Entwined (32 page)

Ruda's attention wavered from Mamon to Mike, and the big cat snarled, swiping a paw at her, demanding her full attention.

"Get back…No…don't you dare! Here—eat."

She tossed another hunk of meat, and Mamon caught it in his jaw, then lowered his head to rip it apart.

"Rudaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…Ruda!"
Grimaldi bellowed.

Mike turned, startled. Grimaldi was heading toward them, carrying a pitchfork, dragging it along the cage bars. "Ruda!"

Ruda moved further into the cage. She faced Mamon, and tossed out more meat. She rested her back on the bars, turning to her right. She could see Grimaldi staggering along with the huge pitchfork.

"Mike, get him away from the cages!"

Mike, terrified of the big man, stuttered out to him to keep back.

"You want to make me?"

Grimaldi shoved the boy aside and came to Mamon's cage. "She's gone, she's left me, she's gone!"

Ruda threw another chunk of meat, but Mamon lowered onto his haunches, no longer interested in eating. He let out a low, rumbling growl. Ruda was trapped in the small cage; the exit door was behind Mamon. "Good boy, back…back off… GET BACK!"

Grimaldi banged the bar. "What did you do to her?
You bitch! What have you done?
"

Mamon hurled himself against the bars, trying to slice through with his paws, snarling and snapping at Grimaldi. Ruda went around him and out of the trapdoor. She bolted it shut and ran to the front of the cage. "Get away from the cages…
Get away from the cages!
"

Grimaldi vented all his pent-up anger at the snarling and snapping lion. He pushed the pitchfork through the bars and caught him on the rump: The cat went crazy, lunging at the bars and roaring with rage.

Ruda struggled with her husband, trying to jerk the pitchfork out of his hands. They fought like two men, pushing and shoving each other.

"Let go, Luis, let it go…!"

"She's gone, she's left me. You did it! You did this to me!"

Ruda brought up her knee and slammed it into his groin. He gasped with pain, let go the fork, and doubled up in agony. She took the fork and pointed the sharp iron prongs at Grimaldi's chest. "Get back…Get out of here!"

He tried to grab at one of the prongs with his bare hand, but Ruda yanked it free—as she did, the prong sliced into his palm. He stumbled back, blood streaming from his hand.

Ruda tossed the fork to Mike and shoved Grimaldi with her hands. "Get out…go on, go back to the trailer—back,
get back
."

He stared at her, yet moved back a couple of steps. "I'm not one of your lions, one of your cats…
You pushed too far this time, you pushed too far!
"

Grimaldi turned on his heels and stumbled away. Ruda turned on Mike.

"What the fuck are you gaping at? Get that fork back onto the truck, and bring the feed trays—go on!"

Not until she had fed every cat did she take off for her trailer, but halfway there she was stopped by the administrator. Mr. Kelm asked that she go over to the offices immediately. The chairman wished to speak to her. Ruda followed, the sweat still dripping off her.

The big man was standing, his coat draped over his shoulders, his silver-topped cane propped against a large oval table. As Ruda walked in, he snatched the cane and brought it down with a crash on the highly polished table.

"
We pride ourselves…understand me, Mrs. Grimaldi…we take pride in ourselves…
in the fact that everyone working here is the best. The best in the world! We have millions riding on this show, millions in advertising—we have school groups coming through…I want every child to go home and say they want to come to the show, that's parents, sisters, brothers. And today those children witnessed a brawl—
a brawl!
—involving one of my top acts…Now, if you and your husband have domestic problems, sort them out in private—
not
in a disgusting public display. You may be a top act, Mrs. Grimaldi, but I will not have the name of this circus damaged, even if it means ending your and your husband's contract. Do I make myself clear?"

Ruda nodded, furious at being spoken to like a child. She turned as if to leave.

"Every act is replaceable, Mrs. Grimaldi—remember that!"

She faced him. "Not every act. You show me one cat trainer, one act on a par with mine…"

"Yours?"

"Yes, mine, my husband no longer works in the ring."

"I see…If your husband has a problem—get rid of it! Do I make myself clear?"

She nodded, and glared at him. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She turned and walked out, carefully closing the door behind her.

Schmidt turned to Kelm. "That woman is trouble! Any more problems and they both leave. We can hire the lion act from the Moscow Circus. Keep your eyes on the pair of them and let me know what's going on!"

♦ ♦ ♦

Ruda tore back to the trailer in a rage, only to find Grimaldi, his hand wrapped in a towel, clumsily loading one of his rifles. As soon as she saw what he was doing, she slammed the door shut and locked it. "Put that away. Luis, put it away!"

He turned, sneering, cocked the gun and released the safety catch. He then pressed the barrel to his neck. "I was going to shoot that beast, that crazy fucking animal. Then I decided I should kill you…now, I think I'll blow my own head off, because that's what you want, isn't it?…
Isn't it?
"

She sat on the bunk, forcing herself to stay calm. "If that's what you think, then do it—go on, shoot."

He wavered, but did not put down the gun.

"Why do you think I want you dead?" she snapped.

"Give me one good reason you don't?"

She shrugged. "That might be tough, but if pressed I'd have to admit that maybe I need you."

He lowered the gun. "You haven't needed me for ten years."

She watched the gun being lowered, with relief. She couldn't deal with one more scene, not after that lecture. "I don't need you for the act, that's true…but maybe I need you."

He slumped down, the gun loose in his hand. "Bullshit, you don't need anyone, you never have—unless you want something, then you pretend to need."

Ruda stared at him. "Why don't you give me that gun and stop playing around? Come on, give it to me."

He cocked his head to one side, asked why she had done it.

"Why did I do what?"

"Make Tina go away."

She laughed, shaking her head. "I made her?…
I made her?
You don't think maybe you had something to do with it?"

"I loved her, I loved her."

"You left her, without money, without anything. Left her in the middle of the shittiest place in Berlin, and now you tell me—
you loved her
? The only thing you love is booze, she came here crying her heart out, all I did was comfort her!"

"Comfort?
You filthy whore!
" He lurched to his feet. "I saw you together,
I saw what you were doing to my little girl!
"

"She wasn't your little girl, and don't think for two seconds that baby was yours—she told me it wasn't. She came here asking for money, threatened to tell that fat slob Schmidt about you, about you screwing all the young kids, and you know what he just told me? He told me that if you play around with any more teenagers then you and I will be out, contract or no contract."

"I don't believe you."

"Ask him, go ask him. Kelm was there, he heard, I just got a lecture from the fat-assed bastard. Tina was a little tramp. I am telling you the truth, the baby was not yours—she admitted it to me."

Grimaldi leaned back, closing his eyes. "I don't believe it."

Ruda moved quickly, grabbed the gun from him, and put the safety catch on. He made no effort to stop her. He held his face in his hands, saying over and over she was lying to him, then he looked up. "I could have had a life with her, I could have started again."

"Doing what? Changing someone else's brat's diapers?"

"I could have been happy with her."

Ruda sighed. "And what would you have lived on? You know I would never have parted with the act. I tell you something, you would have had to shoot me to get them. This was just a fantasy on your part."

He got up and poured himself a glass of water. "I talked to Lazars, spent hours talking to him. We argued and yelled a lot, but he's changed, too, he's changed."

"I don't follow, can I have a drink?"

He handed her a glass of water, and then stared at the posters. "I tell you the circus, as we know it, it won't last, it can't last. You remember Ivan the Russian? He spent fifteen years training his tigers, he's been in the circus business since he was six years old, but he couldn't afford to keep them out of season. He shot the poor bastards, all twenty-four of them, so nobody else would have them…said they were of no use to anyone, and he wouldn't let a zoo have them, didn't think it was fair. He told Lazars he shot them because he loved them. Now what crazy mind is that?"

Suddenly he laughed his old rumble laugh, leaning back, his eyes closed. "Maybe I should shoot myself, can't be put out to pasture, can't get any other work."

Ruda's heart was hammering. She had never heard him talk this way, ever. She sat next to him, close to him. "Don't…don't talk like this."

"It's the truth, I've known it for a while. I see them cramped in their cages. I keep on telling myself that it was different when I was working the rings, that it was better, but I know it wasn't, if anything it was worse. You, we, are living on borrowed time, because the day will come soon when all wild animals will be barred from being used as cheap entertainment."

"No, no, I don't believe it. I love them, I care for them, I love every single one of them."

Grimaldi cocked his head, gave a slow sad smile. "No, you don't. You love to dominate, you like the danger, the adrenaline, but you don't love them."

"I do, you know I do…"

"Caged, locked up twenty-four hours a day, you call that love?" He stretched out his long legs, resting his elbows behind his head. "You know this little Boris, Lazars' little chimp? Well he got her from a troupe of Italians; spent his savings on her. Boris was too young to work in the ring, she was being trained. Lazars sat in on one of the training sessions, kept on watching the Italian rubbing the chimp's head…he thought it was with affection. But the little baby was very upset. After the rehearsal Lazars checked her over, Boris's head was bleeding. This so-called trainer, he'd got a nail sharpened to a point like a fucking razor—he wasn't patting her, he was sticking his nail into her head…"

Ruda stared at her boots. "Lazars was always a second-stringer, a soft touch. You shouldn't listen to his bullshit."

"I haven't before…I just think what he's saying may be true, that acts like ours have a short time to go."

Ruda sprang to her feet. "I won't listen anymore…I've got to go and get ready to rehearse."

"Yeah, make them jump through hoops of fire—great, they love it…get their manes singed, they fucking love it."

Ruda paused at the door. "Will you give me a hand in the ring? They're still nervous about the plinths."

He looked up at her. "You don't need me, Ruda."

"What are you going to do?"

He turned away, unable to look at her. Unexpectedly, the big man's helplessness touched her. She hesitated, then went and slipped her arms around him. "You're hung over, go and lie down. I'll come by later and cook up a big dinner, okay? Luis?"

He patted her head. "Worried I'll run off, go after Tina?" She wriggled away from him, but he pulled her close. "You are, aren't you? Is it me you want?"

She tried to get away from him, but he wouldn't let her go. "Is it me?"

She eased away from him, her face flushed red. "I guess I'd miss you, I've got used to you being around."

He watched her reach for the door, unlock it. He gave a hopeless smile, he knew she didn't really want him but she didn't want anyone else to have him. The door closed behind her and he sat down, once again staring at the posters and photographs on the wall.

♦ ♦ ♦

The forensic laboratory had made a plaster cast of the heel taken from the Grimaldi boots. They were good impressions, very clear; but the print off the carpet was not. Even so, they were reasonably sure the impression had been made by the same boots. Torsen asked whether it could be used as a piece of evidence, whether it would stand up in court. He was told that it could not, since the print taken from the victim's hotel room was only of a section of the heel.

"But you think it was from the same boot?" "Yes I do, but that is just my personal opinion." Torsen sighed; it had been a long, fruitless day. The second disappointment was that the sawdust taken from the victim's hotel room matched the fifteen samples taken from the circus, all from different cages. The sawdust was also discovered to be similar to samples brought in from the Berlin zoo, the Tiergarten.

Torsen's next inquiry was at the bus station. The night duty staff had still to be questioned regarding bus passengers the night Kellerman was killed. The three drivers could not remember any male passenger fitting the inspector's description; two could not recall anyone getting off from a bus at or near the Grand Hotel; the third driver could only recall a female passenger who had picked up the bus from the depot and gotten off at the stop close to the Grand Hotel; but he could recall little else about her except her long, dark hair. He remembered that it had been a particularly unpleasant journey, the vehicle was mostly filled with Polish women and children who had been greatly disturbed by a group of young punks hurling bricks at the bus, shouting Nazi slogans. The driver spent considerable time berating the police, saying they should provide buses, drivers, and passengers with better security.

Torsen returned to the station, heated up a bowl of soup in the microwave and looked over his notes. He had a motive—the man was disliked by everyone he seemed to have been in contact with, possibly owed money to whoever killed him. But from there on it went downhill; no one person had seen a man fitting the description of the potential suspect.