"The equivoque principle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Craske Darren)

CHAPTER VII
The Gathering

AS ITS NAME IMPLIED, Dr Marvello's Travelling Circus would be nothing without the means to travel. The steam train that carried all the circus equipment and crew was stationed a few miles away from the borough of Crawditch, at Grosvenor Park train station-a modestly sized, smoke-filled structure with a slatted glass roof and an atmosphere of grime and dust hanging persistently in the air.

The massive steam engine and its four carriages were gaudily painted bright green with red swirling trimmings, and a yellow lightning flash adorned its sides. Alongside all the rather more sombre engines and carriages housed at the station, it stood out like a jester at a wake. Quaint was a firm believer in tradition, and he was loathe to repaint the extravagantly decorated train. It wasn't proper for a circus train to be drab; it was a part of the show's character all to itself, there to offer the public a glimpse of the spectacle to come-and Dr Marvello's Circus thrived on spectacle. In fact it was renowned for it across many parts of Europe. The perfect synergy of traditional circus acrobatics, magical displays, feats of endurance, and the strange and the fanciful. The circus had performed to the likes of sultans and tsars, kings and queens, and always thrilled an audience. Of course, there was no such person as Dr Marvello. It was merely a theatrical pseudonym created to add an air of mystery to the circus. Cornelius Quaint had inherited the name when he inherited the circus, and he was quite unwilling to change it.

The man himself was sitting in his office in a loose white cotton shirt and black waistcoat. An array of twenty or so colourfully dressed folk sat around him in a semi-circle as he held audience. His office near the front of the train was usually a warm and inviting room-with theatrical posters on the walls, old magicians' equipment and costumes, keepsakes and heirlooms from his career. On this day, however, its atmosphere was dominated by an abundance of tears, sniffles and subdued silence as Quaint relayed the information about the loss of Twinkle, and of Prometheus's fate. As he had imagined, this double blow tore right at the heart of his family.

'I wish I had more to tell you, folks, but that's it,' Quaint said, elbows on the table in front of him, bridging his fingers into a steeple.

He took a long, slow look around the room at the faces of those he had come to admire and respect. Every one of them had a vital part to play in his circus; every one was an essential cog in the machine. But Quaint was entertaining a thought that would see many of their abilities tested.

'However…I must tell you that tonight I intend to visit Crawditch myself and launch a search for the fiend who murdered Twinkle. This task will be fraught with danger, and I envisage conflict with the locals, the police…or both. I cannot ask any of you to come with me on this venture.'

'Nor could you stop us, Mr Quaint,' chirped a Chinese fellow from the back of the office. His identical twin sat next to him, and patted him on the back in firm agreement with his brother.

'Thank you, Yin…I hoped you would say as much,' Quaint said.

'It's Yang, sir,' said the Chinese man.

'My apologies, Yang. I do wish you two would wear name badges,' Quaint said warmly, his black eyes twinkling in the half-light. 'It would make identifying you somewhat easier!'

A beautiful woman with dark-brown tresses and large dark-brown eyes, wearing a peach-coloured sequinned dress, raised her hand in the middle of the room.

'Mr Q, I've got a question. It's about what happened to Twinkle,' she said, her voice faltering as she spoke. 'I don't understand…of all people, why do the police think that Prometheus did it?'

'Because they have no other suspects, Ruby,' replied Quaint. 'As far as they're concerned, they have their murderer-now all they have to do is find the evidence.'

Ruby raised her hand again. 'Just tell us what we can do to help, Mr Q. Anything you need us to do, and we'll do it. We're a family after all, right?'

'That is very sweet of you, Ruby, thank you. In fact, I aim to take you up on it,' Quaint nodded sharply, his affection for his team reaffirmed. 'Our first task this night is to be reconnaissance only. I don't have enough confidence of our footing to do anything more risky. We have a starting point, my friends, but we will need to act with haste if we wish to find anything that could help Prometheus.' Quaint stood up from his chair and clapped his hands loudly. 'Now, if you would please return to your duties.' Quaint watched his troops depart his office until only a handful was left, and then he stepped in front of the door. 'Not you, Ruby, Jeremiah, Yin and Yang-I need a word.'

After Quaint's office was emptied of the various performers, crew members and technicians, the circus owner stood with his arms crossed, surveying the four remaining performers. The stunning woman in the sequinned dress, a middle-aged man with a balding pate and long sideburns, plus the Chinese twins, all waited behind in their seats, as did another woman who was seated at the rear of the room. Her face was concealed behind a dark lace veil, held in place by a golden headband adorned with a variety of tiny charms and trinkets. She sat bolt upright in her chair, silently observing the room. This woman watched Quaint intently, stroking the charms on her golden bracelet as if she were biding her time patiently to speak.

Quaint began: 'Folks, here's my proposition: following a lead given to us by Prometheus himself, tonight we are going to start at The Black Sheep tavern in Crawditch, and search for clues. Prometheus claims he was drugged by whisky given to him by the establishment's landlord, so finding out what he knows is our objective. We'll do this quickly and quietly, as we can ill afford the spotlight of the police falling upon ourselves,' said Quaint with a resolute clap of his hands. The room snapped to attention immediately, and all eyes and ears were transfixed by the man. 'Ruby and I will enter the establishment at eleven o'clock and with a bit of luck the place won't be too busy. We don't want an audience. With Ruby's looks and the right attire, she'll hopefully grab the attention of the landlord.' Quaint pointed to the two young Chinese men. 'Meanwhile, our acrobatic twins, Yin and Yang, will enter the tavern via the rooftops and search the landlord's living quarters and office. Searching for what, I don't know, but somehow that man is linked to what happened to Prometheus-and so logic dictates, he knows something about Twinkle's killer also…gentlemen, lady…I want to find out just how much he does know-even if we have to squeeze the truth out of his bones.'

The balding man raised his hand. 'What about me, boss? I'm a clown, for crying out loud. What am I supposed to do, walk in there chucking buckets of water about?'

Quaint smiled. 'That's a nice idea, Jeremiah, but no. Yours is a most important role…you're the distraction. This landlord will no doubt have a glut of scum in residence that would take umbrage with him being roughed up. It's your job to keep them occupied so that Ruby and I can play our parts.'

'I find this unsettling, sir,' said Yin, flicking his thick dark fringe away from his eyes. 'It is inconceivable that this could happen to someone like Twinkle.'

His brother Yang toyed with his neckerchief. 'I agree with Yin, Mr Quaint. I cannot think what kind of person would wish to harm her.'

'I share your sentiments, my friends, and your bewilderment. Twinkle was as close to an angel as I have ever known, and I am not going to stop until I find out who is responsible. What I can say with absolute certainty is that whoever this killer is, he's as dangerous a man as I can imagine.'

The veiled woman at the back of the office gently coughed into her hand.

'Madame Destine?' Quaint asked. 'You have something you wish to add?'

'Yes, Cornelius,' she said, in a thick French accent. 'But what I have to say must be for your ears alone.'