Don't Sweat the Small Stuff (29 page)

Who would have thought.

“Does anyone know if they’re going to sell the shows?” James asked the bottom line question.

“I had a brief talk with Ken Clemens, all of five minutes, and we agreed that we would never agree about much of anything.” I hoped to never run into him again. “However, he did tell me that the sisters were going to become a little more hands-on and try to run the shows themselves. So the answer is no. They’re not going to sell. At least at this point. And, they’re no longer calling it Moe Shows.”

“Mmm,” James said. “I wonder why?”

“From now on, they will be called The Schiller and Crouse Extravaganza.”

“And Charlie?” Em hadn’t heard the latest.

“Bob Stanton is determined to prove him guilty. He was Bo’s confidant, and Stanton is convinced that Charlie is as guilty as sin. But, like Angie, he can’t find anything that will stick.” I finished my first bottle. One down, and I was sure, several more to go.

“You know, someone who’s still with the show tried to kill us.” I was so happy to be away from that group of freaks.

“What are you talking about?” James took a swallow. “Moe tried to kill us.”

“Somebody rigged the ride, James. Somebody who posed as a technician gummed up the mechanism.”

“While you two guys watched.” Em nodded.

“Yeah. And we thought he was fixing the ride.”

“Who?” James was watching my eyes. Maybe I knew something he didn’t.

“It wasn’t Charlie. Wasn’t Bo. Couldn’t have been Moe.”

“Then who?”

“I have no idea, but I’ll bet he’s still with the Show.”

Em twisted the idea. “Maybe whoever was working on the ride thought they were fixing it. What if Moe gave them something that actually gummed up the works and the repair guy didn’t have a clue? I mean those people don’t seem too bright.”

James got that look on his face. “No, no. I think Skip’s right. The guy who worked on the Tail tried to kill us. Which means there’s still someone working for the Show who is serious trouble.”

“James, don’t even go there.”

“Skip, we can call the ghost sisters, make our case, hire on, and find this guy.”

“Yeah. That’s what I want to do. Go back to the Show.”

“Just a thought, amigo. Just a thought.”

And it’s almost always James’s thoughts that get us into trouble.

“I hate to ask this with Skip in the room,” Em gave me a condescending smile, “But what do we hear from Jody?”

My fists clenched, I gave her my update.

“We just got his bill.”

“And?”

“Even if the sisters pay us, and they’re arguing that fact, we’ll be in the hole.”

“One good thing comes out of it,” James sucked on his beer. “Angie is giving us the truck.”

“James.” We both said it at once.

“We don’t need the damned truck.”

“Dude, she’s giving it to us. It’s free. I’ve finally got some wheels.”

And he was right. It was found money. “We can sell the damned truck and pay Jody for all the spy stuff.”

“Funny, Skip. Funny.”

“You know, James, this spy thing is costing us a lot of time and money.”

“Amigo, we’re going to strike it rich. This is a great business we’re in, and you’ve got to give it some time. We’re not going to give up here, pally.”

And I remembered that we almost weren’t in this business. We almost weren’t alive. James could pick up and pretend nothing had ever happened. I wasn’t made like that.

“The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves. Until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.”

“What?” James gave me the strangest look.

“What?” Em was baffled.

“
Memories of a Geisha
, 2007.”

“Oh yeah?” James walked to the refrigerator and grabbed another of his beers. “Well take this. ‘When you wish upon a star …’
Pinocchio,
1940.”

Em picked up the ugly green pillow on our sofa and threw it at him.