Cirque De Slay

by CeeCee James

  First came the clowns, and then the lions. Next was a magician. He wowed the crowds with flowers and rabbit and finally disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  Now it was Tiffany’s turn. The huge spotlight swooped around the ring before finally highlighting Tiffany.

  “The living Fashion Doll,” called the Ringmaster.

  Like a pageant queen, Tiffany stood on the passenger seat of a pink toy car that was driven by the trapeze artist’s seven-year-old son who was dressed like a clown. She wore a long foamy pink ball gown that was coated in ribbons. The skirt trailed over the trunk, leaving its edges free to drag on the ground.

  Behind the car ran three little dogs. Each dog wore a saddle and a puppet riding on its back. The dogs pranced and barked, and their pink tongues lolled happily as the crowds went wild. The animals were in their height of glory. They loved interacting with the customers.

  Tiffany threw candy to the crowd as the little clown driver honked the car horn. The kids screamed and scrambled to collect it.

  When her act was over, she blew kisses and waved. The dogs ran off the stage to where Jerry was waiting, squatted down with his arms wide. The dogs leaped into his arms and nearly bowled him over.

  I saw he was laughing from here and then ducked my head when I realized I’d been staring. I’ll admit, I pushed out my chest and sucked in my gut a bit more.

  Bill showed up then to help me up on Prancer’s back. I tossed my half-eaten apple in the corner and adjusted my sash. He gave me a boost. I carefully stood up, my toes splayed out for balance on Prancer’s broad back. The horse’s coat was warm and silky under my feet.

  “Go get ‘em” Bill said, giving his traditional swat to Prancer’s haunch. A moment later, I was out in the ring doing circles.

  I loved my part in the big show. My hair blew in the breeze of Prancer’s canter. The mask hid my ugly nose, and I felt confident and beautiful on the horse’s bare back. Prancer’s muscles flexed, and he held his head high. Flowers adorned his mane and tail, and he swished it sassily. He liked performing as much as I did.

  For one moment, I understood how the myth of a centaur came to be. When we did our routine, Prance and I connected. I truly felt like one with him. He responded to my smaller movements like he understood me.

  Suddenly, I felt hot. I glanced up and wondered what was going on with the spotlights. The lights swirled dizzily bright. I gulped air and looked out at the crowd. The colors of the audience seemed bizarrely radiant, blurring into a kaleidoscope of smeared rainbows. The calliope music thumped extra loud with the base notes resonating in my chest.

  The horse lurched under my feet. My eyes sprang open. What is going on? My feet stumbled to keep balance. A fall from this height, at my size, would be detrimental. Just as I found my footing, Prancer wavered again.

  My stomach reeled like I was trapped on the spinning cup ride. The horse’s unsteadiness was making me sick. What was going on with him?

  Vincent’s smiling face and the way he squeezed my shoulder came to mind, and my blood turned to ice. I knew it. I knew it. Vincent did something to mess with my horse.

  Prancer seemed to stumble again. I nearly fell, and my arms flapped and waved as I struggled to regain my balance.

  The cheering crowds fell silent.

  My horse staggered again. And then he abruptly stopped, and I was falling. I was falling, and then my horse was falling with everything happening in slow motion.

  Screams rose from the audience. The flashing overhead lights nearly blinded me. I saw the Ringmaster’s look of disapproval. And I knew I was going to die.

  Please, Prancer, don’t roll on top of me. I don’t want to go out like that.

  I don’t know how I had time to think of all of this, I can’t tell you. Everything was smeary and surreal. I flung my arms forward to brace myself for the fall.

  Prancer screamed.

  Out of nowhere, a cage of arms caught me. As suddenly as it started, it ended. But the face I looked up into was one I never expected.

  Vincent.

  “Are you okay?” His words sounded mumbly and far away. I nodded even as his face split into two. I blinked hard and struggled to maintain my focus. Up ahead, Jerry chased after Prancer who somehow had managed to regain his footing.

  Vincent spoke to me again. Garbled. I was confused at the way his voice sounded, drawing out like it was underwater. My stomach rolled, and I closed my eyes.

  I don’t remember anything more.

  Maybe I did die, after all.

  14

  Tick. Tock. Tick Tock. I heard a ticking of a clock. It reminded me of my grandma. Her prayer beads sliding through her fingers. The sound her fingernails made as she ticked one off. Her wrinkled lips silently praying.

  Tick. Tock.

  My tongue felt like it had been replaced by carpet. I struggled to open my eyes. Sally stared down at me. A crease puckered between her eyebrows in fear.

  She fanned me. “You okay, honey? You had a little spill.”

  “I… did?” I said, groggily. The room still felt like it was spinning.

  “Did you have a little something to drink before your act? You can tell me,” she whispered, conspiratorially. “I won’t tell, I promise.”

  I started to shake my head, but the world tilted too much to continue. I clamped my eyes shut.

  “No,” I croaked. “I don’t drink.”

  “Well, I didn’t think so, but there’s always a first time. How about some of that funny stuff? You been smoking any of that?”

  I whispered no. My heart sunk. I was sure she didn’t believe me.

  She patted my hand. “You just rest. I’m here watching over you. I’m not going to leave you until you feel better.”

  I was so thirsty. I was too dizzy to ask for a drink. I stuck my tongue out and hoped she’d understand.

  “I got you,” she said. A moment later a cool glass touched my lips. “Just a sip, sweetie. I’ll get you more later.”

  I greedily drank, trying to get in as much as possible before she took it away. Sally allowed me a few swallows, but the glass was gone long before I was satisfied.

  I rested back against the pillow. Peeking one eye open, I tried to figure out where I was.

  It was my bunk. How did I get here?

  “Vincent brought you,” Sally answered as if reading my mind.

  Vincent! I didn’t trust him. I struggled to sit up. “Prancer?”

  She pushed me back. “Prancer wasn’t poisoned, sweetie. You were. Jerry has him, and your horse is as right as rain. Now, you just rest, Trixie.”

  I relaxed again against the pillow, the stressful pressure lifting with my first bit of real good news. The whole time that I’d thought Prancer was stumbling, it had really been my equilibrium that was knocked off balance. Prancer was such a good boy, he’d been working hard to keep me safe.

  I fell asleep. I don’t know how long I slept. Every now and then, I woke again, and Sally was always there. She’d give me some water and reassure me with soft words that I was going to be okay. And then I’d drift off again.

  Sometimes Vincent was there, as well. I know one time I woke up to a conversation the two of them were having.

  Vincent spoke in a low voice. “Sally, the brothers are off my back.”

  “They gone for good?” she whispered back.

  “For now,” he said.

  “Good. You quit messing with them.”

  “Yeah, I learned my lesson this time,” Vincent said.

  Sally snorted. I fell back asleep and dreamed of the brothers, assigning faces to them that looked like the Ringmaster and his make-believe twin.

  The next time I woke, the sun was shining. Vincent was gone, but Sally was still there. Her eyes were bloodshot as she smiled at me from her desk.

  “You awake again, sweetheart?”

  I nodded, relieved I was able to move without feeling like my head was about to fall off. I struggled to sit up.

  “Now, you take it easy,�
� Sally said, getting up from her bench.

  “I’m good. I’m better,” I said. And I was. I carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bunk. Sally stood with her hand out to help me down.

  “I’m starving,” I said. “Do we have anything to eat?”

  Sally snorted. “Sounds like you are feeling better then.”

  She sat me down and then rummaged in one of her baskets. A minute later, she came out with a granola bar and an apple.

  My stomach roiled at the sight of the fruit. “No. I can’t eat that,” I said, staring at it.

  Sally studied the apple. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “I ate one right before I went on last night.” I thought for a second. “It was last night, wasn’t it?”

  She chuckled. “It was.”

  I peeled the granola bar wrapper and took a bite. The memories spun in my head. I stared at Sally in alarm.

  “Good heavens!” She clutched her chest. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “The apple I was eating. I chucked the core in the corner. We have to find it!”

  “You think it was poisoned?” Sally asked.

  I nodded. “I don’t know if it was intended for Prancer or me. But my gut tells me it was for one of us!” I chewed on my thumbnail nail, thinking. “It had to have been Vincent.”

  “What?” Sally screeched.

  I jumped, having spoken my theory out-loud accidentally. She looked like I slapped her. What was I thinking? He was her friend, and they both were sword swallowers.

  “How well do you trust Vincent?” I asked.

  “Honey, I trust him with my life. I literally have a few times, when he has put a sword down my throat.”

  I nodded, taking a deep breath.

  “Trixie, Vincent tells me everything. And I mean everything,” she said, her eyebrows puckering. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

  My head was still a little woozy. Do I tell her? She might just run to Vincent with what I have.

  “I can tell what you’re thinking, Trixie. Even though he tells me everything, I don’t do the same. Why are you suspecting him? Tell me.”

  I sighed. Even though I was scared to let someone see my inner thoughts, I had to trust someone. She’d always been there for me. Maybe it was time.

  But where did I start? Do I begin about the dark corner where I stumbled over Claudette’s dead body and the horrifying black thing that floated up to the tent roof until it disappeared? Or finding the ribbon—which she still had by the way. Did I tell her about discovering Vincent in Prancer’s stall? The wallet?

  I finally settled on the rumor. “Have you heard that Claudette was skimming off the circus funds?”

  “Oh boy, you brought out the big guns, didn’t you?” Sally sank down onto her stool. “You sure you want to go there?”

  “I think someone brought me there when they tried to kill me last night.”

  “You’re convinced about that apple, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “What would have happened if I’d eaten it all?”

  She frowned and rubbed her temple. Finally, she groaned. “Vincent just told me about that. I knew Claudette needed money.”

  “So she stole it?”

  “She borrowed cash from Vincent first. She was supposed to pay him back.”

  “Why’d she go to Vincent? Why not the brothers?”

  Sally chuffed, shaking her head. “You have to ask? You don’t mess with them.”

  “So she skimmed from the circus to pay Vincent back?”

  “That’s the rumor. And she got quite a bit of cheese. More than she expected. She wasn’t going to be hurting for a long time.”

  “How did she reckon she’d get away with it?” I asked.

  “Well, how does any thief expect to get away with a crime? She just did, and besides, she had the Ringmaster wrapped around her little finger. He wouldn’t hear an unkind word about her.”

  I jerked up my head when she said that. Suddenly, I had an idea.

  15

  “Careful! Careful!” Sally admonished as I tried to get dressed. I felt a little wobbly when I bent to put on my shoes, but otherwise, I was okay.

  “I’ll be back. I need to check something,” I reassured her and then shoved the last bite of the granola bar in my mouth.

  She asked me where I was going, but I waved her off. Carefully, I walked down the cabin steps and then headed across the dirt path to the Big Top.

  The tent flags snapped in the crisp wind. I walked through the back door and over to the side where I usually waited with Prancer for our act. There, I carefully scoured the corners for the half-apple I’d tossed.

  It was gone. I searched the area again just to be sure, before giving up. Whoever had done cleanup last night had gathered it with the rest of the refuge.

  Well, that lead might be a bust, but there was one more thing I wanted to check. Sally’s comment had put together several pieces for me. Maybe.

  I walked back out into the sunlight and headed in the direction of the wardrobe tent. On the way, I was stopped several times by different workers who wanted to check on how I was feeling. Everyone was being so kind. I hardly knew what to think about it.

  It made me uncomfortable, to be honest. I shrugged it off and hurried to the tent.

  The first thing I did after I entered through the tent flap, was to check if I was alone. I did a quick skip down the main aisle, searching for other entertainers who might be messing with their costume for some reason or another.

  It was quiet. Even though my eyes confirmed there was no one else there, I couldn’t shake the fear. The next thing I was going to do was scary. If I was caught, there would be huge consequences, ones I didn’t want to pay.

  I took a few deep breaths. I can do this. I glanced around one more time and then made up my mind. I’ll just be quick.

  With that thought, I ran for the hanging wardrobes that lined up like black body bags. I pushed through them until I found the one I was searching for.

  Tiffany’s.

  My hands were shaking. I squeezed them tight and glanced over my shoulder. Then I ripped the zipper down.

  Her pink fashion doll dress puffed out. I reached to feel the skirt. It was silky and covered in ribbons.

  Pink ribbons. Just like the one I’d found by Claudette’s body.

  The puzzle pieces visibly fell together, completing my theory. Now I just needed to find the money.

  I unzipped the next bag. What had started me down this path of thought was how Tiffany had gone searching from wardrobe bag to wardrobe bag.

  That ghostly black shadow that had risen from Claudette’s body had been haunting me. But, after Tiffany’s behavior, I was starting to wonder if it hadn’t been so ghostly after all. Maybe it had been a bag. Maybe even a wardrobe bag. A bag tied to a long piece of ribbon or rope that had been hauled away out of sight until the murderer could get to it later. After all, it was dark in that corner of the tent. Who would think to look up when there was a dead body lying on the floor?

  The new bag was filled with clown clothes. The next was the same. In fact, as Tiffany previously found, I was disappointed to see that they all had clothes in them. There were no stacks of money, no fat wallets. Nothing.

  I sat back on my heels after unzipping the last bag. I was missing something. What was it?

  I started back down the line, this time searching for the bag marked CB for Claudette Barbarosa. And, after unzipping it, I found it filled with dresses, just like I had seen the first time.

  At the bottom was a pile of scarves and old high heels as well as a tied-up shoe box marked with the name of her fancy new shoes she’d just bought.

  My hands trembled as I opened the box.

  There it was. Money. A box full of cash. Granted, most of the bills—or alfalfa as we called it—were tens and twenties. But a whole lot of them added up to some real cheese. I was guessing there was around ten thousand dollars or more sitting in there.
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br />   I replaced the cardboard lid and zipped up the bag. How did the bag get here if it was what I’d seen drawn up over her body that night? There were too many unanswered questions and things that still weren’t making sense.

  A sharp laugh made me spin around. The aerialist and her partner entered the tent. I shuffled to one side of the bag and then scurried down the line until I was behind the chests.

  Cautiously, I peeked out.

  The flyer giggled and dragged her catcher by his hand behind one of the changing areas. They were dating in real life and seemed distracted at the moment in trying to prove physically how much they loved each other. I snuck out down the side and out the door without them seeing me.

  Once outside, I straightened my spine and tried not to look like a sneak. With firm steps, I turned the corner, only to almost run straight into the Ringmaster.

  I stood with my head down, trembling, too scared to meet his gaze.

  “Trixie, how are you?” he asked.

  I was so nervous I could barely speak. I licked my bottom lip and nodded. I glanced up at him, and caught his eyes. They were ridiculously blue, weren’t they?

  I saw he was waiting for an answer. Mustering in every bit of air, I managed to squeak out, “I’m okay.”

  “Good. You gave us quite a scare last night. Sally told me you thought you were poisoned? By an apple?”

  I flushed now. It sounded so ridiculous, almost cartoon-like, coming from his mouth. Helplessly, I nodded again.

  “I found Bill, who was the one who cleaned up back there. It’s no surprise we weren’t able to track down your apple but he did have a good idea. We checked the stables and found a basketful of apples that had been disposed of in the trash bin.”

  He paused, and I chanced another glance at him. His eyes sparkled, and he smiled kindly. “Perfectly good apples. Each with several pinpricks in them. Along with an empty ampule of tranquilizer. Jerry tells me that you’re well-known for going in there for a snack. He normally keeps the basket full for you, although he seemed horrified when he found out what happened. It seems you were poisoned after all, though our running theory is that it was for your horse. Either way, someone wished you foul play.”