Murder at the Circus: a 1920s cozy historical mystery (A Ginger Gold Mystery) by Lee Strauss

Author:Lee Strauss [Strauss, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781774092118
Publisher: La Plume Press
Published: 2022-05-23T16:00:00+00:00

13

When Inspector Sanders asked to be directed to the loo, Ginger decided she could also use a good stretch of her legs. Unfortunately, she miscalculated the position of the next tent peg and the corresponding rope. Her toe caught, and she ungracefully fell to her knees. Her mind first registered gratitude that she was without an audience, and then she felt regret at the damage to her stockings.

Something reached for her, gripping her shoulder. Instantly she grabbed the object—a hand—and in a well-practised move, she flipped the offender onto his back on the ground as she sprang back to her feet, her hands in fists as she stood defensively.

“I warn you,” she said, “I have a pistol.”

A low groan in a man’s voice reached her. “It’s me, madam.”

Ginger’s eyes, growing accustomed to the darkened area, squinted at the small form, a man with short legs and arms.

“Prince Natukunda?”

The man pushed himself into a seated position. “I apologise, madam. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” Ginger said. She would have offered a hand but didn’t want to offend the man, knowing he was quite capable of getting to his feet on his own. He did so, patting the dust off his trousers.

Ginger used the moment to examine her outfit. Thank goodness, her frock was intact, though as she’d expected, a ladder ran down her shin from the newly formed hole in the knee of her stocking.

“Well, we’re both uninjured,” Ginger said. “That’s the main thing. Now, Prince Natukunda, what were you doing, prowling around the interrogation tent?”

Prince Natukunda stared up. “I suppose I could ask the same thing of you, madam.”

“I imagine we were doing the same thing, from different sides of the tent.” Ginger pursed her lips and cocked her head with a hint of defiance. “Were you concerned about your friend Mr. Petrenko?”

“Certainly, but not because I think he killed Bancroft. I know he didn’t. He was with me.”

“You share sleeping quarters?” Ginger asked.

“Indeed, we do.”

“So, you’re each other’s alibi.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Mr. Bancroft was known for his cruelty, and Ginger didn’t doubt this man, Prince Natukunda, and all the novelty acts had, at one time, been the object of Mr. Bancroft’s ridicule. But had the ringmaster driven one of them to murder?

Ginger lifted her chin, asking, “Do you know who did it?”

“What if I said it was Scout?” the prince returned. “Would you believe me?”

“No, I would not.”

“Then forgive me, but perhaps you shouldn’t be asking the questions.”

Ginger blinked at the little man’s audacity, but the man quickly backtracked.

“Forgive me, madam, I’m just a little shaken up, as we all are.”

“That’s understandable,” Ginger said. “Do you mind if I ask, how long had you known Mr. Bancroft?”

“Many years, madam. I was discovered when I was a lad of eight, discarded on the street by my own ma.” He waved a short arm. “For men like me, it is best if I stay with a group. The circus is my home, and everyone is my family.

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