'What was the kid doingout thereat that time of morning?'
'Part of his job, I suppose. Don't tell me you haven't questioned him yet?'
He took his eyes off the deck to give me an ironic look.
'You don't mind, do you, if we cross-examine his story?' Then he shrugged and took off on another short stroll.
'Yeah,' he admitted, 'the kid says it was his turn to show up early and try out the boats. Seems they do it every morning. That's one of the things that has me all ga-ga about this deal.'
'What is?'
'Dumping Cochrane in there. I can't see any motive for it. He was killed by the shiv about two AM. He wouldn't be in there taking the Swamp Ride at that time of night, would he? No. So it follows he was killed somewhere else on this lot. So why haul the body in there? The gator wouldn't touch it, and the whole damn place ain't deep enough to hide a dead rat in.'
'You mean the murderer must have known the body would be found right away in the Swamp Ride, so why not leave it where he had killed it?'
'Yeah. And here's another thing. How did he get it in there? You can't handle any of those swamp boats without power. And if the murderer had used one of them, somebody around here would have heard the motor.' He turned and looked at me.
'You for instance. You were sleeping right over the boats.'
'Never heard a thing,' I told him. 'Slept like a baby.'
Except for that time I thought I dreamed Cheeta came home, I thought. What had that little monkey Orme been up to?
A tough-faced harnessbull clomped into the arcade and handed Ferris a shoebox and a few grumbled words I couldn't catch. It must not have been big news to Ferris because he didn't start doing handsprings over it. He grunted and said okay and the storm trooper gave me a dirty look and clomped away.
Ferris opened the shoebox and took out a knife that could only be the murder weapon and he studied it for a minute like he was reading a list of instructions on how to stab.
He strolled over to me to let me marvel at it too.
'Recognize it?' he asked.
'I would if it was sticking in Cochrane's chest again.'
'I mean do you recognize this kind of knife?'
'Um. Knife-thrower's. Perfect balance.'
'Know who owns this particular one?'
I grinned at him. 'The law does now. Before that I couldn't say. Might be anybody.'
'Yeah. And whoever the anybody was he wore gloves. No prints. Unless-' His eyes took a stroll over me-'you wiped 'em off before you brought the body back to the dock.'
'Try again,' I suggested. 'This whole deal doesn't mean a damn to me. I just work here. I'm not trying to cover up for anybody.'
He waggled the blade absently, wearing a bemused expression.
'Is there a knife-throwing act on this lot?'
I was glad he phrased it that way. I wouldn't have to lie to him-unless you call an omission a lie.
'Not that I know of. But then I just-'
'Yeah, I know. You told me. You just started here.' He looked sour for a minute. Then he grunted and almost smiled.
'You picked a hell of a swell time, didn't you?'
There was something in what he said, but it was too vague right then to mean anything. The timing was almost too coincidental.
'Well,' I said, 'it doesn't really matter, does it?'
I slid off the counter and told Ferris I had to see a man about my job. He didn't seem to care. I think he had already lost interest in me. When he told me to stick around in case he needed me, it sounded like he was saying it out of habit. I hoped so. I wanted a wide gap between myself and the law.
'Good luck,' I told him. That was from habit too.
'Yeah,' he said. The word didn't carry much conviction.
When I looked back he was still standing alone in the arcade, staring stonily at the floor.
Gabby had a stand set up for me. It was next door to Bill Duffy's bally platform. That was nice. Just a couple of old carny buddies working side by side. We looked at each other and looked away.
A shelf had been rigged behind my stand and it contained a vivid white orchid display.
'What's that for?' I asked Gabby. 'I haven't turned pansy since you saw me last.'
'The boss don't allow cash for cash gambling,' Gabby told me. 'We let the marks win an orchid. You're just here for the atmosphere. Didn't Rob explain that to you?'
'Yeah. But it only costs the mark a quarter a try. That's some deal, twobits for an orchid.'
'Naw. These here are what they call saprophytic orchids. Don't have much value except for botanical purposes. Big old swamp a couple miles from here and the damn things grow wild in there by the million. Rob hires a kid to collect 'em. They're a dime a dozen.'
'Just like barkers,' I said.
'How'sit?'
'Something Cochrane said to me last night.'
A dull look came into Gabby's morose face.
'I'm gonna miss that old Irish bastard,' he said quietly.
'A pretty good guy, wasn't he?'
'The best.'
'Evidently somebody around here didn't think so,' I said. 'Who do you think had it in for him?'
Gabby gave me a challenging look.
'Who do you think for godsake?'
'Hell, I don't know. I just started here, remember?
'Come off it, Thax. I know about you and May. Word gets around.'
'That's what everybody keeps telling me.' I looked over at Bill Duff. He was up on his bally spieling.
'Duff's big mouth has been going, huh?'
Gabby shrugged. 'Did I say so?'
'You didn't have to. Well, it doesn't matter. Let's back up a couple of sentences. So you know me and May. So what?'
'So I know what everybody else around here knows. She was a knife-thrower when she first came to this lot. Before she put the hooks in Rob and became Mrs. Big.'
I was surprised when he said that much. As a rule carny people never show any interest in a crime that happens in their backyard. They become deaf and dumb. They pointedly keep their noses out of it and volunteer nothing. It's the law's worry not theirs. And Gabby was not a talkative man.
'You don't like May much, huh?' I prompted.
'Name me somebody here that does.'
'Cochrane must have.'
'Rob was easy. He liked everyone. He was a pushover for her.'
'So now this word that gets around so fast has it that May turned the trick, huh?'
Gabby made a noise in his throat. 'She's a cinch for it.'
Could be. But what did it mean to me-except that I didn't like May and had liked her husband? It still wasn't any of my business. I just worked there. That was all.
Gabby took me around back to a little tented area and handed me my working togs-the flowered vest, the plastic bow tie, the derby and bally stick, and a final admonition.
'Remember, Thax. Atmosphere only. Don't send away any sore loser. May can afford the orchids.'
That's right, I thought. It's May now. The whole kit and caboodle belongs to the little girl who came from the she house on D Street.
