Free Death from Nowhere by Clayton Rawson Page B

nursing ever since we played here last year. He attached the day’s gate and threw Doc in the cooler just to make sure he collected and the show didn’t move out from under. Miss Powers got Doc sprung just a little while ago. Took all the afternoon gate and part of tonight’s advance ticket sale to make the bond. Whipple’s fit to be tied. And besides that I saw Colonel Van Orman blow in a few minutes ago.”
    â€œVan Orman? What’s that mean? The Mighty Van Orman Combined Shows playing this territory, too?”
    â€œI’ll say so. We’ve been scrapping for the same stands all the way down through New England. And when the Colonel arrived he was asking for Doc and spitting fire. He says R.J.’s advance crew has been tearing his paper. 4 But it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other. We caught a punk on the lot day before yesterday playing a mouth organ. My hunch is that Van Orman put him up to it.”
    â€œYou are having your troubles, aren’t you?” Horseshoe said. “Sounds like old times.” Then, seeing the bewilderment on his companions’ faces, he explained. “A mouth organ on a circus lot is the worst kind of bad luck. Leaving a hat on a bed, whistling in the padroom, a band that plays Home Sweet Home any time except the last show of the season — they’re all bad, but playing a mouth organ is worse.
    â€œIf Van Orman put someone up to that it means he’s trying to give the performers the jitters. That’s bad because if you’re trying to do a back somersault from horse to horse, or a two-and-a-half to a catch by the legs in the flying act, and you expect an accident to happen — it probably will.”
    â€œThat,” Don Diavolo said, “gives me a lead for an article. Circus superstitions.” He turned to Mike. “I’d like to do one on the sideshow, too, especially your Leopard Man. Is he the real McCoy?”
    Mike nodded. “He is. Captain Schneider who works our cat act brought him back from India. Picked him up on one of his ‘Bring ’Em Back Conscious’ expeditions.”
    â€œHaven’t you gilded the lilly a bit though, Mike? Chan here knows India pretty well and he’s never seen a leopard mask like that before.”
    Mike grinned. “Well, maybe I did a bit. But you don’t need to print that. Schneider says the leopard men are supposed to be able to turn themselves into leopards or something of the sort. But that’s sort of a tall one to get the customers to believe. So I got R.J. to get his Outdoor Amusement Supply Company to fix me up that leopard head mask and the claws. It gives the act a little punch.”
    â€œWhat about the heads? Are they window dressing, too?”
    â€œYes and no,” Mike answered. “One of them is the real thing. The others are papier mâché. When I tell ’em that Naga has killed a couple of dozen people I’ve got to have more than one measly head to make it sound good.”
    â€œI see,” Don said. “Sideshow performers don’t have much free time during a day, do they?”
    Mike shook his head. “No, hardly. This is a grind show. We run a crowd through every time we get one together and the acts have to be on deck. We give two performances before the big show starts, one or maybe two while it’s going on, another after it blows, and on the come-out after the concert—”
    Diavolo interrupted. “What time is the main show over in the afternoon?”
    â€œFive o’clock.”
    â€œAnd Naga was on his platform all this afternoon?”
    Mike frowned. “Yes. But why—”
    â€œDid he have that leopard paw glove of his?”
    Mike’s frown deepened. These questions, even from a reporter, sounded a bit odd. “Yes,” he said hesitantly, “He had it, but I don’t see—” Mike turned his head as the negro band music came to a sudden