The Night of the Carnival of Terror
O caeca nocentum consilia!
O semper timidum scelus!
[Oh, the blind counsels of the guilty!
Oh, how cowardly is wickedness always!]
—Thebais (II, 489), Statius (Publius Papanius Statius; c. 60-100), Roman poet
Chapter One
The two agents strode side by side down the polished floor of the corridor, not speaking, but with similar thoughts on their minds: Why had Colonel Richmond recalled them from their vacations? What could be so important? Very little had been going on at the time they each had headed their separate ways, Artemus to Chicago to join his fiancée, Jim to Canada for a visit with his brother's family. Before either reached the intended destination, a telegraph message had been sent out to intercept.
The secretary in the anteroom looked up as they entered and waved them through, another indication of the importance of the colonel's summons. Jim was ahead and reached the latch, pushing the door open.
"Colonel…" he began, then stopped in his tracks, causing Artemus to nearly run into him. "Senator?"
Colonel James Richmond stood up. "West, Gordon, you are acquainted with Senator Henry Gibson Russell."
"Yes, sir," Artie murmured, looking toward the slender man with graying dark hair and a van dyke beard. "Good afternoon, Senator Russell."
"Good day, sir," Jim said, his curiosity bursting. What is this about? A matter of national security?
Russell stood up and shook hands with each man. He had gray eyes that gazed at each of them piercingly, but they could discern the deep concern in the depths of those eyes, along with the lines of weariness and worry on the face. "Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I deeply regret recalling you from your leaves, but I hope when the colonel explains why you are needed, you will understand."
"Sit down," Richmond said, as he regained his own seat. "I'm going to be succinct. Senator Russell's eighteen-year-old daughter has disappeared, and the two of you are being assigned to find her."
Jim and Artemus exchanged a quick glance, and Artie said, "Kidnapped, sir?"
Russell's face contorted for an instant, displaying his grief before he regained control of himself. "We don't know. Let me tell you the story. You may be aware that I am a widower. I have two older sons, one who is employed in Ottawa in the American consulate, the other currently reading law with a firm in New York. My daughter, Roseanna, is eighteen, and as you can guess, somewhat younger than her brothers. She is… precious to all of us.
"My wife's sister, Mrs. Rachel Kidder, invited Roseanna to accompany her to Oregon, where Rachel has a brother. Roseanna finished her schooling last year, and I thought it would be a fine experience for her, with the prospect to see more of the country. Two weeks ago, I received an urgent telegram from Rachel. They were in Denver, and Roseanna had suddenly vanished."
"Do you know the circumstances, sir?" Jim asked, as the senator paused to gather himself again.
"I do. I immediately boarded a train and traveled to Denver. Rachel informed me that they decided to extend a layover in Denver a couple of days for an opportunity to view some of the surrounding countryside. She said Roseanna was thrilled by the snowcapped mountains nearby, so they hired a buggy and a guide and spent a day seeing as much of the area as they could. The day before their train was to carry them further west, they were resting in their hotel room—at the Silver Queen Hotel."
"A very fine establishment," Artie put in quietly. "We have stayed there."
"Yes, I agree. Roseanna told her aunt she had noticed a sweet shop across the street, and wanted to visit it to pick up something for the cousins she would be meeting for the first time in a few days. Rachel let her go alone. She had done so before, for as you know, this part of Denver is respectable and quiet. She remained in the room… and fell asleep. When she awakened, she realized nearly two hours had elapsed. She was not immediately alarmed that Roseanna was not in the room, feeling the girl had probably crept out to allow her aunt to sleep.
"However, when she went down to the lobby and inquired, the clerk told her he had not seen Miss Russell return after passing through the lobby sometime earlier. That did worry Rachel. She went across the street where the owner and clerk in the sweet shop said they did not remember anyone of Roseanna's description coming into the store."
"I assume you contacted the authorities." Jim sensed the senator wanted the question asked as he paused.
Senator Russell took a deep breath. "My sister-in-law did so immediately upon realizing Roseanna had not carried out her purpose for leaving the hotel. Roseanna is a very responsible girl. She would not have lied to her aunt. In any case, the police came and questioned people in the area. One person, the shoeshine boy in front of the hotel, remembered seeing Roseanna because he had seen her previously and noticed that she was a pretty girl. He was around the same age. He observed her emerging from the hotel, but was busy with a demanding customer and did not see where she went."
"No trace has been found, although Senator Russell has a slight clue. Go ahead, Henry." The colonel nodded toward the legislator.
Russell cleared his throat, reaching inside his coat and extracting an envelope. "I received this in the mail shortly after I returned home two days ago. Rachel remained in Denver to keep in touch with the police."
Jim was the closest, and he leaned over to take the envelope, pulling out a piece of paper, which he unfolded and read aloud. "'Senator Russell, I think you should know that four other girls of similar age to your daughter have disappeared from this general area in the last few months. I have an idea about it, if you care to return to Colorado and speak to me.' It's signed by Sheriff Anselm Kendrick of Black Mountain, Colorado." Jim glanced at Artemus. "That's about a hundred miles sound of Denver."
"Did the Denver police know about these other disappearances?" Artie asked.
"No. I telegraphed them after I received this and they said they would look into it. This morning I received a response. Sheriff Kendrick was murdered, apparently the day after he mailed the letter to me."
Artie took the paper Jim handed to him but did not look at it immediately. "Were the Denver police able to learn to what the sheriff referred?" he asked.
Now the senator sighed heavily. "No. It seemed the sheriff kept it to himself. His wife said he was very upset the last couple of days, and anxious to talk to me. I'm not sure why he did not immediately contact Denver."
Jim now gazed toward Colonel Richmond. "You want us to go to Colorado and try to find out what the sheriff's idea was."
"Exactly. A slight chance exists that his death has nothing to do with these missing girls. Denver is trying to find out more about the other girls. They had had no information about the vanishings."
Jim nodded. "Likely they occurred in a scattered area and no one knew they could be connected—except Sheriff Kendrick."
"Wonder how he found out," Artie murmured, frowning as he scanned the brief letter.
"I expect that will be about the first thing we need to find out," Jim said. "Is there anything else you can tell us, Senator?"
"No," Russell sighed. "I wish I could go back to Denver with you. Some might think me hardhearted, but I sense that the two of you will be able to do much more than I could, and I might be a hindrance. I have work to do here, some important legislation."
"We can leave as soon as we get track clearance," Artie said, getting to his feet. "Oh. Do you have a photograph of your daughter, sir?"
"I do." Russell reached inside his coat again and produced a square of cardboard. This time Artemus stepped forward to take it as the senator continued. "This was taken at the ceremonies for completion of her time at Miss Blaylock's School for Young Ladies last summer."
The picture was of a pretty, young woman with light brown hair bedecked with a diadem of white flowers, and clad in a white dress. She stood in an arbor covered with light-toned roses. The pose, as with most photographs, was stiff, but the life and sparkle was apparent anyway. Artie passed the picture to Jim, who studied it a moment then slipped it inside his jacket as he got to his feet.
"Senator, we will do our level best to find your daughter," Jim promised.
"You'll keep in contact with me?"
"We'll be reporting regularly to the colonel," Artie responded. "I'm sure he will share anything pertinent." It'll be best if Richmond censors our reports and gives only what is necessary to the senator.
"I'll telegraph my sister-in-law that you are on your way. She will be much relieved." Russell stepped forward then, grasping Jim's hand. "Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, please find Roseanna. We have to know what happened to her." He then took Artemus's hand in a similar firm, heartfelt manner.
His message was unspoken and implicit. He wanted to know if she was alive or dead. The limbo of not knowing would be unbearable.
"We will, Senator," Artie responded gravely. "We will."
W*W*W*W*W
After clearing a priority route to Denver, the Wanderer left Washington the following morning. At stops along the way, connection was made to receive any updates from the department, but unfortunately, none were available. Richmond had instructed his office workers to attempt to acquire intelligence regarding other young women who reportedly had disappeared in the Denver area, but perhaps because those incidents might have occurred in rural, out of the way sites, the data was not swiftly available. The agents on the train realized they would have some riding to do in order to gather this information.
Three days later, they took their horses from the train at the Denver rail yard and rode to the Silver Queen Hotel, where they met with Mrs. Rachel Kidder. She was a still attractive woman in her late forties, some silver threading her dark hair. The resemblance to the young woman in the photo was strong, despite that Mrs. Kidder was displaying some of the results of her harrowing weeks in Denver. Shadows deepened her eyes, and sheer fatigue lined her face.
She repeated what the Senator had told them, and could add little more. "The police talked to storekeepers in the area, as well as shoppers who might have been on the street that day. As you no doubt know, the only person who remembered Roseanna was the shoeshine boy."
"He did not see where she went, however," Artie put in.
"Yes. I have talked to him myself. He is a bright young man, and he feels terrible that he cannot be of more assistance. Did the Senator tell you about the other women who have vanished?"
Jim nodded. "We're going to talk to the police here, and then head to Black Mountain to see what we can learn about Sheriff Kendrick's suspicions. We know he is now deceased, but he may have told his family or a deputy or someone else."
"You know he was murdered," Mrs. Kidder exclaimed. "Do you suppose…?"
"We hesitate to speculate on anything like that," Artie responded quietly. "A lawman's job is dangerous. We can't accomplish much until we know the circumstances of his death—which is something we are definitely going to look into, I assure you."
The Denver police had nothing to tell them. They had no information on the alleged other disappearances; they had enough to do in their bustling western town, with no time to look into crimes in the rural areas. That was up to the law in those counties and towns. If Mr. West and Mr. Gordon learned of anything that would connect those missing women to the disappearance of Roseanna Russell, they would be more than willing to step in. They were very aware that Miss Russell was the daughter of a United States senator!
W*W*W*W*W
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.
—Hamlet Prince of Denmark (Hamlet at II, ii), William Shakespeare (1564-1616), English dramatist and poet
No railroad tracks approached within thirty miles of Black Mountain, Colorado, once again necessitating saddling the horses, this time for a longer ride than from the railroad station into the heart of the city of Denver. They arrived in the town a little after midday and dismounted in front of the sheriff's office. A large black bow, somewhat faded now, was tacked to the half open door.
The man at the desk looked up as they entered. "Can I help you, gents?" He was in his early to mid thirties, of lanky build, with curly blond hair and blue eyes in a somewhat long but handsome face. He wore the sheriff's badge.
Jim quickly made the introductions, and explained their mission. The sheriff stood up then, extending his hand. "I'm Bill Coogan. I was Sheriff Kendrick's deputy and after he was killed, the town council gave me the badge until the next election at least. I'm not sure it was a very nice gift! Sit down and tell me what you need."
Two wooden barrel-backed chairs were in the office, so the agents took them. "Tell us first how Sheriff Kendrick was killed," Artie urged.
"Right here in this office. He sometimes stayed late of a Saturday night when things might look busy. I came in Sunday morning and found him on the floor, behind the desk here. He'd been stabbed… in the back."
"You haven't caught the killer?" Jim inquired.
Coogan shook his head sadly. "Nope. The doc said Anselm likely died around midnight. No one saw anything, or heard anything. A couple of cowhands who headed home around one said they noticed no lamps were burning in the office. They thought that kind of odd because they knew Anselm Kendrick was likely to stay in the office all night if he thought he might be needed."
"Where were you that night?" Artie asked.
"Home. My wife had our second son two days before and Anselm told me to go stay with her. Things don't usually get so bad around here that two officers are needed at once. Mostly I spelled Anselm so he would have time off occasionally."
"So no suspects?" Artie went on.
"Not that we could pin anything on. Every lawman has enemies. You boys know that. Just pinning on this badge is enough for some folks to hate us. The killer didn't even leave the knife. Nothing for us to track down."
"What do you know about Kendrick's ideas regarding the missing girls?"
"Not a thing. Anselm could be damned close-mouthed at times, and like I said, it wasn't as though we were constantly working side-by-side. I'd maybe see him once a day when I'd come by to give him time to go home for lunch."
Jim cocked his head. "What do you do when you're not here?"
"I raise and sell saddle horses. I have a little piece of property north of town, just big enough to keep fifty-sixty head at a time. Training them takes up a lot of time."
"I imagine it does. Do you know if Kendrick kept any notes about his ideas?"
The sheriff looked at Jim for a moment, as if surprised, glanced down at the desktop in front of him, then up again. "No, I don't know. I have to tell you, I've been dang busy these few weeks since I got to wearing this badge. We've had a spate of rustling throughout the county that's been keeping me on the run. I don't think I've opened any drawer on this desk except the top one to get some ammunition."
Jim and Artie exchanged a look, and Artie asked, "Do you mind if we look through it now?"
"Not a bit. I haven't had my lunch yet. I'll go get a bite and you two have at it. I hope you find something. Oh, by the way, in case you didn't know, we lost a girl here in Black Mountain about two months ago. I reckon that was what set Anselm off. His brother's daughter. I'll tell you more about that later." Then he was gone.
Artie shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I'm getting the idea Sheriff Coogan can't wait until election day when he can lose his badge!"
"Yeah, I noticed. Let's see what we can find in the desk."
Not much at the outset. Outdated wanted posters, a few letters from the state representative of the area, ledgers that kept track of the personal money Kendrick had spent. And in a bottom door, a stack of newspapers.
Artie leafed through them. "These might mean something. They are all dated within the last few months, and seem to be from various Colorado towns. Wonder how Kendrick acquired them."
"Look here," Jim said, bending down as Artie lifted the eight-inch stack of newspapers out to the desktop. He came up with two folded papers. One was a map, the other a poster. "An advertisement for a carnival," Jim mused, laying it open on the desk. "The 'C. X. Yount Spectacular Carnival.' Never heard of it."
Artie pointed to a row of dates at the bottom of the page. "Looks like it's been touring this part of the country recently. I wonder…" He took the map from Jim's hand and opened it on the desk as well. "Look. Kendrick marked some of the towns where the carnival appeared, along with dates…" He brought his eyes up to meet Jim's.
Jim nodded. "I think we'd better read these newspapers."
When the sheriff returned a half hour later, he found the agents had taken over his office, with newspapers carefully folded and placed on the floor in a row, the map on the desk, and a sheet of blank paper they had found in a desk drawer covered with dates and notations.
Artie explained to the puzzled lawman. "We believe that Sheriff Kendrick realized that the disappearance of these girls coincided with the visits of the carnival. It was here two months ago…"
Coogan's eyes widened. "They were in Black Mountain two days before Nancy Kendrick vanished!"
"How is it Sheriff Kendrick had these newspapers from all over the state?" Jim waved to the papers on the floor.
"Oh, that was kind of a hobby of his. We don't have a newspaper here in town. He paid stagecoach drivers and freight wagon drivers to pick up papers in other towns to bring to him. He's been doing it for years. I didn't realize he was saving some. Why in the world would someone from the carnival be kidnapping these girls? It seems as though no ransom was ever asked. At least I know that didn't happen to Judson Kendrick, Anselm's brother."
"Neither did the senator," Artie said, "nor, according the newspapers, anyone else involved with the missing girls. We may not know until we find them—or their abductor."
"You think they could be alive?"
Both agents shook their heads with grim expressions on their faces, as Jim said, "We have no way of knowing right now. Where does the sheriff's brother's family live?"
W*W*W*W*W
In love to our wives there is desire, to our sons there is ambition; but in that to our daughters there is something which there are no words to express.
—Joseph Addison (1672-1719), English essayist, poet, and statesman
The Judson Kendrick ranch was about an hour's ride south of the town. The shadows were lengthening as the two agents approached the well-kept two-story house. A stocky man came out onto the front porch to greet them, and when they dismounted to identify themselves and explain their visit, a petite woman emerged through the door.
"Are you here about Nancy?" she eagerly wanted to know.
"We're looking into the disappearance of several young girls," Artie replied quietly. "We hoped you would be able to tell us the circumstances on the day you last saw your daughter."
Mrs. Kendrick invited them inside and they sat in a neat, if worn, living room. "Nancy is our only daughter," Mr. Kendrick said. "We have three boys that are out working on the range today."
"What occurred that particular day?" Jim asked.
Mrs. Kendrick shook her head. "Nothing unusual. Nancy took her pony out like she often does."
"Did she ride out alone?" Artie queried.
"Oh yes. She often rode out alone. Sometimes she went with her brothers or a friend, but usually alone. She is a good rider and her horse is well behaved."
"Only we thought that day he mighta throwed her," Mr. Kendrick added. "He came back alone. Me and my sons saddled up and went out looking but didn't find anything. Not Nancy, and not any sign of anything."
"No indication she might have met up with someone?" Artie gazed at the sad-faced man.
"Nope. My oldest boy is a pretty good tracker, but it had rained a couple days earlier, so the grass was all soft. You know, it springs right back up. We went to her favorite places, but couldn't find anything that showed she had been to any of them. She just… vanished."
"I presume you brought in your brother, the sheriff," Artie said gently.
Kendrick sighed. "Yeah. Him and Coogan went out and looked all over, asked folks if they'd seen her. Still nothing. And then… then Anselm was… murdered."
"Mr. West, Mr. Gordon," his wife looked at each man. "Do you think Anselm's death had anything to do with Nancy?"
Jim could only shake his head. "We don't know. It could be a coincidence. We are going to continue searching for Nancy and the other girls until we find answers."
Artie then asked if they had a recent picture of their daughter. Mrs. Kendrick brought out an album with a velvet cover and extracted a cardboard similar to the one they had received from Senator Russell. Other similarities abounded. Nancy Kendrick posed in a white shirtwaist and dark plaid skirt in front of an obvious photographer's background that displayed a pair of fake rosebushes. Like Roseanna, she was dark-haired and quite attractive. When asked, the Kendricks gave permission for them to keep the photograph.
W*W*W*W*W
After a stop in town long enough to pick up the newspapers, carnival poster, and map, as well as thank Sheriff Coogan for his assistance, Gordon and West made the long ride back to the Wanderer, reaching the train as the sun was lowering behind the western hills. Orrin Cobb had started supper, peeling and putting a pan of potatoes on the boil. After changing clothes, Artie took over, pulling out some cut up chicken from the cooler, and setting it to fry.
They had not talked much on the ride back from Black Mountain, each deep in their own thoughts, mulling over what they had learned and not learned about the missing girls. Little was said until the agents and the two train crewmen were seated at the table with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans that Artie had cooked to a perfect crispness.
"Did you find out anything about the girls?" Cobb asked then.
Artie quickly explained what they had learned. "Right now we are thinking someone at the carnival is involved."
"What do you think happened?" Kelly, the fireman, wanted to know. "Were the girls killed?"
"Sadly," Jim nodded, "that seems most likely. The only other answer might be white slavery. However, that would require transporting the girls to someplace like San Francisco, where corrupt sea captains might buy them to take to other countries. We know of at least five girls who went missing. If they were all taken by the same person—or persons—how could they be concealed for such a long period?"
"I was thinking about that too," Artie said, putting down his coffee cup. "I think it would require a conspiracy."
The three others looked at him. "What do you mean?" Orrin Cobb asked.
"I mean more than one member of the carnival troupe being involved. Somehow, they would have to secrete the captives, possibly in a wagon, say, that trails the traveling carnival and remains out of sight from others in the carnival as well as local residents. The logistics seem to place that idea out of the question."
"Unless," Jim interjected, "everyone, or nearly everyone, in the carnival is involved."
"True." Artie nodded. "And I'm thinking the only way we're going to begin to find out about that is to visit the carnival."
W*W*W*W*W
Res splendidiores facit amicitiacumlevioresadversas partienscuras etdolores.
[Friendship makes prosperity brighter, while it lightens adversity by sharing its griefs and anxieties.]
—De Amicitia (VI), Cicero (Marcus Tullius Cicero; 106-43 BC), Roman philosopher, statesman, and orator
The southern Colorado town of Appleton was on the railroad tracks, at least. Cobb was able to place the Wanderer on a siding three miles or so from town. They were actually a day earlier than the scheduled arrival of the carnival, but Artie pointed out that often the carnivals did not keep a strict schedule. They could already be on location already or could be late arriving.
After riding into town, they were surprised to realize that no law office or jail was situated within the town limits. Upon being asked, the bartender at the saloon where they got a cold beer told them that the county sheriff was available if problems arose, but he was in the county seat, some twenty miles away.
"At least they have a restaurant," Artie said when they emerged from the saloon, pointing toward the building across the street bearing a sign designating it as an eatery. Nearing the noon hour, they decided to eat before returning to the train. They had already discovered that the carnival wagons had not arrived at the field set up for it outside of town.
As they strolled across the street, Artie tapped his partner's arm. "Jim, look. Is that who I think it is?"
Jim followed Artie's gaze and saw the couple strolling up the board walkway, arm in arm. "Erika?" He then said it louder. "Erika!"
The exotically beautiful woman turned her head in their direction, stared a moment before throwing her hand to her mouth in total surprise. She spoke a word to her male companion then stepped off the walk to hurry toward them, holding out her arms. Now James and Artemus were the ones displaying astonishment: Erika was obviously pregnant!
"Oh, Jim! Artemus! What a wonderful surprise!" She hugged each of them then stepped back, holding onto Jim's hand. "Whatever brings you to Appleton? Work, I suppose."
"As usual," Jim replied. "But you?"
She turned then to grasp the hand of the husky man who came up alongside her. "Mathias, I've told you about Jim West and Artemus Gordon. These are they! Gentlemen, my husband, Mathias Durant."
Jim looked at Artie then turned to extend his hand to the man with chiseled features and very broad shoulders. "Mathias, I'm pleased to meet you. I will have to hear this story. Erika once told me she was too busy with her lions to think about marriage—and a family."
Artie took his turn to shake the groom's hand. "How do you do. We were just heading into the restaurant for a meal. Won't you join us?"
The four of them entered the restaurant and took a table by the window. A robust middle-aged woman came to take their orders. The selection was small: fried chicken or chicken stew with dumplings. When she had gone off, Artie looked at the couple across from them.
"What are you doing here in Appleton, Erika?"
She smiled. "Mathias is waiting for the carnival that is due to arrive tomorrow. He's going to be their new 'strong man.'"
"The Yount Carnival?" Jim asked, startled.
"Yes. We…" Erika looked at each of them. "Don't tell me you're after them for something! We need this job!"
"We plan to check them out," Jim admitted, "but we can't say we are 'after them' for anything. Tell us more about what you know about the carnival and its owner."
"We met him in Denver," Mathias said. "When we married last year, Erika left her circus and came to work at mine. When she learned she was going to have our baby, she stopped working with the lions."
"It's just a temporary job," Erika put in. "We're heading for California, and so is the Yount Carnival. We have bought some property there, using up all our savings to do so, so we need this job to get us there. Oh, don't look at me like that, Artemus! We did not buy it, sight unseen. It is a farm next to one owned by Mathias' brother in the Sacramento area. Mathias saw it a couple of years ago. When it went up for sale, Peter wrote to us. We sent him the money and he has purchased it."
"Good," Artie smiled. "I'm afraid we've heard of too many swindles involving land sales like that."
Their food arrived, stopping their conversation for a few minutes. Jim found himself sneaking glances at Erika, remembering the fun-loving and very courageous woman he had met in Denver a couple of years back. Thinking of her as a married woman, and mother-to-be, was difficult. Nonetheless, her happiness was apparent. She glowed with it.
"Now," Erika said firmly as she buttered a warm biscuit, "you have to tell us why you are interested in the Yount Carnival."
Erika could be trusted. They knew that. As well, she and her husband deserved to know what they might getting into, especially considering her condition. Therefore, between them, Jim and Artie carefully and quietly explained about the missing young women, and the possible connection with the carnival.
Both Erika and Mathias were silent a moment before Mathias spoke. "Have you met Cecil X. Yount?"
"No," Jim replied, shaking his head. "We plan to when the carnival arrives. What can you tell us about him?"
"Not a whole lot. I had never met him until I went to talk to him about the job. I hadn't even heard of him or the Yount Carnival before that day. I've since learned that they usually work up and down the Pacific Coast, California, Oregon, and Washington, sometimes up into Canada."
"Mr. Yount needs performers," Erika said. "When Matthias told him I was a former lion trainer, he tried to convince us that I should return to the cages. Even after Mathias told him I was expecting a child!"
"Is he a hard taskmaster so that he lost employees?" Artie inquired.
"Not from what I heard. In fact, he pays very well, a great deal more than what I ever earned before, even after I explained that it was to be a temporary position." Mathias shook his head. "He was really anxious to hire me."
"He's… he's kind of an aloof man," Erika put in. "I met him before the carnival left Denver. We didn't go with the carnival right away because my sister was getting married in Omaha, and we went to the wedding first. When I talked to him, I had the sense his mind was elsewhere, perhaps worrying about his show. Even paying higher salaries was not drawing acts."
Artie frowned. "Is this a new carnival?"
"I don't know." Erika shook her head. "The tents and wagons and such look well used, but they could have been bought second-hand. He has no animals in the acts other than the horses used by bareback riders. I presume he would have acquired cats had I agreed to work for him."
"It might be," Mathias offered, "that because he performed only on the coast, the show is not well known in the other parts of the country. Perhaps he decided to expand, and it is not working out well. As you probably know, numerous such traveling shows move around the country. The competition for the money locals pay for such things is strong."
"That could be," Jim nodded.
"We might be able to ask when we meet him," Artie concurred. He pushed his empty stew bowl aside. "Something occurs to me, James."
"What is that?"
"Depending upon what we learn when we visit the carnival, it might be a good idea to not truly make ourselves known."
Jim looked at him a moment. "You're thinking you should go in disguise to talk to him."
"And go alone," Artie confirmed. "I can come up with another reason for talking to him than the missing girls."
Erika was smiling. "Mathias, you should hear some of the stories Artemus can tell about the times he wore disguises and fooled people. Even Jim!"
"That doesn't happen often," Jim defended with a grin.
"Often enough," Artie chuckled. He sobered. "We'll just take this one step at a time. When the carnival arrives tomorrow, I'll visit in a guise that gives me some authority, but will, I hope, allow me to call on the carnival again as myself or in some other disguise."
The waitress arrived to remove their emptied plates and take their dessert orders. When she walked away, Mathias spoke up. "It occurs to me that I could act as your spy. If you find reason, that is."
"Thank you, Mathias," Jim said. "We might take you up on that."
"I can too!" Erika chimed in. "Mr. Yount asked if I would be willing to help him in his office from time to time, with bookkeeping and such. Who knows what I might come across?"
The three men initially demurred, but Erika was adamant. "Who would suspect a pregnant woman?"
They had to agree. Mathias was the most reluctant but he obviously had come to realize how stubborn his wife could be. Erika promised to be very cautious and to never move or remove anything that might incur suspicion from Yount. Jim and Artemus were aware that they needed all the assistance they could get if they were going to determine if Yount had anything to do with the kidnappings.
Over dessert, the conversations drifted to subjects more pleasant. When Artie asked, Erika explained that she and Mathias had met when Colonel Housley, the owner of the show where she had been working, bought out a smaller, failing carnival, with whom Mathias was employed. He had had to move to still another show because Housley already had a strongman with whom he was quite satisfied, as well as loyal. But they had kept in touch with letters and in person when possible.
"I took one look at this beautiful woman among the lions," Mathias grinned, "and I was lost for good."
Erika had to smile. "I'm afraid I wasn't impressed so quickly. I thought he was just another muscular dolt. Fortunately, Mathias soon proved me wrong. He has a degree from the University of Pennsylvania!"
"What in?" Artie asked.
Mathias grinned. "Agriculture. I always wanted to be a farmer, and now I'm going to be."
"And I am going to be a farmer's wife!" Erika smiled broadly, her eyes filled with love for her husband. "The next time you are in California and have time, you must come to visit us… so Artemus can teach me how to cook!"