Quest for a Killer Read Online Free PDF Page B

into the great beast’s mouth, my thoughts echoed by the audience’s silence imposed at the ringmaster’s urgent appeal concerning this dangerous action.
    Although I was certain from my excellent vantage point that the head never really went between the lion’s jaws, it was accomplished with all possible speed and dexterity.
    A sigh of relief and ready applause greeted his triumphant bow, and the clowns once more took over the ring. As he followed the cages out so jauntily, I thought of the future, had he failed. Many animal tamers who were supremely confident lost their nerve and their lives by a piece of momentary mistiming, mauled by a watchful lion or tiger who, detecting some faint uneasiness, the smell of fear or lack of concentration, seized the long-awaited opportunity and pounced.
    If tamers did not die as a result of being attacked,they frequently lost an arm or a leg and would never enter a wild animal’s cage again. I wondered whilst looking at Joey, who seemed a shadow of his former self, what became of circus performers who were injured. Not only animal tamers who had made a wrong move and paid the ultimate price, but also those other circus performers who sustained terrible injuries by falling from the high wire, or clowns who mistimed leaping under the horses’ hooves or those, like Joey, whose altered appearance suggested an accident or recent illness.
    A chat with the ringmaster would have doubtlessly revealed that the lions were toothless and the leopards well fed before the acts began, but what of the humans? The future of the maimed, too ill or injured was a sobering thought behind all the grandeur, the applause, the music. As for those who survived but grew too old to perform, what of them?
    During the interval the clowns came and talked to the children in the audience, distributing sweets and balloons. Joey, perhaps as King of Clowns, too grand for such tomfoolery, was staring in our direction. Perhaps he was interested in the occupants of the royal enclosure, or was it Elma in particular – or myself? Whichever one of us, the effect of this attention from a perfect stranger was disquieting.
    That led me to consider what they were like with the paint and wigs removed. Did they behave like everyday men when the show ended: men with wives, children and dependents? As for their jokes, the crazy gags, the horseplay and silly tricks, were they put in a trunk withthe costumes until the next performance? Were they quiet and unassuming, reading the daily papers, paying the rent and concerned for domestic matters and their children’s futures?
    And with that curious awareness of being watched I turned, and, just behind me, saw a face from the recent past.
    Jack Macmerry. Now, by his uniform, Inspector Jack Macmerry. He raised a hand in greeting.
    Perhaps, I thought, it was he who had been the focus of Joey’s attention. As the performance ended, the clowns gathered together in the ring, in what looked like a meeting. They looked serious, heads together, and I wondered what they were discussing.
    As we emerged from the tent there was Jack again, with a group of burly, tall men, obviously policemen. They were laughing – a night out at the circus clearly a blessed relief from solving crimes.
    Leaving them, he hurried to my side and, bowing to Elma, he took my hand in a firm grip.
    ‘Good to see you again, Rose. It has been a long time.’
    The look in his eyes and his wistful voice suggested that he might lean forward and kiss me, so turning hastily I introduced my companion. He bowed over her hand and, hearing his name called, he extracted himself and rejoined his waiting colleagues.
    Waiting in the string of carriages trying to make their exit, I observed the shrouded sideshows of the funfair and resolved to make a daytime exploration of what excitement was on offer.
    Perhaps concerned about my silence, or curious about that greeting from a policeman, Elma regarded me anxiously and she hoped I had not