Three-Ring Terror Read Free

this?” Frank asked as he felt a round metallic object underneath a pair of Chet’s jeans. He pulled the object out of the bag. It was a green, studded ball.
    â€œThat’s just like the ball the juggler lost under the table,” Joe said.
    â€œRight,” Frank said, holding up the ball. It was the size of a softball but much heavier. Dotted all along the outside were penny-size gems that looked like rhinestones. With his other hand, Frank passed the tote bag over to Chet. “Check to see if there’s anything missing,” he told his friend.
    Chet nodded and started going through his bag. Joe reached for the ball and gave Frank a quizzical look. “The question is, what’s it doing in Chet’s bag?” he asked his brother.
    Frank shrugged. “You got me. But the juggler must have had some reason for stashing this ball in Chet’s bag.” He took the ball back from Joe and continued to examine it.
    Chet held up his tote bag. “Everything’s here, including my wallet,” he told Frank and Joe. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”
    Frank ran his hands over the gem-studded ball. “It sure is. But it’s an important clue, too,” he said.
    â€œWhy?” Chet wanted to know.
    â€œIt means we’re not dealing with some common crook,” Joe told him.
    â€œWell, if he’s not a common crook, then who is he?” Chet asked.
    â€œThat’s what we have to find out,” Frank said. He thought for a moment. “Let’s ask around. See if anyone knows who the juggler is.”
    â€œSorry I’m late,” a man’s voice called out. Frank turned around and saw a clown, dressed like Chet in a blue and white polka-dotted suit and an orange wig, standing by the table. He was about the same height as Chet and looked to be in his early twenties. “The name’s Carl Nash,” the man told Chet in a cheerful southern drawl. “I’m here to relieve you all.”
    â€œI’m Chet Morton,” Chet said. He looked at his watch. “Bo told me someone would show up to take over right about now.”
    Nash grinned as he looked around the backstage area. “It’s pretty busy, isn’t it? I’d better get started pouring punch for these thirsty people,” he said. With that, Nash edged his way past Frank and stationed himself behind the table. He took a quick look at the ball in Frank’s hand, smiled, and drawled slowly, “Nifty prop. Are you all Circus U. students from Bayport, too?”
    Instead of answering Carl Nash’s question, Frank said, “One of the jugglers must have lost a ball. Got any idea who it could have been?”
    â€œCan’t say I do,” Nash replied, putting someice in a cup and pouring a drink for a little boy who stood by the table.
    â€œWhere are you from?” Joe asked Nash.
    Nash’s bright blue eyes lit up behind his white clown makeup. “Funny you should ask. Not from around here, that’s for darn sure.”
    â€œI didn’t think so, from your accent, that is,” Frank offered.
    â€œYou got it,” Nash said, raising his bushy orange eyebrows. “I’m a good ol’ boy from deep in the heart of Texas.”
    â€œAre you a student at Circus U.?” Chet asked eagerly.
    â€œThat’s right.” Nash’s clown mouth spread into a wide red smile. “I graduate this year. Trapeze is my specialty.”
    â€œWow,” Chet said, impressed. “I guess you’re not afraid of heights then.”
    Joe laughed. “He’d better not be.”
    â€œI used to be,” Nash said with a chuckle. “But I got over it pretty fast.”
    â€œI’ll bet,” Frank said. He kept passing the ball back and forth between his hands. “Are you ready to go, Chet?”
    â€œIf Carl thinks he can handle the crowd on his own,” Chet said, turning to the trapeze student.
    â€œNo