“No, you don’t,” Mac said gruffly. “Tex, what did she do? Talk the doctor out of it?”
Tex scowled. “Say, do you mind telling me what this is all about? Who is the magician? Why did you have a guard on Pauline? What—”
“I’ll get to that in a minute. Answer my question, will you?”
“Yeah. The doc showed about 6:30, but she was conscious and she told him to scram. After he heard her cuss him out, he admitted she was some better. He argued her into letting him give her a shot of morphine. She slept most of the way over. I drove her. But she didn’t say anything about all this—”
Mac growled. “Damn the woman anyway. I’ve a good notion to blow the show and let her do her own worrying.”
“Mac,” Merlini said, “it’s all so simple. If we find out what it was she was going to tell the Sheriff last night before she fell, that might end it.”
“That’s what you think,” Mac said. “But she just now told me that she wasn’t seeing anybody — you in particular.”
“Sorry, Mac,” said Merlini, “but I’m going to have to hear her say that. That could be a stall on your part.”
“It looks like one of her own. I don’t get it at all. Last night—”
“She was about to blow the gaff. Now, according to you, she isn’t. You asked me to give you notice before I called any cops. You’re getting it now, but it might be a lot smoother all the way round if we saw her first. Since you haven’t seen her before this morning, perhaps she hasn’t heard what went wrong with the lights last night. Knowing that, she might not be so reticent at this point.”
“You and the light man are the only ones who think someone monkeyed with the lights. But he would.”
“You still think her fall and the Major’s smash were accidents? I noticed you jumped for her trailer awfully fast when I pointed out that the Negro was sleeping.”
“Anybody’d get the heebie-jeebies with you around.” Mac looked worried. “I still—”
Keith came up just then, and Merlini queried him silently with a raised eyebrow.
Keith shook his head. “All present and accounted for,” he reported.
Mac gave us a puzzled look but didn’t interrupt his argument. “I still think that if you haven’t got any more than you had last night—”
“But I have,” Merlini said. “Lots more. I’ll give it to you; but, first, one question. The Headless Lady’s trailer — is there supposed to be a small throw rug on its floor?”
“A rug?” Mac frowned. “Yeah. I bought that trailer for the Major in Bridgeport. Picked it up second hand — with furnishings. There’s a rug — but what of it? Why—”
“There was a rug,” Merlini corrected. “That’s item one. The rug is gone. Item two: The Headless Lady is also a vanishing lady! Ross and I found her trailer abandoned by the roadside this morning. Engine in good running order, key in car, door unlocked — but no occupant. Clothes gone. Item: Hidden in the trailer we found a glass cutter, a pair of rubber gloves which might have made the whorlless fingerprints you saw last night, and the torn pieces of an envelope. Item: The envelope was the same one in which I placed the pieces of broken glass we found. Item: The hat, photo, and envelope with glass were stolen and the fingerprints wiped out last night during the excitement when Pauline fell.”
This extra-large helping of information set Mac back on his heels for a moment. Then he brightened and said, “Well, what are you bothering me for? It’s obvious as hell, isn’t it? Go get the troopers and have them pick up the Headless Lady.”
“It’s not as simple as that. They’ll have to know who they’re looking for, or at least have a decent description. No one seems to be able to give me either. Maybe you can, but don’t tell me her name is Mildred Christine.”
“Why not? That’s what’s down on the payroll.”
“What’s she look like?”
“You’ve seen her act, haven’t you?”
“I haven’t seen her face. Now look, Mac, if you want the cops to chase off after the Headless Lady and not bother the show, you’ll have to stop being difficult. I must see Pauline.”
“What makes you think she knows any more about it? The Major hired the girl. It doesn’t follow that Pauline—”
“It does, though. You see, the illusion apparatus happens to have come from my shop. Pauline was the person who — well, ‘bought’ it from me last Friday. She told me her name was Mildred Christine, and Millie-Christine was an old-time circus freak, a two-headed girl.”
Mac gave in. “Oh, hell!” he growled. “This would have to happen in this burg of all places. The shakedown money I paid out this morning is just plain loss. When Chief gets a load of this … Come on. She’ll probably bite my head off, but you can see her.”
Chapter Eleven
Elephant Trainer
The still form of the girl beneath the covers on the bed had the disturbing, lifeless appearance of a mummy. She was too quiet, too rigidly motionless; and her face, surrounded on the pillow by a mass of dark hair, was white and blank, its features, under the bandages and adhesive, only half suggested, like an unfinished sculpture. There were two openings in the masking shell of gauze — one at the mouth, where the pale lips made a tight straight line, and a wider slit above, from which two black angry eyes regarded us with cold dislike.
Mac started to speak, but her words cut him off at once. The voice was low and strained as if speech were painful, but it was still commanding.
“Get out! At once! I told you, Mac—”
“Now wait, Miss Hannum,” Mac protested hurriedly. “We’re in a spot. My job is to keep this show moving in spite of hell, high water, and cops. I’ve had the day’s ration of cop trouble already, but we’re heading for more. And you’re the only one who can do anything about it. I can’t go up against a murder investigation by state troopers unless I know some of the answers. What was it you were all set to blow to the Sheriff last night?”
She was silent for a moment, her eyes leveled steadily on Mac. “Nothing,” she said finally, her voice little more than a harsh whisper. “I was wrong. You’ll have to do the best you can, Mac. Now clear out!”
Merlini, who had been watching her with an annoyed scowl, spoke quietly. “Miss Hannum, who is the Headless Lady?”
This resulted in another long silence. Then she turned her head and stared upward at the ceiling. Her lips moved just enough to allow the words to pass.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because, Mac said quickly, Merlini thinks she’s the murderer he’s howling about.”
“But why her?” the girl said evenly. “Last night he accused me.”
“Because she took a run-out powder this morning. There was a glass cutter hidden in her trailer, and a pair of rubber gloves that Merlini says could have made those fingerprints. And last night when the lights went out somebody swiped that photo, the Major’s hat, and those bits of glass Merlini found. It looks as if she—”
Pauline cut in sharply at that. “I thought you were a fixer, Mac. If that’s true, Merlini hasn’t a thing to give the cops. Get him out of here and leave me alone! I’ll talk to you later.”
“Evidence or no evidence, Miss Hannum,” Merlini said insistently, “suspicion of murder, an attempted murder, and a missing suspect is a train of events that will make any cop curious. And we can get another print of the photo, you know.”
“Attempted murder?” She asked in a tight voice, turning her eyes to look at Merlini for the first time.
“Yes. Yours. The light failure wasn’t an accident. The cable to the big top was deliberately disconnected. When the lights went out you fell, and the ensuing excitement supplied a lovely opportunity for making away with the evidence we had. Any murderer who is clever enough to use, quite impromptu, such a diabolically simple, practical, and indetectible means for gaining not merely one, but two, simultaneous and different ends is going to give trouble. He won’t stop at that. In fact, Miss Hannum, I’m surprised that you lived through the night.”