Death is a Bargain (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 3) (7 page)

Fourteen

“Come on, Billy, Marlene must be having a fit.” Kate toyed with the idea of calling her sister-in-law, but then she’d have to listen to two lectures: one now, and one when she arrived in the corridor.

They’d settled on a fire truck, complete with all the bells and whistles, including a hook and ladder. Billy’s eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree when its siren had gone off. The cowboy on horseback was tossed back onto the toy vendor’s table, and Billy couldn’t stop talking about his new “fruck.” Kate’s older son had had the same problem, pronouncing “truck” as “fruck,” leading to a very embarrassed Charlie who’d walked his son past a firehouse, only to have Kevin shout, “Look at the fruck in garage.”

Strolling in the sunshine, holding Billy’s hand, Kate felt happier at this moment than any time since Charlie’s death.

If not perfect, her marriage had been damn good. Kate would have given it an A most days and an A-plus on weekends.

She and Charlie had married before she could vote. They’d celebrated her twenty-first birthday at Tavern on the Green, followed by a hansom cab ride around Central Park. Charlie, on a patrolman’s salary, had scrimped for months, eating tuna sandwiches for lunch and resoling his old shoes.

Though Kate had been a stewardess before her wedding, she’d quit her job because even single women who flew from city to city, offering “coffee, tea, or cocktails” to male passengers, were suspect. A bestselling book spoofing stewardesses,
Coffee, Tea, or Me
,
had been taken literally by many men back in those dark ages of crinolines and corsets.

Most married women cleaned, cooked, and ironed, and the only men they served were their husbands.

Kate loved Charlie and, to her surprise, loved being what the
Ladies Home Journal
called a “homemaker.”

She got pregnant on her honeymoon and produced Irish twins, Kevin and Peter, eleven months apart. The boys and Charlie delighted her. And that delight proved reciprocal, even contagious. Her beloved brick Tudor in Rockville Centre housed four very happy people. If outsiders saw her as
only
a wife and mother, she considered it high praise. The tough homicide detective had treated her like a partner, and he’d turned out to be a great dad and an even greater husband.

“Oh, Charlie, I miss you.”

“Who are you talking to, Mrs. K?” She’d asked Billy to call her that, wishing she could have said, “Call me, Nana.”

The boy sounded worried. Oh, God, she didn’t want him to think his temporary sitter was a fruit loop.

“No one, dear, just thinking out loud.”

Billy gazed up at her through his thick lashes. “No one ever says ‘dear’ to me. I like it, but I’m Billy. William Robert Ford. Mommy says my daddy died.”

Kate swallowed a gasp. She had to seem as if she were just making conversation and avoid any probing that might upset him. “I’m sorry, Billy. You must miss your father.”

The boy clutched the fire truck to his chest as if he expected someone to snatch it away.

“My daddy was a busy man. My mommy said so.”

“You didn’t spend much time with him?”

“No.” Billy sneezed, then pointed to the Big Top. “Look, Mrs. K, smoke! It’s good I have my fire fruck.”

Kate gaped at the billowing smoke, suppressed a scream, and dialed 911.

“Billy,” she said, trying to sound calm, “we need to get help. Let’s sit down here.” She gestured toward a patch of grass to their right, then turned her back, spoke to the 911 operator, and discovered that she was the fourth person to report the fire.

The wide-eyed boy sat, then reached up and grabbed her free hand.

She wanted to run around the Big Top to the corridor entrance and find Marlene and Ballou, but she couldn’t leave Billy alone, and she couldn’t put him in harm’s way. Frustrated, bordering on panic, she sank to her knees, still holding his hand.

Off in the distance, Kate heard a bell ringing. She pointed to the flea market’s main entrance. “Over there, Billy, here comes a real fire engine.”

Did she sound as terrified as she felt?

Billy, enthralled by the clang of the fire engine’s bell, didn’t seem to share her fear. He waved at the firefighters as they sped by. A handsome, dark-haired young man tipped his hat and waved back.

The Big Top, small for a circus site but still an enormous labyrinth of a tent, with sections for animals, dressing rooms, and food stands, had three ways to get in and out. A main entrance with a large, well-staffed booth where all tickets were sold in advance and long lines of people waited in the hot midday sun. A corridor entrance where prospective audience members, holding tickets, became customers, shopping in air-conditioned comfort while waiting to see the “second-greatest show on earth.”

The corridor entrance, a wide double door, had a Cunningham clown perched on a stool behind a podium, collecting the pre-sold tickets. Its double door always remained closed during performances. The third entrance/exit on the northwest side of the Big Top featured a heavy, roll-up tent door, not unlike an oversized garage door, where the animals and equipment could be moved in and out as needed. Would that exit turn into bedlam as the animals tried to escape?

The main entrance was less than a yard away. Kate recalled her tour with Sean yesterday, when he’d gone on and on about the wonderful traffic control. For the sake of the audience, the employees, and the animals, she hoped Sean’s flow plan would work as well as his mouth, but she worried about them all being trampled in a mass stampede.

She watched in horror as people started running out and the first of the firefighters went running in. Even with their terrified screams and panicked pushing, the crowd, sharing a common purpose, seemed almost orderly. A burly young man scooped up a frail old lady and carried her to a shady spot under a palm tree.

A second fire truck roared by.

“Is my mommy in there?” Billy, visibly shaken, spoke through tears.

Kate strained, trying to recall a five-year-old child’s level of comprehension. “If she is, Billy, the firefighters will get her out.”

She pulled the boy close, hugged him hard, and prayed.

Fifteen

Strange, with all that black smoke still spiraling from the tent, there wasn’t a flame in sight.

Kate was alternating between frantically dialing Marlene’s cell phone—with no answer—and scrutinizing the Big Top, expecting to see the tent go up in a blaze. At least the survivors, though coughing and frightened, seemed uninjured. Many of them, especially those with children, were heading to their cars in the large northeast lot. Several of the firefighters who’d dashed into the Big Top so aggressively now exited, looking far less stressed.

What had happened in there? Were Marlene and Ballou safe? Dare she risk taking Billy all the way around the circus tent to the corridor entrance?

He’d been weeping off and on, asking about his mommy, wanting to see her. Kate waited for another few minutes—they ticked by like eternal damnation—then grabbed Billy’s hand. “Let’s go find your mother.”

The light in his eyes assured her she’d made the right decision.

By making a wide circle around the Big Top—a long walk for such a small boy, but Billy scampered to keep up—they made it to the outside corridor door without interference.

A firefighter with an ax in one hand and what appeared to be a bowl in the other came running out of the corridor as they approached. Black smoke had settled like smog, turning the air thick, making it hard to catch a breath.

Marlene sat at the same table where they’d had lunch, cuddling Ballou on her lap. The little dog had her whole hand in his mouth, serving the dual purpose of pacifier for him and comfort for her.

Huddled close by, Linda held a terrified Precious, whose head was tucked into the crook of her mistress’s arm, and a box of Storybook dolls. A shopping bag overflowing with larger dolls was at Linda’s feet.

Kate ran over to them, pulling Billy behind her.

The two old friends embraced, both crying, then laughing. “Thank God,” Kate whispered. Her best friend could be trying, but what would life be like without Marlene? And Charlie’s beloved Ballou, who was becoming Kate’s other best friend?

Billy bent and kissed Ballou who backed off, then squirmed toward the boy in delight, licking Kate’s arm while trying to jump off Marlene’s lap.

“Can I see my mommy?” The boy sounded anxious. “Is she inside with the elephants?”

While Kate struggled with an answer, she glanced around. Suzanna Jordan and her daughter stood back to back, not touching. Olivia, facing the corridor door, flushed scarlet when a fireman walked by, straining her neck to see what he was carrying. Then she sank to her knees, putting her head in her hands.

Kate wondered about Freddie Ducksworth and Carl Krieg. Were they missing?

And what about Suzanna? Had she returned to the corridor after her screaming match with Freddie? Hadn’t Freddie come back? The circus matinee, filled with kids, would have been ending, if all hell hadn’t broken loose. Why would the comic-book vendor have left his booth unattended with all those hot prospects about to descend on him?

And where was Carl? Sean had put him to bed hours ago. Could he have slept through all this? Or been injured?

Before Kate could ask Marlene, another firefighter, this one a young woman, coughing and streaked with dirt, came out, carrying a hose.

“No flames in the animal area either,” she said to the first firefighter, blowing her nose.

“If ‘where’s there’s smoke, there’s fire’ doesn’t always hold true, then what’s next?” Marlene asked. “Maybe men do make passes at girls who wear glasses.”

Kate smiled at Marlene’s marriage of an old adage and a Dorothy Parker quip, glad to see her sister-in-law’s sense of irony intact.

“Come on, Mrs. K, let’s find my mommy.” Billy tugged on her arm.

“You can’t go in there, son,” the male firefighter said. “That smoke is dangerous.”

“I want to see my mommy. Now.” Billy threw himself on the grass, feet flying, kicking the heavy air, causing the smoke to move.

“Is everyone out?” Kate asked the young man.

He didn’t meet her eyes. “No, ma’am, not everyone.”

The thud in her heart sounded so loud, she wondered why the fireman didn’t jump. She’d heard that same thud when Charlie had dropped dead at her side after signing the Ocean Vista condo papers, his gold Mont Blanc pen, which the Homicide squad had given him when he’d retired, gleaming as it fell from his fingers when he crashed face-first onto the desk.

Who had died? Surely this young African-American’s sad expression and warm tone signaled death.

Kate glanced at the child kicking in frustration; he’d lost one of his sneakers. Please, God, not Donna. Not Billy’s mother.

“Is it,” her words tumbled out in a hoarse whisper, “is it a young woman?” She felt Marlene’s arm arc around her shoulders. Then Marlene headed for Billy.

The firefighter shook his head. “We do have a young lady with a broken leg, found her hobbling, leading the elephants out. She inhaled some smoke, but she’ll be fine. The ambulance is on its way.”

Kate said another silent thank-you.

The female firefighter put down her hose and, wiping soot off her nose, joined them. “I’ll tell the little boy his mother’s asking for him. He can’t go in there, but we’ll be bringing her out on a stretcher soon.”

“Smoke bombs. The bastards planted smoke bombs all over the animal quarters.” Sean Cunningham’s booming voice preceded him out of the corridor door. He looked a fright. His dirty clown costume and streaked makeup reeked of smoke. “They all got out, but the big tiger will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same.” Sean turned to the doll lady and sighed. “We have to close the corridor, Linda. Imagine that. Close down the whole damn circus while the fire department and the police muck around and investigate.”

Sean sat on Marlene’s empty chair and tried his cell phone. “I couldn’t find Jocko. Where the hell is he?” Linda patted Sean’s arm, sort of cooing at him.

“Some of my animals are tied up. Cops and firemen are holding them on ropes and chains, like they were dogs! The damn Miami Zoo has no room for the elephants and wants to know if the tigers’ shots are up to date before they’ll take them.”

“It will work out, Sean.” Linda sounded like a nurse reassuring a dying man.

“One of the cops said if they can clear out the smoke, even though the circus is a crime scene, the detective in charge would probably let the animals back in and assign some men to take care of them during the investigation.” Sean should have been glad about the cop’s suggestion, but he sounded angry.

Kate figured the Palmetto Beach Police Department would draw straws for that fun duty, feeding and cleaning up after four elephants, three tigers, and God knows how many horses and monkeys. And snakes.

“And Donna’s hurt, going off to the hospital. Nobody knows how long. Who’ll take care of Billy?” Sean whined. “Look at him down on the ground, throwing a fit. Marlene can’t control him. I always knew that kid would turn out to be as crazy as his mother and father.”

As another siren grew louder, Kate calmly walked over and knocked the chair out from under Sean.

“Have you gone mad, woman?” Sean picked himself up and glared at her.

“Yes,” she snapped. “So why don’t you just shut up?” So much for her grandmother image.

A second police car pulled up a few yards away, drowning out Sean’s protests.

Kate watched a trimmer, firmer Nick Carbone get out. Humph…must be eating fewer Krispy Kreme doughnuts and working out. But Homicide on the scene meant that Donna Viera might not be the only victim.

“Who died?” Kate asked the firefighter, speaking quickly. Once Carbone reached them, she’d be sent packing.

“Some old weirdo wrapped in a swastika.” The young man shrugged. “Meaning no disrespect, ma’am.”

“Smoke inhalation?” She asked, confident that hadn’t been the cause of Carl’s death.

“Hell, ho, ma’am, this guy took a bullet to the brain.”