“Sounds like a contradiction in terms,” Keith grinned, “but I think I get what you mean.” He took a folded paper from his pocket. “I’ve had this license nearly six months, and because the Major was afraid marriage would interfere with your career, I was beginning to think I’d never get to use it.” He stood up and looked at the rest of us. “Who wants to do the honors? We both need a couple of witnesses for this.”
“But, Keith,” Joy protested, “I’ve got another show yet tonight. We can’t—”
“No, you don’t, baby. No excuses accepted at this date. Do your show, if you like; but there’ll be a wedding between the acts. I’m going to corral a minister and get him here right now.” He leaned across the table, kissed her, and reached for his hat.
“No,” Merlini objected, “what you’ll get is trouble.
The Captain has sentries posted and, when they nab you trying to leave the lot, the scene of the wedding will have to be transferred to Chief Hooper’s clink … I’d appreciate it if you two kids could restrain yourselves until later. Sit down and help me with these alibis. Weddings are supposed to come after the murderer is unmasked anyway. Go on, Ross.”
Joy signaled Keith to follow directions. He said, “Well, I’ll postpone the match temporarily, but you’ll have to work fast.” He circumnavigated the table and took a seat beside Joy.
I picked up where I had been interrupted. “Three: innocent parties would do well to provide themselves with an alibi for the time of approximately 7:00 o’clock this morning. The Headless Lady, according to witnesses, drove off the lot in Waterboro shortly after 6:45. I’d say that it should have taken her about fifteen minutes to reach the spot where we found the trailer. That all right by you, Merlini?”
He nodded. “Yes, that sounds reasonable enough.”
“The score, then,” I went on, “stands as follows: Joy Pattison, as has been mentioned, leads the field, from the cop’s angle, with no runs, no hits, no alibis. Difficulty: no witnesses to corroborate her statements as to where she was at the crucial times. Keith Atterbury places second with one alibi. He was talking to us in the Major’s trailer when the lights went out, so, unless we assume some mechanical contraption—”
“He doesn’t know one end of a screw driver from another,” Joy said with emphasis. “I doubt if he knows how to wind a clock. I put a patent bottle opener in his stocking last Christmas along with some Scotch. He’d still be thirsty if he hadn’t had help.”
“The deposition of the character witness will be filed,” Merlini said. “Next.”
“Irma King,” I replied. “She scores twice if we accept Ed’s testimony at face value. She’s in the clear on Pauline’s fall and on the stolen evidence. But she has a definite black mark chalked up against her by Pauline’s assertion that she entered the Major’s trailer at just the wrong time. Tex Mayo does better. Three solid-gold alibis. He was working in the concert before a tentful of witnesses when the Major got his; he was in the back yard when the lights went out; and he was busy carrying Pauline out to her trailer when the evidence vanished. Garner ties with him for fourth place, since he also was performing on three occasions. None of the other clowns can swear he was in the sleeping car with them when it made the trip over this morning; that’s his only blank. Irma, Tex, and Garner also seem to have another alibi because, barring clairvoyance, they could hardly have been aware last night, when Pauline fell, that any investigation was going on or that any evidence worth swiping had been discovered. Mac says Pauline told no one what had been going on in the trailer, and it’s not exactly the sort of thing he’d broadcast. As for Mac’s alibis, he’s the worst suspect of the lot. Four good alibis without a miss. Calamity was with him on the front door when the Major went West, and en route with him in the ticket wagon this morning. In the matter of the lights and the evidence, he was conversing with Sheriff Weatherby. Of course, if the fix was in—”
Farmer shook his head. “Maybe,” he said doubtfully. “Fixing a murder rap has been done often enough, but it takes lots of folding scratch. It looks as if you’ll have your dukes full cracking any of those alibis, Merlini.”
“Offhand, I can see three of them that aren’t much good,” Merlini said. “That isn’t the lot, is it, Ross?”
“No. There’s Towne, and I think some of my money goes on him. Where has he been when things happened? Nobody’s thought to ask him for alibis.”
“I have,” Keith put in. “I’ve been doing a little detective work. He doesn’t have any. He says he was watching the concert Monday night when the Major was killed — no corroboration offered. He says he was sitting on the blues watching the show when the lights failed last night — still no witnesses that he can produce.”
“And he was in the hotel,” I added, “when we got up this morning, but that was later than seven by a good bit. With the desk clerk oversleeping as he did, Towne could have gone out earlier and returned. His only gold star is that, so far, he has no apparent motive, whereas all the others have.” I paused a moment, then finished, “I’ve got one other name on the list and I think the rest of my bet goes there. A person with absolutely no alibis at all!”
Merlini looked at me oddly. “Oh, so! A premium in the cracker jack box! Now who—”
It wasn’t until considerably later in the evening that Merlini got the answer to that question. The lack of rapid-fire action during the past couple of hours was only the lull that preceded the storm. The barometer now began a rapid descent as the sword-swallower, who had gone out a few minutes before, hurried back in. Mac was with him. Swede’s Scandinavian stolidness had vanished; his excited jabbering was strangely accompanied by a flock of Latin gestures. Mac’s face held a look that was worried even for him.
Swede lapsed with every few words into his native Swedish, so Mac made the announcement.
“One of Swede’s swords has disappeared!”
“When?” Merlini asked instantly, his voice startled.
“Yoost now,” Swede answered. “It was there when Ay come to eat. Ay go back. It’s gone!”
“And it’s not one of those dull shivs he sticks down his gullet,” Mac added. “It’s one of the nice razor-sharp ones he hands out for examination.”
“Did you report it to Schafer?” Merlini asked.
“Yeah. He doesn’t like it either.”
“It’s not a comforting occurrence,” Merlini admitted. “Those guards of yours that are casing Pauline’s trailer — are they all wide awake?”
“Yes. I added a couple more for good measure. That’s the idea I had, too.”
“Hmm. I wish I knew if it was the right one!” Merlini glanced at Joy. “If you’re doing that ankle-drop tonight, I think I’ll personally give your rigging a once-over just before you go on. And all of you better steer clear of dark corners for the time being. Mac, that telegram you have there. For me?”
“Oh,” Mac said, “yeah. Boy brought it just now.”
As Merlini ripped it open, a bugle call sounded outside.
Joy said, “Damn! First call for spec. I’d better get going.” She rose and waited a moment as if hoping that Merlini would read his wire aloud; but, when he made no move to do so, she started out. Keith, obviously on the horns of a dilemma, hesitated a moment, and then hurried after her.
“Wait, Joy,” he said. “You’re going to be supplied with a witness for the duration.”
Merlini addressed Mac. “Where’s Towne? Seen him?”
“No. Not lately.”
“Round him up for me, will you?”
Mac eyed the yellow telegram form. “Got something on him?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, I have. I’m going to town on Towne.”