Murder At The Circus

Day one at the circus.

There’s been a murder, at the circus.

The circus looks faded and slightly deflated in the morning light as if the night stole some of its glamour.

The tents are striped black and red, a few chickens run around in mad circles looking for food, in the distance a women is hanging up washing on a washing line. I cannot see any body else but I can hear lots of voices coming from the biggest tent at the far side of the field. It must be the dining tent; I can smell chicken and oil from that direction.

The tent I’m supposed to approach is in the centre; it has a bright yellow flag waving happily at the top. I put my hands in the pocket of my black coat and walk towards it. Despite being a circus I’m surprised at how peaceful it feels to be here.

I reach out my hand and open the flap of the tent and walk in. this must be where the audience sits. At the far end of the tent is a large stage and on this side are the seats.

"Detective seroy?" a bubbly voice asks to my right.

I turn, a man who doesn’t quite reach my chest. 'Definitely the ringmaster' I think. He has a jolly appearance; blue eyes, rotund belly and he is bouncing on the heels of his feet, he is dressed to give off the impression of someone who doesn’t quite care about his appearance, but yet every piece of his outfit co-ordinates perfectly.

I smile politely "that's me"

He breaks out in a delighted smile and I notice he has one canine tooth missing.

"Ah, detective seroy you cant imagine how happy I am to meet you" he reaches out a hand for a shake yet at the same time he cant stop speaking "really bad business to happen here, and someone might think it not possible, murder!" he grows excited and before I have a chance to shake his hand he is already using it to gesticulate wildly around " At the circus! You cant imagine how disturbed everybody here is" his eyes grow wide and he leans in " oh yes everybody is so sad" now his voice drops to a whisper " but it cant be everybody that's sad, surely there is someone among them, someone who did the murder" he's eyes are still wide, almost theatrical "as for me, personal- Ah, where are my manners, I’m so sorry Mr seroy I’ve been rambling on" he pops forward his left hand again to shake my own, he has a gold band on his ring finger. "My name's Arnold schuchester, sir, happy to work with you"

"Good to work with you to Mr schuchester" I reply

"Nah just call me Arnold,” he says waving his hand in the air "everybody else does" I nod. “ Would you like to check the murder scene right now?” he says.

“ yes please, the quicker the better. ”

Arnold leads me towards the stage at the far end and we climb a set of hidden stairs at the side of it. Before we step out of this tent through the back entrance Arnold stops. He turns towards me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes

“ Prepare to meet the wildest of creatures from all around the globe,” he laughs and with one exaggerated sweep of the hand the curtain is unveiled.

This other tent is truly magnificent. Cages of all size’s filled with creatures from all over. There are golden lazy lion’s, proud peacocks, graceful horses, zebra’s, and antelopes, even a huge grey elephant. Arnold tells me the stories behind the animals; where he got them, what tricks they perform.

 As we are about to step out 2 people enter the tent. The first person is tall, lean and muscular he looks around the age of fifty with grey hair dominating his would-have-been brown moustache.

      The second guy is a kid around fifteen years old I’ll guess. He’s tall as well, with lanky limbs.

They look curiously towards me but smile politely at Arnold. “Good afternoon sir” they both greet.

“Is it already?” Arnold says with genuine surprise, then he chuckles “well how time flies, boys ‘he addresses them’ this is detective seroy” he turns towards me.

“Sir, this is Arthur” he gesture’s towards the older man, “and this is Zackary, Arthur is in charge of training the animals and Zackary cleans and feeds them”.

  Arthur looks like a stern man but upon his mention he gives me a smile with a little bit of sadness tucked in the crinkles of his eyes. Zackary give’s me a goofy smile that reveals two dimples at either side of his cheeks. I nod at them, my hands still firmly in my pocket. Sometimes people think I’m rude because I don’t make more of an effort to be welcoming to people but to be honest my mind would just have drifted to another thought rather then remember the etiquettes of socializing.

   Arthur and I, pass by a dozen different tents before we reach the tent of the deceased.

“I hope you don’t mind if I wait outside, sir, I’m not sure I can handle going inside” Arthur says.

“It’s fine you don’t have to come” I reply, he truly looks devas ted although I feel there is something a bit too forced about his demeanour, maybe it’s the shaking of his hand, slightly exaggerated.

…

My first thoughts as I see the tall corpse sprawled on the blood stained bed is how cruel death is, it left the body behind, and what can the body tell us of how the person himself was.

     I forgot to ask the deceased’s name but I can see that he was killed, by being stabbed through the heart. From the size of the wound I can tell that the blade of the knife wasn’t large in fact it was something thin and not very pointed at the tip, probably a pocket knife, the murderer would have needed a great amount of strength to stab a person with a pocket knife though.

 I search around his cramped room trying to find other clues. It’s not very easy to move around in the room because the bed itself take’s up half the space. The only other items; are a box and a medium sized desk with belongings untidily sprawled across the surface.

 I open the box and squat down to investigate its contents. It mostly contains clothes, scraps of paper, playing cards and soap. At the very bottom there is a water-stained envelope. Inside the envelope are pictures some of them have been stained with water so the image is unclear; the pictures that I can see are of the deceased with the other circus staff. I tuck the envelope into my coat.

 I search around the room again but there isn’t any other remarkable thing's to find, plus the stench in here is becoming unbearable.

…

Arnold schuchester’s room is much better then zarmain’s (I asked Arnold for his name) it is well ventilated and clean. 

We are both siting on plush couches with drinks in our hands.

“ Woke up to screaming yesterday morning. Next thing I know Matilda comes pounding at my door, Says zarmain’s dead, bed soaked to the brim with blood. Couldn’t believe it, only the night before he was singing drunken songs at Arthur’s birthday party. I went rushing towards his cabin, when I saw him my stomach nearly heaved in on itself. There he was stone dead! Dead as if he had never lived.” Arthur shakes his head in grief, his head bowed downwards.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Arnold,” I say.

He sighs like a man failing to find a way out of grief.

“What was his job?” I say, careful not to mention his name.

“He was a magician” he looks up and smile’s “ he had loads of tricks up his sleeve, some might call him a wizard as well, the way he would charm all the women” Arnolds voice goes bitter towards the end, but he masks it with an unnatural chuckle. 

He looks towards the clock and does a double take. “Is that the time already, my how time flies” he says, repeating that phrase for the second time today. He stands up and starts rushing towards the wardrobe picking his hat on the way, he opens it and pulls out a red tailcoat. Then he turns towards me “the show is about to start, we cancelled it yesterday with respect to zarmain but we can’t afford that tonight, you must join us sir, get to meet the other performers and question them.”

   I nod. “ Thank you, that would be a great opportunity”

….

The crowd wait’s uneasily by the ticket booth, waiting for the moment they can walk through the entrance towards the magnificent lantern lit black and red tent.

 The air smells like caramel and pretzel and magic yet to be discovered.

I’m given a front row seat, the one closest to the stage. I have to admit I’m excited, many people don’t know it but I spent the first 4 years of my life at the circus, my mother was a trapeze artist, one of the best the world has ever seen. She could swing from rings fifty meters in the air; she could twirl with the grace of undisturbed water. She made every move look so easy. She was magic, my mother And I have some of that magic flowing through my veins, which is why the circus always had a way of pulling me towards it.

    It doesn’t take long for the circus to fill up with people and after a few minutes Arnold bounces onto the stage, he beams at me, and then he smiles at the rest of the audience, his eye’s glowing reflections of the circus lights.

  “Ladies and gentleman, before we begin I would like to request a single minute of silence in honour of our talented magician and great friend who sadly passed away yesterday.” He looks around at the audience with sad eyes, the welcoming smile no longer on his lips.

  For a minute all that can be heard is the occasional crying of an infant child or a kid asking their parent why everything had gone quiet. And then Arnold smile’s brightly “thank you, it has been a great loss, but like you all know, the show must go onnnnnn” at this all the lights’ go out except the one illuminating the stage.

…

I watch transfixed, as one by one performers take the stage leaving the audience either in fit’s of laughter or in awe.

   Arthur come’s on the stage leading a dozen horses. He makes them jump and twirl and dance. As he walk’s out of the tent 2 men walk in pulling identical incredibly long pole’s, they set them at either ends of the stage and I notice there is a thin cord connecting the both of them, Next they bring a long ladder and set it against one of the poles.

 A few minutes later a girl in pink sequin’s walk’s in. my breath catches in my chest as I look at her. She reminds me so much of my mother, same small figure, and strait confidant posture, she has the same wicked twinkle in her eyes. She smile’s broadly at the audience and with the grace of a ballerina she walk’s lightly toward the base of the ladder,then without any warning her demeanour changes and she is scalding the ladder at the speed of lightning. She reaches the top of the pole and I have to strain my neck all the way back to see her, my heart is pounding so hard in my chest, the top of the pole is only a small flat circle without any form of support and there she is standing to her full height yet looking so fragile, as if the smallest gust of wind could pull her away. She look’s toward the audience and she smiles a devilish smile and then she’s pointing one foot outward directly in front of her, I hold my breath as that foot lands on the rope, instantly creating a depression she take’s out her other foot and places it behind the first. She is almost fifty feet up and there is nothing except the rope under her feet. I’m clutching the edge’s of my feet without even realizing it, as she slowly and carefully walk’s towards the centre of the rope, all her attention is focused on the space in front of her.

 She is directly above me when she suddenly stops. She looks down, at me, making eye contact and then she wink’s and before I know what she is doing she leans to one side and she’s falling off the rope. I rise to my feet. What did she just do? When all of a sudden a ring come’s towards her falling figure and she grips it with one hand. My heart almost collapse’s with relief, she looks towards the audience and smile’s that devilish smile again. I look around me most of the people are sitting back in their seat’s with a look of intense relief on their face’s, some even have one hand over their heart.

 I sit back down but my heart is still beating frantically. The girl has pulled herself up so that she is perched up on the ring. Slowly the ring start’s to descend downward. When she finally reaches the stage she wave’s towards the audience and then she’s gone.

…

After the show has ended I find myself thinking about her. I’m about to start heading back to the hotel. The night is breezy, I reach the menagerie tent and I hear a voice coming from inside.

“Sad about his death, and I heard he was just bout to get married” Zachary says

“No, he wasn’t” a deep rumbly voice that must belong to Arthur replies.

“Are you sure man, haven’t you seen the gold ring he had on his left hand finger last night, he wasn’t even a man to wear jewellery”

I stop. The corpse I saw had no gold band on his finger. But Arnold did.

The bushes rustle and the night’s shadows lengthen but Arthur doesn’t reply.

There is a light on at the entrance; I rush towards it pulling out the envelope from my pocket as I go.

I search through the picture’s until I find a picture of zarmain that show’s his fingers and sure enough there is the gold band. i turn around immediately changing tracks, before long I’m knocking on Arnold’s door.

…

“ He was my brother” Arnold looks down at his lap “I would never kill him” he look’s up at me with sincerity in his eye’s all of the jolly man act gone “ the ring belonged to the love of my life, Sarah, who fell in love with him. But my brother was a player, he made her love him even more and then he broke her heart and left, she killed herself. And she sent this ring with the suicide note” Arnold is crying real tears “ it hurt zarmain, as it should have, but I was devas ted. I loved her and she never even realized. After he died I couldn’t let her ring go with him.”

…

That night I couldn’t sleep, if zarmain was a player surely there were other women out there who would love to get him, suppose it were one of them.

 The next morning I dress quickly and head towards the circus, after greeting Arnold I go to zarmain’s cabin. The corpse itself has been removed, thank god, but the smell still remains. I search the entire room one more time; turning all his clothes’ inside out, rereading all the letter’s he ever received, most of which are from women, on his desk in the front cover of a novel I find a letter from Sarah. She writes’ about the love she had for him and how he should know he’s the reason of her death.

  I’m about to leave the room exasperated when I decide to check the underside of his bed; right there under his bed is a single pink sequin.

…

It’s getting to dusk and I still haven’t gathered the courage to report what I found to Arnold. Somehow I even feel betrayed.

        I wait until after the show and then I approach Arnold, if she did the murder then she must be caught. Arnold is talking to someone who is in a shadowy corner so I can’t make out who it is but As I come closer I stop in my tracks. It’s her. Arnold turns around and he beams when he see’s me.

“ Guess what detective, auburn has caught the killer”

I look at her confused, she smile’s at me, a small smile.

“It was Arthur,” she declares. I look at her surprised

“He came here to revenge his daughter’s death, and he did” she speaks so calmly and confidently.

“How did you figure it out Madame”

She blushes’ “ well it was nothing really, if you were here earlier you probably would have. It’s always been my dream to become a detective, and when the murder happened I started searching around looking for clues”

I smile “well Madame, if you ever need a job as a detective all you need to do is ask”

She smile’s so wide and her eye’s twinkle so bright she probably made a few star’s jealous.