“Yeah, it would, if I’d had any real evidence to back up my theory. I didn’t have, of course, because, as Paula’s own murder has proved, she wasn’t the guilty party after all. And then when she didn’t show up in Norwalk this morn—”
“Hold it,” I broke in. “You’re skipping. You eavesdropped at our door in the hotel last night too, didn’t you?”
“At the hotel? No, sorry. Did someone—”
“Someone got an earful,” Merlini said. “But go on. When Paula didn’t arrive on the lot this morning—”
“Well,” O’Halloran continued, “I began to think I’d pulled a bloomer, that she’d lammed and that I was out of luck all the way around. I was parked behind the side-show tent, chewing my nails and waiting for her to show, when you and Harte got there. I’d been worrying some about where you’d got to, too. I must have passed you on the road when you were finding the empty trailer. You pulled in and parked your car right alongside mine. I was on the floor by that time, and I overheard your talks with Joy and Keith. That didn’t make me any happier — but right there was when I got my break.”
“But I didn’t mention murder then,” Merlini said. “Only that we’d found her empty trailer.”
“I know, but the important thing was that I discovered somebody else listening in on your broadcast. I heard somebody sneak up on the off side of my car and squat on the running board. When he heard you say you’d found the empty trailer, he scrammed quietly. I edged my car door open a crack and got a look at his back. Then when you and Keith moved off I came out of hiding and went after him. He made a beeline for Pauline’s trailer. The Negro Mac had on guard was snoozing, and this guy ducked in.”
“Garner!” I said.
O’Halloran nodded as Farmer drove our car onto the circus lot.
One of the Chief’s men on duty at the entrance stopped us. Merlini put his head out enough so that the man got a quick glimpse of his uniform cap. “Special detail, New York Police,” he said gruffly. “When Chief Inspector Gavigan arrives tell him I’d like to see him in Miss Hannum’s trailer.”
The cop nodded and Farmer stepped on the gas. “Take us around by the cookhouse,” Merlini ordered. “And we’ll park there until we’ve heard the rest of O’Halloran’s yarn. There’ll be cops by the side-show top where we were before.” Then he asked O’Halloran, “A point of information: Was Garner wearing his tramp make-up when you caught him eavesdropping?”
“You’re catching wise, aren’t you?” O’Halloran said. “Yeah, he was. And since then I’ve done a little nosing around, and I’ve discovered he never did wash his face much. He wore his make-up around the lot much more than was necessary. While you were arguing with Mac about seeing Pauline, he was inside having a heart-to-heart chat with her, mostly in whispers, so I couldn’t get much of it. But I did hear him threaten Pauline. He said he’d kill her if she gave him away. He had a gun, and when you two and Mac barged in, he backed into the wardrobe. You know now why Miss Hannum wasn’t saying very much. He was right there with a heater all set to go. I began to have hunches fast along about then, and I started checking his alibis.”
“So Paula did lead you to the Duke after all?” Merlini said. “Garner is the Duke. He came from a circus originally and, when he wanted to hide out, he came back to one. His manner of concealing himself is identical with Paula’s, perhaps because he thought of them both. A man wearing the heavy, grotesque grease paint of a clown is hiding behind the best disguise in the world. He might just as well not have a head at all. So we have a headless man as well as a headless lady. And his alibis—”
“Aren’t any of them worth a continental damn,” O’Halloran said. “When Major Hannum’s ‘accident’ occurred, Garner was supposed to be working in the Wild West show. Any one of the other clowns could have taken his place, and his own mother wouldn’t have caught it. Same thing when Pauline fell and the evidence was stolen from the trailer. Someone else subbing for him in the tramp get-up. I questioned the other clowns this afternoon, and I couldn’t find anyone who’ll swear positively he was in that clown car when it made the trip over this morning. Most of them were asleep, and the others didn’t notice. The Duke is the guy you’ve been hunting who is so smart about not leaving any decent clues — a hotshot mouthpiece like him knew enough to try to make his killings look like accidents. And he came within inches of getting away with it. He’s your murderer. But I’m going to be the one to pick him up. I’ll give him to Hooper, and you two will be in the clear.”
“Why, for God’s sake,” I asked, “didn’t you spill that when Schafer and Hooper arrested us?”
O’Halloran grinned. “Couple of reasons. First, I had to take time out to do some heavy thinking. There was so damned much evidence in that car of yours I began to wonder for a minute if maybe I wasn’t slipping some. I wasn’t completely sure that maybe you two hadn’t done it after all. And besides, the Captain had a whale of a lot more evidence for his theory than I did for mine. If I’d a popped with my dope on the Duke, they’d have arrested you just the same, picked up the Duke because he was wanted, and grabbed off the reward. Maybe I’d get a piece, maybe not.”
“O’Halloran,” Merlini said quietly, “I’ll have to admit that you’ve solved the case. You’ve supplied the one bit of information I’ve been wanting desperately ever since Monday night. But there’s one small error in your theory that you should fix.”
“What’s that?” O’Halloran looked at him apprehensively.
“The murderer’s identity,” Merlini said. “You’ve put your money on the wrong horse. The Duke is not the murderer.”
“The Duke isn’t—” O’Halloran’s voice was flat and empty like a busted balloon. He stared at Merlini. “You got a better guess?”
“I think I will have,” Merlini said. “Some of the most surprising ideas are beginning to occur to me.”
O’Halloran gave him a hard, incisive stare. “I don’t know what bee is buzzing in your bonnet, but I’m still betting on the Duke. And I’m picking him up right now.”
“I don’t think—” I began, got an admonishing poke in the ribs from Merlini’s elbow, and changed the ending to read: “—that he’ll like that much.” What I had intended to say was, “I don’t think that’s going to be as easy as you think. Last we knew Garner had disappeared.”
“I know he won’t like it,” O’Halloran said. “And he’s got a gun. Before I tackle him I’d like mine back.”
Merlini produced it and gave it to him. “Yes. I guess you had better have it.”
O’Halloran said, “I want to hear those surprising ideas of yours, but I’ll just attend to this first. Even if he shouldn’t be the murderer, there’s that ten grand.” He left on a run.
Merlini turned to Farmer, who had been quietly taking it all in. “Let him find out for himself that the Duke-Garner is A.W.O.L. We’ve got O’Halloran’s story, and I’d rather not have him around for the next few minutes. He’s too set in his ideas. But you might mosey along after him, Farmer, and report on what happens. I don’t know where the Duke is, and if he should still be around, O’Halloran might find him.”
Farmer said, “Okay. What about letting me have one of those ‘Forty-some-odds’ just in case?”[5]
“He’s asking for one of your guns, Ross,” Merlini translated. “You come with me. We’re going to see Pauline Hannum.”
I gave Farmer a gun, and we separated. Merlini and I made for the back yard. The performance in the big top was nearly over. I could hear the raucous amplified voice of the announcer saying, “Ladeez and gen-tul-men, please remain in your seats until the show is all out and all over! The arena track must be clear for our final presentation. The Chariot Races! The first event — a thrilling exhibition of dare-devil equestrianism, the Five-Horse Roman Standing … ”
5
Forty-some-odd: A gun, so called by con-men who seldom, if ever, use them and pretend, as the phrase indicates, not to know even the proper caliber designation. The Farmer, Merlini tells me, gives himself away on several occasions by using rather more big-con argot than a short-con grifter should.