Clowns and Cowboys (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 3) (19 page)

“You must have.”

The ring master glanced over his shoulder then leaned in, his voice low. “Harvey’s out on bail.”

“Is he?” Miranda said. His lawyer brother must be good.

“Seems there’s not as much evidence against him as we thought. He insisted on doing his act tonight, though some of the other performers are a little nervous about having him around.”

So nervous some of them were thinking about leaving the show, Miranda thought, recalling what Chavi Ito had said.

Parker nodded in sympathy. “Understandable.”

“I hope you two can straighten all that out?”

What did he mean? Prove Harvey did it? Miranda was about to remind the owner they didn’t work for him, but Parker spoke first.

Not a bit rattled, he simply smiled. “We’ll do our best.”

His bushy gray brows drew together in a sour expression he tried to conceal from the rest of the audience. “Layla isn’t back. Have you learned anything about her whereabouts?”

“No, we haven’t.” Parker’s demeanor didn’t change a bit.

“Shame. She’ll be missed tonight. The Ito girls are doing an extra set to replace her. They’re good, of course. But they’re not Layla.”

“Not many people are,” Miranda told him.

Tenbrook shot her an odd look, but nodded. “Well, if you’ll excuse me. I need to greet the others.”

“Of course.”

After Tenbrook had moved on, Miranda turned to Parker. “I’m beginning to see what you mean about that guy. He does seem to be hiding something.”

He gave her an almost imperceptible smile and nodded to a tall woman across the aisle. “Popcorn?” he said to Miranda as if he’d really come to see the show.

“No, thanks.”

When the woman looked away, he whispered, “Make sure you keep an eye on Tenbrook tonight.”

“Roger that,” Miranda replied.

And just as the words were out of her mouth, the lights went down and Tenbrook took center stage.

“Patrons and friends, thank you for coming to our show!” Tenbrook removed his hat and address the audience with a solemn face.

“As you all know, we at Under the Big Top carry a heavy burden in our hearts tonight. For one of our own is gone, snatched from us all too soon, at the very zenith of his career. A bright, shining star we all dearly loved.”

His voice seemed sincere, but there was a whole lot of theater in it.

“But, as they say, the show must go on. And no one would have wanted that more than Tupper Magnuson. And so in his honor tonight we give you our very best.” He suddenly went into ring master mode as he climbed onto a platform. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” he cried. “Welcome to our show.”

Drums began to roll. Tenbrook’s costume sparkled under the spotlight like gold. He spread his arms, intense excitement on his face.
Man, what a showboat
.

“Get set for the most stunning, the most exciting, the most titillating entertainment experience of your life. We’re about to amaze and dazzle you. Take you to another place. Transport you to a strange, mysterious world of sheer fantasy.”

Airy flute music started to play as he spoke, as if evoked by his words.

“A world of wonder and enchantment and yes, even fear. A world that exists only…Under the Big Top.”

The music turned spunky, with a sort of half-rock, half-carnival beat and a whole horde of performers marched out singing a loud, rousing welcome-to-the-circus song that really did seem to take you to another world.

A place where anything was possible.

They began to dance around in a choreographed number that already had Miranda feeling carried away with the enchantment. Was it something in the air?

The number ended. Before she could catch her breath, the guys she’d seen in the yard tossing rings scampered out. Only now they were in skintight, silver blue costumes, and their rings were lit in a rainbow of colors.

Armed with six rings each, they tossed them back and forth, muscles flexing, the rings climbing higher, higher, until they seemed to reach the scaffolding overhead. The guys caught them again and began to roll the rings over their arms and bounced them off their heads, all while dancing and spinning to more funky music.

Everyone applauded.

Tenbrook
, Miranda thought, with a flash of panic.
Where’d he go?

But just as the jugglers trotted out of the ring to a round of applause, Tenbrook stepped into the spotlight again and began to address the crowd. Before he could get the words out, the music turned zany and a pack of clowns came galloping down the aisles and into the ring, creating total chaos. Tenbrook acted angry and agitated, chasing one clown then another as they ran around with buckets throwing colorful confetti at the audience.

The crowd broke out in peals of laughter, even more so when one of the clowns got doused with a bucket that wasn’t holding confetti, but real water.

One of the troupe, with wiry orange and blue hair and a big green nose ran toward Miranda and growled at her. She reached for Parker’s hand, flashing back to a time her father took her to the circus as a little girl and she’d ended up in tears over a clown.

“Coulrophobia,” Parker whispered in her ear.

“Fear of clowns?”

He nodded. “I believe I contracted it when my father took me to a Ringling Brothers performance in New York when I was five.”

She had to smile. The bold, fearless ace detective Wade Parker was afraid of clowns? But who was she to talk? On the other hand, she thought squeezing his fingers entwined around her own, it was kind of nice to share the same affliction.

The Russians came next. They danced around, did some flips and handstands, then the two men held the bar while the Russian woman swung her body around and over it, then began walking it while they tossed her in the air.

Next up was Yvette Nannette with her little dogs. The obedient pouches sat on their platforms, jumped over each other, leapt through hoops and danced around on their hind legs in time to waltz music.

Miranda watched her closely, but the woman was stoic behind her stage grin. And yet underneath that makeup, Miranda thought she saw darkness under the woman’s eyes. She was still grieving for her beloved little Bobo.

After the dog act there were more clowns, and Harvey did his bit with the bowling pins. It went off without a hitch and got a big laugh. Miranda peered hard at the old man, but all she saw was someone who was relieved to be back at his job.

At the clowns’ exit there was a ba-da-ching from the drums, and suddenly the music turned exotic. Eastern Europe exotic.

The lights went down and a single spotlight illuminated Tenbrook at the far end of the ring.

He raised his arms mysteriously as from the opposite side of the ring, a huge silver cannon emerged.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tenbrook cried. “Are you ready to witness one of the greatest events of the evening?”

“Yes!” everyone shouted back.

“Then it is my pleasure to give you the most outstanding. The most stupendous. The most unbelievable…Yuri from Slovakia!”

Yuri Varga stepped out from behind the cannon, dressed in shimmering red spandex and a gold cape. He turned one way, then the other, waving to the audience while Dashia, in a matching costume gestured to him as if he were a god.

Everyone applauded and cheered.

“Yuri is about to attempt one of the most dangerous and thrilling stunts in any show on earth.”

Tenbrook waved his arm and a drum roll began.

Yuri removed his cape and handed it to Dashia. Then he strode proudly to the end of the cannon and began to climb its length.

Miranda leaned forward, squinting hard to see his face. Even though it was covered with makeup, there was something there. Something in his expression, the way he climbed up the cannon’s barrel. And Dashia, too. She saw the same nerves and worry she’d seen the other day.

“There’s something about those two,” she whispered to Parker.

“Yes, I see it, too.”

Yuri reached the mouth of the cannon and slid down inside it.

Tenbrook raised both arms again and the drum roll stopped. For a long moment the place was dead still. Then he began to count. “Five…four…” The audience joined in. “Three…Two…One!”

Boom!

Smoke shot out of the big gun’s muzzle. Yuri blasted from the cannon’s mouth and flew high into the air. He landed in a net on the other end of the ring that nobody had noticed.

The band played a traditional
ta-dah!
while the audience whistled and shouted. Yuri climbed out of the net, and he and Dashia took victorious bows before scurrying up an aisle and disappearing behind a curtain.

The guy had nerve, Miranda had to admit. Nerve enough to kill a fellow performer?

After that, there were more clowns and jugglers, this time with colorful lighted balls. The Flying Itos appeared. Clad in gorgeous gold and blue outfits, they performed some daring stunts on the trapeze. Biata and Chavi were like graceful birds twirling in the air before being caught and soaring away to the platforms.

There was an acrobat and a tightrope walker. And just when Miranda thought the show was almost over, country music began to ring out and a huge teal blue cage was wheeled into the ring.

A thrill danced up her spine though she didn’t know why.

“That’s Sam’s act.” She reached out to grab Parker’s arm. Not there. She turned to look at him.

But he was already gone.

Parker slipped inside the dark room and shut the door behind him.

He stood in the dimness stock still, listening. All he could hear was the faint sound of music and another sporadic burst of applause coming from the tent. He’d taken a back way, winding a circuitous path between three rows of the various RVs and vehicles parked on the grounds.

No one had seen him. He was certain of that.

And even though no one was outside the office just now, he slid along one wall to the large window and slowly pulled down its shade. He did the same on the opposite wall.

Then he pulled out yet another pair of gloves—his supply was running low—and after putting them on, took a pen out of his pocket that doubled as a small flashlight.

He switched it on and swept it over the room.

Guest chairs, coffee table, desk, the self-indulgent photos and posters along the wall. And finally the two short beige filing cabinets.

Parker reached them in three strides.

He curled his hand around one of the handles and pulled. It came right open. Unlocked. Which probably meant there was nothing in it. Nothing that pertained to the case.

Tenbrook would have what he was looking for tucked away in some hiding place.

Parker felt around inside the cabinet drawer but didn’t find any hidden compartments. He did the same for the other three drawers. Nothing.

Then, being thorough, he went through the hanging folders one by one. He found the expected financial reports and business papers going back several years. Nothing unusual there. File upon file of UBT employees, past and present. Miscellaneous receipts for equipment and circus supplies, budgeting for the food, the salaries, the cost of doing business.

But there was something he didn’t find.

He glanced over at the L-shaped desk and remembered Tenbrook rifling through them when he’d asked about Layla’s papers.

He came around to the desk’s other side and ran his light over its surface. Papers lay scattered every which way. He leafed through them but found nothing of importance.

He began going through the desk drawers.

He found drawings and schematics for various acts, notes of scattered ideas from brainstorming sessions. Paperclips and rubber bands and chewing gum.

What he was looking for wasn’t here. Perhaps his hunch had been wrong.

He was about to leave when he noticed the side of the desk along the wall. It had no handle. It appeared to have a panel for show instead of an actual drawer.

Except there was a break along the top of it that wasn’t quite flush with its neighboring piece. And the corner of a very small bit of paper stuck out through it.

Parker leaned over and peered at the space between the desk’s end and the wall. It was about a foot wide. Narrow, but just long enough for a drawer to open at the side instead of the front. As he bent to examine it more closely the small beam of his light fell on something silver and shiny.

A lock.

This was it. Tenbrook’s hiding place.

He slid his hand under the bottom of the drawer and gave it a tug. It didn’t budge.

Quickly Parker pulled the tools he always brought with him out of his pocket and got to work. It didn’t take long before he had the lock open. He felt inside the drawer and his heart sank to the tiled floor.

There was nothing more than old accounting records in here. Why keep those locked up? The circus owner certainly didn’t seem to have a penchant for organization.

Parker was about to close the door when his light fell on something else. One of the hanging folders had slipped down behind the others. No doubt from sloppy handling. It probably contained nothing and he needed to get back before he was missed.

But dutifully, he pushed the other files aside, dug around and pulled out the one on the bottom. He laid it out on the desk and opened the manila folder inside.

And curved his lips up in a slow smile.

He paged through the documents, stood blinking at the papers for what must have been several minutes, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. But of course it made perfect sense. Up to a point.

He put the pen in his mouth to steady the light, began snapping photos of the documents one by one. He was about to snap the last one when the music from the tent stopped.

There was applause. Rather loud applause. Was the final act over? His heartbeat picked up. He had to get out of here and get back to Miranda.

He steadied his hands, took one more shot. Then he replaced the file under the others just as he’d found it, did the same for the lock and stepped over to the window to raise the shade.

As he moved to the door, he felt a burst of hope. Finally they were getting somewhere.