MONDAY
Monday morning rings in with a dour mist, enveloping the town of Luddington.
The Sheriff drives alone out to the field where the Mad Carnival is almost completely torn down, packed up, and ready to roll on down the road.
The Sheriff walked past the crew of the Mad Carnival without saying a word. Neither do they speak to him. The morning dew wets his shoes and clings to the cuffs of his pants.
He comes upon Simone, who is putting harnesses on the faces of the elephants as their breaths puff thick clouds of smoke into the still morning air.
When she sees him, she says, “Good morning, Sheriff. Should I ask if there is another crime you want to try to blame us for?”
The Sheriff stops a few feet away from her and crocks his thumbs in his belt. He says, “Just wanted to tell you before you left … I heard you didn’t stop until Betsy was found. You were searching for her the hardest of them all. I just wanted to thank you. That was much appreciated.”
Simone smiles, “Why Sherriff, I do believe that you have taken a shine to me.”
The Sheriff spits on the ground, “All I know is that the circus came to down and now a girl is dead.”
Simone stops fitting the harness. She turns to face the Sheriff fully. She says with a level tone, “ Well, if what her mother said is true, Sheriff, then if the Mad Carnival hadn’t come to town, she’d still be suffering. Living a living hell.” She takes one step toward him. “We can all wonder what kind of unloving God is watching over us, but if you look at it from her point of view, her suffering is over.”
The Sheriff is silent for awhile, then says, “Take care of those animals, miss. And take care of yourself.”
Simone smiles, “Always, Sheriff. Always. Because the show must go on.”
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