Clowns and Cowboys (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 3) (8 page)

But he seemed oblivious. “I thought I’d take you over to check out Layla’s trailer again. That okay?”

She glared at him. Now the Vargas knew they’d been here. And to Layla’s trailer. She wanted to give her new client a kick.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Dashia said. “We need to have our lunch. We have a rehearsal this evening to prepare for.”

“Rehearsal? Isn’t the circus shut down?”

“Just for today,” Sam said. “Boss wants to have a memorial performance for Tupper tomorrow night. You know. The show must go on.” He raised his hands and gave her that innocent sheep look she used to find endearing.

“Guess so,” she said through gritted teeth.

As the Vargas were getting settled into the picnic table next to their boys Sam turned to them. “You two know Layla’s missing, don’t you?”

Yuri had a dark look and Dashia frowned. “What do you mean she is missing?”

“I mean she’s gone. She doesn’t answer her door.”

Dashia looked nervously at her husband again. “Was she fired?”

Sam looked suddenly deflated. “I don’t see how.”

“Maybe she got a hotel room in the city. She never really liked living in the back lot.” Quickly Dashia put a napkin to her face to hide her slip. So she knew the aerial artist better than she’d said.

“Let me know if you hear from her,” Sam said.

“All right.”

He turned to Miranda. “C’mon. Let’s go to Layla’s.”

As they strolled through the grass, Sam began to chatter excitedly in his southwestern drawl. “If you want, I can introduce you to the performers who knew Tupper best. There’s Yvette Nannette, the dog trainer. And Danny, the guy I mentioned last night. And Harvey. He’s another clown. You’ll want to speak to him. Oh, I almost forgot.” He dug in his pocket and handed Miranda something.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Visitor passes for the dress rehearsal tonight. Can’t get in without them.”

Miranda handed them to Parker who stuffed them into his blazer pocket without a word.

She didn’t appreciate Sam barging in and taking over their investigation, and she could see Parker was fuming.

“Mr. Keegan,” he said in a low, ominous voice.

“Oh, please. Call me Sam.” Sam chuckled as if he didn’t notice there was a problem.

“We’re quite capable of interviewing people without your help.”

Sam stopped and turned around to face them. He looked crestfallen. “Jeez, I’m sorry. I just thought I’d help you out. Thought you’d really want to talk to Harvey.

Miranda sighed in impatience. “Who’s Harvey?”

“Harvey Hackett. He’s one of the lead clowns. He worked closely with Tupper, and…well, they didn’t exactly get along.”

Miranda folded her arms. “You think he could be a suspect?”

“Maybe. I’m not a professional like you two.” He put his hands in his back pockets and gave her that shy sexy grin of his.

She narrowed her eyes and Parker narrowed his at the same time. They both knew bullshit flattery when they heard it. Still this Harvey dude sounded like he might have a motive.

She turned to Parker. “Couldn’t hurt to talk to the guy.”

For one infinitesimal spec of time, his gray eyes flashed dark with rage. Then he took a controlled breath to fight it back. “All right. Where is he, Sam?”

Sam brightened. “He lives right over here. Should be out practicing now. It’s on the way to Layla’s.”

He led them past a few more RVs then made a turn between two of the larger ones. There, in what you might call the alleyway, stood a man dressed in a sleeveless white undershirt and baggy pants held up by red suspenders. He was cussing at a set of bowling pins lying on the ground.

A cigar hung out of one corner of his mouth and he badly needed a shave. He looked like a sad sack clown even without any makeup.

“Damn cheap props,” he muttered.

“You’d do better if you got rid of that stogie,” Sam said.

The man looked up and glared at him. “Shows what you know. It’s part of the act.”

“Sure it is. In the smoke-free tent.” Sam strode over, snatched the stub out of the man’s mouth and tossed it on the ground. Then he dug the heel of his cowboy boot into it.

The man’s weathered face twisted in a grimace. “Damn it, Keegan. Who do you think you are, my mother?”

“You need a mother sometimes.”

“I’m warning you, you’d better stay out of my stash. I’m missin’ a pack of cigs. And a bottle.”

“You’re the only one who wants to touch your stash, man. And hey, you need a limit on your wine drinking, too.”

Miranda looked at Parker. This guy had a drinking problem? With wine? And he was missing a bottle?

Parker took a step forward. “Sir, we’re wondering if we might speak to you a moment about Tupper Magnuson.”

“Sir?” He sneered at Parker, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. His tan was deeper than Sam’s, and his skin had the texture of old leather. “Who the hell are you?”

Sam scoffed. “You really need to work on your manners, Harvey. This is Wade Parker and Miranda Steele from the Parker Investigative Agency in Atlanta, Georgia. I hired them to look into Tupper’s death. They’d like to speak to you.”

Parker extended a hand. “Harvey Hackett?”

The man eyed him up and down, then did the same to Miranda. “I got nothin’ to say to either of you.”

With that, he stumbled over to the steps in front of his trailer door and sank down onto them. Miranda noticed a small garden filled with red rosebushes. The grumpy clown had a green thumb? She eyed his small trailer. He couldn’t have grown them in there. He must have gotten the plants from a local nursery. She wondered if he left them there for the next trailer park guest when the circus left town. Despite his crude demeanor, perhaps he had a soft spot for growing things.

Harvey put his cheeks in his fists and scowled at the bowling pins. “I can’t do Tupper’s act tomorrow night.”

Sam sat down next to him and patted his knee. “Sure you can, Harvey.”

He shook his head. “Damn thing is, I taught him the routine. He stole it from me, really. But he made it his own. His signature. I can’t do it the way he did.”

Miranda gave Parker a let-me-try-this look and squatted down next the man. As she did, she got a nice whiff of old clown BO. She ignored it.

“How did the act go?” she asked in a gentle, warming-up-to-you tone.

His eyes brightened. “Oh, it’s a good one. First you do some bragging business with the bowling pins and some patter, you know. Talk to the crowd, get them going, so they expect you to be the greatest juggler they’ve ever seen. Then you toss all three pins in the air and let them drop. Big laugh.”

He got up and strolled over to the bowling pins on the ground, put his hands on his hips. “Then you do some shtick, blaming the pins.” He shook his fists at them. “You try it again, same thing. A few more times, then you plop down on the floor and cry.” He did so, pantomiming kicking his legs and wiping his eyes with twisting fists. “Then you beg the crowd for help and while you do, Jubjub sneaks up behind you. She’s the clown dressed like a fairy princess. Real cute costume. The crowd tries to tell you she’s there, but you don’t get it. Just then Jubjub sprinkles you with fairy dust—that’s just glitter confetti—and you get up and go after her, grabbing the pins like you’re going to hit her over the head with them, but instead, you magically start juggling them. Two. Three. You pick up a forth one…”

He started tossing the pins in the air and catching them while he was talking. It was as if telling the story brought back the muscle memory. He was really good.

“Fifth one.” He reached down and grabbed it, tossed it up with the others—and dropped them all. “Shit!” He shuffled over to the steps and sank down again. “At least I’ve got the dropping part down.”

“You just need practice,” Sam told him.

“Mr. Hackett,” Parker said as if there’d been no interruption. “It seems you were close to Tupper Magnuson.”

He shrugged. “Sure. We were both in the troupe. Most of our acts were together.”

“Can you tell us what sort of mood was he in lately?”

“Mood? Tupper didn’t have moods. He was always in good spirits. So freakin’ happy it was sickening.”

“He was in love,” Sam said flatly.

Miranda glared at him. She didn’t need him supplying answers to this guy. But he only frowned at her. She thought about what Detective Underwood had called her and Parker. Sam was the real civilian here.

She took a breath and picked up the questioning. “We understand Mr. Magnuson was recently engaged.”

“Yeah. To that fine piece of—” He looked up at Miranda and cleared his throat. “To that aerial artist who climbed the silk ropes. She’s a looker, all right.” He squinted at Miranda. “You’re not so bad yourself, come to think of it.”

“Thanks,” she grimaced. Just what she always wanted. A come on from a dirty old clown.

“Was there any trouble between the couple?” Parker asked.

“Trouble?”

“Did they argue? Fight about anything?”

He waved both hands. “Maybe once or twice. Minor shit. They’d make up right away. You couldn’t keep those two apart. They were always lovey-dovey, kissy face. Couldn’t get enough of each other. Like I said. Sickening.”

Parker put a foot on one of the steps and pressed a little harder. “Are you sure you didn’t notice anything unusual around the time Mr. Magnuson was found in his trailer?”

Harvey scratched his beard. “Come to think of it…”

“Yes?”

“They did have a row recently. Bigger than usual.”

“When?”

“Let’s see. When was that? Sometime last week maybe? I saw them.” He chuckled and gestured toward the end of his RV. “I’ve got a view of Tupper’s front door just around that corner. It was right before the show. I’d come outside to stretch and warm up for my act. Layla was standing at Tupper’s door, yelling at him. He was talking to her, trying to calm her down. Both of them sounded really mad.”

“Did you hear anything specific?”

He shook his head. “Naw. I mind my own business.”

Sure he did. “What happened?”

“They shouted at each other a bit, then she stomped off.” He shrugged. “Like I said. Not my business.”

“When was this exactly?”

His lips went back and forth in an exaggerated gesture he no doubt used in his act. “I don’t know. Late last week sometime.”

“The night Tupper expired?” Parker said.

“I don’t think so. Maybe the night before. It’s hazy. They all run together when you’ve been around as long as I have.”

And when you’re into the bottle a lot, Miranda thought.

“Anyway,” Harvey said. “I didn’t think anything of it. I knew they’d make up again and go right back to all that gooey stuff.”

Sam got a wistful look in his eyes. “Tupper told me you encouraged him to pop the question.”

Harvey curled a lip. “I hoped he’d leave the show. Some do when they marry.”

“But he didn’t,” Miranda said.

He shook his head. “Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I knew he was a lifer.”

“But he ended up dead instead.”

Slowly Harvey raised his gaze. “You sayin’ I had something to do with it?”

“You wanted him out of the way. Maybe so you could have a chance with Layla.”

He shot to his feet. “You’re out of your mind. Okay, I didn’t really like the guy but I’m no killer.”

Miranda looked down at her fingernails. “That’s what all the guilty say.”

“Hey, girlie. You take that back.”

He lunged at her, but Sam caught him before he could take a swing. “Take it easy, Harvey. She didn’t mean it.”

Miranda glared at Sam, irritation burning in her. Suddenly she didn’t know who she wanted to punch more. This old clown or her cowboy client. He hadn’t understood what she was doing and he’d ruined her interrogation tactic.

There was no reason to keep going now. They’d get nothing more out of this guy.

“Sam,” she said, stuffing down her anger. “Why don’t you take us to Layla’s place now? Harvey needs to practice.”

Now pissed as well as hot, Miranda trudged angrily beside Parker under the trees with Sam on the other side. “You really don’t need to put your two cents in when we’re questioning someone, Sam,” she grunted.

He looked at her as if she’d just slapped him. “What did I do? Harvey’s hard to talk to. I was greasin’ the skids for you.”

“We can grease our own skids just fine.”

He kicked at a patch of dirt as he took a step. “Jeez, I was only trying to help.”

“Just try to keep quiet next time, okay?”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” He started to sulk.

Good grief.

Parker wore that hard iron look, keeping his focus straight ahead. He was upset over Sam again. This time she couldn’t blame him.

They turned in at an RV with a rear ladder and a red-and-blue pin stripe design and found the second trailer they’d visited last night.

In the sunlight it looked bright and shiny, with a wavy teal striping design along its side and friendly girlish curtains hanging in the windows.

Miranda ascended the two metal steps at the door and knocked hard.

No answer.

“Layla? Are you in there? We’re with the police. We need to talk to you about Tupper Magnuson.”

Still no answer.

Miranda turned back and raised her hands. “Looks like she’s still not home.”

A funny feeling started to nest in her stomach. What if something awful had happened to this woman?

Parker’s eyes took on a hard look and he began to scan the area. He ran his hands over the side and found a latch to one of the compartments that covered hooks ups and batteries for the vehicle. He opened the latch and lifted the flap.

He put his hand inside and felt around for a long moment. Then he straightened again and pulled out a key.

“Voila!” Miranda said, beaming with pride.

She wanted to add she knew she’d brought him along for something, but that might give Sam the wrong idea.

Instead she climbed down the stairs as Parker stepped up to the door and inserted the key.

The door opened.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Sam said.