A Fear of Clowns (The Greasepaint Chronicals) (16 page)

He'd also thought that about
Maggie too, he remembered. It had been just a mental turn of phrase, and not a
real emotional bond, but it seemed important to him now. Someone had killed her.
Dressed as a freaking
clown
. If that wasn't about framing him, then what
were the odds?

After it was so clear that he
couldn't have done it that even the FBI was finished with him, he tilted his
head. It was a bad idea to get involved, he knew. But the whole thing was too
weird. Strange on a level that called to him.

"Is... I mean, I've only
been doing this kind of clown stuff for less than a year. Eight months. I was
on the street before that, in Vegas, mostly. After it came out that Carl was
the father of my daughter, and that he'd had Lynn, my ex, marry me, to use as a
source of cash and security, instead of paying for her himself. I told people
about that after, so it's in the records, if you dig enough. Before that I was
a history professor. You mentioned that this is a serial thing? Being FBI that
means in more than one state, and you're specifically looking for clowns. So...
A clown murderer? How long does this go back? I mean, so I can clear myself for
the whole thing." It was a bit self serving sounding, but both men looked
at him strangely. Probably because they hadn't noticed letting all of that
drop, until it was mentioned.

McNab, which turned out to be the
other Special Agent's name, once he was introduced, shook his head.

"That, is fucked up. No
wonder you figured that we were trying to frame you."

Jay nodded back, his hands, red
rimmed and aching, flat on the table. They still tingled a bit, from the nerve
damage. Thank god he didn't work with his hands for a living. Not like a
surgeon, or a magician.

"I didn't even get into the
tracking device they have on my car, or how they pull me over every other time
I drive anywhere, even without reason. Richmond keeps stealing my license too,
and dumping it on the roadside, so that I'll end up having to drive without it.
I put in complaints, but was told that it wasn't illegal, strictly speaking. So,
yeah, I think I need to prove to you that this wasn't me. I can go over my life
history, if you want, how far back do you want me to go?"

The men looked at each other, but
Daniels pulled his pad around and got a clean sheet out.

"Can you start eight years
back?"

That was easy, and pretty much
came down to him having lived in Nevada the whole time, working through most of
it at the college. They'd have to make some calls to check it all out, in the
morning, but both men seemed to be pretty certain that he wasn't their killer.
It was a relief, for him at least.

"You know, not to be a jerk,
but you could at least
pretend
to be happy for me. I'm not a sick psycho
and can prove it. Yay. I get that it must be hard for you, trying to do this
kind of work... That poor woman. Maggie. I... It can't be a coincidence, can
it? She was with a clown, one with an alibi and no link to your case, but the
only one in the area, and then she's kidnapped and murdered, several days
later, by someone dressed up like one? That-"Jason went silent, since it
meant that he was being watched by the killer.

The FBI agents looked at him,
waiting for him to go on, but he didn't. That would be stupid. If they weren't
thinking that he had a partner and was involved, they were fools. How else
could that work? He knew that it wasn't the case, but if he were them, it would
be the first thing he wrote down as soon as Jay left the room.

There was another way that it
could happen, however.

"Can you give me a ride back
to my place? I don't have one, and if it hasn't been pulled off, I'd really
like for you to take a look at the tracking device on my car." He spoke in
a low tone, and Daniels stood, gathering up his papers a bit tiredly.

"Sure. It's the least we can
do. Come on."

They left quickly enough, and
only Deputy Mills was in the station. The man nodded at him, his wiry frame
reminding Jason to work out. The casino had a small gym, even if almost no one
ever used it. Staying in shape was good, and the other man looked better for
his efforts. Still thin, but with a build like a swimmer, rather than a
scarecrow. Waving, since the dark haired man was the only one on Sheriff's
force that he liked at all, Jay followed the agents out.

When they got in the car, Jason
cleared his throat.

"Um, speed?" Carl had
probably been watching through the mirror, which meant that he could have one
of the others out to get the unit if they didn't have a warrant for it. That
being the case, it wasn't a huge surprise to find Deputy Richmond getting ready
to crawl under the vehicle in Carlos and Wendy's driveway as they pulled up.
The man had parked a good ways away, and had walked in, to avoid detection. The
headlights from the Sedan were bright, and forced him to cover his eyes. He was
still in uniform, as late as it was, and had on brown gloves that went with his
costume pretty nicely.

"Stop right there,
Deputy." Daniels spoke, his voice tired. "We can't have you tampering
with evidence."

Suit or not, the man, who was a
bit thicker than Richmond but more muscular, got down on his hands and knees
and started feeling around. After a minute he pulled something out, and held
the small gray thing up.

"This is an MX-thirty-four.
'P' it says here. Official police issue in this state, isn't it? I don't
suppose you have a warrant for this?"

Richmond sneered, or at least Jay
figured that was what made his mustache twitch. I was a bit dim right there to
actually see clearly.

"We don't need one. It was
on the street when we placed it. I just got the call to remove it, since we
know that Mr. Hadley has been cleared of any wrong doing." He sounded...
Calm and reasonable. Almost like he meant it. Even though it had been put in
place a long time before. Six months at least. They'd probably had to replace
the battery, it had been so long. He was angry about it, and felt violated, but
didn't say anything.

After all, the FBI weren't fools.
Maggie Winthrop had been murdered by a clown, right after he'd worked for her
as one. Now Richmond, the bastard deputy that kept harassing him, or at least
one of them, was found with an official police tracking device. Meaning that
they, the Sheriff's Department for the county, had known where he was. The
whole time. Of course Mills had pulled him over to the day of Seth's party,
probably using the same data. It would mean they all knew where he'd been,
Jason didn't doubt.

He didn't mention it. Since the
men in their suits probably understood all that. It was best not to get
involved. He knew that. Winthrop had been a client, for one day, and nice
enough, but getting more deeply tied to all of this would just make him seem
guilty of something. It was one way that the police and FBI caught serial
murderers. They often tried to involve themselves in the case, trying to find
out what the officials knew. Really, avoiding that was kind of important to
him. He didn't want to lose his new job already.

There was a bit of an argument,
since Deputy Richmond wanted to take the device, which he insisted had been
signed out by him personally, making it his responsibility, and the agents
seemed to think it was theirs now. He stayed out of it, just standing back, as
the Deputy finally gave in to the might of the Federal Government.

The mustached man glared at them
all, including Jay, but Agent Daniels noticed that and shook his head. "By
the way, make sure you pass the word; you've harassed Mr. Hadley here long
enough. It might not be illegal, but we will bring a full investigation into
your department if you don't cut it out now. Make sure to mention that to your
boss. I'm just letting you know, so we don't have to make this official yet.
It's a pain in the rear, having to do things like that, and we're too busy, but
we can find the time, if you force us too."

"I'll do that. Tell the Sheriff."
The tone was more like he was going to tell his daddy on them, but if it did
anything at all, Jay would take it. Of course, as soon as the investigation
stalled or was over, it would probably be ten times worse, but he was moving
anyway. They all stood and watched the gloved but empty handed deputy walk
away, while the two agents both dug out cards for him and handed them over.

"Thank you for your help. I
know that this was a less than perfect way of getting it done. Sorry about the
stuff with the locals. I'll have a word with Morse and see if he can't un-bunch
his panties on his own now. We can call you, if we have any questions?"

"Sure. I'll be at the
Placemont, but... you have the numbers? You can reach me there,
twenty-four-seven. Unless I get a real day off. I'm... not planning on coming
back here. It isn't me fleeing, but you get the idea." He looked off at
the direction that Richmond had vanished in, walking into the dark night.

"We do. We'll be in touch,
if anything comes up that we need you for."

Then they climbed into the car
and drove off. When he turned, Carlos and Wendy were both in the doorway. It
was late, but they normally didn't go to bed until nearly four anyway, given
their schedules, so were both still chipper enough.

They didn't speak, until they all
got inside.

Carlos went first.

"What, the hell was that
about? You have a bruise on your head and look like you botched your handcuff
escape." He gestured to the right areas, but looked up into Jay's eyes.

He wriggled his fingers.

"Yup. Serial murder case.
I've been
totally
cleared, by the way. In case you wonder who's been
living in your shed all this time. It... My last client, here in town, she was
kidnapped and killed by someone dressed as a clown. I was gone, and on camera
almost the whole time, with an official tracking device on my car. It pretty
much means that someone on the police force did it, unless a murderer has
actually been stalking me too. Apparently this has been going on for years.
They had me go back eight years, so at least that long. Different places around
the country, I think, so like I said, not me."

Both of the others just looked at
him like he'd lost it, Wendy speaking up first, her voice relaxed.

"I'll get you some ice for
your wrists. One second, go, sit down. You must be exhausted."

He really was, he noticed, the
second she said the words. It was a deep feeling, but also freeing. Like a big
weight had been lifted from him somehow. A giant thing that left him almost
buoyant, if still tired.

 Jason explained it all, going
over everything, and not leaving anything out. It was pretty clear that all the
information to solve it was right there. He mentioned that, as he finished up.
Carlos gave him a different funny look then. One that seemed like he hadn't
worked it all out yet.

"It is? You said the police,
but..."

"The Sheriff. They were, and
have been, following me. Okay, it could have been someone else, but I
don't
recall a thin clown around all the time, other than me. I
do
recall
several deputies that could possibly look like that, in makeup. Mills and
Richmond. Even Deputy Glennis, though that isn't too likely. There's video of
the abduction happening. Mills is the best fit, but it could be any of them.
Not Carl. He's too big and heavy. Also, if he was a serial murderer, I'd be
dead by now. Or framed. I really hope it isn't Mills. He's the only one there I
like at all. He's new though, to the force and looks like he could be my
younger brother. Same build and hair. They didn't show me the tape, so I don't
know for certain. It isn't my business anyway." Jason was ready to explain
that bit, but Carlos just agreed with him, instantly, as Wendy went and got a
second cool cloth for his wrist.

"Darned straight it isn't.
Are you safe here? We can drive you back..." The man looked at the kitchen
door and leaned in whispering. "Or get you out of the country? How hard
are they coming after you?"

He thought about it and shook his
head.

"Not very. I gave the FBI
the right leads, if they hadn't worked it out on their own, which they probably
had. They might still think that I'm working with the killer, but probably not.
I'm taking off in the morning. I told them how to reach me at the casino. If I
still work there. I had to use them as an alibi, so that... You know, they
might not want to risk guilt by association?"

The short man, who was sitting in
a chair not four feet from him, nodded. "That could happen. Well, I have
some family that will take you in, if it comes to it. In Bolivia. We can keep
that as a backup plan." His voice changed a bit, when Wendy came back. "Jay's
headed back to Vegas in the morning."

It was close enough to the plan
that he just nodded, realizing that Carlos did a lot to protect his wife,
really. It wasn't apparent, day to day, but at the extremes it showed pretty
clearly. It was love, of course, but also something else. Some kind of trauma
that one of them had had once, or the fear that too much stress would trigger a
negative reaction.

Wendy seemed fine, to him, but
given the subject matter, it had probably been abuse or rape of some kind.
Maybe it was Carlos's issue? If so, he hadn't mentioned it and Jason wasn't
planning to ask. Being a friend meant letting other people be what they needed
to, in order to get through the day. Being there for them too, but his friends
didn't need him around right then, even if they seemed willing to keep him. His
being gone protected them most.

Well away from where they lived,
and not calling the authorities into their home, disturbing their peace of
mind. He felt horrible about that. It hadn't been within his control, but it
had still be about him, after a fashion. Or, really, about Carl Morse, and his
ego.