"I suffer delusions of grandeur."
Hayes' pock-marked face reddened. He was obviously a man who enjoyed making his own jokes.
"How come you ordered twenty pounds of dog biscuits, smart guy?"
"Sam has peculiar tastes."
"Sam. .?"
"The tiger you want to kill so badly."
The deputy could restrain himself no longer. He strode across the room and grabbed Hayes' sleeve. "That's what I wanted to tell you, Reggie; I just remembered who this guy is. I was reading an article about him in one of those news magazines just the other day."
For a moment I was sure the man was going to ask me for my autograph.
"Mongo," the man continued. "Mongo the Magnificent. That's what they used to call him when he was with the circus."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The circus," the deputy said. "This guy used to be with the same circus that tiger came from. The article told how he quit eight, nine years ago to become a college professor. It said he teaches something called criminology. It said he's also a private detective."
The deputy sucked in his breath like a minister who had inadvertently mumbled a four-letter word in the middle of a sermon. Hayes eyed me coldly and touched his gun.
"We got elected officials in this county, Frederickson. We don't need no private law."
Hayes was starting to take me seriously, and I didn't like that at all.
"Those were exactly my thoughts," I said.
"What are you doing here, Frederickson?"
"Hunting."
"That's what you think," Hayes said. A thin smile wrinkled his lips, but did not touch his eyes. "You need a license to hunt in this county, and you ain't got no license."
"Mr. Statler mentioned something about that," I said evenly. "I think that's all been taken care of. Statler Brothers Circus has done a lot of benefits in this state, and I think you'll find a letter from the Governor on your desk in the morning."
"I want that cat, Frederickson," Hayes said tightly, making no effort to hide the menace in his voice. "You keep your nose out of this."
"You need Sam to keep you in office," I said, fighting the tide of anger I felt rising in me. "That tiger's running for your reelection, and it's a race that's going to cost him his life."
"I don't have to kill no tiger to get reelected," Hayes said defensively.
"That's not what I hear."
"You hear wrong!"
Hayes was breathing hard, his face livid. The deputy, taking his cue from his boss, was glowering at me. It was obvious that my attempt at suave diplomacy was getting me nowhere. Letter or no letter from the Governor, Hayes could be trouble. Bad trouble.
I took a deep breath and sat down in a straight-backed chair by the door.
"Sheriff," I said quietly, "I'd like you to explain something to me. You know, as a professional lawman instructing an amateur."
"What are you talking about?" Hayes said warily. His face had returned to its normal color, a reassuring sign that I did not think was going to last very long.
"I'm puzzled, Sheriff. I would think you'd be spending more time trying to catch the people who let that tiger loose."
"You are an amateur, Frederickson," Hayes said, his eyes glittering like black diamonds. "That happened in Seattle, and Seattle ain't in my jurisdiction."
"Right. But my guess-an amateur guess, of course-is that those men could live right here in this county. Consider: Ramsey County isn't exactly in a straight line from Seattle. In fact, you have to do a considerable amount of twisting and turning to get here. Now, why did they pick this particular spot to drop the tiger off? Why that particular stretch of woods? Maybe because it was the only area they knew of."
"Coincidence."
"I wonder. Second question: Why drop off a tiger in a section of forest so near a logging camp? Certainly, they must have realized an animal like that could be a threat to the men up there. I'm right, aren't I? Isn't there a logging camp up there? I thought I saw some smoke when I was out there yesterday."
Hayes said nothing. Now it was the deputy's face changing color, from its normal pasty shade to a light sea green.
"So, you see, it's just possible that whoever let that tiger loose does live somewhere around here. If so, it shouldn't take too much checking to narrow down the field of suspects."
"Impossible," Hayes said with a satisfied air of certainty. "They got away clean as a whistle."
"Yes, but you see it would take a special kind of truck to transport a cat that size. It would have to be completely enclosed, and strong enough to hold Sam. Why, it might even look something like your paddy wagon."
Hayes' face read like a map. Or a sign warning of thin ice.
"There's another funny thing about this whole business," I continued. "Most of the people who go after circus owners know a lot about animals. They care about them. The last thing an animal lover would do is take a circus-trained cat and put him up in those woods in the dead of winter. It is kind of peculiar, isn't it?"
"I thought you weren't on a case, Frederickson."
"I'm not," I said evenly. "Like I said, all I'm after is a tiger. It's just that I can't help thinking aloud sometimes. It's an awful habit, and I'm trying hard to break it."
"Who hired you?" Hayes voice was clipped, brittle.
"You might say I'm here on a mission of mercy."
Hayes laughed, but there was no humor in the sound.
"C'mon, smart guy, tell me how you'd go about figuring who let that cat loose."
This surprised me. Hayes was calling my bluff, and I could feel the damp, cold sweat starting under my arms.
"Well, first I'd start looking around the county for a truck that would do that kind of job. Chances are it might have some wood in the interior. If it did, I'd take some chips."
"Why?" The deputy's voice was high-pitched and nervous.
"To check for signs of tiger blood or hair," I said, raising my eyebrows modestly. "Tigers are notorious pacers, as I'm sure you're aware. Sam probably left traces all over the inside of that truck."
"What if the truck had been washed?"
"Gee, I hadn't thought of that," I said with a straight face. "Like I said, I'm new in the business and the tough ones sometimes get away from me." I shot a glance in the direction of Hayes. His eyes were riveted to my face, wide and unblinking, like a cobra's. "Of course, there are blood tests. Blood can't be cleaned completely from wood. It soaks in. And you could always take some paint scrapings off the outside of the truck."
"What good would that do?" Hayes said quietly.
"Whoever backed that truck up left some paint on the cages." I didn't have the slightest idea whether or not that was true, but it would certainly be worth looking into. And I hoped it was enough to keep Hayes at bay.
"That's pretty good thinking, Frederickson," Hayes said evenly. "Of course, it's only guesswork. Things don't always work out that simple in real police work."
"Of course not."
"Uh, have you told anybody else about these ideas of yours?"
I smiled. "I'm sure I haven't come up with anything you haven't already thought of, Sheriff. I'm never one to interfere with another man doing his job." I paused to give my next words emphasis. "All I want is a shot at that tiger, then I'm on my way."
"That a fact?"
"That's a fact." I found it surprisingly easy to lie to Hayes. I'd repeat my scenario to the state police later; but Sam came first.
"That cat's dangerous, Frederickson."
"I'll take my chances. All I want is my chance. Without interference."
"I need that cat, Frederickson," Hayes hissed, leaning far forward in his chair. "You don't understand."