Clowns and Cowboys (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 3) (11 page)

“I’m sorry, Sam.” It was all she could think to tell him.

He looked up at her in shock. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”

“He’s a likely suspect,” she said.

“No. Harvey didn’t do it. He couldn’t. I know him.”

“He’ll need more than a character witness to prove his innocence, Mr. Keegan.” Parker had that annoyed tone in his voice again.

“Look, I hired you. I want you to find Layla. She’s got to know something about all this.”

Miranda watched Parker’s face turn to stone.
Uh oh. Here it comes
. This case was over.

“You there!”

All three of them turned toward the booming voice of the circus owner. He strode across the grass like Paul Bunyan through Texas, batting the air with his hand. “Keegan. I want to see you and your two PIs in my office pronto.”

Sam didn’t like that idea. “Mr. Tenbrook, the police still have to talk to me and I—”

“I’ve already arranged it. Detective Underwood will call me when they’re ready for you. This way.” He gestured with his big hands.

“Yessir.” Sam hung his head and started away from the crime scene.

“Let’s see what we can learn from the owner,” Parker murmured in her ear as they followed behind.

“Right,” she nodded.

The twenty-four foot trailer that served as Tenbrook’s office was nicer than Miranda expected. Its walls were oak panels, its floor pale beige tiles, its L-shaped desk and chairs executive-style. Plus it was wonderfully cool and it really felt good to get off her feet and sink into soft cream-colored leather.

Tenbrook reached inside a small fridge unit and pulled out chilled bottles of water. He passed them out without asking if they were wanted. Not that anyone would refuse a cold drink after spending the afternoon tromping around in the hundred-degree heat, but the circus boss was obviously a man who didn’t take no for an answer.

Miranda eyed a tall whiteboard along one wall that was covered in chicken scratch she took to be the list of acts. Tupper’s name had several question marks beside it and a big arrow pointing to Harvey’s name.

Tenbrook sank into his executive chair with a groan. He pressed his bottle against his forehead and waved his free hand at the board. “So now I’m two clowns and a total of three acts short.”

Sam swallowed a swig of water and wiped his mouth against his arm. “Yvette told me she could go on with Winky instead of Bobo.”

“The Chihuahua?”

Sam nodded. “Right.”

“Are they ready? Is she…steady enough to perform?”

“She seemed pretty insistent on it when I spoke to her just now.”

“We’ll see how she is a little later. That woman’s as fickle as…” he trailed off.

Tenbrook pointed his bottle at Parker. “How’s this investigation I wasn’t just informed about going? Do you concur with the police? Am I going to get my clown back soon?” Meaning Harvey.

Parker paused to take a dignified sip of water before answering. “We’ve only begun, Mr. Tenbrook. It’s far too early to tell you anything.”

Tenbrook scowled at that reply and stared at the board.

Miranda studied the photos that hung on the opposite wall over a pair of small beige filing cabinets. In addition to a gaudy
Under the Big Top
flyer were pictures of the younger Tenbrook. Tenbrook performing as a rodeo clown. Tenbrook riding a motorcycle through a blaze of fire as a stuntman. Tenbrook leaping off an exploding building. Tenbrook on fire running from a demolished car.

At the far end were several photos of the man today. He stood smiling under a spotlight in the middle of the ring, dressed in top hat and a sparkling gold suit coat.

“You’re the ring master?”

He studied her a moment before answering. “That’s common for the owner. I’m also the lead creative director. I have assistants, of course. But UBT is my brain child. My baby.”

“I see.” Talented guy. Miranda looked at the photos again. They were all of the owner. “You have family, Mr. Tenbrook?”

He grinned. “Three ex-wives and five children of assorted ages. You can see why I have to wear so many hats. Alimony.” But he didn’t have any pictures of his kids in his office. In fact, he didn’t seem too concerned about anything but himself, his show, and his wallet.

“Then you’ll realize how lucky you were that wine bottle was found before any of the children here got hurt,” Parker pointed out.

Tenbrook narrowed his eyes at Parker then raised his water bottle in agreement. “You’re right, Mr. Parker. Astute observation. And UBT would have been liable. I guess I owe you two a debt of gratitude.”

“Guess you do,” Sam said, as if hoping his boss ought to give him some credit.

Tenbrook ignored him and studied his whiteboard. “This is all starting to sink in now. Sorry, you’ll have to give me a minute.” He set his bottle down on his desk, got to his feet and turned his back. Running his fingers through his wavy gray hair he began to mutter half to himself. “I’ve had trouble with Harvey for some time now. His drinking really gives him an attitude. And he was viciously jealous of Tupper. A week didn’t go by that he didn’t come to me and complain about this or that.”

“Such as?” Miranda asked.

The large man turned around and his body seemed to take up half the space in the trailer. “Oh, how Tupper stole his bowling pin bit. How Tupper didn’t have the credentials he did. How Tupper was ‘cheating’ when he went to hospitals to entertain kids. I don’t know where he got that idea. For a long time, I’ve thought he was losing it. I encouraged him to get help, but he didn’t listen. Now I wish I’d been firmer about it.”

Hard to imagine this guy not being firm about anything having to do with his show, his “baby” as he put it.

He sat on the edge of his desk and ran a hand over his face. “I guess the police have the right man after all. Too bad.” He let out a long sigh that almost made Miranda feel sorry for him. “We’ll have to postpone the memorial show for Tupper a day. We can’t have the dress rehearsal tonight without a lead clown.”

Sam shot Miranda a look of annoyance. “Mr. Tenbrook?”

“What is it, Sam?”

“I think…I mean…what about Layla?”

“What about Layla?”

“She’s missin’, you know.” Part of Sam’s charm was stating the obvious in that boyish way of his. But this was news to Tenbrook.

Miranda watched the circus owner’s rugged face go from sorrowful to shocked.

“What do you mean she’s missing?”

“She hasn’t been home. Not since the night Tupper passed. We just went to her trailer. It looks like she—”

“Mr. Tenbrook,” Miranda interrupted sharply, more irritated with Sam than ever. “We think Layla may have left for a few days. Did she say anything to you about being away?”

Tenbrook stared at Layla’s name on the whiteboard. Once again he pressed a massive hand to his massive forehead. He looked like he was getting a massive headache.

“No,” he said in nearly a whisper. “She…she didn’t say anything to me.” He turned to them, eyes glazed. “Are you saying something happened to my star performer?”

“We don’t know that,” Miranda said. “That’s why we’re asking questions. Did she have family in the area?”

“Not that I know of.”

Sam looked like he was about to explode. “Doesn’t anybody think it’s funny Layla disappeared at the same time Tupper was killed?”

Tenbrook folded his arms. “How do you know that?”

“I went to her trailer right after the police were done with me that night. I knocked and knocked but she wasn’t there. We were just over there when…all the commotion broke out just now. She’s gone.”

Tenbrook frowned. “Tupper and Layla were engaged two weeks ago,” he explained to Miranda and Parker.

“Yes,” Miranda said. “Sam told us that.”

He lifted his big shoulders. “Maybe she found the body and got spooked, ran away?”

“Without even telling anybody what had happened? Without calling 911?”

Tenbrook’s gaze shifted from Sam to Miranda to Parker and back again. Wheels were turning in his head. But there seemed to be more he was considering than Layla’s possible motives for bolting. “Do you think she was…involved?”

Sam took a long while to answer. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he said at last as he gestured at Miranda. “I want them to find her.”

Tenbrook rubbed his chin. “That might not be a bad idea.”

Miranda turned to Parker with a frown. His expression telegraphed his thoughts to her.

“Mr. Tenbrook,” she told him. “We’re not even sure Layla’s aware her fiancé is dead. She may be back shortly. And we need to see what further information the police have gathered about the current suspect first.”

Tenbrook was still back at the murder scene. “Layla might have seen something that night. Perhaps Harvey threatened her.”

It was a thought that had been running through her head and Parker’s as well, she knew.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Harvey and Layla didn’t exactly get along. She pretty much avoided him.”

“According to her neighbor Biata, she pretty much avoided most people,” Miranda said.

Tenbrook gave her a hard look. “That was another thing Harvey complained to me about. He had a powerful crush on Layla. He hated it when she took up with Tupper.” He got to his feet and reached for a drawer in his desk. “If it’s a matter of money, I’d be happy to cover your fees and expenses.”

“That won’t be necessary just yet,” Parker told him. “But if you have any background information on Layla, it would be helpful.”

“Background information?”

“Her last known residence? State of birth?”

“I believe she was born in Bulgaria somewhere. Where was it now?” He scratched his head. “Khaskovo?”

“Then I assume she has a green card or a work visa. You would have a record of it in her employee file, wouldn’t you?”

“Employee file? Uh…” He grinned sheepishly and pulled out a few drawers, closed them again. “You know, that’s the one thing I have trouble keeping up with. Paperwork, what a bitch,” he chuckled. “Pardon my French,” he said to Miranda.

“Mr. Tenbrook,” Parker said and Miranda caught the annoyance in his voice. “We don’t even know this woman’s last name. Or her real name, if Layla is a stage name.”

“Last name? It’s…uh…” He pressed a hand to his forehead as if he could squeeze it out. “You know, I don’t think she ever told me her last name. Do you know what it is, Sam?”

Sam shook his head. “No, sir.”

Disgusted, Miranda got to her feet. “We’ll see what we can do, Mr. Tenbrook. Right now, we need to give our statements to the police.”

“I understand. Certainly. I appreciate your help in this matter.” He extended a hand to her, then to Parker. “The sooner we can get this all settled and behind us, the better.”

“We’ll do our best,” Parker said.

But the tall order of finding the clown- and dog-killer had just gotten taller.

It took another hour and a half for the police to finish with the circus personnel they were interviewing. While she and Parker waited, Miranda decided they needed to do more of their own questioning while everyone was out.

They spoke to the jugglers, an acrobat team, a dude who rode a unicycle, the distraught Yvette Nannette. They also found Danny, Sam’s friend, whose last name turned out to be Ackerman.

Danny Ackerman was a tall, dark-haired guy, who looked as innocent as his baby face. Not that that proved anything, but his account of the night Tupper was killed matched Sam’s. With him, as with the others, they learned nothing new.

Except that the police had taken Harvey Hackett into custody.

A cop called Miranda away to take her statement, and by the time he’d finished with her, she’d lost track of Parker.

As she tromped around the grounds hunting for him, she passed the Vargas’ trailer and spotted the petite Dashia taking clothes down from a line.

She stepped through the grass toward the woman. “Mrs. Varga, I was wondering if I could ask you a few more questions.”

The woman laid the sheet she’d just finished folding into her basket and glared at Miranda. “I have already spoken to the police, Ms. Steele.”

“Mrs. Varga, one of your coworkers is dead. And another appears to be missing.”

With a hiss, she pulled a clothespin off one of the boy's T-shirts and put it in her pocket. “I’m very well aware of what has gone on here the past few days. I do not need a reminder.”

“I’m not trying to upset you.” Miranda reached for a second shirt to help.

As she touched it, Dashia yanked it out of her hand. “I barely knew Tupper or Harvey.”

“What about Layla?”

She paused, another clothespin in midair. Then shook her head firmly. “I didn’t know her well.”

Of course, she didn’t. “If you can remember anything, any little detail, it would really help.”

She shook her head again, making her flyaway hair even more flyaway. “No. No details.”

Drop it, Miranda told herself. The woman wasn’t talking. But she couldn’t help pressing one more time. “If you heard anything unusual. Saw anything.”

Dashia picked up her laundry and spun around, the basket almost swallowing her small frame. Anger lit up her features like a spotlight. “I told you before, Ms. Steele. I don’t know anything. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything. Now please. Leave me alone.”

And she turned on her heel and took the basket into the trailer slamming the door behind her.

So much for the close-knit circus family, Miranda thought as she stood staring at the door. But there was one thing she knew for certain now.

That woman was lying through her diminutive teeth.

###

When she finally found Parker, he said he was ready to call it a day and she agreed.

They plodded through the yard to the rental car in silence, both of them deep in thought.

“I think we ought to focus on Layla,” she said at last, feeling spent.

Parker’s gaze was fixed ahead as he mulled over the bizarre events. “Has Keegan convinced you she knows who the killer is?”

Miranda shot him a scowl. “She might know. Besides she’s a missing piece of the puzzle. Where is she? What the heck happened to her? Did Harvey do anything to her?”