Cover-Up Story by Marian Babson Read Free Book Online Page A

crowd of hired extras (perhaps Sam had pulled himself together enough to give Perkins & Tate an object lesson in publicity) in the foyer and went backstage. It was about as hectic as I’d thought it would be, and no one was paying any attention to us.
    I tucked Penny away in a corner of the wings, where she’d have a good view of the show, left Gerry beside her with instructions to keep the flashbulbs popping throughout the performance, and went round to the dressing-rooms to see if the troops needed cheering.
    It was strictly a one-stop journey. I’d noticed before that the Cousins believed in communal living. This time they were spread out all over the corridor outside Black Bart’s dressing-room. His door was open and I could see Crystal and Lou-Ann inside. Maw Cooney knelt at Lou-Ann’s feet, sewing an extra bright red patch to the seat of her skirt. Behind her back, Cousin Ezra pantomimed a hearty kick at her rear. Charming. And typical. I was glad I’d left Penny in the wings.
    â€˜I thought I’d drop by and say “Good luck”,’ I said.
    Â â€˜That’s mighty neighbourly of you.’ As usual, Uncle No’ccount was the only one who bothered with the little niceties of life. The others looked at me with mild curiosity and some distaste, as though I might have crawled out from under some log best left undisturbed.
    Then Cousin Ezra seemed to decide that he ought to be cordial, too. ‘Howdy, Doug Boy,’ he held out his hand.
    Like a fool, I took it. A jolt of lightning bit into my palm and travelled up my arm, to the accompaniment of a buzzing noise.
    â€˜Haw! Haw! Sure enough got you that time!’ Cousin Ezra fell about. The others snickered merrily.
    â€˜That Ezra – he’s a one!’ Maw Cooney said, twisting round to smirk up at me. ‘You got to watch him every minute. He’s a real practical joker.’
    I rubbed my aching palm. ‘I can see that.’
    â€˜Where the hell’s Sam?’ Black Bart was not amused and called us to order. ‘He oughta be here. And what the hell are you doing?’ He had whirled on the unfortunate Cousin Zeke.
    â€˜Nothin’, Bart, nothin’ at all.’ Cousin Zeke had been gulping a handful of pills. He put his hand behind his back.
    â€˜You better be doin’ nothing. Just you let me catch you doin’ something, and there’s gonna be trouble like you never seen before.’ He turned away abruptly.
    Cousin Zeke snaked his hand back to his mouth and gulped a few more pills. I reflected that my doctor was reputable and a shrewd psychologist – the pills were probably nothing but placebos. At the rate Cousin Zeke was downing them, even aspirin would be dangerous. No wonder Bart had confiscated his pills, if this was the way Cousin Zeke took them.
    â€˜You make a better door than window.’ Bart shouldered past me. ‘If you ain’t got nothing better to do than stand there gawping, why don’t you go away?’
    â€˜Good idea.’ I mentally withdrew any good wishes I had extended towards him. ‘I’ll go out front and watch the show. I haven’t seen it yet.’
    â€˜I’ll come along,’ Uncle No’ccount fell into step beside me. ‘I oughta be getting onstage. I open the show, you see.’
    I saw. It fitted in with the rest of the picture. Any nasty job, anything hard, tricky, any spot where a person might fall on his face – went to anybody in the Troupe except Bart. The Client wanted his path made straight for him, and he got it. I wondered fleetingly if they were all in such desperate need of money that they had to put up with that kind of treatment.
    To my surprise, they had the beginnings of a good show, even before Bart made his appearance. The curtains parted on a vaguely Western set, suggesting a barn, corral and watering trough. Uncle No’ccount was leaning against the corral fence, oblivious of the