by B R Snow
I was sitting next to the old man who was using his hands to punctuate his stories, often with a glass of wine in his hand. As such, I was in the splash zone, and my white blouse was beginning to look like I’d been shot in several places. But I hung tough since I had a feeling that the person who had thrown Samantha Johnson off the boat was either sitting at the table or that one or more of the diners knew who did.
Sitting on the other side of me was a woman who went by the name of Grundella.
Yeah, I know. I frowned and almost laughed when I heard it the first time, too.
Grundella, bottle-blonde and somewhere around a hard-thirty, had formerly been Samantha’s assistant and now ran the dog act. But rather than coming across as a dog person, she gave me the impression that the dogs were more of a way to make a living rather than having a genuine desire to spend most of her time around our four-legged friends. She was nice enough, but rough around the edges and was flirting back with Master Claude who was sitting at the other end of the table and casting furtive glances in our direction. I was pretty sure I was the target of Master Claude’s intense stares but made no effort to enlighten her, and halfway through the salad course, her breathing had turned shallow. The more I continued to ignore the animal trainer, the more he intensified his stares, and Grundella groaned and almost fell out of her chair at one point. But to be fair, I must confess that Master Claude’s efforts at haunting glances also began to work their magic on me.
I was certain I’d be haunted right into several nightmares over the coming days.
Next to Grundella was the aerialist I’d seen earlier in the tent and her brother, Miguel. The woman was named Wanda, and when she shook hands with me, it was like I had stuck my hand in a vise lined with sandpaper. I caught a glimpse of the calluses on her hands and was impressed when I realized the thousands of hours of practice it must had taken to create them. And if she and her brother had an ounce of body fat on them, I had no idea where they were hiding it.
Sitting on either side of Master Claude were Bubs and Chuckles, the two clowns who’d terrified Josie in Brockville. When I finally got a good look at them in bright light, I realized they had to be close to sixty. Their faces were roadmap-wrinkled, and both had chronic, phlegmy coughs I chalked up to years of heavy smoking.
I finished my salad, took a sip of water, then launched.
“Tell me about your dog act,” I said.
When Grundella didn’t respond, I nudged her gently with an elbow and sat waiting for her to focus on me. She tore her eyes away from Master Claude and looked over.
“Oh, it’s not bad,” she said with a shrug. “Actually, I’m a little nervous. Tomorrow night is my first performance.”
“How long were you Samantha’s assistant?” I said, starting her off with an easy one.
“About three years,” she said, reaching for her wine and sneaking in a quick glance down the table.
“Pardon my nosiness,” I said, following her eyes down the table. “But do the two of you have something going on? He can’t take his eyes off you.”
“Yeah, I know,” she whispered. “It’s weird. I’ve been trying to get another shot at him for months, but he’s never shown any interest. All of a sudden, it’s like he can’t wait to get to me alone.”
“Men, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said, laughing. “But just between you and me, he can tame me anytime he wants.”
Okay. So much for Grundella’s taste in men.
“I wish you luck,” I said, refilling her wine glass.
“I’m probably gonna need it,” she said. “Like Sammy used to say, Claude can be very demanding.”
“Really? They were an item?”
“For a while,” Grundella said, taking a slug of wine. “Then Claude dumped her.”
“Why did he do that?” I said, leaning in a bit.
“Sammy could be a little…”
“Demanding?”
“No,” Grundella said, shaking her head.
“Jealous?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “But mostly Sammy was just freaking nuts.”
“Really?” I said, remembering my time with the dead woman’s mother.
“Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs,” Grundella said, taking another big slug of wine.
I refilled her wine then took a small sip of mine.
“Yeah, Claude was lucky to escape her clutches,” Grundella said.
“She should’ve used the cattle prod,” I whispered as I glanced down the table.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “So, Sammy was unstable?”
“That’s a word for it,” she said. “Especially when she was off her meds. The only thing that seemed to calm her down were the dogs. Especially that beagle.”
“She had a beagle?” I said, going for casual.
“Queen B.,” Grundella said, gulping down half her wine.
I refilled her glass.
As long as she kept talking, I was going to keep pouring.
“Where’s the dog now?” I said.
“My guess is somewhere at the bottom of the river,” she said. “We didn’t find the dog anywhere, so she must have had it with her when she jumped off the boat.”
I studied her closely and didn’t pick up a trace of a lie.
“Suicide, huh?”
“Yeah, just like her old man,” Grundella said.
“Really? Her father?”
“Yup,” she said, tossing back half her glass.
“How did he do it?” I said.
“She never said. Sammy was what I called half a storyteller. Especially that one. Every time the conversation turned to family, she’d start ranting and raving, then bawl and take off somewhere to be alone,” Grundella said, glancing over at me. “Like I said, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”
“She must have had a tough childhood,” I said.
Grundella laughed then downed what was left in her glass.
“Yeah, that must have been it.”
“I’m not following,” I said, pouring what was left of the bottle into her glass.
“We’ve all had crappy childhoods,” she said. “It’s number one on the list of requirements to work in the circus.”
“How did you end up working for Mr. Pontilly?”
“I was one of his rescues,” Grundella said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Apart from the aerialists and a couple of the specialty acts, we’re all rescues. You know, members of the Pontilly family,” she said, now officially buzzed.
I knew I was probably taking advantage of her current condition, but the rescue comment stuck with me and was already beginning to nag.
“You do know what a rescue is, right?” she said, glancing over at me.
“Yeah, I could probably ballpark it.”
“That’s us,” she said, scowling. “Mutt-central.”
“Where were you rescued from?” I said, reaching for one of the fresh bottles of Pinot our server had placed on the table.
“He found me sleeping in a bus station outside of Chicago,” Grundella said.
“Homeless?” I said as a wave of sympathy surfaced.
“No, most nights I was able to find someone to go home with,” she said, making eye contact. “If you catch my drift.”
“Got it,” I said. “How old were you?”
“Sixteen, by then,” she said. “I took off at fourteen.”
“And your parents never found you?” I said.
“I doubt they ever looked,” Grundella said, then cut loose with a wicked laugh. “Except for maybe behind the couch. But even that was probably too much work for them.”
“That’s so sad,” I whispered.
“Hey, we all got our sad stories, right?” she said, shrugging.
“Yeah, I guess,” I whispered as my guilt about my own privileged life again raised its ugly head.
“Yes, the Pontilly family is quite the collection,” Grundella said, toying with her wi
ne glass. “We got all kinds here. Ex-hookers, dealers, thieves and grifters, you name it. Coming soon to your town under the big top.” She took another big gulp then exhaled loudly.
“Where did Mr. Pontilly find Samantha?” I said, taking a sip.
“The same place as he found the rest of us,” she said. “On the street. He found Sammy in Omaha.”
“I wonder how she ended up in Omaha,” I said more to myself than her.
“I think you turn left at Sioux Falls,” she deadpanned, then grinned at me. “Pontilly found Claude outside of San Diego. And he found the two clowns when they were working some con job at the Idaho state fair. Actually, he ended up bailing them out after they got arrested.”
“And the aerialists?” I said, nodding at the brother and sister team who were chatting with Mr. Pontilly who’d pulled up a chair between them.
“The Princess and the Silent One?” Grundella said, finally taking a bite of her salad. “Pontilly actually recruited them from another circus.”
“I’ve seen them perform,” I said. “They’re very good.”
“They work hard at their craft,” she said. “I have to give them that.”
“I take it you’re not fond of them.”
“Not much,” she said. “They don’t have a lot of time for us rescues. No, I take that back. They did like Sammy.”
“Interesting,” I said, studying the woman named Wanda who appeared to be getting agitated by her conversation with Pontilly. “Why do you think Samantha jumped off the boat?”
“Well, that seems to be the million-dollar question, doesn’t it?” Grundella said. “I have no idea. And it happened at such a weird time. She was really excited about the summer tour.”
“Do you know why?”
“No, Sammy wouldn’t talk about it,” she said. “I guess the reason she went in the water is going to remain a mystery.”
“Oh, I hate when that happens.”
“Yeah,” she said, polishing off the last of her wine. “Loose ends are never fun.”
“I agree,” I said, sitting back in my chair. “I can’t help but wonder why she did it.”
“Maybe she didn’t jump,” Grundella said, making eye contact.
“Do you think that’s a possibility?” I said, doing my best to sound casual.
“Hey, it’s the circus,” she said. “Anything’s possible. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll use this wave of liquid courage to my advantage.”
“What?”
“I’m going to go chat up Claude before my buzz wears off.”
Chapter 16
The next night we took two cars to the performance. I was driving my SUV with Josie in the passenger seat, and Chef Claire was in the back seat with Sammy and Jill. I followed my mother who had Paulie and Rooster in the car with her. I parked on the street right behind her, and we briefly huddled as a group while my mother handed us our tickets. Then she gave me a quick once-over and nodded her approval at my outfit.
“You look very nice tonight, darling.”
“Thanks, Mom. You too.”
I draped an arm over her shoulder as we strolled along the path that led to the main tent.
“Remind me to discuss your honeymoon wardrobe with you,” she said. “I have a few suggestions.”
“I’d be shocked if you didn’t, Mom.”
Just inside the enormous tent that was almost filled to capacity, Chief Abrams was chatting with a small group of security guards who’d been hired to help out with the event. He finished giving them a set of instructions, then watched as they headed off to their assigned areas.
“Hey,” the Chief said when he spotted us. “We’re all going to be on our best behavior tonight and just enjoy the show, right?” he said to the group, but staring at me.
“Geez, have a little faith, Chief,” I said.
“Trust me,” he said. “I’ve been praying every night.”
“You’re really not as funny as you think you are,” I snapped.
“Disagree,” Josie and Chef Claire said in unison.
“We’re sitting in the front row on the left, Chief,” my mother said, laughing. “If you hear a ruckus, you might want to check that area out first.”
I scowled, bit my bottom lip, but said nothing as I waited out the laughter.
“Ooh, funnel cakes,” Josie said, eyeing the row of food vendors. “Maybe I’ll actually get one this time.”
“Not if I find the clowns first,” I said with a grin.
“Funny,” Josie said, making a face at me. “Just try not to shoot anybody tonight.”
“Hey, I’m not making any promises,” I said.
I made a mental note of where we were sitting then started to head for the area where the performers were getting ready behind the set of curtains.
“Where on earth are you going?” my mother said.
“I just need to have a quick chat with someone, Mom,” I said.
“Suzy, if you send those clowns over here, I swear I’m gonna kill you,” Josie said.
“Harsh,” I said, grinning at her. “Relax. Trust me, I promise you that I won’t be giving the clowns any money tonight to terrorize you.”
“Thank you,” Josie said, nodding her head once. “C’mon, Chef Claire. Let’s go grab some funnel cakes.” She pointed at the area where the food vendors were lined up in a long row. “Ooh, corn dogs.”
I watched them head off with a big grin on my face. Then my mother sidled up next to me.
“You’re not going to give the clowns any money tonight?” she said, with a coy smile.
“Absolutely not,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m a woman of my word.”
“You gave it to them last night during dinner, didn’t you?”
“Nothing gets past you, Mom,” I said, laughing as I gave her a hug. “I’ll be right back.”
“Please try not to annoy anyone, darling.”
“Sure, sure.”
I approached the same guy I’d seen in Brockville standing guard outside the entrance to the performer area. Instead of the lime green tuxedo he’d been wearing the first time I saw him, the one tonight was a blinding canary-yellow.
“Hey, it’s good to see you again,” I said. “Nice tux. Banana Republic, right?”
“Don’t start,” he said, frowning at me.
“Suddenly, I’m in the mood for a piece of fruit,” I said, laughing.
“Yeah, good one. You need to speak with somebody back there?”
“I need to have a quick word with Wanda,” I said.
He stared at me briefly, then nodded and started to pull the curtains apart.
“Sure, go ahead. Just don’t take too long. The show’s starting in about twenty minutes.”
“Hang on,” I said, turning around to survey the crowd. “You gotta see this.”
I saw my mother and the rest of our group sitting in the front row. The three seats closest to the aisle that belonged to me and my two housemates who’d headed off in search of funnel cakes were empty. Right behind the vacant seats sat Bubs and Chuckles in full costume. Moments later, Josie and Chef Claire strolled back to their seats carrying several funnel cakes on paper plates. Chef Claire noticed the two clowns immediately and chuckled as she shook her head. But Josie, already halfway through her first funnel cake, was oblivious to the clowns’ presence. She handed out cakes and napkins to everyone then sat down and gave the deep-fried dough dusted with a generous portion of powdered sugar her undivided attention. She polished off the first cake, then immediately went to work on the second as she glanced around the circus ring with a big smile on her face.
Then Chuckles gently placed a gigantic clown foot on the seat next to her.
Josie stared at the foot then slowly turned around. She screamed, and her funnel cake went airborne as she scrambled out of her seat and made a beeline for the exit.
“Okay,” I said, laughing. “My work is done.”
I slipped through the curtains and made my way toward the ba
ck of the smaller tent where Wanda and her brother were stretching. I stood off to one side and watched as her brother bent at the waist and reached down with both hands. He placed his palms flat on the ground then lifted his legs into the air until his hands were completely supporting his weight. And if that weren’t enough, he proceeded to do about a dozen pushups using just his hands. On the final pushup, he launched himself into the air and landed on his feet. He casually brushed the dirt and grass off his hands off then took a long drink from a bottle of water.
I shook my head as if to clear the cobwebs then watched Wanda slowly work her way into a split that ended with her legs fully splayed and flat on the ground. Then she used both hands to push herself up off the ground about a foot. Then she somehow rotated 360 degrees on one hand and transitioned into a backflip and landed on both feet. She caught the towel her brother tossed her and wiped her hands and face. Then she noticed me out of the corner of her eye and smiled.
“Hey, Suzy,” Wanda said, tossing the towel back to her brother. “You slumming it tonight?”
“Hi, Wanda. Miguel. How on earth do you do stuff like that?”
“You start young, and you never stop,” she said with a shrug.
“Constantly working to perfect your craft, right?”
“Is there any other way?” she said, gesturing with her hands to emphasize her point. “Thanks again for dinner last night. That was very nice of you.”
“No problem. I was happy to do it,” I said, glancing back and forth at them. Then I realized that Miguel had yet to speak a word in my presence. I let it go for the moment and focused on the reason I was here. “I’m sorry we didn’t get much of a chance to chat last night. But you and Mr. Pontilly were in the middle of what looked like a pretty serious conversation.”
“Yeah, we were,” Wanda said, grabbing a bottle of water. Then she took a step back as Master Claude, in full costume, briskly walked past scowling at the ground without acknowledging any of us. “Try not to shoot yourself with the cattle prod tonight, Claude.” He kept right on walking, but raised a hand and extended a finger without looking back. She watched him exit through the back of the tent where the animals were located and shook her head. “What a jerk.”