Chapter Twenty-Two
Speaking of the Almighty, was He really going to allow it? It was bad enough being killed in a circus. But was I really fated to be wiped out beneath the wheels of a clown car? How, I wondered, would I ever recover from the shame?
My whining thoughts, and impending doom, were interrupted by a crash and the sound of running on the opposite side, the lake side, of the Big Top. I glanced up to see an empty teeter-totter in motion, as if someone had banged into it in the gloom. To the right I caught sight of a shadow (or two?) exiting the massive tent for the Pier. The killers escaping? I didn't know. But if they were the killers… I turned back to the racing car. Who in the hell–
The mini car was nearly on me. I thought of the only clown I had ever known, the late Alfonso
