The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK™: 23 Classic Mystery Stories

The Jolly Jugglers, Retired

Originally published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, March 1967.

They could hear the car coming long before its headlights would appear around the curve circling Indian Butte, because the clear desert air carried sound a remarkable distance. By the sound, it was traveling along the narrow gravel road at an unsafe speed.

“Must be city folk,” old Ed Jolly said to his wife. “Be here in ten minutes at the speed they’re going, if they don’t hit one of them potholes in the road. If they do, might not get here at all.”

His head cocked for listening, he preoccupiedly lifted four apples from a box lying on the counter on the grocery side of the combination General Store, snack bar, and tavern, and began expertly juggling them. He was still lean and erect despite his 75 years, and his hands were almost as supple as they had been 30 years ago.

Mary Jolly, only a few months younger than her husband, was also in excellent health for her age. Her body had thinned out and lost its once lissome figure, but there was still a twinkle in her eye and the vestiges of a spring in her step.

Standing several feet away, she eyed the arcing apples as they circled in the air from one hand to the other. Suddenly she raised her left hand and chanted, “A-one and a-two and away and go!”

Grinning, Ed continued to toss and catch the apples until the last word of the incantation; then they suddenly sped toward his wife in such a rapid stream that two were in the air all the time. Expertly plucking each apple from the air as it reached her and tossing it upward, she started juggling them. When Ed raised his hand, they streamed back to him. He juggled them twice, then caught them and dropped them back into the box.

“We could still wow them if there was any vaudeville left,” he said. “I better get outside.”

By its sound he judged the car was now just beyond Indian Butte when he switched on the gas pumps. He knew it would stop, because cars coming from the east always did. Except for ranch houses, the Jollys’ filling station and General Store was the only sign of civilization for the 125 miles from Ripple City in that direction, and for the 65 miles to the nearest town west.

Headlights appeared from around the curve circling the butte just east of the store. The car slowed and swung into the filling station. It was a new but dust-laden four-door sedan with four men in it.

Bringing the car to a stop before the gas pump, the driver said, “Fill ’er up, Pop.”

The four men got out to stretch. They were all somewhere between 30 and 40 and all were dressed in darkly conservative business suits.

As Ed inserted the hose nozzle into the tank vent, the driver, a lean thin-faced man with a large nose, said, “How far’s Hooker’s Gap, Pop?”

“Sixty-five miles.”

The driver glanced at a wrist watch, then turned to a stocky man with heavy features and thick flat lips who had climbed from the back seat. “It’s not quite ten yet, Mark. We’ll be in well before midnight.”

The stocky man nodded. He said to Ed Jolly, “You’re really isolated out here, old-timer. How do you make a living?”

“Oh, a dozen or more cars a day take this toad,” Ed said. “Everyone stops, because there’s no place else to go. Most generally they have a drink or a snack besides buying gas, and a lot of them buy stuff from the store. We have a little grocery department, mainly for the convenience of nearby ranches, but tourists buy stuff too. Then we got a couple of sleeping rooms that people rent now and then.”

“A drink, you say?” a gaunt, emaciated, and chinless man asked. “You got a bar here?”

Before Ed could reply, the stocky man said in a definite tone, “Nothing doing, Sliver. There’ll be no drinking until our business is finished.”

The fourth man, short and burly and red-faced, said, “You live out here all alone, Pop?”

“No, my wife Mary’s inside, in case you want a snack and some coffee.”

No one took the suggestion. The stocky man named Mark gazed around. Noting the dim outline of the big structure behind the store, he asked, “What’s that building?”

Following the direction of his gaze, Ed said, “Barn. We don’t use it, except to garage our pickup. Fellow owned this place before us raised a little livestock on the side. We keep a few chickens, is all.”

The stocky man continued to gaze around, his expression contemplative. “You have two sleeping rooms, you say?”

“Uh-huh. One double bed and one twin bed, so folks can take their choice on how they want to sleep. Five dollars a night per person, with breakfast thrown in.”

The tank overflowed. Ed cut the valve and hung up the hose. He cleaned the windshield, then asked, “Check under the hood?”

The lean driver said, “No, it’s okay,” and glanced at the amount registered on the pump.

It registered $3.10. The driver handed Ed four $1 bills.

“Keep the change, Pop.”

“Well, thanks,” Ed said. “Mighty good of you.”

“Let’s get moving,” the stocky man said crisply, and climbed in back.

As though they were soldiers obeying the command of a superior officer, the other three immediately climbed in too. Ed watched the twin taillights out of sight, then shut off the gas pumps and went back inside to report the ninety-cent tip to Mary.

“Must be businessmen going to a conference somewhere,” he guessed. “Stocky fellow seemed to be the boss at least, the others all snapped when he spoke up. Probably the company president, and the others all work for him.”

He plucked an apple from the box on the counter, tossed it in the air, caught it behind his back, then started eating it.

Just before 4:30 the following afternoon the sound of a car traveling at high speed came from the west. Ed, who had nearly perfect pitch although he had never attempted to develop his potential musical talent, recognized the engine sound.

“Those business fellows coming back,” he said to Mary. “Maybe this time they’ll have a snack.”

He was waiting at the pumps when they drove in. The car didn’t pull up before the pumps, however. It swung in before the entrance to the General Store. Three of the men got out, the driver remaining behind the wheel. The stocky Mark carried a black, obviously heavy satchel.

“Get our overnight bags from the trunk,” Mark ordered the two who had got out of the car with him. Then he said to the driver, “Park it in the barn, Joey, and be sure to close the door.”

Ed, who had come over from the pumps, looked at the stocky man inquiringly.

“We’ve decided to rent your two sleeping rooms,” the man said. “You don’t mind if we use your barn as a garage, do you?”

“Course not,” Ed said. “Plenty of room. There’s nothing in it but our old pickup.”

Joey, the driver, had handed his keys through the window to the emaciated and chinless man called Sliver. The latter unlocked the car trunk, lifted out four overnight bags, slammed the trunk lid, and handed back the keys. The burly, red-faced man picked up two of the bags, Sliver picked up the other two, and they went into the store.

Joey started the car engine, backed and swung into the dirt lane leading to the barn. Ed followed the stocky Mark inside. The other two had set down the overnight bags just inside the door, but Mark hung on to the heavy satchel.

Mary was behind the snack counter.

“This here is my wife, Mary,” Ed said. “My name’s Ed Jolly, incidentally. Mary, these gentlemen and a fourth one who’s putting the car in the barn want to stay the night.”

“How do you do, gentlemen?” Mary said courteously.

The red-faced man and the gaunt Sliver muttered barely audible greetings. Mark said, “Glad to know you, Mrs. Jolly. My name is Mark Jones. This is Sliver Smith and Puffy Brown.” He indicated first the gaunt, chinless man, then the red-faced one. “The guy who will be along in a minute is Joey Black.”

Mary smiled acknowledgment of the introductions and came from behind the counter. “I’ll show you the rooms and let you decide who sleeps in which.”

Mary led the way through the door leading to the back hallway off which were their own bedroom, the two guest rooms, and the bath. Sliver Smith and Puffy Brown picked up the four overnight bags and followed. Mark brought up the rear.

The lean thin-faced Joey came in the front door.

“My wife is showing the others the rooms,” Ed said. He pointed to the door leading to the rear hallway. “You’ll find them through there, Mr. Black.”

“Huh?” Joey said. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

He disappeared through the indicated doorway. Ed rubbed his chin and frowned.

When Mary reappeared, alone, a few minutes later, she was delightedly clutching two $100 bills.

“They’re going to stay several days,” she said breathlessly. “Mr. Jones paid me ten days in advance and said if they leave sooner, we can keep the change. I tried to tell him we’d adjust the rate for so long a period, but he said never mind.”

Ed was still frowning in the direction of the rear hall. After 55 years of marriage, Mary was sensitive to his moods almost to the point of being able to read his mind.

“What’s the matter?” she asked quickly.

“That fellow Joey — the driver. His name isn’t Black. When I called him Mr. Black, he looked blank. Then he caught on that the stocky fellow had told me that name and covered up.”

Mary gazed at him puzzledly. “You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh. Think about the other names — Jones, Smith, Brown. Funny that four fellows traveling together should all have such common names. And why would they want to spend several days here? There’s no hunting or fishing around here, nothing to do but look at the desert.”

Mary studied his face with dawning understanding. “You think — you think they may be criminals hiding from the law?”

“I don’t know, but I think I’ll phone the Sheriff’s office and ask somebody to come out and give them a look-see.”

The stocky Mark returned trailed by his three companions. He stopped before Ed and Mary while the other three took seats at the bar.

“You say about a dozen cars a day stop here, Mr. Jolly?”

“About,” Ed said.

“Then I think we’d better have a little rehearsal before the next customer arrives. We’re very retiring men, Mr. Jolly. We hate a lot of people around, so we prefer that no one learns we’re your guests. Understand?”

Ed was afraid he did, but he let his face assume a puzzled expression. “No.”

“I’ll make it plainer. As far as possible I want you to service your customers outside — keep them out of the store. To tourists you can just explain that the place is closed down for alterations. Anybody you happen to know well enough so that the news might surprise them, let them come in and serve them. State Troopers or Deputy Sheriffs, for instance. We’ll remain out of sight in the back, and you won’t mention our being here. All clear?”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “Why should I steer business away?”

The thick flat lips spread in a humorless smile. “Because if you cooperate, nothing will happen to your wife. While you are serving customers, Mrs. Jolly will remain with us, Mr. Jolly. If anyone inquires about her during daylight hours, just say she’s taking a nap. After dark just say she’s in bed for the night. Any attempt to pass on a message for some customer to relay to the cops will have most unfortunate results. I guarantee it.”

He turned toward the bar. “Sliver, show the Jollys your favorite plaything.”

The gaunt, emaciated Sliver dipped a hand into his coat pocket and brought it out again. There was a click and a thin razor-edged blade seven inches long sprang into view.

“Get the point?” the stocky Mark asked.

Mary’s gaze was fixed on the blade in fascination. Ed gulped.

“I get it,” he said.

“Fine. Now if you cooperate, nobody will get hurt. We’ll be here a few days, then take off. Of course we’ll have to cut your phone line and take along the distributor cap of your pickup truck so that we can get a reasonable head start before you run to the cops. But we’ll pay you generously for your trouble.”

Ed felt a sense of relief. At least the men planned no physical harm unless he and Mary attempted to cross them. He decided the safest course was to do as the man called Mark said.

The sound of a car engine came from the west.

Mark said crisply, “Sliver, take Mrs. Jolly in back. Joey, you and Puffy get out of sight too. I’ll keep watch from the window to see how the old man behaves.”

The three men herded Mary before them into the rear hallway. The stocky man drew a black automatic from beneath his arm and let his eyes glitter at Ed.

“I’ll have my eye on you when you go out there, Mr. Jolly. If whoever that is wants to come in, and it’s somebody who might get suspicious if you said the store was closed, okay. But I’ll be in that back hall, right alongside the door, listening. Just keep thinking of Sliver’s little plaything.”

“I will,” Ed assured him.

He went outside just as the approaching car pulled into the gas station. His heart began to thump when he saw it was a State Trooper’s car.

There were two uniformed men in the car, and Ed knew them both.

They were from the barracks just outside of Hooker’s Gap. The driver, a young man named Ross Miller, was a sergeant. His companion, a muscular man named Harry Forbes, was a lieutenant.

The car pulled clear of the pumps, parking near the store entrance. Both officers got out.

“Hello, Ross,” Ed said. “Hi Lieutenant.”

Both men gave him friendly greetings. The Lieutenant said, “Seen anything of a car with four men in it Mr. Jolly?”

“Today?” Ed asked.

“Uh-huh. They’d have been coming from the direction of Hooker’s Gap.”

Ed shook his head. “Only been four cars from that direction so far today, Lieutenant. Two was couples with kids, one had two women together, and the other was Burt Lacey from the Double-Bar ranch.”

“Any cars go by without stopping?”

Ed shook his head again. “Seldom happens way out here. I’d have known even if I was inside. You can hear them miles away.”

Lieutenant Forbes reached into the front seat to lift out the dashboard mike and briefly reported in that the suspects hadn’t gone by way of the road past the Jollys’ store. After hanging up the mike, he suggested to his partner that they have a cup of coffee before heading back to Hooker’s Gap.

Ed’s heart was in his throat as he led them inside. The store was empty, but the door to the rear hall was open a crack. Silently he went behind the snack counter and poured two cups of coffee.

As he set them before the State Troopers, Ross Miller asked, “Where’s Mrs. Jolly?”

“Taking a little nap,” Ed said. “What you looking for these fellows for?”

“They knocked over the bank at Hooker’s Gap just at closing time, couple of hours ago. Killed a teller and got away with forty-two thousand dollars. There was so much on hand because Friday is the day the bank makes up the payroll for the Bishop mine. We don’t know what they’re driving, because they stole a local car for the job. We found it abandoned on the north road out of town, where they apparently switched cars. Probably they headed north. It would have been dumb to head this way, because there’s no place to turn off for two hundred miles and we’ve got a roadblock set up at the far end. But we had to check it out.”

The bank robbers had been clever, Ed realized. They had deliberately taken an apparently suicidal escape route because they knew the police would pay little attention to it other than bottling up its far end. And now that the police were convinced the men had not come this way, probably the roadblock at Ripple City would be lifted and the robbers could drive on through in perfect safety.

“What these fellows look like, in case they come by here?” Ed asked.

The Lieutenant shrugged. “Just four men of assorted shapes and sizes in dark suits. Two were heavy-set, two skinny. Nobody saw their faces because they wore nylon stockings over their heads. The taller of the heavy-set men shot the teller. No reason for it either. Just because he didn’t move as fast as he was ordered to. Cut him down in cold blood. Young fellow who’d only been married three weeks.”

Ed felt a chill climb along his spine. The description of the killer fitted the leader of the gang, Mark. And if he was that callous a killer, his reassuring words about merely cutting the phone line and taking along the pickup’s distributor cap had been designed only to lull Ed and Mary into more willing cooperation.

Ed suddenly thought of something which he reproached himself for not having thought of before. Disabling the pickup and cutting the phone line wouldn’t assure the bandits any head start. A customer might appear within minutes of the fugitives’ departure, and while the nearest town was sixty-five miles away, there was a ranch house with a phone less than ten miles from the General Store.

Mark certainly would have thought of this. Ed became certain that the stocky man had no intention of leaving two live witnesses behind when the gang departed.

He was frantically searching his mind for some way to tip off the State Troopers that the fugitives were in the building without getting both police officers shot down when they simultaneously drained their cups and tossed dimes on the counter.

“They won’t be coming this way now,” the Lieutenant said as he headed for the door. “So you don’t have to worry. See you, Mr. Jolly.”

Ross Miller, following the Lieutenant, called over his shoulder, “Give Mrs. Jolly my regards.”

Then they were gone and so was Ed’s opportunity to signal that something was wrong.

As the State Troopers’ car drove away, Mark came from the back hall, putting away his gun.

“You did fine, old man,” he said. “Just keep up the good work with any other customers.”

Ed silently resolved to use the first gas customer who came along as a means of getting word of the Jollys’ danger to the police. Mentally he rehearsed how he would stand with his back to the store, so that the watching Mark couldn’t see his lips moving, and what he would say.

“Please don’t glance toward the store,” he would say. “There’s a man with a gun covering us through the window. Don’t try to answer me. Just listen. Get to the nearest phone and call the police.” (Here he would give directions to the nearest ranch, depending on which way the car was headed.) “Tell them the four men who robbed the bank in Hooker’s Gap are hiding out here. They’ve threatened to kill my wife if I don’t cooperate, so warn them to move in cautiously.”

That should do it, he thought. There was the risk that Mark would realize that Ed had violated orders and would kill him and Mary in revenge, but he was convinced the man intended to kill them anyway. This way they would at least have a fighting chance.

Ed never had an opportunity to put his plan in operation, because no other cars came along. By dark he had lost hope. They sometimes had customers after nightfall, and even occasionally were awakened to serve someone in the middle of the night, but it was a rare occurrence. Few people cared to travel the isolated desert road at night, for fear of becoming stranded in darkness miles from any possible help.

Nightfall was early at this time of year. It was already dark when Mary served dinner for everyone at 6:30. After dinner, as Mary washed dishes behind the snack counter, the four men sat at the liquor bar.

“You can serve us one drink each, Mr. Jolly,” Mark said. “That’s going to be the limit, boys, because we’re moving on at midnight.”

As he walked behind the bar, Ed again felt a chill climb his spine.

That meant he and Mary had only five hours to live. And he hadn’t even had a chance to warn her of what was coming, because they had never been allowed to be alone.

The red-faced Puffy said, “I thought we was gonna hole up here for a couple of days.”

“We were, until those state cops radioed in that we hadn’t come this way. The roadblock at Ripple City’s probably been lifted by now. It’s a cinch to be lifted by the time we hit there.”

Ed said huskily, “What do you want to drink?”

They all ordered bourbon straight, with water chasers. Ed poured the drinks and waited. No one made any effort to pay. Apparently now that his cooperation was no longer essential, the pretense of being paying customers was over.

Probably they would take back the $200 and clean out the till when they left, Ed thought. Not that it would make any difference.

Mary came from behind the snack counter and went over to the grocery department, where she began scanning the shelves.

“We’re most out of pork and beans, Ed,” she called. “Better bring out about six cans.”

Restocking the canned goods shelves was a nightly game they played, but tonight Ed wasn’t in much of a mood for games. Dispiritedly he went into the store.

When he emerged, he was juggling six cans of pork and beans. The four men at the bar watched in astonishment as the cans made a blurred circle in the air from one hand to the other.

When he had walked to within twelve feet of the waiting Mary, juggling the cans on the way, she chanted, “A-one and a-two and away and go!”

The cans suddenly took a horizontal motion, forming a continuous streak toward her. Rhythmically she plucked each from the air as it arrived, flipped it into her other hand, and plunked it onto the shelf.

The men at the bar were staring open-mouthed. All four had swung around on their stools with their backs to the bar.

Mark said, “That’s the damnedest thing I ever saw. Where’d you old codgers learn a trick like that?”

“You’re all too young to remember The Jolly Jugglers,” Ed said with an air of dignity. “We were vaudeville headliners before you were born.”

“With that act you still could be,” Mark said. “What happened?”

Ed made a wry face. Mary said, “A thing called talking pictures. Our last good year was 1929. Our last theater booking was in 1932. We played carny for a few years after that, but it was really all over.”

“What the devil is carny?” Sliver asked.

“Carnivals,” Ed said.

Mark said, “We’ve got several hours to fool away. We might as well have some amusement. How about you folks putting on your whole act for us?”

The two old people looked at each other. Mary smiled.

“Why not?” she said. “We haven’t performed before an audience in years.”

Ed had a sudden wild thought. If only he could get Mary alone long enough to explain what he had in mind, it just possibly might work.

“All right,” he said to her. “Come help me carry in the props.”

“Sliver can help you,” Mark said. “She stays here.”

That quashed that. As he preceded the gaunt Sliver back to the bedroom that he and Mary shared, Ed decided to go ahead with his plan anyway, and hope that somehow he could get across to Mary what he had in mind.

In the bedroom Ed opened the closet door and dragged out the box containing the Indian clubs. It was pretty heavy, because it contained a dozen of the tapered, round-ended wooden clubs. Sliver helped him carry the box back into the store, then resumed his seat at the bar.

Mary looked puzzled when Ed drew four of the brightly painted clubs from the box and handed them to her. The Indian clubs had always been the finale of their act, but he had left the juggling balls, dishes, and rods in the closet.

Ed gazed at her steadily, hoping she wouldn’t ask why he hadn’t brought the other paraphernalia out first. Her near ability to read his mind worked. Obviously she didn’t understand it, but he sensed that she understood he didn’t want her to question him.

Removing four more clubs from the box, he positioned himself at one end of the bar and about six feet away from it. Mary positioned herself at the other end.

“We used to juggle all twelve,” Ed said in an apologetic tone. “But we’re getting a little old. Eight still isn’t bad. A lot of juggling teams never got over six.”

“Get on with the show,” Mark said impatiently.

Ed held three clubs in his left hand, one in his right. He flipped the single one end-over-end into the air, quickly transferred another to his right hand, and flipped it. The third and fourth followed these into the air also, the last one leaving his right hand just as gravity brought the first one down into his left hand.

The spinning clubs formed a colorful pinwheel which Mary watched until its rhythm was established in her mind. Then she began to juggle her four clubs in similar rhythm so that her right hand was tossing a club into the air at exactly the same instant one left Ed’s right hand, her left hand catching one at the same instant his did.

“A-one and a-two and away and go!” she chanted.

At the word go the clubs took on a horizontal motion, shooting in a tumbling stream from her right hand to Ed’s left, while a stream from his right hand shot toward her. Back and forth the eight clubs spun, forming a glittering pattern in the air.

“Hey rube at the count of go!” Ed chanted.

He could see Mary’s eyes widen at the carny expression, “Hey rube” — the traditional call for help when the carnival was threatened. Her eyes sought his, read his mind, and she nodded.

“A-one and a-two and away and go!” Ed intoned.

Both shifted their feet to half face the bar and the twin streams of spinning clubs suddenly spurted in that direction. Mark, seated nearest to Ed, took the heavy butt of the first one squarely in the center of his forehead and tumbled to the floor like a poled ox. Sliver, next in line, slid from his stool with incredible swiftness, ducked the second club, and darted a hand beneath his coat. The third club smashed between his eyes.

With the fourth club poised for throwing, Ed looked to see how Mary was doing. Joey the driver was unconscious on the floor. The red-faced Puffy was on his knees wearing a groggy expression, but still conscious enough to claw for the gun beneath his arm.

Ed’s fourth club went spinning end-over-end and thunked solidly against Puffy’s temple. Puffy pitched forward on his face.

Ed and Mary nodded sadly.

“I’m getting old,” she said. “I didn’t connect solidly with any but the first throw. I hit him with the other three, but they were all glancing blows.”

“We’re both a little rusty,” he agreed. “Go call the Sheriff. I’ll collect their guns.”

He stooped over each unconscious man, relieved him of his gun, and carried them all behind the bar. The Indian club which Sliver had ducked had sailed into the backbar, smashing a couple of bottles of whiskey, and now lay on the floor behind the bar.

Ed picked it up, came from behind the bar, and gathered up the other seven clubs. He lay four on the end of the bar and held the other four, three in his left hand, the fourth in his right.

He had never trusted guns. He felt safer with the Indian clubs.

When Mary returned from the phone, she picked up the four clubs from the bar and aligned herself next to him. They were still standing there when Sheriff’s Deputies arrived.

All four of the bank robbers had regained consciousness by then, but they still lay on the floor. As each had awakened he had decided against moving as soon as Ed and Mary began juggling their clubs.