The Fear In Yesterday's rings

Mary made a small, sad sound in her throat, shook her head, and looked away.

Garth said, 'That's heavy, Mongo. The man must be close to seventy now. Can't Social Services do something for him?'

'He's too proud to accept any kind of help. Besides, I believe the real problem is that he's lost the will to live; he wants to die. He as much as told me that the only reason he's not back out on the streets right now boozing it up is that he feels an obligation to stay sober and get well long enough so that he can get a job and earn enough money to pay me back for his hospital bills. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep him around the brownstone.'

Mary reached across the table, took my hand in hers, and squeezed it. 'That's terrible, Mongo,' she said softly. 'How can Garth and I help?'

'I'm getting to that, Mary. But first Garth has to ask me about the good news.'

'I don't feel much like joking around anymore, Mongo,' Garth said evenly. 'I know something about how the street people suffer, and I know how much you love that man. Just tell us how we can help.'

'Not so fast. I insist you ask me about the good news.'

Mary started to say something, but Garth silenced her by putting a finger to his lips. Without change of expression or tone, he asked, 'What's the good news, Mongo?'

I glanced back and forth between my brother and Mary, smiled wryly. 'If Phil's basic problem is that he's lost the will to live, I think I have a solution to the problem.'

Garth leaned forward on the table, peered at me suspiciously. 'Which is?'

'I'm going to try to buy a circus for him to run.'

'Great, Mongo,' Garth said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 'A circus is just what you need. And what will you-?'

'Hear him out, Garth,' Mary said, wrapping her long, tapering fingers around my brother's thick wrist. 'Go ahead, Mongo.'

'Thank you, my dear,' I said, nodding to the woman with the sky-blue eyes before turning my attention back to Garth. 'Now, listen; Phil lost the circus when the bank holding a lien on it sold it off at auction, but there was something decidedly funny about the deal, judging from the way Phil described it. Assuming he was sober enough at the time to know what was happening, it sounds to me like the Statler Brothers Circus may have been some accountant's bright idea of a tax write-off; for all we know, that circus may now be owned by Gulf and Western. At the least, I hope to find out just who does own it. The bank that auctioned it off is a Chicago outfit called United States Savings and Loan. If it is a tax write-off, a lot of depreciation has already been claimed by now; the owner may be tired of the whole thing and just might be receptive to an offer that would now give him a fair return on his original investment.'

Garth grunted, shrugged. 'No matter what deal you may be able to make, buying a circus is still going to take a lot of cash. If you're asking if it's all right with me to take a second mortgage on the brownstone to finance the deal, of course it is.'

'Whoa, hoss; let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm thinking it would be a good idea to look for partners in the venture in order to spread the risk around, and I'm pretty sure I know where to find them. Phil kept his entire stable of freaks on the payroll right up to the bitter end, long after just about every other circus in the country had packed their freaks off to whatever fate awaits people like a three-legged man and a pig-faced lady. Even freaks who never worked for Phil Statler have heard of him and respect him; freaks who worked for him love the man. Well, there are a whole lot of retired freaks living in a small town in Florida, just outside Sarasota. Naturally, there's a large percentage on welfare, but others made good investments over the years and are well enough off so that they might not mind using a circus themselves as a tax write-off if it couldn't turn a profit. What I'll propose to them is a corporation, a limited partnership where individuals will own shares, and where actual operations will be turned over to Phil Statler, who'll be compensated on a profit-sharing basis after his expenses are covered. He may need some outside help to advise him on how to best manage and compete with the other big shows, but that's a step or two down the road. The first thing I have to do is go to Florida and see if I can line up backers. If I can, I then head to Chicago to pry the name of the owner out of United States Saving and Loan.'

Mary asked, 'Why not just find out where the circus is now, go there, and make your inquiries?'

'Oh, I plan to check out the circus itself, but before I do that I want to find out who I'm dealing with. If it is just one of hundreds of entities owned by some huge corporation or holding company, I have to know who I can approach to talk business; the circus manager wouldn't necessarily give me that information or take me seriously.

'Anyway, that's my plan; I may be able to put it all together, or I may not, but I feel I have to try. I figure it will take me a week, maybe two, to take care of business. Garth, that means I have to ask you to handle our entire caseload while I'm gone. We've got those two big things hanging fire-Bechtel's offer of a permanent retainer, and possible work for the Belgian consulate.'

'I'll take care of it, Mongo,' Garth said absently. He was looking at me, but his brown eyes were slightly out of focus, and I knew that my empathic brother was thinking of Phil Statler's plight and pain, and the suffering of all the homeless people on the streets of the nation's cities and towns. 'Put us down for a piece of the action if you can put a deal together.' 'And make it a big piece of the action, Mongo,' Mary said, her eyes misting with tears. 'The album sales are going well, so we'll have money to invest. If it all ends up a bust and we have to write it off, that's all right too.'

'We'll talk figures if and when I can structure some kind of deal in the first place. In the meantime, I was wondering if the two of you can keep Phil company while I'm out of town-either at the brownstone or taking him back to Cairn with you.'

Garth asked, 'Which do you think is better, brother?'

'Take him back up to Cairn with you, if you've got the room. I think the change of scenery might do him good.'

'Will he agree to come?'

'I don't know. We'll have to make up some story; it's important that he doesn't know what I'm up to.'

Mary smiled coyly, batted her long, pale eyelashes. 'We'll all go back to the brownstone now, and I'll work my feminine wiles on him.'

'You're a good man, Mongo,' Garth said in a low, husky voice, 'and I love you.'

'Harrumph,' I intoned as I signaled our waiter for the check. 'You'd never know it from the way you talk to me sometimes.'

Chapter Three

Palmetto Grove is a small town of a few thousand people located an hour's drive northeast of Sarasota. One of the most unusual towns in America, it isn't listed in any tourist brochure, and few people have even heard of it; the residents prefer it that way. For decades, before the decline of the Big Tops and their accompanying sideshows, Palmetto Grove was where circus freaks, refugees from ultimate birthmarks like mine, owned homes where they went to live in the off-season, or to retire when their 'performing' days were over. Although most of the freaks prefer, even here, to stay out of the public eye, the mayor of Palmetto Grove was-the last I'd heard-a 'dog-faced man' by the name of Charles Harris. It was not at all unusual to see a half dozen or so 'bearded ladies' chatting together in the municipal park or pushing their children in strollers. The state trooper unit with jurisdiction over Palmetto Grove often pressed the town sheriff-an eight-foot giant who came complete with his own customized van-into service when they thought the situation demanded. There was no rowdyism, no Saturday night bar fights, in Palmetto Grove.

Neither Hertz nor Avis counters at the airport had any models

I would feel comfortable driving, or they would feel comfortable renting to me, but I finally found a local car rental agency that handled Isuzus. I rented a Trooper and drove out to Palmetto Grove. I stopped in a motel- restaurant on the highway just outside of town, ordered coffee in a container, and took it out to a pay phone in the fern-lined lobby. I took out a pad and pen, then began thumbing through the local directory, looking for names of people I might know, and who would remember me. By the time I'd finished scanning the C's I already had four