by Paul Ruditis
“Although stranger things have happened,” Phoebe said.
“You can say that again,” Paige said.
The clown gave Phoebe a sad look as if he felt horribly about bumping into her. He lifted his tiny blue bowler hat, which also raised his red wig off his head. Beneath the wig was a bald head that had been painted with red and white concentric circles that made his scalp look like a bull’s-eye. He had obviously intended the artwork to be seen, or else he would never have applied the makeup job in the first place.
The kids around them all stopped in their tracks. They were smart enough to know that there was about to be a show and they were already cracking up over the foolish clown with his target-covered bald head.
“Okay, thanks,” Phoebe said as she tried to extricate herself from the performance. She immediately had a flashback of a semi-repressed scene from the circus she had attended with Grams, in which a clown had pretended to sit in her lap and had accidentally crushed her cotton candy in the process. Granted, in the great scheme of things, there were much more horrific memories to repress, but it had been scary to her at the time.
The clown she was presently with grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into his act.
“Really, it’s okay,” she said, trying to walk away again. “No harm. No foul.”
The clown waved his hands in front of her like he needed to make amends for bumping into her. Phoebe wanted to tell him that just leaving her alone would be apology enough, but it was very hard to be rude to a clown when she was standing in an ever-growing circle of children. She could already imagine herself making the clown cry and then getting booed by all the children.
The clown seemed to feel like a gift would be appropriate penance for his misstep. He reached inside his bright yellow jacket, looking for something to give Phoebe, and triumphantly pulled out a rubber chicken.
“Didn’t see that one coming,” Paige joked.
Phoebe shot her sister a “help me” look.
“Sorry,” Paige said. “You’re on your own with this one.”
The clown shook his head and stuffed the chicken back in his jacket. He continued searching, making sure to turn around so that all of the children could see what he was doing. This time, he pulled a pair of boxer shorts from his jacket.
This sent the children into hysterics. Apparently jokes about underwear were classic, as far as kids were concerned. Phoebe just felt embarrassed for the grown man.
The clown hastily shoved the underwear back into his jacket. Phoebe hoped that the routine would be over soon. She knew from a writing class she had taken in college that comedy usually occurred in threes. Therefore, whatever he pulled out of his jacket next would finish the act and then she could get on with finding her Innocent. Unless, of course, this was the Innocent that she had been looking for.
As I said, to Paige, she thought regretfully, stranger things have happened.
This time, the clown pulled something smaller out of his jacket, but he kept it covered in his hands so that no one could see it. He made a big deal of acting shy and embarrassed about giving it to her. He was so convincing that even Phoebe was beginning to wonder what it was.
After an extended back-and-forth in which the clown seemed to debate whether to give the item to Phoebe, he finally dropped to one knee and held it up for everyone to see. It was a purple ring with a huge plastic “diamond” approximately the size of a golf ball. She had seen gaudier jewelry in her time, but no one had ever presented her with such a bauble.
“Oh, no,” Phoebe said, deciding that the only way to get the act over with was by playing along with it. “I simply couldn’t. It’s way too soon. We’ve just met.”
“Go ahead,” Paige said. “I’d gladly approve of this marriage.”
Phoebe glared at her sister. “Well, okay,” she said, making sure all the children could hear her. “I accept.”
The clown slipped the ring onto her finger and then jumped up several feet into the air. Phoebe thought he must have had some kind of spring device in his shoes because it seemed nearly impossible for a human being to bounce that high on his own.
Eventually, the clown settled down, firmly planted on his oversize feet. Before she could walk away, he pulled Phoebe into a huge hug, and she suddenly found herself wrapped up in his baggy, colorful costume. The clown had an unusually strong grip on her, and she was afraid she was going to be smothered.
Once Phoebe extricated herself from the clown, he waved “good-bye” to her and hurried off to his next victim.
“That is so indicative of my love life,” Phoebe lamented. “Just when I get a guy, he goes running off.”
“At least you got to keep the ring,” Paige said.
“Yeah,” Phoebe said as she slipped it off her finger and—making sure the children weren’t watching—deposited it in the nearest trash can.
“What did you do that for?” Paige asked.
“I learned long ago that it’s not safe to accept gifts from strangers,” Phoebe said. “Especially ones with painted faces.”
“Good point,” Paige said. “So, now that we’ve gotten past the comedic portion of our program, what’s the plan?”
“Beats me,” Phoebe said as she took in their surroundings. It was impossible to think that they were going to stumble across their Innocent in the mass of people around them.
There has to be a more logical way to do this, Phoebe thought. As she continued to scan the fairgrounds, she tried to pick up on the vibes of the people around her. She opened her mind, searching for some kind of sign indicating what she should do, but nothing came. She thought about randomly picking up things around her and trying to get a premonition, but that seemed about as logical as going from person to person and asking if he or she was her Innocent.
Phoebe closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that by shutting out all the stimulation around her she might be able to come up with a plan of attack. But all that she could focus on was the circus music floating through the air. It sounded like an old-fashioned brass band was playing somewhere on the fairgrounds. “That’s it!” she said.
“What’s it?” Paige asked. “What did I miss?”
“My premonition,” Phoebe said. “From when I touched Puck’s business card.”
“The trumpet sound?” Paige asked.
“Exactly,” Phoebe said. “We need to find the bandstand.”
Phoebe took off in the direction of the music.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little literal?” Paige asked as she followed her sister.
“It’s all we have to work off of,” Phoebe said as she weaved her way through the crowd. She had to stop herself before tripping over a few crying children who failed to move out of her way. The kids managed to get underfoot with surprising speed. Phoebe figured it had to have something to do with their inability to see through eyes filled with tears. They’re probably scared of the clowns, she thought. I don’t blame them.
The music was getting louder, but it was hard to peer through the crowd of adults gathered around the bandstand with their children. Phoebe wasn’t exactly a giant, and all the fathers who were carrying their children up on their shoulders made it especially tough for her to see. Still, she kept following the music, past the games of chance, the funnel cake stand, and a man selling balloons.
“We’re almost there,” Phoebe said as the music grew louder. “I know our Innocent is near the source of the music. I can feel it.”
The sisters passed a line of burly guys who were waiting to try their luck at a test-your-strength machine. Once Phoebe and Paige got past them, they finally saw the bandstand. It only took one look to know that they were on the wrong track entirely.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Paige said.
Phoebe didn’t even need to make out the identity of the trumpet player from the rest of the band members to know that her premonition had led her astray. They would not find their Innocent on the bandstand.
The band members w
eren’t even alive. They were animatronic.
Chapter 8
“So much for my premonition,” Phoebe said as she watched the mechanical band play its cheery tune. She kept an eye out for a maintenance man or anyone who may have been associated with the “band” that could be the Innocent in question. “You think Puck was playing a trick on me again? Maybe the trumpet sound has nothing to do with this.”
“It’s possible,” Paige said. “But I don’t know why he would lead us on a wild-trumpet chase.”
“I don’t know why he would do anything he’s done so far,” Phoebe said. “If you were going to ask for someone’s help, would you pull a prank on them first?”
“If I thought they’d be a good sport about it,” Paige said meekly.
“I really thought you’d be more bothered by this,” Phoebe said.
“I’m saving my anger for the ensuing battle,” Paige said. “You can tell this is going to end badly.”
Phoebe nodded in agreement. She didn’t need a premonition to tell her that much.
Once again she looked out over the crowded fairgrounds. More and more people were filing in as the clock ticked closer to showtime. Pretty soon, there would be thousands of people to search through.
For a brief moment, Phoebe worried that maybe everyone was in need of protection. But she doubted that Puck would sit by and let all these people get hurt when he could simply tell them what needed to be done. He was mischievous, but not malicious.
Wasn’t he?
“Check that out,” Paige said, pointing toward the fences along the edge of the fairgrounds. “What is it?”
“It looks like some kind of…press conference is taking place,” Phoebe said.
“I’ve always known some politicians were clowns,” Paige said, “but this is too much.”
“I doubt it’s political,” Phoebe said.
She couldn’t make out exactly what was going on, from her vantage point, but she could see some news vans parked along the edge of the gate. Conveniently, the crowds parted for a moment, and Phoebe caught a glimpse of several cameramen with their cameras all pointed at a tall, African-American man in the center of the semicircle of reporters.
“I think it’s worth checking out,” Paige said as she and Phoebe started walking toward the news crews.
Phoebe wondered if anyone from her paper was there who could fill her in on what was going on. A press conference didn’t seem like much of an otherworldly occurrence, but it was worth looking into. So far, it was the only thing they had seen that appeared even remotely out of place.
Phoebe couldn’t imagine why anyone would be holding a press conference at the rear exit to the fairgrounds. There wasn’t much going on back there. All the action was happening on the opposite side of the parking lot, where the animals and performers were entertaining the crowd. Even with her limited news experience, Phoebe knew that the circus performers made for much more interesting videotape than some guy in a suit. But when she looked past the press conference, she saw that not all the action was taking place on the fairgrounds.
Local police were holding back a small group of protesters about a hundred feet from the press conference. They didn’t look particularly threatening. From where she was standing, Phoebe couldn’t read their signs, but there were only a few issues that a group would be protesting outside a circus, and Phoebe could guess what this was all about. “Animal rights activists?” she wondered aloud.
“Good guess,” Paige said. “Maybe Puck wants us to take up their charge? Support animal rights?”
Phoebe looked down at her leather clogs. “Somehow I don’t think he’d need the Charmed Ones for that.”
Phoebe looked from her shoes to the animals in pens and cages around her. She had dated a vegetarian once, but she couldn’t totally bring herself around to the cause. Still, she always treated animals well, she never wore fur, and she tried to keep real leather to a minimum in her wardrobe. Even so, she doubted that Puck had entered their lives just to give them a cause to pursue. They gave back to the community on a fairly regular basis, as far as Phoebe was concerned.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder about the health and well-being of the animals. It didn’t take extensive study in zoology to realize that wearing funny outfits and performing for humans wasn’t in their nature.
They look happy enough, Phoebe thought as she passed a pair of orangutans performing for the crowd. But what do I know about animal psychology?
She wondered if the protesters might know something sinister about the way the circus was treating the animals. That wouldn’t have been the reason the Charmed Ones had been called in, but there might be a story here that the Bay Mirror would be interested in covering.
Phoebe pondered the idea that she and her sisters had been brought in to deal with protecting the rights of animals. It was worth looking into, in a roundabout way. Demons tended to do their best work by riling humans up. If a demon was behind the protest and getting people angry over perceived mistreatment, that demon could stir up a good-size mob over the cause. Phoebe was aware of a large number of members of the Underworld that would love to feed off that kind of anger and hatred.
“It doesn’t seem like a supernatural problem to me,” Paige said as she blotted her arms with a tissue. A passing child had gotten a little too close to her with his ice-cream cone.
“Still, a lead’s a lead,” Phoebe said as they neared the press conference.
Phoebe had to give the circus folks credit as she realized why the press conference was taking place at the back exit. The circus had positioned the event away from the main thoroughfare and behind several trailers—far enough away from the main entrance that it would go unnoticed by most of the circus-goers. Phoebe and Paige wouldn’t have even seen it if they hadn’t gone after the animatronic bandstand.
It was brilliant, really. By scheduling the press conference an hour before the show, whoever was in charge of public relations had managed to lead the protesters away from the main gates. Plus, even getting a mention on the news about the protest would ultimately provide free press for the circus. It was sad to admit, but most of the viewers would probably ignore the story and only focus on the fact that the circus was in town.
By the time Phoebe and Paige reached the press conference, things were already well underway. The man in the suit that Phoebe had noticed earlier was fielding questions. It was difficult to hear anything over the noise of the protesters. It was a small bunch, but they were armed with powerful lungs.
Phoebe managed to push her way closer to the reporters. She lost Paige in the small crowd, but figured they would meet up once the group cleared out.
“I repeat,” the man at the center of the press conference was saying, “there is no evidence to link the deaths of Zeus and Sabra. I assure you….”
The protesters didn’t seem to like that statement, because they all started jeering from their position outside the back gate. The police and circus security were keeping them tightly penned in, but it didn’t look like they were a particularly rowdy group. Mainly, they were just loud, which caused Phoebe to miss what the man in the suit had just said.
It didn’t matter, really, since she was still focused on the word “deaths.” That was never a good sign in her line of work. Although death was fairly commonplace in the world and happened every day, Phoebe found it too much of a coincidence that this particular circus had recently experienced two deaths that may or may not have been linked. She knew that just because there was no “evidence” linking the two deaths didn’t mean they weren’t related—demons didn’t usually leave clues that traditional human investigators would find.
Phoebe looked at each of the protesters. It was possible that one of them could be their Innocent. Actually, it was possible that any one of the thousands of people around her could be their Innocent. But Phoebe was working on instinct that she hoped came with her power of premonition. And her instincts told her that Puck had sent them there becaus
e of the two deaths. The problem was that it was hard to tell if Zeus and Sabra were humans or animals just by their names—people in the circus sometimes used exotic pseudonyms.
“Thank you,” the man said in a tone that indicated he was wrapping up. “If you have any more questions, I can be reached at the number on the press release. Until then, please feel free to enjoy the circus this afternoon, on us.”
One of his flunkies started moving through the crowd of reporters trying to hand out tickets. Even though Phoebe knew many reporters who would jump at the offer of freebies, none of the news people around her seemed to be chomping at the bit to attend the circus. They were already heading back to their news vans to pursue the next story.
A couple of reporters pulled aside some of the protestors for a quick sound bite. Phoebe knew that protestors usually made for good video—they were generally quite impassioned about their causes. She considered hurrying over to eavesdrop on those interviews, but then decided she’d have a better chance of getting information from a different source.
As the crowd dispersed, Phoebe saw Paige over by the fence waiting for her. Phoebe flashed her sister a smile and a quick wave to indicate she was onto something, then turned her attention to the man she hoped could give her some answers.
“Excuse me,” she said, getting the PR guy’s attention. “Phoebe Halliwell. Bay Mirror.” She quickly flashed him her press credentials without bothering to mention that she was an advice columnist and not a reporter.
“Reed Huntington,” the man said in return, holding out a hand. “I was under the impression that your paper wasn’t interested in covering this story. I didn’t think they were sending anyone.”
“Oh, you know,” Phoebe said, waving off his comment, “miscommunication. I assure you, the Mirror is very interested in hearing the circus’s side of the story.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Reed said. “Most news agencies I’ve dealt with are more interested in sensationalizing the issue rather than giving it a thorough examination.”
