Darren Craske - The equivoque principle

After Quaint's office was emptied of the various performers, crew members and technicians, the circus owner stood with his arms crossed, surveying the four remaining performers. The stunning woman in the sequinned dress, a middle-aged man with a balding pate and long sideburns, plus the Chinese twins, all waited behind in their seats, as did another woman who was seated at the rear of the room. Her face was concealed behind a dark lace veil, held in place by a golden headband adorned with a variety of tiny charms and trinkets. She sat bolt upright in her chair, silently observing the room. This woman watched Quaint intently, stroking the charms on her golden bracelet as if she were biding her time patiently to speak.

Quaint began: 'Folks, here's my proposition: following a lead given to us by Prometheus himself, tonight we are going to start at The Black Sheep tavern in Crawditch, and search for clues. Prometheus claims he was drugged by whisky given to him by the establishment's landlord, so finding out what he knows is our objective. We'll do this quickly and quietly, as we can ill afford the spotlight of the police falling upon ourselves,' said Quaint with a resolute clap of his hands. The room snapped to attention immediately, and all eyes and ears were transfixed by the man. 'Ruby and I will enter the establishment at eleven o'clock and with a bit of luck the place won't be too busy. We don't want an audience. With Ruby's looks and the right attire, she'll hopefully grab the attention of the landlord.' Quaint pointed to the two young Chinese men. 'Meanwhile, our acrobatic twins, Yin and Yang, will enter the tavern via the rooftops and search the landlord's living quarters and office. Searching for what, I don't know, but somehow that man is linked to what happened to Prometheus-and so logic dictates, he knows something about Twinkle's killer also…gentlemen, lady…I want to find out just how much he does know-even if we have to squeeze the truth out of his bones.'

The balding man raised his hand. 'What about me, boss? I'm a clown, for crying out loud. What am I supposed to do, walk in there chucking buckets of water about?'

Quaint smiled. 'That's a nice idea, Jeremiah, but no. Yours is a most important role…you're the distraction. This landlord will no doubt have a glut of scum in residence that would take umbrage with him being roughed up. It's your job to keep them occupied so that Ruby and I can play our parts.'

'I find this unsettling, sir,' said Yin, flicking his thick dark fringe away from his eyes. 'It is inconceivable that this could happen to someone like Twinkle.'

His brother Yang toyed with his neckerchief. 'I agree with Yin, Mr Quaint. I cannot think what kind of person would wish to harm her.'

'I share your sentiments, my friends, and your bewilderment. Twinkle was as close to an angel as I have ever known, and I am not going to stop until I find out who is responsible. What I can say with absolute certainty is that whoever this killer is, he's as dangerous a man as I can imagine.'

The veiled woman at the back of the office gently coughed into her hand.

'Madame Destine?' Quaint asked. 'You have something you wish to add?'

'Yes, Cornelius,' she said, in a thick French accent. 'But what I have to say must be for your ears alone.'

ALL RIGHT, MADAME, you have my attention,' said Quaint, once he and the veiled woman were alone. 'What's on your mind?'

The circus fortune-teller known as 'The Mystical Madame Destine' lifted her veil and stared at Quaint. Mid-way through her seventies, she was still in immaculate shape, and the curves of her face belied her age by a good twenty years. Her high cheekbones accentuated her catlike eyes as if they were created by a master sculptor, and she batted her eyelids as she waited for Quaint to pull up a chair before she spoke. Like a thick chocolate mousse, the Frenchwoman marinated every word with smooth, rich tones and flavours and, as always, Quaint was enthralled.

'Cornelius, have I not always tried to guide you away from perilous ventures in your life? Sometimes you choose to listen, most often not. But this time I beg you to take heed.' Madame Destine breathed a heavy sigh, as if unburdening herself of a great secret. 'There is more afoot here than simple murder. My gifts of clairvoyance are giving me conflicting thoughts at every turn. Emotion, contradiction, revenge, twisted pathways. The situation we find ourselves in is grave.'

'Well, of course it is, Madame. One of our family has been murdered, and another is incarcerated at the police station,' said Quaint, as he rose from his chair and squatted next to Destine's own, taking her hand in his. 'Destine, you have been my guardian since I was seven years old. You have been more akin to a mother to me than my own was. You are one of the most gifted fortunetellers in Europe, and my faith in you is unwavering. Both the circus, and myself, are glad to have you on board.'

'Spare me, Cornelius,' said Destine, with a hint of a smile. 'When you compliment me this much it usually means you are about to tell me something that I do not wish to hear. I take it you are to continue with this folly anyway, despite my warning?'

Quaint snatched up the woman's hand, and kissed it gently. 'This is too close to home for me to ignore,' he said, his dark eyes searching for his guardian's blessing.

'No one is asking you to ignore it, Cornelius, but merely temper your response.'

'Madame, you know me well enough by now. I am a creature of instinct, and I have seen far too many friends and loved ones suffer because I did not act sooner. That will not happen again, this crime cannot go unpunished.'

'And how does involving this circus mean that it will not?'

'I did not involve this circus, Destine-the killer did. I would not ask my people to do anything that each and every one of them would not do themselves in an instant. Do you expect me to leave Prometheus to rot?'

'You aren't listening to me, Cornelius,' the Frenchwoman implored, reaching out for Quaint's arm. 'I am trying to warn you. There is something entwined within my visions of foresight…an undertone of secrecy. Something bubbling away that I cannot yet make sense of. Forget your pride…if you embark upon this quest I fear you may lose far more.'

'Pride is an easy thing to lose, Madame.'

'Cornelius, do not just simply listen to my words-hear them. Hear my counsel, else it be the last I give you,' snapped Destine. 'Ignorance of this underlying scent of deceit will be your undoing; I have no doubt of that.'

'Madame, take a look around you,' said Quaint, resting both hands upon Destine's shoulder. 'There is deceit around every corner, behind every door of every house in every street-even in our Parliament. It's all around us. Deceit is practically what the present day world is founded upon.'

'Cornelius, it is not the present that concerns me.' Destine clasped at his hands, imploring him. 'I fear that it is your past that is about to catch up with you.'

LATER, ONCE THE shroud of night had draped its cold, dark hand across Crawditch's streets, Cornelius Quaint stood opposite The Black Sheep tavern, and eyed the place with keen interest. He had shrugged off Destine's warning and continued with his plan, just as the Frenchwoman had guessed he would. Not the type to run from danger, he was more likely to sneak up behind it, tap it on the shoulder and announce himself. He looked around the late night streets of Crawditch. All his people were in position. The black-clad duo of Yin and Yang leapt like cats from one rooftop to the next in a synchronous fluid motion in the pitch darkness as easily as if they were walking down a familiar street. Ruby was standing by Quaint's side wearing a long, flowing dark-green cloak that covered her body completely, and Jeremiah waited pensively across the street, bathed in waning light from the gas lamp above him.