Midnight Mystery: 4 (Winnie the Horse Gentler) (12 page)

Catman streaked by us, dropped to the ground, and rolled under the cages. In a few seconds he rolled back out. “Hole.”

Now it was Leopold’s turn to frown.

Catman explained. “Some cat cut a hole in the bottom of the cage. Dung dropped out.”

Leopold dove under the cage to see for himself.

I started to say something, but Catman slipped between Hawk and me, looped his arms through ours, and turned us back toward the Big Top. “Leo’s not your man.”

I let myself be led by Catman until we were halfway to the Big Top. Then I put on my brakes. “You don’t know Leopold’s not guilty. I’m going back.” Why should I take Catman’s word that I had the wrong man? So he had a hole in his cage. He could have put it there himself!

Catman shrugged and kept walking. Hawk went with him.

I jogged back to the cages.

Leopold’s back was turned when I walked up. I heard a deep voice and stopped to listen. “They’re all stupid, baby! Only you and me’s got the sense we was born with.” Leopold the lion tamer was talking! He was probably on a cell phone, more than likely talking to his accomplice.

“You
can
talk!” I cried.

Slowly he turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me. What I saw in his black eyes made me wish I’d never come looking for him alone.

“Leave me alone!” growled Leopold, showing his jagged yellow teeth.

But I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t move.

He wheeled around to face me. Instead of a cell phone, he held a lion cub. He’d been talking to the lion?

“Go!” he yelled.

“B-but . . .” My throat had gone bone dry. “Catman . . . said you can’t talk!”

He lowered his voice and spoke to his cub. “See how stupid they are?” When he glared up at me, his voice returned to a roar. “He didn’t say I
can’t
talk. He said I
don’t
talk. Why? Because humans are too stupid to listen! That’s why!”

“I agree. . . .” I tried to smile as I backed away. “I don’t like talking to humans either. Really I don’t.”

I turned and ran back to the Big Top. Maybe Catman was right about Leopold. Maybe he wasn’t. But if Leopold hadn’t sabotaged the circus and if Gabrielle hadn’t done it either, I was back to Dinglehopper. And I’d already been there. Which meant I was going in circles and running out of time.

Wednesday the circus took a rare day off. I felt relieved. It gave me a whole day to think through the events of the week. I wanted to solve the mystery before the circus opened in Ashland Thursday night.

After school I manned the help line at Pat’s Pets, then biked to the barn and took a short ride on Nickers before getting back to work on the bow. I’d just led Nickers out to the paddock behind the barn when the circus truck pulled up. Ramon got out of the driver’s side.

“Back here!” I shouted.

He waved, then walked to the barn, hands in his pockets. When he came out of the barn into the paddock, he was holding my barn cat, a black cat with one white paw. Nelson is Churchill’s kitten. Catman named the cat Nelson because that’s what Winston Churchill named his cat.

“Catman said I’d find you here and gave me directions. The Colonel let me have the afternoon off. Amazing, huh?” He held up Nelson so I could pet him. Nickers nuzzled the cat, who’s really as much hers as mine. “Tell me you’re not still working on that bow.”

“I think Nickers is getting closer to bowing,” I said, not really sure if it was true.

“Why don’t you forget about the bow?” Ramon set down the squirming Nelson. “Nickers’ horse laugh is a better greeting trick anyway.”

“I can’t forget about it!” I snapped.

Ramon raised his eyebrows. “Sorry! I just meant you don’t have to do it if—”

“I
do
have to do it! Nickers is going to bow! And she’s going to do it by Friday! And if you don’t believe me, then you can—!” I stopped. My throat burned and my eyes blurred. I stared at Nickers’ hooves so Ramon couldn’t see how close I was to crying. My temper was like a rodeo bronco just waiting for that gate to swing open. I was mad at Dad for not coming home for Mom’s birthday. But I had no right to take it out on Ramon
.
“Sorry, Ramon.” I looked up.

Ramon was scratching Nickers’ cheek. “Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

When I didn’t say anything, Ramon kept talking. “You have a great thing going here, Winnie the Horse Gentler. I envy you.”

“Me?
You’re
the famous Ramon! Soon to star in the Beatty Show!”

He sighed. “I don’t know, Winnie. I’m thinking maybe I won’t even try the cossack act in Ashland.”

“But you
have
to!” I insisted. “It means so much to you!”

Ramon narrowed his eyes at me.

I looked down again. “Catman told me about your mother.” I moved closer and scratched Nickers’ other cheek. “I understand, Ramon. You want to star in the circus she starred in.” I could almost feel how much he wanted it, as much as I wanted to put on the birthday show the way Mom used to.

Ramon shook his head. “You couldn’t possibly understand, Winnie.”

“But I do.” It felt like we were hanging on to the same cliff, trying to get back on solid ground however we could. “You need to ride in that circus for the same reason I need to get Nickers to bow by Friday.” And then I told him. Everything. About Mom’s birthday horse shows, Dad’s Invention Convention, and the accident. And when I was done, he told me everything about his mother, all the stories the Colonel had told him about her in the Beatty Show.

“So I guess,” Ramon concluded, “we both have a lot of work to do before Friday.”

I nodded. Then I shivered. The temperature must have dropped 20 degrees since we’d been standing there.

Ramon glanced at his watch. “Man, I better get us both to the Coolidges’ or the Colonel will serve our heads on a platter!”

“The Colonel?” I asked, jogging into the barn after Ramon.

“Didn’t I tell you? The Colonel and I are invited to Coolidge Castle for dinner—and you and I are about to be late!”

Bart Coolidge, in Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirt, and a big white chef’s hat, was leaning over a flaming barbeque grill outside his house, where lawn ornaments should have been. “Sa-a-ay!” he hollered at us. “Ramon! Why did the Honda cross the street?”

Lizzy walked out in a ski jacket and mittens. “Hi, Winnie! How was school? I checked on Larry and the lizards, and they’re all fine. Ramon, how’s that horse? Isn’t Mr. Coolidge amazing? Mrs. Coolidge says he barbeques all winter, dressed just like that.” Lizzy glanced at the sky. “It’s going to rain—storm even—with lightning, but not for hours yet.”

Poor Mr. Coolidge couldn’t squeeze in his punch line with my sister chattering.

Ramon squinted at the cloudless sky. “Doesn’t look like rain to me.”

“Lizzy’s never wrong about weather,” I said.

The Colonel was already seated when we walked inside. We scarfed down every hamburger and finished off Lizzy’s broccoli casserole, which she’d sculpted in the shape of a circus tent, complete with a yellow flag on top. She’d even used cookie cutters to shape green Jell-O into giraffes, elephants, and tigers.

To the tune of eight-tracks playing in the background, Colonel Coolidge talked about his army buddies and explained more of the grape Kool-Aid tradition. “Sergeant Alden and Private Ayers had taken a German officer prisoner. We knew Hitler’s forces were planning to attack that night, and we figured this officer knew where. After we’d tried every sort of persuasion allowed by the Geneva convention, I had an idea.

“‘Lieutenant,’ I said, ‘this officer is of no use. Give him
the potion.
’ Well, Lieutenant Daley read the situation immediately and played along. ‘Not
the potion!’
he protested. The others joined in, holding their throats or looking away, while the German officer demanded to know what was happening.

“Second Lieutenant House filled a canteen with water, while Lieutenant Daley slowly ripped the top off a package of grape Kool-Aid my missus had sent that very day. Alden dumped in sugar, and I shook the canteen as the German officer pleaded with us not to make him drink
the potion.
In the end, he
spilled
the hour and location of the invasion.” The Colonel grinned at Ramon as he took a sip of his Kool-Aid.

Mrs. Coolidge clinked her glass to her husband’s. “And grape Kool-Aid may have saved hundreds of lives.” She set down her long-stemmed glass and passed green Jell-O giraffes to Ramon. “Lizzy says the Beatty Show is scouting your act, Ramon. You must be so excited!”

The Colonel harrumphed.

“I just hope we find out who’s sabotaging the circus before Friday,” Ramon said, taking two giraffes and an elephant.

“Bosh and poppycock!” Colonel Coolidge slammed down his fork. “Someone is always trying to close my show or buy me out! ‘Times are changing,’ they say. Well, not for Colonel Coolidge
or
his circus! I shall never surrender!” He sat back and refolded his napkin. “Forget this other business, Ramon. We’re doing just fine as we are.”

I knew how he felt. I didn’t want times to change either.

The phone rang.

“I’ll get it!” Lizzy cried, lunging for the phone. “Coolidges . . . Dad! I knew it was you! Wait ’til you hear what happened in school today when—”

Catman kicked me under the table.

Ramon leaned in and whispered, “You should talk to your dad, Winnie.”

They were right. If anything happened to Dad on the flight home and I’d refused to talk to him, I’d never forgive myself. Besides, I missed him. I missed his voice, the goofy look he got when he talked about his inventions. I even missed his dorky work suits.

I walked to the phone. Lizzy stopped in midsentence. “Dad! Winnie wants to talk to you!” She held the phone to my ear. Background laughter exploded over the receiver.

“Hi, Dad.” My voice cracked.

“Winnie! Hey! How are you, honey?”

“Fine.” He sounded a million miles away. “You?”

“Great! I wish you girls were here. The back bike is a big hit!” He said something else, but I lost it in the noise.