The Murder of Doctor Dragonfly

The circus was packed to capacity. Blue and green lights sparkled off the iridescent leotard of Doctor Dragonfly as he flipped and careened through the air. The audience gasped and cheered each time he made a leap from one bar to the next. Until his left hand slipped off his target, and he fell momentously down to the net.

But instead of bouncing harmlessly back on the net, the man’s weight thudded into the sand below. The audience went silent, as if holding its breath. Doctor Dragonfly did not move. A woman pointed and screamed when she saw a dark liquid pooling around the man’s body. Doctor Dragonfly was dead.

Although “the show must go on” may have been the prevailing wisdom of the performing artist, exceptions had to be made. The audience was evacuated, shepherded fitfully out of the enormous circus tent. Staff medics could do nothing, and once EMTs arrived, they pronounced him dead on the spot. A fall from 40 feet up had cracked the man’s neck.

Among the emergency responders were two individuals dressed in plainclothes. The taller of the two was a man in his 40s, grey around the temples and wearing a tan sports jacket with green suit pants. His partner was a woman in a blue pencil skirt, matching blazer, and ivory blouse whose bow tied neatly at her neck. She was the first to speak, cutting through the chaos of the scene as she approached.

“Why did the safety net fail?”

“Good question. Let’s take a closer look,” said her partner.

As they walked on, a woman in a gloriously inappropriate pink suit jacket, shoulders padded to her earlobes, stopped them.

“Can I help you? If you’re looking for a refund, you’ll have to call customer service,” she said, her voice vivid and raspy.

“Actually,” the older man paused, as both of them reached for identification. “We’re detectives with Orlando PD. I’m Detective Erwin Schultz, and this is Detective Jennifer Amante. We’re here to investigate the death that occurred here tonight.”

“Oh! Well in that case, go right ahead. But I doubt you’ll find any evidence of foul play. The rope must’ve just snapped. No helping random accident, right?”

Erwin stayed and smiled at the woman, as Jennifer went to the net and examined it further. He tucked his badge back into his back pocket, and pulled a notepad from his jacket.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Ma’am? Why, am I really getting so far along that I can’t be a miss anymore? It’s Sabrina Cadillac. I’m the owner of this circus, although most of my job is paperwork and emails.”

“How long have you known the deceased?”

“Lula? I suppose he’s been here since last October. Ran away with us, as it were, around Halloween. He’s from Ohio. Although ‘Lula Libé’ is a surprisingly ethnic name for someone like him, don’t you think?”

Jennifer whistled, then gestured at Erwin to come over. Sabrina followed him, and peered over his shoulder as he followed Jennifer’s gaze. One corner of the net had apparently snapped near the post, which was what had caused the safety net to collapse under Lula Libé’s weight when he fell.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” asked Jennifer.

“I think so…” replied Erwin.

“What’s there to see?” asked Sabrina. “It just snapped under his weight, right? Honestly, I should’ve kept him off the Coronas after hours. The ropes just weren’t equipped to handle the strain!”

Jennifer glared at the other woman.

“Except,” Erwin cut in. “It’s too clean. See how the fibers all line up when you hold them together? Someone needed a sharp tool to do this kind of job.”

“Wha- What are you implying?” Sabrina blanched.

“What I’m implying,” Jennifer said as she straightened, “is that this was no accident.”

“Sabotage, Miss Cadillac. Sabotage.”

Her hand went to her cheek in a look of shock.

“As you can see from the fibers of the rope and the curling at the edges, this rope was slashed with a sharp object, and tied in a loose knot, giving it the appearance of being secure. The impact of Mr. Libé on the net undid the knot, and allowed him to fall onto the sand, killing him.” Jennifer stared at Sabrina.

“Why… The only person I could think of who might’ve had access to the ropes like that would be Tulio Albahaca. He’s the circus technician. I have him run checks on everything that can wear down or break around here. If anyone had a good opportunity to fuss with those ropes, it would’ve been him.

“We’ll go speak with him next,” said Erwin. Jennifer took another look at Sabrina, and then walked with him.

All the cast and crew were in their trailers backstage. Tulio’s was at the far end of the property, and both detectives were sweltering in the July heat by the time they reached him.

“I’ll run point this time,” said Erwin.

“Feel free.”

He knocked on the door to the trailer, and a short man with a black moustache answered.

“Hello?”

“Orlando Police. We’re investigating the murder of Lula Libé. You’re Tulio Albahaca?” said Erwin.

“Yes, I- wait, murder?”

“The ropes were slashed. Too clean to be an accident.” Jennifer tapped a pen against her notepad. “You were the last person to check those ropes, were you not?”

Tulio shook his head in frustration. “You two had better come in.”

The room inside was neatly organized. A desk, a cot, a bathroom at the far end, and extensive racks of tools and hardware along the walls. Jennifer nodded in appreciation at the sight.

“I did check the ropes tonight. But I didn’t do anything to them. I have no grief with Lula, I just check the equipment.”

“What time did you perform the inspection on the trapeze safety nets?” asked Erwin.

“It must've been about 5:30. I start at 5:00 PM, and I do everything in a set order. Finish by 6, and submit the paperwork by 6:15 so Miss Cadillac can send it to the insurance, or whatever it is she does with it.”

Erwin glanced back at Jennifer. The thought was more or less telepathic: Ask for the paperwork to confirm.

“Even so,” Erwin paused. “You are still the person with the most ability to have caused this. Do you have anyone who can vouch for you? Someone who saw you going about your work today?”

“No… But I have proof!”

“Proof?”

“Photographic proof! The last guy, see, didn’t actually do his job. Filled out the paperwork with arbitrary times while just sitting in his trailer. It took a while for anyone to realize, but when the elephants got loose and found the kitchen, the jig was up. So I take a photo every time I confirm something, and then I upload it to my laptop later. That way, no one can accuse me of slacking off.”

Tulio passed Erwin his phone, who diligently scrolled through the man’s photos until he found the snapshots of the net from today. Pole C, nearest to where the rope had been slashed, was clearly labeled, along with an intact net. He passed the phone back toward Jennifer.

“Well, even so, how do I know you didn’t just make a copy of another day’s photo?” asked Erwin.

“You can just check the metadata, Detective Schultz.”

Jennifer flipped up the photo to show an array of numbers and letters that Erwin didn’t know what to make of.

“What is-?”

“When you take a photo with a cell phone’s camera, it embeds the date and time into the image itself. If this were a copy of another photo, or a screenshot, I’d be able to tell. And something tells me Mr. Albahaca didn’t have the time to manipulate the image between now and then.” Jennifer placed the cell phone into an evidence baggie. “I hope you don’t mind me taking this, sir.”

Tulio shook his head. “Take whatever you need. Anything to help solve your case.”

“But if you didn’t do it,” Erwin wondered aloud, “who could’ve cut the rope after you checked it, but before the show?”

“Why, anyone, I suppose. After my inspections, the performers all go through their routines. With everyone focused on their own act, I bet no one would’ve noticed if someone messed with Lula’s net. Maybe one of his little girlfriends did it.”

The detectives exchanged a glance. Jennifer beat Erwin to the obvious question.

“Girlfriends? Like, plural?”

“Yes! I thought you already knew this. I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but Lula was a notorious womanizer. He never knew when to say no. And a handsome man like that, you know he had half the female cast falling head over heels for him. And a few of the men, too, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“So I assume some of his coworkers may have taken issue with that?” asked Erwin.

“Maybe? I hear a lot of things around the circus, I don’t know which are true. But I did hear one of the clowns, Villa Amarilla, stole his underwear once. I’d ask her.”

The detectives left his trailer, only to find Sabrina Cadillac outside, waiting for them. Her phone was out, as if ready to take a video.

“So is he under arrest?”

“Mr. Albahaca has a solid alibi, Miss Cadillac,” said Jennifer, tucking the evidence bag into her blazer.

“So…?”

“We suspect the motive for the murder may have been romantic in nature. But just so we can cross our eyes and dot our tees, would you please fetch the paperwork Tulio filled out during his shift today for us, Sabrina?” asked Erwin.

“With a murderer on the loose? Is that really safe?” Sabrina placed a demure hand over her heart, and made a frightened face.

“I’ll go with her,” Jennifer said, nodding to Erwin.

Erwin stalked around until he found a trailer with the placard he was searching for. He knocked three times. A sort of scuffling sound came from within, and a muffled shout of, “Just a minute!”

The woman who answered the door was partially dressed, and her makeup was smeared from crying. She wore a tight-fitting striped shirt, and overalls that might’ve matched her pink hair, before it had faded to a shade of salmon. She retreated back into her room, and Erwin followed. When she sat on her cot, he took the desk chair.

Villa was the first to speak. “This circus will be the death of us all…”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s like none of us can say what we really want until it’s too late.” She wiped a hand across her face, taking another load of white face paint and black eyeliner with it. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask your name.”

“Detective Erwin Schultz, Orlando PD. I’m looking into the death of Lula Libé. Were you close with the deceased?”

“Doctor Dragonfly and I were great friends. I think he knew me better than anyone else here. Although I’m not sure I knew him as well as I would’ve liked.”

“How would you describe your relationship?”

“We talked a lot. I’ve been at this clowning gig since I was sixteen, and I’m not sure I’m qualified to do anything else at this point. I don’t have the skills, the experience, the education. But clowns are getting to be out of vogue. Most people find me offputting at best, scary at worst. The Doctor was easy to get along with, though. He told me he never fit in back home either, and doing trapeze was what he loved.”

“Was your relationship intimate?”

“No. What made you think that?”

“I heard talk that you… stole his underwear?”

“Ugh!” She threw her arms down at her sides. “I didn’t steal them. He gave them to me! I needed some clean bottoms because it was that time of the month, and he loaned me his boxers. There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“The man is dead, Villa.” Erwin was fed up with how little the gravity of the situation was affecting her. “You are a prime suspect. Where were you in the hour before showtime?”

She fiddled with her hands. “Backstage, getting my makeup done. A dozen of the other performers would be able to vouch for me. Honestly, Doctor Dragonfly is-”

“Why do you keep calling him that?”

“What?”

“His name is Lula Libé. But you keep calling him by his stage name. Why?”

“That’s not true. He got his name legally changed to Vincent Dragonfly so his wife and her family couldn’t find him after he joined the circus. And he had a PhD in English Literature, so he was technically a doctor. He put down Lula Libé on his paperwork, and Sabrina just went with it. But it’s a play on the Spanish word for dragonfly—libélula.”

“He had a wife and family this whole time? How is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

“You don’t ask enough questions. They came here not too long ago, I think. His wife—or ex-wife? I’m not sure. She was here after seeing a poster of the circus that featured him. Miss Cadillac and her were talking. I don’t know why she didn’t tell you. Kind of suspicious if you ask me.”

Erwin froze. She’s with Jennifer.

Jennifer, meanwhile, had arrived at the trailer of Sabrina Cadillac. The interior was decorated in gauzy shades of pink and cream, right down to the rugs on the floor.

“Thank you for escorting me back, detective. I truly appreciate it.”

“Miss Cadillac, please cut the bullshit. I know what you did.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“The box cutter you used to slice through the netting has been in your jacket pocket this whole time. I knew from the moment I saw the evidence that it was you. Now I just need my partner to catch up and tell me why you did it, so I can arrest you.”

Sabrina paused, her hand frozen mid-reach to the pocket in question. Jennifer’s hand was resting on her service weapon.

“If you’d like, I can just tell you.”

“Save the confessions for the District Attorney. I don’t care.”

“Lula left behind his wife of four years. They’d known each other for over a decade. She married a serious academic, funded his studies out of her own pocket. And when he decided he wanted to be a performer, she asked him to stay, to find a compromise. But he refused. Wanted to be free as a bird. Or rather, free as a dragonfly. You never had to get involved, kid. This could’ve gone down as a classic tale of what goes up, must come down. But you just had to stick your nose into it.”

“So you got revenge on his wife’s behalf?”

“No,” Sabrina said, smirking. “She did.”

Jennifer knew the impact was coming, but could do nothing to stop it. A jewelry box crashed down onto her head, scattering plastic pearls and fake gemstones onto the pink rugs below. The other woman wrestled the pistol from Jennifer’s holster, and pointed it down at her.

“I just wanted my Vincent to come home,” she said scornfully. “But I knew he never would. And to be honest, I didn’t really want him to, after all the whoring he’d been doing with these freaks. But if I can’t have him, then no one can. And no one’s going to stand in my way.”

Erwin knocked politely at the trailer door. Neither of the still-standing women said anything. But Jennifer moaned in pain, in a way that vaguely sounded like, “Help!”

Erwin kicked through the flimsy metal doorway, and drew his pistol immediately once he saw the situation.

“Put the gun down! No one needs to get hurt!” he shouted.

Vincent Dragonfly’s ex wife pointed the gun shakily at Erwin. Sabrina had her hand on the box cutter in her pocket, but was frozen in place. Jennifer was still on the ground, cheap accessories littering her immediate vicinity.

“Your husband isn’t coming back. Just set the gun on the ground and come quietly.” A bead of sweat pooled on Erwin's temple.

She trembled, and her arm dropped. Erwin quickly moved to disarm her and tie her wrists behind her back with zip ties. Jennifer shakily got to her feet, and took her pistol back.

Sabrina still stood, frozen in place, her hand on the murder weapon.

“It’s not worth it, ma’am,” Jennifer said.

Sabrina flew forward, screaming like a banshee. Jennifer dodged the arc of the blade, and put the woman in a choke hold until she dropped her weapon. Once Erwin kicked the tiny knife out of reach of either of the two suspects, Jennifer put Sabrina in cuffs, as well.

“All in a day’s work. Isn’t that right, partner?”

The detectives bumped knuckles.