Circus Wolf by Lynde Lakes Page A

aghast. “Surely you don’t believe
that?”
    “At this point, I don’t know what I believe. But to
clarify my position, my plan is to stay alive! And that won’t change. And I’ll
make on-the-spot judgments when necessary to achieve my goal.”
      Tigra felt a
wave of nausea. Could Coleman have designed the foul-ups to increase the crowds
and revenue? She recalled her condemning conversation with him after Rolo died.
“I’ve known Coleman for a long time,” she said more to convince herself than
Hugh. “The boss loves the circus too much to allow someone to commit murder for
him to increase revenues. But I’ve heard there have been offers to buy the
circus. Maybe someone beyond our circle is sabotaging the acts to force the
price down.” Tigra sensed a number of divided loyalties and motives might be
complicating the issues.
    “Good one, Tigra. Blame someone outside your
closely-knit, secret-filled Carney-Circus Community.”
    She glared at him. “You have a sharp mouth for a guy
who is hanging onto his job by a thread.” She started pacing again. “But none
of this is getting us anywhere. I see your point, and understand why you did
what you did. I don’t know where you got the skills you exhibited, although I’m
amazed and grateful. We were unbelievably lucky today. From now on, there can’t
be changes made to the act without my say so. I won’t put up with you changing
things and risking our lives and the lives of my tigers. And strip out of that
costume and get it back to me within the hour. Now get out of my sight before I do fire you!”
    He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know about
you circus women. You all seem intent in getting me out of my clothes.”
    Tigra threw a pillow at the closing door, pretty
sure Bubbles was one of those who’d hit on him. But were there others?
    ****
    After all the Big Top performances were over Tigra
headed for the menagerie carrying Hugh’s clown outfit. She joined the circle of
tigers in their haven and lay down with them. She stroked their fur lovingly
and then stroked the costume. Humming softly, she allowed each tiger to smell
the rich, oddly feral scent. After the chaos in tonight’s performance, she
needed her Bengal’s to know Hugh was their brother as she was their sister, and
he wouldn’t harm them or her. She wanted to avoid any further conflicts between
Hugh and her cats. When all the tigers went to sleep, Stripes hugging the
costume, she eased away. She needed a run to shake off her human anxieties.
    ****
    Vance Skull Kilman, garbed in his usual black
attire, felt the walls of his caravan-trailer closing in on him again. He
smiled. Tonight there was nothing to stop him from slipping out into the
darkness and fulfilling his lustful desires. He longed to seek outanunsuspecting female and, from her soft neck, suck in the erotic, sweet warm
blood…

 
    Chapter
Eleven
     
    Hugh sat on caravan thirteen’s pull-down terrace,
drinking a pitcher of ice water and watching workers going about their
business. Always on call, he had his cell phone handy. He waved at Les Morton,
one of the other new roustabouts, as he entered Bubble’s caravan. Les’s face reddened as though he’d been caught with his
hand up a skirt. Maybe that was part of his evening’s plan. The wiry bundle of
masculine energy used to be a high-wire performer like Skull. But a serious
accident had left him with a limp and off balance which ended his career. Les
had told him he was now a master painter with plumbing experience. Hugh
laughed. Maybe with Les’s injuries he needed a
massage. Or maybe the very forward and aggressive Bubbles needed her plumbing
unclogged. Hugh chuckled again. Maybe they’d take care of both problems during
his visit. Better him than me.
    Tigra waved as she jogged toward him in her running
sweats. Smiling, he signaled a hello, trying to appear nonchalant. Her graceful
lope reminded him of the way one of her tigers might move—one who had