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

Dallas, she knew, had started out as a cattle town, had turned into a rail town, and finally into a tech town. The place was now home to the corporate headquarters of a boatload of technology and telecom companies.

But her memories of the place weren’t so flashy.

About five years ago she’d made her way back out west when she’d heard of a job on an oil rig outside Denton. The work had been hard and the harassment from the male coworkers had been brutal. She’d had to put a few of them in their place with the Maui Thai moves she’d worked up over the years.

She’d never really liked it here. Less now that she knew this was where Leon had picked up her scent so to speak—despite the bovine odor in the air. She didn’t want to think about him.

She glanced over at Parker.

His posture erect, he stared out the windshield wearing a stoic look. His jaw was tight. He had to be in pain. She could almost feel it herself. Or maybe that was her conscience. She should have fought harder to come here by herself. But as much as she hated that he was suffering, deep down she was glad he was here.

She didn’t want to be alone with Sam Keegan.

She took a deep breath and broke the awkward silence. Time to get down to business. “So, Sam. Tell us about your friend, Tupper Magnuson.”

Hands on the wheel, Sam’s face went tender. “Good old Tup. I’m really going to miss him.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Since we were kids, really.”

“That long?”

“We went to grammar school together.” Sam shook his head. “That Tupper. What a card. He was the class clown. You know, always joking around, making all the kids laugh, getting them in trouble? But he always manned up and took the blame when the teacher came down on somebody else.”

“Like you?”

He nodded. “A bunch of times. And not just when it was his fault. He was a real friend.”

Sounded like a standup guy. “Guess it wasn’t much of a stretch for him to become a real clown as an adult.”

“He was a natural. His family moved and I lost touch with him after the sixth grade.”

“And you met up with him again after you joined Under the Big Top?”

“Close. A little over three years ago The Big Top came to Phoenix and I heard they were looking for new acts. Thought I’d try out as a lark. Didn’t expect anything to happen. But when I auditioned, there was ole Tup. We didn’t even recognize each other at first.” He laughed softly and wiped a finger under his nose.

“What happened?”

“Somebody watching the auditions told him my name. He came over and we squinted at each other for a few minutes, scratched our heads. Then it dawned on us and we figured out who we were. After that it was all hugs and backslaps. To this day, I think he was the reason I got hired. He must have put in a good word for me.”

Interesting. Miranda glanced over at Parker. He was silent but taking it all in.

“So what was it like working with him?” she asked.

“Oh, great. We weren’t in the same act, of course.”

“What is your act, anyway?” Miranda felt Parker twist around at the way the words had come out. “I mean, you didn’t tell me on the phone what you do in the circus.”

A big sly smile spread over Sam’s face. “I ride a motorcycle.”

“That’s a circus act?” She always thought motorcycles were just for fun.

He chuckled. “Me and six other guys ride around in a big, round steel cage.”

Miranda sat up, her blood surging with a sudden rush of excitement. “Really? Upside down and everything?”

“Uh huh. And colored lights are flashing and the music’s going. It’s pretty dramatic.”

“Sounds like it. Very cool.”

He grinned with modesty. “Tup taught me how to work the crowd. He gave me a lot of tips when I first started.” His voice grew soft. “But he was always friendly to everybody. Everyone in the show loved him. The audience, too. Especially the kids. Tup used to visit the local children’s hospitals wherever we were and did a modified version of his act. You know, magic tricks? Pulling balloons or paper flowers out of his jacket. The kids adored him.”

Sam was quiet for a long while and Miranda thought she caught the glisten of tears in his eyes.

“I just don’t know why anybody would want to kill him.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out.”

He nodded, swiped a finger under his nose again. “Do you want me to take you straight to the hotel? Or would you…?” He glanced at the clock on the dash that amazingly wasn’t broken. “Jeez, it’s awful late.”

Yeah, it was. And Parker was shifting in discomfort beside her. “I think we’d better turn in and get started in the morning.”

“Sure thing. I just thought…”

“What?”

“Maybe you’d like to see Tup’s trailer. It’s where he…where it happened.”

“He was killed in his own place?” Sam hadn’t given her a lot of details on the phone.

Grimly Sam nodded.

Miranda turned to Parker. “You up for that?”

He replied with a stiff nod. “The sooner we get started the better.”

And the sooner they could finish and leave. She was with Parker on that one, but she wished he’d get some rest first. It was supposed to be her call whether he went to the hotel to rest or not, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to mention that in front of Sam.

Parker leaned forward and peered around her. “Mr. Keegan, are you sure the police don’t have the residence cordoned off?”

“Please, call me Sam. No. They think it was natural causes right now.”

So they wouldn’t have used the yellow tape. Pretty quick decision, though.

Parker gave him a short nod. “Then we shouldn’t have any trouble gaining access.”

Sam drove them down I-30 and through the city. Traffic was light, except for the eighteen wheelers and the occasional cluster of late-night revelers, and after another half-hour, they turned onto a narrow dirt road about a mile or two past the Cotton Bowl stadium.

Miranda peered out the window at a large grassy area filled with campers and trailers parked in long rows six or seven deep. In the distance she could make out the shape of the big tent where the performances went on.

So this was where circus folk lived.

Sam’s truck rattled down the path until they reached a nice looking Winnebago nearer the tent. He pulled along the side of the road and stopped.

Miranda squinted at the shiny white vehicle under a nearby light. “That it?”

“Yep. Tup rated a nice RV since he’s a headliner. A few of the other top performers have them as well.” He gestured to the various sized mobile homes scattered around the lot. “The rest of us are in the rattier ones down the way.” He made a gesture indicating the space farther back.

Floodlights twinkled in nearby trees. Light came from the windows of a few of the trailers but no one was outside. Everything seemed still as a morgue. No doubt they were all mourning the loss of a fellow performer.

Sam got out of the truck while Parker opened the passenger door and helped Miranda down. She made sure she didn’t put her weight on him, but she wasn’t going to refuse the gallant gesture in front of the client. Especially another male. Especially this male. Too much raw testosterone floating around in the air.

Sam headed toward a small hand-built set of steps in front of the RV door and reached into his pocket. “I’ve got a key. Tup always let me make myself at home here.”

Just as he put a boot on the first stair, Parker blocked him with an arm. “Don’t, Sam.”

Sam squinted at him, as if he were being challenged. “What’s the matter?”

Miranda wanted to know, too.

She watched Parker pull two thin pairs of flesh-colored plastic gloves out of his coat pocket. How come he was always so well prepared? He handed one to her. “In case the police aren’t finished here.”

“I see,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Guess you do know your business.”

“Yes, we do.” Parker slipped on the gloves, took the key from Sam as if he were their real estate agent turning over the property and trotted up the steps.

Miranda didn’t see a wince on his face but she knew he was holding it in.

He unlocked the door and switched on a light.

She followed him inside while Sam trailed behind her.

As soon as she crossed the threshold Miranda felt her clothes start to fill with sweat. The A/C had been cut off and the place was downright sweltering. It smelled relatively clean, except for the lingering odor of recent death.

But they had a job to do. She looked around.

It was a nice, cozy place. The typical cramped living quarters of a house on wheels. Tiny kitchen, small stove and fridge, probably propane, a fold out dining table. Living room with a couch that doubled as a bed, teeny bathroom in the back. But everything looked new.

“Tup just got this place about a month ago.” Sam explained. “His old RV was pretty nice but the owner thought he deserved an upgrade.”

Miranda nodded her acknowledgment and stepped across the living room to the bathroom. She opened the door and peeked inside. Small shower and sink. Relatively clean linoleum floor. Linens, soap, after shave. Typical guy’s bath. She closed the door and only needed two steps to be back in the main area.

The décor here was a blend of cowboy rustic and modern, nothing too expensive. Faux wood paneling and faux wood flooring. A big screen TV on the back wall. Under it stood a narrow credenza holding video equipment and some books. Paperback Westerns and some hard covers. She read a few of the titles. Biotechnology, Genetics, Cloning. That was weird.

“Was Magnuson into science?”

Planted between the small living room and the kitchen, Sam shrugged. “He was into a lot of things.” His voice had a faraway sound to it.

Miranda eyed the navy blue velour couch in the middle of the room. It looked almost new. Except for a dark stain in the middle of it she’d seen when she’d passed it. She had a pretty good idea what that was. It was what Sam was gazing at now.

Pretending not to notice the couch, Parker opened cupboards in the kitchen. “You say this was where your friend expired?”

“Expired? Oh, yes. I found him right there on the couch last night.” Staring at the piece of furniture, Sam let out a low guttural moan.

Miranda took a step toward him. “Are you all right, Sam?”

“It’s just that…when we walked in here just now…just for minute I was thinking, ‘Tup’s probably in the john.’” He gave a short, painful laugh. “I still can’t believe he’s really gone. How could somebody do this to him?” He sank down into a nearby chair and put his head in his hands.

Miranda wanted to give him a comforting hug. “We’ll find out who did this,” she told him. And she meant it.

Then she looked up and saw Parker had paused in his search, a cabinet door open in his hand. He gave her a long, steady look. Did he think Sam was about to confess something? Or had he decided the police were right about the natural causes?

When Sam didn’t say anything else, Miranda decided to prod a little. “What time did you find Tupper?”

“Last night about ten. We finished the evening performance around nine and we were going to go out for pizza together. One of the guys in my troupe, Danny, was driving. We waited for Tup in Danny’s trailer half an hour. When he didn’t show, I came over here to see what was up. And there he was…Oh, God.”

“What did you do?”

Sam raised his gaze to the ceiling. “I was so stupid. I told him I was hungry and to quit playing possum. We always kidded around with each other. He was such a practical joker. I—I thought he’d open his eyes and laugh at me. But he didn’t move. I went over to him, gave him a shake. He didn’t respond. I thought, wow. He’s really getting me good this time. And then I—I smelled that awful smell.”

The smell that had made the stain on the cushion.

“I knew something awful had happened. I pulled out my cell and called 911. They took forever to get here. The whole time I waited, I tried to revive him. I slapped at his wrists, his face. Nothing.” Sam stared off into space. “Then I heard the siren and all of a sudden the room was filled with EMTs and police. They questioned me, took a statement. I asked what had happened, and one of the cops told me he’d probably had a heart attack. They found blood pressure meds in one of the cabinets. I didn’t even know he was taking any.”

Miranda wondered if cops usually gave out information like that when they didn’t suspect foul play. She didn’t have much experience with natural cause deaths.

Parker lifted a prescription bottle from a cabinet. “Diovan. A rather high dosage.” He put it back and came around the counter to examine the stain on the couch.

His face grew as grim as the sinking sensation danced in Miranda’s stomach. She knew they were looking at the stain from the bodily fluid the deceased had voided upon death.

Parker scanned the couch, lifted one of the cushions. “Why do you think the police are wrong?”

Sam looked up, his green eyes teary and dazed. “There was an empty wineglass on the table.” He gestured at the piece of furniture. “I think it had something in it. I—what are you doing there?”

“Our jobs,” Parker said coolly. “You think your friend was poisoned?”

“I do.”

Miranda grabbed the cushion on the other end and dug her fingers into the creases, just as Parker was doing at the other end. When they met in the middle they’d come up with fifty-five cents in change between them but no evidence of any foul play.

She dropped the coins on the low coffee table that stood in front of the couch and blew out a breath. They needed better equipment if they were going to find anything. If there was anything to be found.

Then something caught her eye.

On the shelf under the coffee table sat another book. It wasn’t like the others. Gold leaf edging and a thick cover. She pulled it out and held it up. The cover was made to look like cattle hide, embossed with a cowboy hat and a lasso in the middle.

Parker replaced the last cushion and studied it. “Photo album?”

“Guess that’s what it is.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” Sam’s tone was surly, and his lip curled in a smirk as he gestured at the book.