Chapter 4
The morning was cold and windy, with just a trace of snow in the air.
Most of the leaves had blown down from the trees during the night, and were swirling across the ground, forming red-gold patterns in the early-morning sun.
Thaddeus had met with the three cops in private the night before. As soon as they left his trailer, he sent out the order to break down the booths and the girlie show and pack them onto our trucks. I thought maybe he'd gone too far with the cops and that they had run him out of town, but then he made a couple of phone calls and sold all the rides, even the Ferris wheel, where they stood. Then I knew he'd gotten what he wanted; otherwise, he'd never have left the rides behind. Getting rid of them made us a lot more mobile—and I had a feeling that whatever deal Thaddeus had struck, mobility was going to be an important part of our immediate future.
We left at daybreak and drove about ten miles out of town. I had no doubt that we were going to a prearranged meeting point, since Thaddeus kept referring to a map he had scribbled on the back of a paper towel. Finally we turned off the road near an abandoned New England farmhouse and pulled up to an unpainted barn. Thaddeus got out, told Jupiter to bring his animal trailer—a converted Greyhound bus, with twenty-four built-in cages—up alongside of us, and then told the Rigger to circle around and lead all the other vehicles to a rendezvous point about five miles up the road.
Then he climbed back into the trailer and waited, while I kept looking out toward the road and Monk tended to his four animals. Five minutes passed, then ten, and no one showed up.
"You're sure they're coming?" I said at last.
He nodded. "They're coming, all right. They may be having a little trouble with Romany and Ahasuerus, but they'll be here." He looked down at his wristwatch, sighed, and leaned back.
Another twenty minutes passed, and then suddenly two police vans turned off the road and pulled up next to us. The three cops who had been in the card game got out, and Thaddeus walked over to greet them. "Everything under control?" he asked pleasantly, buttoning his leather overcoat and turning up the collar. "Yes, sir, Mr. Flint," said one of the cops. I think his name was Joe; at least, that's what I'm going to call him.
"Romany give you any trouble?"
"Some," said Joe with a laugh.
Thaddeus paused to watch a flock of southbound geese pass overhead.
"How about Ahasuerus?" he asked at last.
"The guy never showed."
Thaddeus looked surprised. "Even after you arrested Romany?"
"That's right, Mr. Flint."
"You made sure Romany knew that I was going to take over all the freaks unless Ahasuerus wanted to talk deal?"
"Absolutely," said Joe.
"How long can you hold him?"
"Well, now, that's kind of strange, Mr. Flint," said Joe. "If you'd asked me two hours ago, I'd have said we might hold him half a day before he got sprung, enough time for you to move out of here and not a hell of a lot more.
But we offered to let him make a call to his lawyer, and he turned us down."
"What does that mean?" asked Thaddeus sharply.
"It means he's in for seventy-two or ninety-six hours, depending on when his case comes up."
"And then?"
"Well, we haven't really got anything on him: just a couple of charges about his license not being in order, and maybe something about the way he treated his freaks." Joe paused and shot a quick sideways glance at the two vans. "Have you taken a good look at those things, Mr. Flint? I've seen my share of freak shows like yours before, but I never saw anything like them.
I tell you, they're weird!"
"Getting back to Romany," said Thaddeus. "You're sure you can hold him for three days?"
"At least," said Joe. "Who knows? We might even stretch it out to a week if he's too dumb to ask for counsel."
"Okay," said Thaddeus, producing the three IOUs and handing them back to the cops. "You did your part; I'm doing mine."
"Thank you, Mr. Flint," said Joe, checking his IOU and tearing it up. The other cops did the same. "Now, about the other part of our deal."
"Right," said Thaddeus, pulling out the thickest wad of hundred dollar bills I ever saw in my life, "A thousand apiece, wasn't it?"
"That was the agreement," nodded one of the other cops, eyeing the sheaf of bills hungrily.
"Whose money is that?" I demanded.
"Mine," said Thaddeus. "Whose did you think it was?"
"But you told me you only had eight hundred dollars!" I said.
"I lied to you," he replied, looking amused. "It wasn't the first time I've ever lied; I think you can be reasonably sure it won't be the last."
"And you're using it to buy the freaks?" I persisted.
"Look, Shorty," said Joe, "nobody's buying nothing. Romany is in jail, Ahasuerus has flown the coop, and no one else at that carnival knows what the hell's going on. These poor monsters would starve if they had to stay there. We're doing 'em a favor."
I got so mad I couldn't force any words out.
"Calm down, Half-Pint," said another of the cops. "A town like ours ain't got any use for a bunch of freaks. There's a hell of a big difference between gawking at them in a sideshow and supporting them when the show goes under. Now Mr. Flint here has generously agreed to take them with him. He makes a little money, so he's happy; we get a fee for our services and stop them from becoming wards of the state, so we're happy; they get the care and attention they need, and get to do the only kind of work they're cut out for, so they're the happiest of all."
"It works out fine all the way around," said Joe, grinning down at me.
"Looks to me like everybody's happy except you."
"Oh, he'll be happy soon enough," said Thaddeus. "It just takes him a while to adjust to new ideas." He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder, just hard enough to warn me not to say anything further. "Are you ready to transfer them now?"
"Uh . . . I hate to bring up crass financial matters," said Joe, "but there's a little matter of twelve thousand dollars, Mr. Flint."
"I only counted eleven when I was there," said Thaddeus. "You wouldn't be trying to charge me for Tojo here, would you?"
"No, sir, Mr. Flint. Dave, hand me the list." The cop named Dave dug into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. "Well, let's see what we got here," said Joe, squinting at the paper. "The Man of Many Colors, the Cyclops, the Dog-Faced Boy, the Three-Breasted Woman. That's four. The Rubber Man and the Human Lizard. That's six. The Pincushion, the Missing Link, and the Elephant Woman. That's nine. The Blue Man, the Horned Demon, and the Sphinx. That's an even dozen."
"Blue Man?" repeated Thaddeus. "I don't remember any Blue Man."
"You don't?" laughed Joe. "Hell, he's the weirdest of the lot!"
"Are you sure you didn't count the Man of Many Colors twice?" said Thaddeus sharply.
Joe shrugged. "Take a look for yourself if you don't believe me."
"Tojo," said Thaddeus, "stick your head in there and see if we've got a Blue Man."
I walked over to the first van. I was too small to peek in the window, so I opened the door while Dave stood beside me, brandishing his pistol.