Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 34, No. 5, April 1974

When I stopped before the tent for the evening’s first bally, something new had been added to the front. All Gil Holt had to do to drum up a crowd was point to the new, narrow banner strips pasted across the big center BURIED ALIVE! banner. The first strip said, “See the pit where the BURIED ALIVE man actually died!” The second said, “See his beloved dwarf continue his sorrowful vigil!”

The crowd’s morbid curiosity did the rest. Evidently word had spread among the townies about the strange death of a carnie freak. They fought to get in line at the ticket box. The tent was filled to capacity within minutes.

I followed the stragglers into the tent. The freaks were all on the center platform, but they were getting little attention. The bulk of the crowd was clotted around the pit, threatening to snap the chain. They gazed in hushed awe at Juval, who stood without moving, head bowed, staring down at the open, empty coffin. He gave no indication that he was even aware of the crowd.

I saw Gil Holt standing off to one side, watching with a smug expression. Rage boiled up in me. I stalked over to him. “Around a carnie, you learn to expect almost anything, but this stunt is the rottenest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Gil Holt smirked. “We’re pulling in the loot, ain’t we?”

“Holt, as soon as these people get out of here, I want you to close this show down until Mercer’s decently buried!”

“You want? Just who are you to be ordering me around?” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Linda turned the show over to me, and tonight’s going to be the biggest this nut collection’s ever had. And you tell me to slough it? Fat chance, shoo-fly!”

I took a deep breath, calming down. “Okay, Holt, but I have some business with Mrs. Mercer after closing tonight. It’s about Mercer’s new will. You’d better be there, too.”

Gil Holt stared. “New will?”

“That’s right. I helped him draw up a new one, and he left it with me. I just read it again. Tell Mrs. Mercer to be in her trailer at twelve.”

They were both waiting for me in the Mercer trailer when I arrived just after midnight.

Without preliminaries, Linda said, “What’s this Gil tells me about a new will?”

“That’s right, Mrs. Mercer. Your husband came to me a few days ago and made out a new will. This isn’t an official reading, the will is locked in the office wagon safe. But I thought I should fill you in on a few things...”

Linda cut in, “Just get on with it, Patch!”

“All right.” I was enjoying myself greatly. “The terms are simple. All of Mercer’s estate, with the exception of one dollar to you, Mrs. Mercer, is left in trust to Juval. Although I protested against it, he made me administrator of that trust.”

Linda went pale. “Juval! All Carl’s money goes to that—”

I continued, “Your husband provided a substantial income for you, Mrs. Mercer — with a stipulation. This income will be, paid from the trust only so long as you take good care of Juval. Should you fail to do so, in my judgement, your income will immediately cease. But you see, Mrs. Mercer, your husband did provide for you.”

Her lip curled. “Some providing, being stuck with him!”

“There is one other clause of interest. Should Juval predecease you, the trust is terminated and the remainder of the, estate then goes to you. I tried to talk him out of inserting that clause.”

Gil Holt had been listening closely. Now he said, “He did all this only a few days ago?”

I glanced at him and said with calculated malice, “That’s right. I tried to persuade him to reveal the contents of the will to both of you. Had he done so, he could very well be alive right now.”

Gil Holt bristled. “Are you accusing me of something?”

Linda gestured sharply. “Shut up, Gil.”

“But baby, I—”

She turned on him viciously. “I said shut up!”

They sat glaring at each other, and I grinned openly. I might not be able to prove Holt responsible for Mercer’s death, but at least he wouldn’t profit from it now, and I had set these two at each other’s throats.

I stood up. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone now.”

Juval’s vigil continued for the next two days, and the ten-in-one continued to do a thriving business. I kept a close watch on the freak show. I was amused to see Linda hovering in clucking solicitude around the dwarf. She kept the crowd back from the chain, and once I saw her urging food on Juval, who refused once again.

I lingered behind as the crowd thinned out somewhat, and Gil Holt came into the tent. He plowed past without seeing me and stopped beside Linda. I was close enough to eavesdrop.

“What’s with you and the runt, baby?” His laughter was thin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had adopted him!”

“Your job’s the front end, Gil. You handle that and let me take care of things inside.” Her manner was cold, scornful. “You’re, having a big week. Think of the gross and be happy.”