Quest for a Killer Read Online Free PDF

performance,’ announced the richly moustached ringmaster, splendid in shiny top hat, boots and scarlet coat.
    There were a bewildering number of acts; the arena was never empty. One following fast upon the heels of the other, and in any interval needed for preparation, a fire-eater, juggler or a sword dancer in Highland costume would appear.
    The Mac Brothers on their trapeze ‘rescued’ Miss Bonnie Jean and swung happily back and forth across the roof of the tent, while far below, to wild applause, the well-publicised equestrienne Miss Adela entered the ring on a magnificent white horse. She was accompanied by a couple of tartan-bowed tiny fox terriers, barking furiously as they jumped up beside their mistress and, as other horses joined the ring, leaping from one to the other in perfect unison.
    This performance, known as the jockey act, was also shared with the clowns, or rather appeared to be annoyingly interrupted by them as they defied death under the horses’ hooves by leaping up behind Miss Adela or falling about very clumsily in front of the other horses. Their timing was perfect, the act well and oft rehearsed so there was never any real danger, despite the horrified screams of the audience as one clown seemed to disappear under the thundering hooves but managed to roll away in the nick of time.
    For me, it brought irresistibly to mind lines from Wordsworth’s poem:
    ‘…chattering monkeys dangling from their poles…
    With those that stretch the neck and strain the eyes
    And crack the voice in rivalship, the crowd
    Inviting, with buffoons against buffoons
    Grimacing, writhing, screaming…’
    I remembered well from that spring performance how Joey had led his fellow clowns in death-defying wild leaps from horse to horse, frequently losing his balanceto shrieks of terror from the audience, but it was all part of the act. Tonight it was different. He appeared as ever on stilts, and made a great fool of himself, falling to the ground, lying there breathless, revived by buckets of water from his fellow clowns, but I wondered as he got to his feet and looked around dazed whether that unsteadiness was also in the act.
    Joey certainly seemed less agile than he had been at the spring performance. I wondered had he been ill; being thinner made him look taller. No longer seated high at the back of the tent, I was now near enough to observe him closely and I felt concern and pity for the clown with his white face, his painted melancholy tears, sad eyes and huge red mouth.
    Strangely enough, perhaps my concern reached him amid all the shouts and cries and applause, for several times I felt he was looking directly at me, as if our eyes met and held for a moment.
    It was rather unnerving and embarrassing too, and I was glad when the scene changed and a tremor of expectation went around the audience as the animal cages were wheeled in to the accompaniment of roars and the smell of the jungle.
    To a roll of drums Fernando the Fearless, the bravest man in the whole world (as was advertised), cracked his whip fiercely to maintain order among the six leopards, which obligingly leapt up onto the painted stools. This was not without a show of protest, but they cautiously regarded the leopard skin in which Fernando was attired, a stern reminder perhaps of what might be their fate if they did not do as they were told.
    At last they slunk out, quelled and snarling effectively. Another roll of drums and their place was taken by the lion, Leo, king of the jungle, who suggested he might be rather more trouble than the leopards, as he must have been ten times heavier than his tamer – almost diminutive by comparison.
    Fernando approached this new subject thoughtfully, armed with more caution than he had for the snarling leopards. In addition to the whip, he brandished a kitchen chair, to which Leo responded with an angry-seeming paw.
    All visible things considered, I didn’t really fancy Fernando’s chances if he thrust his head