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MORNING AT THE CIRCUS was sombre. Breakfast was quiet. Most of the roustabouts went out early to look for what clues they could to point to where Karla and Jacinta might be. Bo was so impatient with them, especially young Michael, that Monroe was called for.
Bo and his men were at the riverbank when Monroe arrived with Tammy.
“What’re you looking for here?” Monroe called to him as they approached.
“Anything that could be...” Bo looked across the river. “You know they found a woman’s body on the other side, near the bridge?”
Monroe nodded. “It wasn’t one of them,” he said.
“You’re sure they’re alive?” Bo asked.
“Certain,” Monroe told him.
“How?”
Monroe looked about to make sure only Bo and Tammy were close. “If they were dead, I’d have seen one of them last night,” he said.
Bo looked at Tammy.
“He has that gift,” Tammy said. “You know that already.”
“And what do you say?” Bo asked.
“They’re alive. Not safe, but alive.”
“You just can’t tell me where.”
“We’re going into Pinecone,” Monroe said. “We’re going to find some local help. There’s got to be somebody who knows this place better than...” he looked at Michael who was looking through the grass with some of the other roustabouts. “Ask the lad if there are any cabins or things in this plantation. Maybe some lookouts. It makes sense if they’re being kept somewhere, they’re not out in the open. It also explains why we don’t have any clear direction to look at.”
“Lookouts?” Bo asked.
“Yes.” Monroe looked about. “There’s a saw mill on the other side of town. This is where much of the timber is grown now. It used to be... long story you don’t need to know. Lookouts are for fires. If a fire burns through this plantation, the wood’s ruined and it takes—”
“Alright,” Bo said. “I understand. I’ll go ask him and we’ll go looking.”
“And Tammy and I will be in town. Please don’t make it necessary for me to come looking for you again. I’m more worried about our girls than the others, and nearly as worried as you.”
“Alright boss.”
Monroe turned to Tammy. “Shall we?” He started back to the Circus.
“Where’re we going, Bernard?” Tammy asked as they walked.
“I want to see the police.”
“Police won’t be interested.”
“I believe there’s one who will be,” Monroe looked at his walking stick. “I believe there’s also an old acquaintance about.”
“Jeffries?”
“The same.”
***
MONROE PARKED HIS TRUCK in a side street near the Federal.
“I thought we were going to the police?” Tammy asked as she stepped onto the footpath.
“We are.” Monroe locked his door and put the keys in his pocket.
“You know you can lock your door without using a key?”
“I know.” He checked his walking stick again before taking a place beside Tammy. “If I lock it with a key I don’t lock keys inside it. If I lock keys inside it, nobody’ll help me retrieve them, only assume I’m trying to steal it when I break in.”
“You’re cynical.” Tammy smiled.
“It’s the truth.” Monroe offered his arm.
“The cynical truth,” she said as she put her arm in his.
They walked toward the police station but only got as far as the Brown Bull.
“I want to see the Brown girl,” Monroe said as they stepped inside.
The lunch bar was empty except for Cassandra. It looked like she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong dear?” Tammy asked as she approached the counter.
“Bad news,” Cassandra said. “What can I get for you?”
“What kind of bad news?” Monroe asked.
“Just heard a friend died,” Cassandra said. “I’ll warn you, the kitchen’s closed so it’s only sandwiches and stuff that’s not cooked. We got some cakes. They were made yesterday so I won’t charge you full price for them. They’re not stale, but they will be on Monday, so if you want to take some with you I can—”
“Was it someone we met?” Tammy asked.
“Yeah.” Cassandra sniffed and looked at Monroe. “She was the receptionist at the site office you went to the day you upset old Rupert French.”
“She was so young,” Monroe said. “Was it an accident?”
“If you call murder an accident, then yeah, it was.”
Monroe looked at Tammy.
“You were good friends,” Tammy said.
“What can I get you?” Cassandra asked.
“Coffee,” Monroe answered.
“Take a seat. I’ll bring it to you.”
Monroe shook his head. “We’re missing two girls from the circus. I’m wondering if the constable I had lunch with would be willing to help us.”
“Joseph? I don’t think he’s going to be in any state to help anyone right now. He’s gone home to a bottle of scotch. That was about an hour ago.”
“Does he often drink like that?” Tammy asked.
“Only when the woman he loved and intended to marry is raped and murdered along with their unborn child, so no. I don’t think he does drink like that often, but I think he’s got a fucking good excuse right now.”
“I’m sorry,” Tammy said. “I should have seen there was something like that in your words.”
“No you shouldn’t,” Cassandra said softly. “There’s no reason why you should have. I’ll get you your coffee.”
“The kitchen always close this early on Saturdays?” Monroe asked.
Cassandra looked at the clock. “It’s after twelve, nearly one.” She took a deep breath. “Melody didn’t come in this morning. Probably heard about Marie before I did.”
“I hope that’s all,” Monroe said.
“So do I. They say bad news comes in threes.”
“What’s the other bad news?” Tammy asked.
“Been sacked.” She looked at Monroe again. “Someone heard us talking about Mum and Dad. Seems none of my family is welcome in this town.”
Monroe shook his head. “Damn stupid, foolish... I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Cassandra said. “I hate this fucking town with its fucking arse-licking to the Frenches attitude and it’s fucking Golf Club and its fucking... Marie was the only decent person I knew in this place and whoever it was who killed her, it wasn’t only them. It was this fucking town.”
“You’re from a carney family,” Monroe said. “Your family found a home in my circus once. There’s still a place for you.”
“Yeah, my grandmother was a clown. A fucking clown.”
“Those fucking clowns are the ones who make sure the other performers are safe,” Monroe said. “They’re the ones who look least out of place when there’s something suspicious happening under the big top.”
“How?” Cassandra asked. “Surely they’re the ones who’re most conspicuous in their makeup.”
Monroe nodded. “It’s what makes them most conspicuous that makes them the least visible. Nobody that conspicuous could possibly be anything but an obvious distraction.”
“I’ll get you your coffee,” Cassandra said.
“Make it strong, and add some water so we can drink it fast.” Monroe put some coins on the counter and looked at Tammy.
“I won’t have one,” Tammy said.
***
MONROE TURNED TO RETURN to the truck once they were outside the Brown Bull.
“I thought we were going to the police,” Tammy asked.
“Not today,” Monroe said. “Can you go to the Timber Getters and ask Ed King to check his register to see if Frank Jeffries has a room there. Tell him Bernie Monroe wants to know.”
“Bernie?” Tammy smiled.
“Long story, but it’ll tell him you’re on the straight.” Monroe looked up the street. There was an old green car with someone familiar leaning against the bonnet. “Go and find out and I’ll meet you back at the truck.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Speak with some friends.” Monroe checked his walking stick and strode to the car.
Stanley stood as Monroe approached.
Monroe stopped two paces from the lad. “Hello Stanley, or is it Sydney again?”
“What do you want, old man?” Stanley asked.
“I want my girls back.” Monroe looked about. Tammy was gone.
“What girls?”
“I knew the real Frank Jeffries back when he was... It’s not too late, you know? I can help what’s left of you and get the rest out. All you need do is ask.”
“Why should you want to help me?”
“You’re a French. I owe the Frenches a lot for a kindness. But that debt doesn’t extend to Frenches who kill carneys. I might owe your family, but the circus is my family.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about”
“At night, or in the mornings. During those times when you get to think and remember who you were and what that was like. What it’s like to have feelings inside and how... I know a shaman who can help.”
“Why would I want to feel anything?” Stanley asked. “Especially if all I can feel is... no.”
“Even feeling remorse is better than feeling nothing.”
“What makes you think I’d have remorse, then?”
“Life without feelings isn’t a life. It’s a death. You die, but your body doesn’t know it. Do you want that?”
“You’re mad.” Stanley jumped into his car and sped away.
Monroe watched as he went.
“Well, Bernard. That was such a touching speech. I don’t know why the boy wouldn’t just fall on his knees and beg your assistance.”
“You’ll cause your own undoing Frank. You know that?” Monroe turned to look at a face he never wanted to see again. Frank Jeffries.
“You’re looking... the same,” Jeffries said. “Just as... is it old fashioned to say dashing? I’ll say it anyway. Just as dashing as you ever were.”
“And you look just as vicious as you’ve always been.”
“You know how this plays out,” Jeffries said. “You shouldn’t have tried to get me hanged. Those gallows are built for Browns.”
Monroe looked at his walking stick.
“Still thinking the answer has something to do with that stupid bloody snake head?”
“Not the answer,” Monroe said. “But one of them.”
“Give it up Bernie. You’ve been trying for how many years? Every time that bitch calls you, you come running and fail again. You can’t stop this, no matter what that stupid fucking voodoo slut told you. She got her shit from the other side. What holds true there, isn’t true here.”
“Don’t count on it too heavily.”
“There’s a Brown here, somewhere.”
“You ever wonder what’ll happen to you when the last French dies?”
Jeffries laughed. “That’s not going to happen. You know that.” He turned and walked away.
“Don’t be so sure,” Monroe muttered.
Whiskey, that’s what he needed to find. If the young constable was finding comfort in his bottle of scotch, Bo might need some comforting with a bottle of whiskey.