“I looked at her and I didn’t turn to stone,” Jack said with a slow exhalation.
“I guess that part of it was just a myth after all,” Finney said with some disappointment, “but she’s certainly a real Medusa all right.”
“How do you know?” Jack asked doubtfully. “She didn’t turn us to stone.”
Finney sighed and looked at him sideways. “If she was a fake she’d take her snakes off before she went to bed, wouldn’t she?”
Jack twisted his mouth, thinking seriously. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “She’s a real Medusa, sure enough.”
They looked around the wagon. The mermaid floated in her tank, possibly asleep, but appearing to be dead. Beyond her the snake woman lay coiled in her cage.
“Look, Finney!” Jack hissed in excitement. “The Snake Goddess! I want to get a closer look.”
“We’re supposed to be looking for Angel, Jack,” Finney said impatiently, feeling slightly betrayed.
“We’ve got time to look at the Snake Goddess, haven’t we?” Jack demanded, arching his eyebrows.
Finney rolled his eyes and nodded reluctantly.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Jack said to the Medusa, his voice cracking. “Pardon us for bustin’ in. We were lookin’ for Angel and we got the wrong wagon. Is it all right if we take a closer look at the Snake Goddess?”
“And could you tell us which wagon Angel is in?” Finney added.
The Medusa looked from one to the other, moving her whole head instead of just her eyes. Her face showed only curiosity. Jack and Finney looked at each other.
Jack jerked his head and they moved cautiously to the snake woman’s cage, casting wary glances at the Medusa. The snake woman was asleep, but stirred at their approach, candlelight sparkling dully on her gun-metal scales. Medusa followed them with her fascinated gaze, moving nothing but her head. Finney and Jack knelt down and pressed their faces against the bars. The snake woman looked back at them, her silver hair cresting over her head like a startled cockatoo. Her coils shifted slightly and she moved closer to them, her head making quick, birdlike movements. She watched them for a moment, then reached out her little hand and placed it delicately on Jack’s brown grubby fingers, grasping one of the bars.
“Hey!” he breathed. “She likes me.”
He suddenly reached up and unfastened the latch on the cage.
“You shouldn’t do that!” Finney protested.
“Ssssssh!” Jack hissed and opened the cage door. The snake woman looked at him expectantly. Jack reached his hand in.
Then Medusa stood up and went to them, leaning over to see what they were doing. Finney and Jack both jerked their heads around and stared into a nest of snakes two inches from their noses. Jack slammed the cage door and they bolted. They clattered across the wagon floor and clumped down the steps and were in the street before they even slowed down.
Medusa turned and watched them go with startled eyes. She heard a squeak behind her and twisted her head around. The door of the snake woman’s cage opened slowly under its own weight. One hinge made a thin, rusty protest. The snake woman watched the opening door and swayed slightly. She hesitated for a moment, then flowed from the cage, across the floor, through the wagon door and down the steps, holding her little arms before her, rushing to meet the night.
Medusa watched her leave and nothing moved but her head.
Finney and Jack pounded to a halt some distance away and gasped for breath. They looked back at the Wonder Show and thunder rolled over their heads.
“C’mon, Finney, let’s go home,” Jack said, his chest heaving. “We can look for Angel in the morning. Besides, it’s gonna start rainin’ in a minute, and if your mother tells my mother that I stayed out in the rain, I won’t get to spend Saturday night with you again for a month.”
Finney didn’t answer, but glumly agreed with a dip of his head. They started walking toward the Bowen house, then darted behind the loading platform of the ice house when Sheriff Dwyer’s car passed. They watched it, wide-eyed, when it stopped at the Wonder Show and the sheriff and three other men got out. Finney and Jack looked at each other in bewilderment.
“I told you something fishy was going on,” Finney said.
25.
Haverstock was sitting at his desk, deep in thought, still wearing the black robe from the show. He looked up with annoyance when someone knocked on his door. “Who is it?” he said with a snarl.
“The sheriff,” a voice said. “I want to talk to you.”
Haverstock got up, growling. He threw the door open, barely missing the sheriff, and glared at the four men. “What do you want at this time of night?”
“May I come in?” Dwyer asked with studied politeness.
Haverstock stepped back and waved his arm insolently. “Of course. Come in. Ruin my sleep.”
The sheriff stepped in but the other three remained outside, watching the sky, hoping they wouldn’t be caught in the rain. Sheriff Dwyer looked around and ignored Haverstock’s sarcasm.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but it’s important. One of our girls was murdered tonight. Dr. Latham’s girl. She was sexually molested.”
“So naturally you come running straight to me,” Haverstock said in a martyred voice. “It happens every time a bottle of milk goes sour. We are always to blame. The strangers.”
“This is a little more serious than sour milk, sir,” Dwyer said, restraining his anger and beginning to hope this loudmouthed smart aleck was somehow involved.
“Of course.” Haverstock shrugged an apology. “I’m sorry. Naturally, I’m very distressed about the girl. However, statistics seem to prove that in almost every case of this sort, the killer is someone known by the girl. Have you questioned her boy friend? ”
“Mr. Haverstock, the girl died as a result of the rape. She died of massive internal hemorrhaging. He threw her down an old cistern when he was finished with her and she bled to death. I doubt if Billy Sullivan is much bigger than my thumb.” The sheriff saw amusement in the other man’s eyes at his outburst. “As far as we can determine,” he went on, trying to sound calmly official, “the attack took place about the time your first show was starting. I want to know the whereabouts of all your people at that time.”
“In that event, Sheriff, there is no problem. Everyone with the show has specific duties to perform and I can personally assure you they were all performing them.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. I’ll still want to talk to everyone, but it can wait till morning. Right now, I would like to have a complete list of your personnel and everything you know about them.”
“Sheriff, we will be leaving very early in the morning. We have an engagement in Liberal two days from now.”
“You’ll leave when I’m satisfied none of your people were involved in the girl’s death,” Dwyer said with malice and enjoyed the black look on the other man’s face. “Would you mind making that list for me?” he said mildly. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He turned and left without a backward glance.
Haverstock stood in the doorway, watching the sheriff and his men get in their car and drive away. His face was blacker than the clouds boiling overhead. When the car was out of sight, he went down the steps and marched down the row of wagons like a locomotive, the gusty wind catching his robe, billowing it and flaring it like death wings. He mounted the steps of the Minotaur’s wagon and savagely threw open the door.
Henry and Tim had been talking since Henry got back to the wagon, whispering so they wouldn’t wake the Minotaur, though they weren’t sure that he would care whether Angel ran away or not, but taking no chances. They had talked it around and around, but had come to no conclusion. There seemed to be only two choices: do nothing or try to help Angel get away. Both positions seemed untenable.