From the rim of the valley the circus below looked drab, spent. The aura that almost always surrounds a circus was missing. The colors of the rented tents were all wrong; the whole encampment looked like a balloon that was slowly leaking air. A trio of armed guards posted around the campsite added to the depressing effect.
The men were empty-handed, but the type of men I was looking at always wore guns. They might forget to put their pants on in the morning, but never their guns.
I put my hands in my pockets, mustered up enough spit to do some casual whistling, then merrily tripped off down the slope. Two of the guards glanced at me, then looked away, apparently unconcerned. The man closest to me kept his eyes riveted on my chest. I walked up to him, nodded pleasantly, then started to walk past.
A hand like a pair of wire cutters reached out and grabbed my shoulder, turning me toward him.
"Who are you, pal?" he said in slightly accented English. He sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of marshmallows, as though somebody had walked on his tonsils. I gave him a hurt look and pointed toward the tents.
"Don't you recognize me?" I was hoping all dwarfs looked the same to him.
His eyes skittered across my face, up and down my body. Like most stupid men, the thing he feared most was appearing stupid.
"What the hell are you doing out here?! Where's your pass?!"
I groaned apologetically and started rummaging through my pockets. After a few moments of that number Marshmallow Mouth cursed and waved me through.
I walked quickly down the path and ducked behind one of the tents.
It was noontime and most of the circus personnel would be in the lunch trailers. That was fine with me. At least half of the circus would recognize me on sight, and I wanted to get the feel of things before holding any reunions. I needed somebody I could trust.
I slipped along the perimeter of the encampment to the midway, then cut through to the compound where a number of trailers had been set up as living quarters for the performers and hands. I found the name plate I wanted, then knocked softly on the door of the trailer on the outside chance that its occupant would be in.
"Who's there?" The voice was nervous, edgy.
"It's Robert Frederickson, Nell. Let me in, please."
"Who?"
"Mongo."
The door suddenly burst open and Big Nell stood before me. Her beard was even longer than I remembered. She sobbed, jumped down to the ground and hugged me. There were tears in her eyes.
"Mongo!" Nell whimpered. "God, it's good to see you!"
The formalities out of the way, I gently pulled myself loose and let the air rush back into my lungs. We went into the trailer and Nell started to brew some coffee. Her shoulders were still shaking. Big Nell was very emotional, Earth Mother to all the circus creatures, human and animal alike. I'd always liked her.
Nell finished making the coffee and brought cups for both of us on a tray. She poured cream into mine.
"I'm so glad you're here, Mongo," she said, handing me the cup. "So many things are happening here that I don't understand."
"Roscoe didn't understand them either. I'm here because he called me. The trouble is that I never got a chance to hear what he had to say."
Molly looked up, and her eyes flooded again with tears. "Roscoe's dead, you know."
"Who killed him?"
"The police say Jandor."
"Do you believe that?"
Nell shook her head. "As far as I know, Roscoe and Jandor never exchanged a word in anger. If you want my opinion-"
"I do, Nell," I said gently. "But first I want a few facts. Is anybody in the circus sick?"
Nell thought a few moments. "Just a few colds."
"What's the Statler Brothers Circus doing camped out in rented tents in the middle of San Marino?"
"We were invited by the government. Mr. Statler got a letter from one of their leaders-"
"A Regent?"
"Yeah, I guess that's what they're called. We were touring through Italy anyway, and Mr. Statler thought it might be fun to come to San Marino. He never said anything about selling the circus."
"Selling the circus?"
Nell blinked. "Didn't Roscoe tell you?"
"Roscoe was killed while he was talking to me on the phone. Did Phil say why he sold the circus?"
Nell wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. "Nobody's talked to Mr. Statler at all. He's disappeared. Mr. Fordamp said he's gone off 'on a vacation'."
"Who's this Mr. Fordamp character?"
"He's the man Mr. Statler sold the circus to."
"Can he show papers?"
"He's got papers. I don't know whether they're any good or not."
"If Fordamp claims everything's on the up-and-up, how does he explain the three gorillas outside?"
"Mr. Fordamp says the men are there for our protection, so that no one will steal anything."
I mulled things over in my mind for a few moments; nothing made any sense. The gunmen outside were all hard professionals, which probably made Fordamp the typical Big Man, supercrook, probably Syndicate.
What would a man like Fordamp want with a circus, and why would he blockade a whole country to get it? That was like boarding up a house to catch a fly.
"Nell, why do you suppose the government of San Marino would issue an invitation to the circus?"
"That's easy. Danny Lemongello took care of the arrangements."
The name was new to me and I said so.
"Danny has a balancing act," Nell continued. "He's been with the circus for two years now. It seems he's originally from San Marino. When he heard we were touring through Europe, he got the idea of performing in San Marino. He went to Mr. Statler and Mr. Statler said it would be all right if San Marino would agree to provide facilities. You know Mr. Statler: He collects countries. Anyway, we came and set up. It was wonderful. I think at one time or another every person in San Marino came to see us.
"Then, right after we closed, Mr. Statler disappeared. Mr. Fordamp showed up the next day and told us that he'd bought the circus. He said he'd honor all our contracts and asked us to stay." Nell stroked her beard, adding an afterthought: "I suppose that was real nice of him. Where else would most of us go?"
"What kind of a man is this Mr. Fordamp?"
"Smooth," she said after some hesitation, "but a bossman, if you know what I mean, the kind of man you don't argue with. He dresses strange. He's always wearing this funny kind of vest under his suit. Real bulky. I think he carries something inside it."
"Probably a gun."
"It's too big. It looks more like a walkie-talkie. And he's always got two men with him. They carry guns."
"Assuming Jandor was framed, why do you think they picked him to pin the murder on?"
"Jandor was doing a lot of talking. Same as Roscoe."
"What were they talking about?"
"They were saying that they didn't believe Mr. Statler really sold the circus. They thought the circus was being stolen, and that Mr. Statler had been kidnapped. They went to the police, but nobody would listen."
"Okay, Nell. Right now, you're the only person in the circus who knows I'm here. I want to keep it that way for the time being, with one exception: I want to talk to Danny Lemongello."
"Now?"
"Now. Can you get him here for me?"
Nell stepped forward and placed her hands on my shoulders. "Everything's going to be all right, isn't it?"
In the kind of wars men like Fordamp and his goons fought, prisoners were rarely taken. They rarely kidnapped anybody; it was easier to kill people who got in the way. I didn't want to tell Nell that, so I said nothing. After a few moments Nell turned and walked out of the trailer.
Danny Lemongello had hair the color of a Hawaiian sunset and a look of wonder about him, the fresh-faced aura of a young man who was still in awe of the circus. He stepped inside the tent and stared at me as I got to my feet.