A Circle of Dead Girls Read online

  One of the boys seemed very familiar. Very familiar. Even from the back, Rees recognized that stance and an unwelcome suspicion blossomed in his mind. Surely Lydia had not followed him here!

  But as Rees veered to the side so he could see the face, the children scattered, disappearing among the wagons. When he peered down the gaps, he saw no one.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ David asked, coming up behind Rees.

  ‘I thought I saw Lydia,’ Rees said.

  ‘Surely not,’ David said, sounding genuinely horrified.

  Rees glanced at his son’s expression and decided not to mention Lydia’s predilection for boy’s clothing.

  ‘Mr Rees?’ Bambola approached Rees and said, sounding accusatory, ‘Everyone is waiting for you. Are you coming?’ But she smiled radiantly at him and Rees could not prevent the leap of his heart.

  She looked much different now than the other times he had seen her. During the Durham performance she’d worn a costume spangled with brilliants and her hair had been curled and decorated with feathers. During the readings she had given him she’d worn her hair up, in a careless bun. Today it was tied at the nape of her neck and allowed to hang down her back in all of its ebony glory.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Rees said, taking David’s elbow and drawing him forward.

  ‘And who is this?’ Bambola looked at David and smiled. ‘Could this be your son?’

  ‘Yes. David, this is Miss Lucia Mazza,’ Rees said, gesturing from one to another.

  ‘Please call me Bambola,’ she said, extending her hand to David. ‘Everyone does.’

  Rees watched the flush rise from David’s neck, into his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ David said, so fast Rees could barely understand the words.

  ‘I hope you can stay for a few minutes after my practice,’ Bambola said to David. ‘I would love to see what the cards say about you.’ She directed a sparkling smile at Rees. ‘I’ll tell Boudreaux you’re coming.’ Turning in a flutter of perfumed skirts, she hurried away.

  ‘What did she mean reading?’

  ‘She thinks she can foretell your future with a pack of cards,’ Rees said. ‘Superstitious nonsense.’

  David gasped but although his mouth opened he said nothing. Rees realized David was too overwhelmed by all he had seen these last few minutes to respond.

  They stepped out into the southernmost part of the fairground. The late afternoon sun stretched long and gold over the field. Here, on the trampled straw, the men had set up two tall poles. Rees, with David trailing behind him, joined Boudreaux and the other men. The high wire posts were in position and the rope had been attached, although it still hung slack between them. Boudreaux clambered up to the top of one of the posts. Once he reached the landing, he stomped on the wood but the post did not move. He nodded at his helper and descended, jumping to the ground with a thud. ‘Be ready soon,’ he called. Rees turned. Bambola waited to one side, a parasol held above her head. Rees did not think she meant to protect her skin from the sun, since she held the umbrella behind her shoulders with her face tipped up to the sky.

  Boudreaux crossed the field to the other post and scrambled up the ladder to the top. A minute or so of jumping and he pronounced this post also secure.

  Bambola closed the parasol with a snap and scaled the ladder. Although the rope was only ten feet above the ground, she seemed very high and very insecure on that narrow line of hemp. David clutched at his father’s arm so tightly it began to throb. Bambola pushed one stocking clad foot out and then the other and for a moment she stood poised there in the air. She managed a little hop. Even Rees could see the bounce in the rope. She very carefully backed up until she felt the landing shelf behind her. When she descended the ladder she joined Rees and David.

  ‘Boudreaux,’ she shouted. ‘This will not do. It needs to be tightened.’ She repeated it in French for emphasis. Muttering, Boudreaux scaled the ladder and began pulling at the rope’s end.

  An errant breeze suddenly snatched his cap away and sent it spinning across the field. His strangely dyed orange hair glittered like fire. Boudreaux jumped as he made a grab for the cap but missed. Muttering audibly, he motioned to Bambola.

  ‘Try it now,’ he said.

  At the same moment, a crack reverberated across the field. Boudreaux clutched his shoulder, an expression of astonishment crossing his face. As he fell backward from the pole bright scarlet drops flew across the yellow straw. Bambola screamed.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Rees came to himself with his face pressed against the ground and his mouth full of mud tasting straw. He lifted his head. An instinct left over from his twenty-year-ago experience as a soldier had thrown him flat and he had taken both Bambola and David with him. When he cautiously raised his head, he saw that everyone had dropped flat except Asher. He was still upright and staring at Boudreaux.

  ‘Get down,’ Rees shouted. ‘Get down.’ He rose to his hands and knees but he did not know which way to go first. To Asher? To Boudreaux? Or toward the direction from which the shots had come? After a moment of indecision, he began crawling for Boudreaux.

  Asher seemed frozen.

  ‘Get down,’ Rees hissed as he passed Asher. ‘Get down now. The shooters may still be out there.’

  Asher turned, his face pale. ‘What the Hell are you doing?’ Asher said, crouching low and screaming in Rees’s face. ‘This wasn’t a random shooting. They thought he was you. Get under cover. Now.’

  Rees was so focused on reaching Boudreaux that he did not listen. In fact, he barely heard Asher. Boudreaux was still alive but just barely. Blood stained his linen shirt and dribbled from his mouth. ‘Asher,’ he whispered.

  ‘Don’t try to speak,’ Rees said as he slid his arm under Boudreaux’s head. Boudreaux’s fingers scrabbled at the front of Rees’s shirt. ‘Ash …’ The name trailed off in a gurgle.

  ‘I’m here, mon frère,’ Asher said, coming up on Boudreaux’s left side. ‘I’m here.’ He looked at Rees with tear-filled eyes before turning his attention back to the dying man. ‘You’ll be all right.’

  But Boudreaux was already gone. Rees had seen too many dead men in his time to mistake the sudden stillness. Asher broke down, muffling his sobs against Boudreaux’s body. Bambola began weeping as well, not dainty sniffles but wrenching cries that sounded as though something was being torn from her.

  ‘This is your fault,’ Asher said, turning his tear-stained face to Rees. ‘Those villains, the ones looking for you, returned. They shot him, thinking he was you.’

  Rees stared at Asher. ‘Me?’ Guilt and shame swept over him. ‘No, that can’t be.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Asher. ‘They came here looking for you. But he’s the one who was shot.’

  Rees swallowed and looked around. Except for David, whose face was contorted with pity, none of the circus folk would look at him. They all thought Boudreaux’s death was his fault. And they were right.

  He turned around and began crawling away. He couldn’t face any of Boudreaux’s friends right now; guilt and shame raced through him like a fever and he felt sick to his stomach. When he reached the circle of wagons, he pulled himself upright. Were those murderers still here? He peered around the wooden wall but saw no one.

  Even though Rees thought the men, their wicked deed done, had left, he kept low, scuttling over the ground like some kind of insect, until he reached the road that ran north to south. He saw exactly where the gang had congregated; hoof prints marked the ground and a fresh pile of horse excrement lay in the dust.

  Rees dared then to stand up and look around. The wagons screened most of the circus people from view. But once Boudreaux was high up on the post by the tightrope he was a perfect target. The rifleman would have had a clear shot, especially if he were seated on horseback. Hot tears of rage and remorse filled Rees’s eyes.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ David said from behind. Rees turned around. David’s mouth was pressed tight into a thin line.<
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  ‘Those men.’ Rees pushed back the cap and rubbed his forehead. ‘They were looking for me.’

  ‘Mr Asher said. Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I suspect Piggy Hanson had something to do with it.’

  ‘The magistrate? But he—’

  ‘I suppose those monsters are gone,’ Asher said, coming up behind David. The circus master’s eyes were red-rimmed and as Rees watched moisture gathered and began running down his cheeks.

  ‘They probably ran as soon as they saw Boudreaux fall,’ Rees said. ‘The cowards.’

  ‘I owe you an apology,’ Asher said. ‘Please forgive me for what I said, I am so grief-stricken …’ He gulped and turned his face aside.

  ‘You’re right. This is my fault, I am so sorry,’ Rees said. He fought the thickness at the back of his throat until he could speak again. ‘I should leave.’ He brushed his arm across his eyes.

  ‘This isn’t your fault,’ Asher said. He reached out and put his hand on Rees’s sleeve. ‘While it is true the killers mistook Boudreaux for you, they might have murdered him even if you weren’t here.’ He paused. Even though Rees knew Asher was trying to comfort him, every word struck him like a stone. ‘The question is why,’ Asher continued. ‘And only you can answer that.’

  Rees felt the weight of grief and guilt settle upon him until he felt too heavy to move. ‘But I don’t know,’ he said, his voice rising with angry despair. ‘I didn’t know that girl Leah. And it all started with her.’

  ‘Did it?’ Asher asked. ‘That’s when you became involved. But you told me there were other murders. Did anyone know that before you began investigating?’

  ‘No,’ Rees said. ‘I guess if I hadn’t started meddling, Boudreaux would still be alive.’

  ‘Probably,’ Asher agreed. He turned and started back to the tightrope, the posts clearly visible over the field. After a moment Rees followed, David trailing behind. The group of circus people congregated around Boudreaux’s body came into view. ‘He was my first performer,’ Asher said, his voice breaking. ‘Not a smart man by any means, but a wizard with horses.’ He couldn’t continue. Burying his face in his hands he sobbed. Rees stood in an awkward silence, knowing there was nothing he could say. ‘My fault, my fault.’ The words reverberated through his head like a drumbeat.

  When Asher and Rees rejoined the crowd around Boudreaux’s body, Rees saw other faces streaked with tears. But none of the circus people had approached the victim. Rees pushed through the crowd and knelt by the dead man, pulling down the lids. Boudreaux’s eyes were beginning to film over and his skin was growing cold.

  ‘We’ll bury him here,’ Asher said.

  ‘We must inform Constable Rouge,’ Rees said.

  Asher hesitated. ‘We’re not on good terms with the constable.’

  ‘This is murder and Rouge has to know.’

  ‘Will he make it possible for us to bury Boudreaux in sanctified ground?’ Asher asked skeptically.

  ‘Maybe,’ Rees said. Rouge was Catholic and had sheltered Boudreaux in the church. ‘I’ll ask him.’ Rees could do no less.

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ David said.

  As they started across the field, Rees said to his son, ‘You go home. I’ll speak to the constable. This is my responsibility.’ David eyed his father’s expression and veered off.

  Rees glanced over his shoulder. Most of the circus folk were staring after him. He knew they blamed him for Boudreaux’s death; he could see it in their faces. And he knew they were right.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Both Rouge and Thomas were serving customers in the tavern but it was the latter who saw Rees run in. Thomas nudged his cousin. Rouge turned, looked at the red-faced and agitated arrival and raised an eyebrow. Breathless and sweating, Rees shouldered his way past the few farmers lingering at the bar and leaned over the wooden surface. ‘Boudreaux has been shot,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Well, merde,’ Rouge said with feeling.

  ‘Oh no,’ Thomas said, shaking his head sorrowfully. ‘He was frightened, you know. That’s why he did not want to return to the circus. He felt safer here.’

  ‘Who was he frightened of?’ Rees asked, momentarily diverted. Thomas lifted his shoulders in an emphatic shrug.

  ‘Well, I guess whoever scared Boudreaux found him after all.’ Rouge blew out an angry breath.

  ‘They weren’t after Boudreaux,’ Rees said, choking on his guilt. ‘They were after me. From a distance, with his height and dyed reddish hair, he looked enough like me that they …’ His throat closed up and he had to stop.

  ‘We have to talk. Not here.’ Rouge gestured to his cousin. ‘You take the bar while I look at the body.’ Thomas, who seemed more grieved by Boudreaux’s death than Rouge, wiped an arm across his eyes and nodded.

  ‘Tell me what happened?’ he said as they left the tavern.

  ‘Two men have been looking for me,’ Rees said. ‘Asher warned me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Rouge interrupted. ‘They didn’t come to the tavern.’

  ‘They came to the circus,’ Rees said.

  ‘You saw them?’ Rouge asked. Rees nodded. ‘Who were they?’

  ‘I don’t know. I saw them for the first time today while they were searching the camp. Asher succeeded in running them off and I thought I was safe. But then Boudreaux …’ His throat closed up. After taking several deep breaths he continued. ‘They shot Boudreaux.’

  ‘I can’t believe they were looking for you,’ Rouge said. ‘There’s no reason.’

  Rees turned a withering glare upon the constable. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I’ve gotten too close to Leah’s – and the other girls’ – killer.’ When he did not speak Rees added emphatically, ‘It has to be Piggy Hanson.’

  ‘Why him? Why not that Shaker man Aaron?’

  ‘Where would he find the money to hire murderers?’ Rees knew Rouge did not deserve his scorn but he was too angry to control himself.

  ‘How do we know he didn’t?’ Rouge asked with a frown. ‘We know very little about him. Maybe he has family here. Maybe he hid money somewhere. You remember?’

  Rees sighed. He had solved a murder not long ago in which a member of the Zion community had done just that.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said.

  ‘I found him by the way,’ Rouge said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Aaron Johnson. He’s in the jail right now.’

  ‘Now?’ Rees, who was walking very fast, slowed. ‘Where was he?’

  ‘I caught him skulking around town last night.’ Rouge paused and then went on. ‘And don’t tell me he couldn’t have hired those men; he could have done so days ago.’

  Rees nodded but that was not what he’d been thinking. He needed to question Aaron once again.

  ‘Then there’s the circus folk,’ Rouge went on. ‘Did you see that big strongman around when Boudreaux was shot? How do you know he didn’t do it? And that circus clown? The dwarf? I’ve wondered about him from the beginning. He’s a freak. No woman would want him. Maybe he went after Leah.’

  ‘I’m not forgetting them,’ Rees said. ‘Maybe Otto. But not Billy. He’s too short to do anything. I doubt he could overpower even a young girl. His hands are very small, too small to make the marks on Leah’s throat. Besides, I saw him on the field when Boudreaux was shot.’

  ‘He could have hired those villains,’ Rouge said with the air of a man who knew all the answers. ‘Or he and the strongman are working together. Maybe they hired the villains who shot Boudreaux.’ He paused and looked at Rees, who nodded reluctantly. Rouge had suggested a plausible scenario. ‘Help would be easy for them to find,’ Rouge continued. ‘These vagabonds stick together.’

  While Rees had considered Otto himself, he didn’t want to suspect Billy. He’d grown fond of the dwarf. ‘How would Billy have gotten to Reynard’s field?’ he asked now. ‘He couldn’t walk that distance. His legs are too short.’


  ‘I don’t know. Maybe the strongman carried him. Anyway, he has a wagon, doesn’t he?’ Rouge said.

  Rees thought of the brightly decorated vehicles. ‘Too recognizable,’ he said. ‘But I’ll speak with Paul Reynard again.’ He couldn’t believe the boy had missed a wagon with red wheels and a rearing gilt horse emblazoned on the sides. Then there was Aaron’s report; his account had corroborated the boy’s in almost every detail. Even if Aaron was lying, well, Rees saw no reason for Paul Reynard to shade the truth.

  ‘One other thing,’ he said as they reached the eastern edge of the fairgrounds. ‘We’ll need to bury Boudreaux. Would the priest in your church …?’ He turned to look sidelong at the constable. Rouge quickly looked around them to confirm no one was in earshot. Although tolerated in this new country, many people still found Catholics suspect. For their own protection they worshipped secretly.

  ‘I’ll speak to the priest,’ he said, lowering his voice although no one was nearby.

  They threaded their way through the cluster of wagons to the far side. Boudreaux still lay prone on the ground with Asher kneeling beside him. Weeping, he was sponging off his friend’s bloody face.

  Rouge glanced at the body. ‘It’s pretty clear what killed him,’ he said.

  Rees, startled by the coldness of the constable’s tone, turned a disapproving look upon him before realizing Rouge was fighting his own emotion. Of course. he had gotten to know Boudreaux these past few days while he worked in the tavern’s kitchen.

  After a few seconds Rouge looked over his shoulder, his eyes taking in the two poles, the rope between them and finally Rees’s borrowed clothing. ‘From a distance, maybe …’ he muttered.

  ‘I told you,’ Rees said.

  ‘The coroner needs to be called,’ Rouge said.

  ‘And then what?’ Asher asked, looking up. His face was flushed and mottled with tears.

  ‘I’ll make sure he’s properly buried.’ Rouge turned to look at Rees. ‘And you – you better go home. I don’t want your dead body in front of me.’