When he got home, his wife, my Aunt Lorna, was asleep in the bedroom in the back of the motor home. She had left dinner on the table for him.
“Uncle Lewis went to check on his daughter, Allison, in her bedroom, but her room was empty. This didn’t worry him because Allison would sometimes go to the concession tent to snack and read. Allison loved books.
“He finished his dinner and changed from his show outfit to his work clothes. The carnival closed at midnight, break down was scheduled for one a.m. He took a nap in his recliner. Around twelve thirty he awoke to someone banging on the door of his motor home. He opened the door and there stood my dad. Dad told Uncle to follow him, a problem at the back gate’s ticket booth.
“Uncle Lewis ran with my dad to the booth. As they approached it, more and more people were gathering. The lights of police cars were flashing.
“Uncle Lewis looked in the direction everyone was staring. And there, sitting propped up against the ticket booth, was Allison’s body. Someone had slit her throat from ear to ear. The killer had taken the sign from the ticket booth, reversed it and hung it around her neck. They had written on the sign in Allison’s blood: ‘We hate Carnies and Wildcats.’”
Tears streamed down Marie’s face, it was getting harder and harder to tell the story.
I was there too, Marie. I saw it all. Tell me the rest.
Marie wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. Jimmy reached for the box of tissues on the coffee table and handed the whole box to Marie. Marie continued to cry, and after a while, the heavy sobs became softer and Marie started again:
“It took a few seconds for it to register with my uncle it was Allison but once he did he dropped to his knees, screaming and wailing. I can close my eyes and still hear it. I will never forget the sound of his agony.
“And then my uncle jumped up and ran to Allison. The police and sheriff’s deputies tried to stop him from touching her. The deputies did not want him to disturb any evidence, but they couldn’t stop him. He sat on the ground, took her in his arms and sat there—holding her and crying.
“I’m not sure if it was the lights and commotion that got Aunt Lorna out of bed or if someone went to the motor home and told her. Maybe it was my mom who told her, I can’t remember. I stood watching with the rest of the crowd.
“The next thing I heard was a horrendous scream as loud as my uncle’s but higher pitched—my Aunt Lorna. She kept screaming and screaming and screaming. Aunt Lorna ran to Allison, but my dad caught her and she collapsed on the ground.
“A man approached my uncle as he sat holding Allison’s body. He spoke with my uncle and after a few minutes he motioned for the EMTs to come. Uncle Lewis allowed them to take Allison’s body to the ambulance. The man helped my uncle to stand and my uncle followed him away.”
Jimmy remembered most of what she described. He was in the crowd but was careful not to let his father see him. Jimmy had watched everything unfold. His dad was the one who convinced Marie’s uncle to give up Allison’s body. Jimmy had watched as the man followed his father to his car and watched as they left together.
This came back to Jimmy in waves, and in a flash of recognition, he remembered the man’s eyes—sky-blue penetrating eyes.
Seiffert’s eyes.
Marie shifted on the couch next to Jimmy. The tears had dried, but she was still upset. Telling the story seemed to weaken her somehow. Marie looked at Jimmy. “Sad story, huh?” she asked. “What’s on your mind?”
“I was there,” said Jimmy. “My dad was the man who helped your uncle. He wasn’t a uniformed cop but a detective. I remember it too, just like you said it.”
Marie managed a smile. “My uncle told me later that it was your dad that helped him that night. He said that he treated him with respect and compassion, not just that night, but the days and months that followed. Uncle Lewis never forgot your dad’s kindness. I guess it’s why he reached out to you the day you lost your job.”
Marie’s eyes were bloodshot from the crying. Her story brought back memories of his dad.
Jimmy interrupted the quietness. “Allen Ridley? Where does he fit into this?”
Marie could not believe Jimmy asked this question, the explanation, she thought, was obvious. “Allen Ridley killed Allison Pritchard,” she said. “My uncle has wanted revenge for thirty-five years and now it’s within his reach.”
“So he’s using me for his revenge?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes, you and a few others.” Marie glanced up at the smoke detector. “In time, he plans on making you the manager of the company, but don’t you dare tell him I said this.”
“How does he plan on doing that? Making me the manager, I mean? Miss Myrtle’s dead so Allen gets the company. There’s no way in hell he’ll give that up.”
Marie explained to Jimmy what had happened with Myrtle’s will, and the conditions Allen had to meet to keep control of the company. She did not tell Jimmy about her uncle’s involvement in Myrtle’s death.
“I’ve got one more question then let’s put this behind us for tonight,” Jimmy said.
“Shoot.”
“Why does your uncle believe Allen killed his daughter?” asked Jimmy.
&nbs
p; “Because it was Allen Ridley who asked my uncle for the job earlier that week,” Marie said.
“That proves nothing, plus how sure is he that Allen was the kid asking for a job? I mean, I hate Allen Ridley as much as anyone, but that’s not proof he killed Allison.”
“It was the football jersey the kid was wearing. He wore it when he came to ask my uncle for a job. Uncle Lewis spotted him in the crowd at the murder scene wearing the same jersey,” Marie said. Jimmy’s questions annoyed her. “Let me tell you the rest, then perhaps you will see it the same way my uncle sees it.”
Marie continued, “The detectives later determined that the number on the jersey was Allen Ridley’s number, but it proved nothing, all circumstantial evidence. The police and sheriff’s office did a thorough search and turned up nothing. They theorized the murderer killed her someone near the carnival and dragged or carried her body to the ticket booth. The county called in the GBI to do a second crime scene investigation, but they came up empty-handed too. The day after the murder, they sent her body to the crime lab in Macon for further analysis.
“Local detectives wanted to bring Allen Ridley in and question him. But the Sheriff and Chief of Police were both big buddies of Harvey Ridley so the questioning never took place. The Sheriff blocked the detectives from doing their job at every turn. That’s when your dad became involved.”
Jimmy’s eyes got bigger and he leaned in closer to Marie.
“Your dad became frustrated with this and visited my uncle. Your father apologized to him—told him he felt like they had a suspect, but they didn’t have enough evidence. He advised my uncle to wait for Allison’s body to return from Macon. He promised Uncle Lewis that he would help bring the murderer to justice.
“Uncle Lewis didn’t want to leave, but Aunt Lorna pressured him to go. He conceded and told Aunt Lorna they’d leave for Tampa as soon as Allison’s body returned from the crime lab. Uncle Lewis told the employees to go ahead and leave for Tampa. But everyone waited with him, carnies stick together like that.
“Allison’s body came back to Valdosta two days later, the GBI crime lab turned up nothing new, the carnival finished packing and left for Tampa. The murder remained unsolved except for your father’s suspicions.
“Uncle Lewis and the carnival arrived back in Tampa and they had a big funeral for Allison. While my aunt and uncle coped with their grief, your dad was back here in Valdosta attempting to find justice.”
Marie stopped and sipped her water. Jimmy took a sip too and waited for her to continue.
“Your dad, for several months after the murder, stayed in touch with my uncle every week but had nothing new to report. One day he called and told my uncle he had met, without the sheriff’s approval, with the suspected murderer’s father.
“Uncle Lewis never discovered the names Allen Ridley or Harvey Ridley until much later. Your father always referred to them as ‘the suspect’ or ‘the suspect’s father’. He never told my uncle what he and the suspect’s father discussed but told my uncle he hoped to get a break in the case.
“A couple of weeks passed and then one day your dad and another man showed up in Tampa at my uncle’s house. The man brought one-hundred thousand dollars in cash. When my uncle asked what the money was for, your dad replied, ‘blood money.’
“Uncle Lewis tried to press for more of an explanation. He didn’t want money, he wanted justice. Your dad told him that there was not enough evidence to bring anyone to trial. He told my uncle he knew the money could not bring Allison back. My uncle wanted names, but your father refused to give them. He took the money but swore to continue his search for Allison’s murderer and to bring them to justice, ‘his justice.’ After the meeting, my uncle never heard from your dad again.
“My uncle was not a poor man. He had made quite a bit of money from the carnival and other ventures. But he took the cash and used it to start a charity for carnival and circus workers.
“Uncle Lewis never stopped grieving, and he had a new problem, Aunt Lorna fell into a deep depression. She had bouts of extreme sadness followed by fits of out-of-control violence. Uncle put aside any ideas of justice or vengeance for Allison and dedicated his whole attention to Aunt Lorna.
“He never left her alone. Uncle turned over the operation and management of the carnival to my dad.
“One day, he took a day off from taking care of my aunt and ran into downtown Tampa on business. Aunt Lorna acted happy so he assumed it would be okay to leave her alone. When he returned, a few hours later, he found the stairs to the attic pulled down to the floor. Uncle Lewis went up to the attic and found Aunt Lorna there, hanging from the rafters. She left a note which said, ‘I’m sorry, Allison needs me.’
“Uncle was distraught and depressed too. My parents became concerned that he might meet the same fate as my aunt. Uncle Lewis sold his property and his house in Tampa and moved away, he disappeared. Uncle Lewis would sometimes call my parents, but they had no way to get in touch with him. Every time they spoke he always told them he was out of the country, climbing Mount Everest or visiting temples in Tibet—crazy stuff. They never knew what to believe.
“I’m convinced he was much closer than what we even dreamed. I will always believe Martha knew his whereabouts. Two years after my uncle’s disappearance my parents died in a terrible car crash. A guy passed someone on a curve and slammed head-on into my mom and dad, they died on impact. The next morning, when we showed up at the funeral home to make arrangements, Uncle Lewis was there, waiting.
“He helped us with everything and paid for their funerals. He looked much healthier, rested, but still sad. Uncle Lewis carried his sadness around with him like lead weights on his shoulders.
“Uncle Lewis moved in with me and the boys and became our guardian. He changed his name from Paul Pritchard to Joshua Lewis Seiffert, the same last name as my father—I don’t know why. Maybe he wanted to escape the old name, perhaps he believed it would make us closer as a family, who knows? Not long after he came back he opened a clinical hypnotist office in Tampa—taking care of smokers, overweight folks, drug addicts and God knows what else.
“And while he helped others fight their demons, he took care of me and the boys. He helped us battle our own problems with drugs and depression. Uncle Lewis paid for everything, private schools, and colleges and supported us in every way possible.
“His devotion to us kept him busy, he had little time to dwell on Allison or Lorna, but they were always on his mind. Thanksgiving night, five years ago, my brothers and I were at his house for dinner. Uncle Lewis told us his plans to return to Valdosta—time to settle the score here. He planned to move here, buy property, set up a therapy clinic and find Allison’s killer. Uncle told us he didn’t want to kill Allison’s murderer, death was far too easy. Uncle Lewis said his plans were to make the killer suffer, just like Allison and Aunt Lorna suffered.
“We moved to Valdosta and my uncle bought this building. He renovated it and opened a pub downstairs and a clinic on the sixth floor. Living here allowed him to use his therapy practice to gather information about the local people. Uncle Lewis learned to use the Internet for research. He tried to reach out to your dad, but he had already died.”
Marie looked at Jimmy and took another sip of water. She could tell Jimmy was deep in concentration, probably remembering his dad.
“He died from Alzheimer’s,” Jimmy said. His eyes and face showed his sadness as he remembered a great tragedy in his own life. Jimmy looked at Marie and his eyes urged her to continue.
“After years of investigating and pulling the loose ends together, my uncle discovered, that Harvey Ridley was the man who sent the money. Once he learned this, it led him to Allen. My uncle never forgot the number on the boy’s football jersey. Uncle Lewis went back through old high school yearbook photos and the jersey’s number belonged to Allen Ridley.
“The pieces began to fit together for my uncle. He was confident Allen Ridley was Allison’s killer. Once Uncle had the
puzzle completed he devised a plan to destroy Allen Ridley.”
She stopped speaking and said, “I need to take another potty break.”
Marie left the couch and went to the bathroom leaving Jimmy alone on the sofa. Jimmy’s mind was reeling with her story. He remembered parts of it, other parts he never knew but everything made sense. Portions of his father’s life and actions from those days he understood too.
Jimmy thought of his dad and Harvey Ridley, he thought of the sacrifices that some men make to keep their sons out of trouble.
My dad and Harvey Ridley.
Jimmy thought of Allen. Allen, the boy that had tormented him so much during high school—about to receive a father’s vengeance. Jimmy smiled and the smile widened into a grin. As Marie returned from the bathroom, he lost the smile and resumed his role as sad-and-understanding Jimmy.
Marie did not sit. She stood at the couch and took Jimmy’s hands. She pulled him up and looked into his eyes. She gave him a light kiss on the lips. “Thanks for a great evening, I’m so sorry we got bogged down in this mess,” she said. Marie pointed at her watch. “I’m sorry, but it’s getting late and I need to go.”
“How about staying here tonight? I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said.
“I’m sorry. Not tonight.”
“Can I see you again?” he asked.
“Sure, but let’s wait a few days,” she said and kissed him again.
* * *
Jimmy returned her kiss and helped Marie with her coat. He offered to walk her to the car, but she insisted on going alone. Jimmy persisted and she relented. They walked to the parking lot together. He watched as she left, her car’s taillights casting a foggy, red glow in the winter night.
It was late and the streets were empty except for Jimmy and the Christmas decorations. Jimmy stared at the decorations hanging from the side of the light poles. Every pole, a different decoration, green Christmas trees, reindeer, Santas—each had distinct lights and colors. Jimmy strolled back to The Ashley, lost in his memories.
Memories of his mom, she could never go out in the winter air to enjoy the Christmas lights and decorations.
Carnies and Wildcats: Ulciscor Page 16