regular basis?”
“It’s sometimes easier than coming up with original thought, Skip. You of all people should understand that.”
He drained the last of his beer, slid off the stool, and headed for the door. I should have been upset. I’d just gotten slammed. Instead, I realized he was probably right.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We wandered through the show, watching the carnies weave their magic, selling cotton candy, drawing a sparse crowd to the dart booth, pulling a senior couple to the Ferris wheel, and tantalizing customers with the smell of greasy meat, popcorn, and deep-fried elephant ears. It was two p.m. and there was a handful of people on the grounds. Maybe the normal carnival public had heard about the shooting and they were staying away for fear of their lives. That was a strong possibility. Murder at the Moe Show was a good reason to stay away. Maybe the Bayview Mall just didn’t attract a whole lot of people. That would have been my guess. A runway of useless shops and a bar. Anyway, the crowd was meager. It wasn’t really a crowd, just a handful of people wandering listlessly. I could have rolled a bowling ball down the center of the Show and never hit a single person.
Some new heavyset punk with a bandana tied over his head was working Kevin Cross’s air rifle booth and he looked bored with the process. I kept thinking about the dead body we’d discovered directly behind the concession.
“Hey, lady, want to win a teddy bear?” He threw the line offto a young woman and man passing by. They ignored him and kept on walking. Perched on a wooden stool, he seemed to nod off, only to wake up when the next possible customer came near. “Hey, lady—”
Lame lines, for an impossible game.
He stared at me as we walked by and then spit on the ground in what appeared to be a deliberate comment on James and myself. I couldn’t wait to get out of here.
“You remember what Moe said, James? Keep it low-key.”
“Yeah.”
“Hell, I think everyone here knows we’re investigating them. And I don’t think we did anything to telegraph it.”
Glancing at the zoo, I saw Pugh working the small arena, coaxing the obnoxious goat to stand still while a six-year-old boy about Pugh’s size tried to pet him. Linda was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, boys, over here.”
The skinny bald man motioned to us from Freddy’s Fun House, the trailer with the painted flames. He stood on an elevated porch, pointing to the opening of the Fun House.
“Come on, don’t let your friends tell you about the Fun House. See it for yourself.”
James shook his head. “No. Got things to do.”
“Hey, are you the new marketing guy or what?”
James snapped to attention. “Yeah. I am.”
“Then how the hell are you going to market the Show if you don’t know the show?”
James looked at me for the answer. Of course this was the same guy who had told me I had no original thoughts. So I kept quiet.
The thin man pushed the sleeves of his T-shirt up on his shoulders, exposing his bony arms. “You probably don’t think much of this little attraction, do you?”
“The Show?”
“No. The Fun House.”
I was unimpressed, but again kept my mouth shut. This was James’s gig.
“Come on up here. For free. There’s nobody here right now, so go on in and see for yourself. What have you got to lose?”
James walked to the Fun House trailer and I followed behind. I had no interest. Didn’t care. But there was James, boldly mounting the stairs, standing on the porch and motioning to me.
“Spooky, crazy. The most fun you’ll ever have in a trailer, my friends. Something special for everyone.” He motioned with his hand, and I walked up on the porch. Together James and I walked through the dark entrance.
“I hate these things.” James muttered under his breath.
A blue lightbulb mounted immediately inside cast an eerie pall and an iridescent arrow painted on the wall pointed to the left.
“Having fun yet?” I asked.
“I
“It’s sometimes easier than coming up with original thought, Skip. You of all people should understand that.”
He drained the last of his beer, slid off the stool, and headed for the door. I should have been upset. I’d just gotten slammed. Instead, I realized he was probably right.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We wandered through the show, watching the carnies weave their magic, selling cotton candy, drawing a sparse crowd to the dart booth, pulling a senior couple to the Ferris wheel, and tantalizing customers with the smell of greasy meat, popcorn, and deep-fried elephant ears. It was two p.m. and there was a handful of people on the grounds. Maybe the normal carnival public had heard about the shooting and they were staying away for fear of their lives. That was a strong possibility. Murder at the Moe Show was a good reason to stay away. Maybe the Bayview Mall just didn’t attract a whole lot of people. That would have been my guess. A runway of useless shops and a bar. Anyway, the crowd was meager. It wasn’t really a crowd, just a handful of people wandering listlessly. I could have rolled a bowling ball down the center of the Show and never hit a single person.
Some new heavyset punk with a bandana tied over his head was working Kevin Cross’s air rifle booth and he looked bored with the process. I kept thinking about the dead body we’d discovered directly behind the concession.
“Hey, lady, want to win a teddy bear?” He threw the line offto a young woman and man passing by. They ignored him and kept on walking. Perched on a wooden stool, he seemed to nod off, only to wake up when the next possible customer came near. “Hey, lady—”
Lame lines, for an impossible game.
He stared at me as we walked by and then spit on the ground in what appeared to be a deliberate comment on James and myself. I couldn’t wait to get out of here.
“You remember what Moe said, James? Keep it low-key.”
“Yeah.”
“Hell, I think everyone here knows we’re investigating them. And I don’t think we did anything to telegraph it.”
Glancing at the zoo, I saw Pugh working the small arena, coaxing the obnoxious goat to stand still while a six-year-old boy about Pugh’s size tried to pet him. Linda was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, boys, over here.”
The skinny bald man motioned to us from Freddy’s Fun House, the trailer with the painted flames. He stood on an elevated porch, pointing to the opening of the Fun House.
“Come on, don’t let your friends tell you about the Fun House. See it for yourself.”
James shook his head. “No. Got things to do.”
“Hey, are you the new marketing guy or what?”
James snapped to attention. “Yeah. I am.”
“Then how the hell are you going to market the Show if you don’t know the show?”
James looked at me for the answer. Of course this was the same guy who had told me I had no original thoughts. So I kept quiet.
The thin man pushed the sleeves of his T-shirt up on his shoulders, exposing his bony arms. “You probably don’t think much of this little attraction, do you?”
“The Show?”
“No. The Fun House.”
I was unimpressed, but again kept my mouth shut. This was James’s gig.
“Come on up here. For free. There’s nobody here right now, so go on in and see for yourself. What have you got to lose?”
James walked to the Fun House trailer and I followed behind. I had no interest. Didn’t care. But there was James, boldly mounting the stairs, standing on the porch and motioning to me.
“Spooky, crazy. The most fun you’ll ever have in a trailer, my friends. Something special for everyone.” He motioned with his hand, and I walked up on the porch. Together James and I walked through the dark entrance.
“I hate these things.” James muttered under his breath.
A blue lightbulb mounted immediately inside cast an eerie pall and an iridescent arrow painted on the wall pointed to the left.
“Having fun yet?” I asked.
“I
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