Ten Thumb Sam (10 page)

“This photograph proves he's connected to Mr. Beaverwick,” Sam whispered. “We've got them both!”

“We haven't actually seen him do anything,” Harriet cautioned.

“Look,” said Sam. “There's something else.”

“What?”

“Look under the photograph. Do you see Mr. Beaverwick's wife's name?”

“Mrs. Audrey Burkenoff-Beaverwick. Nice name. Oh.
Oh
!” Harriet exclaimed, a light going on in her eyes. “Burkenoff!”

Sam nodded. “It all makes sense! Beaverwick must be related to the safety inspector who fined us. We've got to get back to the circus,” he said. “We've got to tell my dad!”

“Let me finish my notes,” said Harriet. “What am I saying—I'll just print out these pages instead.”

As soon as they had paid for the printouts, the cousins hurried out of the library. They ran most of the way back to the Triple Top.

“Where's Dad?” Sam asked Annabel when they reached the Stringbini bus. Annabel was sitting on the grass, playing with paper dolls.

“In a meeting,” said Annabel.

“Who with?”

“With Mom and the Pigattos and the men in the long black car,” Annabel replied without looking up.

Sam peered around the side of the Stringbini bus. Sure enough, there was Mr. Beaverwick's limousine, half-hidden behind one of the circus trailers. “It's his car all right,” Sam said to Harriet. “Mr. Beaverwick must be here right now!”

“Where's the meeting?” Harriet asked Annabel. “In the main tent?”

Annabel nodded. “They won't let you in,” she warned. “It's private.”

But Sam and Harriet were no longer listening to Annabel. They were already racing to the big top.

Sam and Harriet entered the tent just as Mr. Beaverwick and two other men in suits were leaving.

“What happened?” Sam asked his parents and the Pigattos when the men were gone. “You didn't sell the Triple Top, did you?”

“Not yet,” said Max. “Mr. Beaverwick's lawyers are still drawing up the contract.”

“But you
can't
sell out,” said Sam.

Mr. Pigatto shook his head sadly. “We don't have a choice, Sam. We can't afford to pay our fines by the deadline. This is the only way to keep the Triple Top from going under.”

“But you don't understand,” Sam sputtered. “Beaverwick is the one sabotaging the circus!”

“That's quite an accusation!” Sam's mother said. “Do you have any proof?”

Sam and Harriet took turns telling their story, from Sam's first encounter with the man in the gray suit, to what they'd learned from their research at the library.

“Did you ever actually see this man doing anything to sabotage the Triple Top?” Mr. Pigatto asked as he studied the picture Harriet had printed off the Internet.

“No.” Harriet shook her head. “But like I said, he was in the audience when Loki flew into the trapezes and when the safety net came down.”

“Sorry, guys,” said Sam's father. “This is good detective work, but all you've proved is that this man has been in our audience watching us. That might make him a spy on a scouting mission for Circus Enormicus, but it doesn't prove him guilty of sabotage.”

“Shouldn't we at least go to the police?” Harriet asked.

“The police would laugh us out of the station,” said Mr. Pigatto. “You can't make accusations against someone like Beaverwick without evidence, my dear. Circus Enormicus is an international corporation. We're just a little traveling show—why would they believe us?”

“We can still get evidence,” Sam said stubbornly. “It's not too late.”

“It
is
too late, Sam,” said Max. “He's got us. If we don't come up with the money for our fines by next Monday morning, the Triple Top will be shut down.”

“Why can't we come up with the money?” Sam asked. “We have a whole week. Our shows in Hamilton haven't been canceled. That's five performances between now and next Monday.”

Mr. Pigatto let his hand fall on Sam's shoulder. “Your father's right, Sam. The fines are just too big. Even if we sold out every performance, we'd still be short several thousand dollars. We've talked to the banks, we've talked to the other performers—we just can't raise enough money. Maybe if we had a little more time…”

“As things stand, we're out of options,” said Max. “We have to accept Beaverwick's offer.”

“I still can't believe they're letting Beaverwick get away with this,” Sam told Harriet two mornings later. The circus was all packed up and on the road again, bound for its engagement in Hamilton. Sam and his cousin had chosen to begin the journey in the back of the Fritzi bus, away from their siblings.

“Does it really matter who owns the Triple Top?” Harriet asked. “You want to leave the circus the first chance you get anyway.”

“But it's not fair!” said Sam. “For weeks people have been talking behind my back, saying that I'm the one
wrecking things. But now that we know who it really is, no one's doing anything about it!”

Harriet shrugged. “What
can
anyone do? We don't have enough evidence to go to the police. And you heard what Mr. Pigatto said. Even if we sold out every performance between now and next Monday, we still wouldn't have enough to pay off both fines.”

“There has to be a way,” Sam insisted. “We can't just sit back and let Beaverwick win.”

“Are you busy?” Sam asked his parents that evening when the circus convoy was stopped for the night. “Harriet and I were hoping to talk to you about something.”

“What's up?” Max asked as they approached a large oak tree where Harriet and the Pigattos were already waiting.

Sam cleared his throat. “We were talking about the fine and how you said we didn't have time to pay it off,” he began nervously. “Harriet and I were wondering what would happen if we added extra performances to the schedule this weekend.”

“Extra performances?” asked Max.

Harriet nodded. “Like an extra matinee on Friday
for preschoolers and their parents or for school kids on field trips.”

“And an extra show on Saturday morning and another one on Sunday evening,” said Sam.

Mr. Pigatto rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That's a very ambitious schedule.”

“But wouldn't it be worth it if it meant making enough money to save the Triple Top?” Sam asked anxiously.

“Plus, with my family performing, everyone could take turns,” Harriet pointed out. “No one would have to perform in every show.”

“Look, it's wonderful that you two want to save the circus,” Irene began.

“It's just a real long shot,” Max finished for his wife. “To cover our fines, we'd have to sell out every single performance, including the three extra ones you're proposing. We've sold out individual shows before, but never eight in a row. We've never even been close.”

“But there are ways we could advertise the circus specially for this weekend,” said Sam. “Harriet and I have a whole bunch of ideas.”

“Come on, let's hear the kids out,” Mrs. Pigatto said. “They've obviously put some effort into this.”

“Thank you,” Sam said with relief. As the four adults listened attentively, he filled in the details of the plan.

“I have to admit, it sounds intriguing,” Max said when Sam was finished.

“It's a long shot, but it just might work,” said Mr. Pigatto.

“I don't know about the rest of you,” said Mrs. Pigatto, “but I don't want to go down without a fight. I'm in.”

“Really?” Sam said in amazement.

“Of course it's not just up to us,” Irene cautioned the cousins. “Your plan is going to take a lot of hard work on everyone's part. We'll talk to your brothers and sisters, Sam, but you're going to need everyone else's cooperation too.”

“Better get moving,” Max said with a smile. “You don't have much time.”

The Triple Top caravan pulled into Hamilton late Tuesday afternoon. By the end of the evening, Sam and Harriet had managed to convince even the most reluctant performer to join in the plan to save the circus. While their siblings got ready for bed, the two cousins held a last-minute strategy session at the picnic table outside the Stringbini bus.

“I think that's it,” Harriet said a few hours later as she surveyed the scribbled notes and diagrams spread out all around them. “By Thursday night, everyone in the city should know the Triple Top is here.”

“Think we can really do this?” Sam asked, suddenly feeling anxious.

“Hope so,” said Harriet.

Sam wiped his damp palms on his shorts. “Me too. It would sure be nice to get something right for a change.”

“Uh, thanks for coming, everyone,” Sam began nervously, addressing the performers who'd gathered in the big top after breakfast on Wednesday morning. He shuffled the papers in his hands until he found the one he was looking for. “So, uh, we've only got thirty-four hours before the first show on Thursday night. Here's what we thought we should do.”