The 2nd Cycle of the Darc Murders Omnibus (the acclaimed series from #1 Police Procedural and Hard Boiled authors Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin)

by Carolyn McCray

  Trey just looked at the talking clown, this one with a sad face, and gibbered softly to himself for a moment. Then he glanced down at Jim’s feet and gasped.

  “It’s him!”

  Mala stared at Jim’s feet, trying to figure out what Trey meant by his outburst. And then she saw it. His shoes. They did indeed look like they could have been the ones that had left the imprint.

  “The dimensions are identical,” Darc said, looking back and forth between Jim’s huge shoes and the prints near the body.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Jim asked. Following their eye lines, he picked up one of his feet. “My shoes?”

  “They match the prints that we found right next to the body,” Mala explained, watching to make sure the clown didn’t make a run for it.

  But instead, the clown just looked puzzled. He glanced around the circle, as if he was trying to answer some question he had by studying their faces.

  “Of course. They’re my footprints. That’s where I was.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “See?!” Trey yelled. “I told you we had a killer clown!”

  “Um, Trey,” Mala murmured just loud enough for only him to hear. “I don’t think he’d be so ready to tell us he was here if he was the guy who did it.”

  That was just… well, actually, that was pretty sound reasoning. But Trey wasn’t quite ready to let it go just yet.

  “We don’t know that,” he hissed back at her. “He could be pulling a double-blind whatsit. You don’t know. Clowns are sneaky!”

  How much of that exchange Jim the Sad-faced Clown had heard was anyone’s guess, but he was looking back and forth at the two of them. The guy cleared his throat.

  “Um, yeah. I was the one who found her.”

  “Who is the victim?” Darc asked, his tone flat.

  “Alina,” the answer came from the suit. “One of the trapeze artists. Best of the bunch, actually.”

  “Is there anyone who would want to hurt her?” Trey asked, glaring at the two clowns, especially Jim. The grouchy clown with the happy face… Larry… was too obvious. Besides, the sad-faced clowns were always the creepiest.

  “She was a sweetheart, actually,” said the suit. The man stepped forward, extending his beefy hand. “And I’m sorry. This has all been a huge shock. I’m Lyle Fallows, the carnival operator.”

  “So, you say that she was universally loved?” Mala probed.

  The man chuckled, then looked down at the still face on the ground and sobered. “I didn’t say that. What I said was that she was a sweetheart.”

  “Who might want to hurt her?” Darc moved around to get closer to the carnival operator. Man, he was tall. The two clowns, both of them much shorter, took a step back. That was sketchy, if you asked Trey. Showed a guilty conscience.

  “Well, there was the normal infighting within the trapeze company. You know, young girls wanting to get their shot, Alina’s the one on top, that kind of stuff.” He seemed to brush the notion aside with his big hand. “But nothing more than backstage sniping at one another. Hey, felt like you’ve gained a few pounds, that kind of thing.”

  “That’s it?” Mala asked. She was looking around, appearing distracted. And then Trey realized. Neither Janey nor Carly were anywhere nearby. He motioned for Mala to go find them.

  “Yeah…” the big man said, and then a puzzled expression seemed to cross his face. “Well, there was this one thing… Probably nothing.”

  Trey perked up at that. It was always the thing that people thought wasn’t important that ended up being the key. That was a little tidbit he’d picked up from watching Law and Order.

  “What was it?” he blurted, and then coughed, trying to play down his enthusiasm. That was embarrassing. Besides, he didn’t want the clowns to think they were off the hook.

  “There’s one of the carnies. New guy. Took a liking to her. Didn’t seem like the attraction was all that mutual.”

  From the corner of his eye, Trey could see that the uniforms had started to show up and were herding carnival goers away from the scene. There was one man, off to the side, looked to be one of the other trapeze artists, who seemed to be trying to avoid notice. Not likely in that outfit.

  Just then, Lyle, the operator, saw what the officers were doing. “Hey! Don’t send them away! We can take care of this without shutting down, can’t we?”

  The cops looked at Trey and Darc for guidance. This wasn’t your everyday crime scene, but protocol was pretty clear. They couldn’t have guests trampling the crime scene.

  Of course, looking at the area, Trey realized that ship had probably already sailed. This kind of thing was a nightmare for the CSU.

  “What if we just shut down the circus?” Lyle begged, seeming desperate. “That way, we could at least keep the Midway open, offset some of our losses from the ticket sales.”

  Keep the fair food, games and rides, but lose the clowns? That sounded like a win-win to Trey. He nodded to Darc.

  “That will be allowed,” the bald detective stated. “But with a concession on your part.”

  “Name it.”

  “We will be granted access to anything and everything inside the park.”

  There was a slight hesitation, and then the big man nodded. “You got it. Anything you need, you’ll have it.”

  The big man walked away, shaking his head. Apparently, he wasn’t too happy about the agreement he’d just accepted.

  Maggie stepped up to Trey’s side. “Listen, honey, I’m really hungry, and you guys are going to be busy here for a while. What say I just go over to the food area and grab some grub for me and the baby.” She rubbed her belly, giving him a smile.

  “Okay, babe. I’ll come grab you when I’m finished.”

  He watched as Maggie waddled off. Even pregnant, that woman somehow managed to be sexy as all get out. He smiled, thinking about going back home with her tonight. That was a nice thought.

  Oh, and now that the circus was shut down, there’d be no more clown show. As murder investigations went, this one was shaping up nicely, as far as Trey was concerned.

  * * *

  Janey felt torn.

  There was a crime scene just across the fair grounds from where she and Carly were playing games on the Midway. And if there was a crime scene anywhere even close to Janey, she wanted to be there.

  But she could tell that Carly didn’t want her to be there. Her big sister was really upset. And Carly upset was not a good thing.

  At all.

  The last time Carly had gotten upset at Mala for letting Janey be at a crime scene, she’d gone in and tattled to Richard Templeton, Janey’s social worker. That was still a big old mess. And even though Mala and Carly had kind of made up, that hadn’t been Janey’s favorite sister moment so far.

  So, even though she could tell that Mala was distracted when Carly was trying to tell her they were going, Janey decided to go along. She knew Mala would be upset and worried when she couldn’t find Janey, but that would end up being a lot better than having the people at the social worker place try to separate them again.

  Popeye said that he didn’t care, but that wasn’t true. He was just still mad at Mala because she’d run him through the wash. But she’d dried him off with the hair dryer instead of putting him in the drying machine. So that should be worth something.

  But there was another reason that Janey had wanted to move away from the crime scene. One that the lines of light in her head had suggested to her.

  That was being able to see more.

  At the crime scene, everything was tight, together, close. Out here, Janey could watch, paying attention to everyone that passed by. And one of them caught her attention.

  It was a man in a yellow costume that sparkled. A lot like the one the dead woman had worn.

  And he was mad.

  * * *

  The crowds had diminished somewhat, but the vast majority of the people here must not have been aware of what was going on. Even with the reduced number
s, it still took Mala a while to spot Carly and Janey.

  They were playing one of the Midway games, where contestants fired a BB gun at moving targets… ducks, rabbits, birds. It was clearly a holdover from another age, but Janey seemed to be enjoying herself, if the huge grin on her face was any indication. She also seemed to be doing really well, if the frown on the barker’s face could be trusted.

  “Where did you two go?” Mala said, as she came up to the stand. Her tone came out more strident than she intended, an indicator of her stress level.

  Mala saw Carly’s face flash through several expressions in rapid succession. Guilt, fear, anger and finally what looked like resentment flitted like clouds in a windy sky across the blank canvas of the teenager’s face. If she wanted a future as a poker player, she had a lot of work to do.

  “I just wanted to get Janey away from the dead body,” Carly shot back, the sullen tone mimicking the expression that had finally solidified on her face. “I tried to tell you, but you weren’t paying any attention.”

  Was that true? Had Carly really attempted to let her know, or was this just Carly dodging accountability? Mala needed to know if there was behavior she herself should modify. But if it was just Carly trying to spin something, that was important information too. Mala had no intention of becoming this wild teenager’s placemat.

  But this wasn’t the time or place. Janey finished her game, scooped up her bear and turned to the carny, pointing at the very large bear on top.

  The carny looked at her with suspicious eyes, like he thought the little girl had to have been cheating. But there were plenty of witnesses who had watched her shooting, and he knew he had to cough up the prize.

  Janey grabbed the bear, which was almost as big as she was. Holding it up for a moment, she placed it next to her ratty old one. She looked back and forth between the two, then handed the huge one off to Carly.

  Carly’s face softened. “For me? Wow, thanks.”

  Clutching the bear, the teenager all of the sudden looked like she was ten years younger. An age where she was still young and scared and wanting to be loved. An age where a gift from a sister could mean the entire world.

  And Mala felt her heart melt.

  It didn’t matter how caustic Carly could be at times. Her defensive armor was masking over a beautiful soul, and Mala wanted to see it. Not just in moments like these. Mala wanted Carly to feel like she could show that side of herself all of the time.

  It would take some doing, but Mala was determined.

  “Okay,” she said, wiping away a tear from her eyes before Carly could spot it. “Let’s get back over to…”

  But Janey had grabbed her hand and was pulling her in a different direction.

  “Janey, we need to…”

  Her young charge turned around, made a face and then pointed in the direction she had been dragging Mala. Apparently there was something over there that she really wanted Mala to see.

  * * *

  The bands of light traced pathways that Darc followed. His movements were strong, swift and direct, and Trey was falling behind.

  That was not atypical, but another part of Darc, the silver links that had begun appearing, urged him to slow down. The act was excruciating, but he did it nonetheless.

  And Trey’s expression changed. It went from his forehead being wrinkled, with tension in his neck and cheeks to having what looked to be an almost blank look. It seemed indicative of surprise.

  “Wow. Thanks, Darc.”

  The silver bindings flashed again. “You are welcome.”

  Trey stared at Darc, almost running into one of the poles that had been used to erect the big tent. Shaking his head, Trey muttered something about hell freezing over, which was odd. It was chilly, but hardly what Darc would consider cold.

  They arrived at the entrance to the big tent. Darc watched as Trey’s face seemed to drain of color. That was indicative of the blood rushing out of his face.

  The silver chains whispered something about clowns, but that made no logical sense to Darc. What did clowns have to do with Trey’s issues with circulation?

  But then his attention moved to the object of his search. The other trapeze artists.

  They were huddled together, talking in a tight circle. As soon as they saw the two detectives approach, they fell silent after a brief, hushed conference.

  As they moved across the tent, a figure appeared out of the shadows near the wall. It was one of the two men dressed as clowns. The one called Larry, with the painted happy face covering his own.

  Trey saw the man, blanched and tripped over his own feet, landing squarely on his face. Moments later he bounded back up, but he acted as if nothing had happened. The clown stared at his retreating back as if Trey were insane.

  “Asswipe,” the clown called out to Trey.

  “You would think those guys would have to wear a bell or something,” Trey muttered. “It’s just irresponsible.”

  There seemed to be no good response to that statement, so Darc remained silent.

  Once Darc and Trey made it across the tent, the tallest and oldest of the women stepped forward. “You are police?”

  Her accent had a traces of a Slavic sound to it, more than likely Romanian. The other performers gathered behind her, forming almost a triangular phalanx.

  “Hey there, ladies,” Trey said, moving forward. “I’m Detective Keane, and this is Detective--”

  “Politie,” she murmured to the women behind her. Either they did not speak English, or the woman wanted Darc and Trey to think that they did not. More than likely to forestall close questioning.

  “Alina,” Darc said, drawing the woman’s attention back to him. “Who in the company might have reason to hurt her?”

  “We are like familie. No hurting of anyone.”

  “Well, see, that’s not what we heard,” Trey interjected. “We heard that some of the other women were jealous of Alina.”

  “Ba. No. There is none of this.”

  Trey leaned in close to Darc. “I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with this one. Let’s see if we can get more information somewhere else and come back.”

  The paths of logic resonated with that assessment, buoyed up by silver links that connected the network to the seething grey chaos that was Darc’s emotional response. It was taking Darc time to grow accustomed to the growing communication between the two. It appeared to be a tenuous link that could not be trusted.

  Nevertheless, Darc turned to follow Trey out of the tent. They would need to gain their information elsewhere.

  Before someone else died.

  CHAPTER 3

  Trey had just gotten Darc out of the tent and was headed back to the trailers to find the big boss man, when there was a whisper from out of the shadows. Staring hard into the blackness to make sure it wasn’t another one of those freaky clowns, Trey was surprised when he saw that it was one of the trapeze artists.

  “You are politie?”

  Trey nodded, not wanting to spook the poor woman. She looked like she was about to have a nervous breakdown.

  “You must look prieten. Friend who is being boy.”

  “Alina had a boyfriend?”

  The girl nodded her head, seemingly enthused that they had been able to communicate. Then Trey had a thought.

  “Is this boyfriend about this tall?” Trey made a mark with his hand. “With dark hair? Handsome?”

  The girl blushed and nodded. “Sorin, his name. Very jealous. Angry.”

  “I saw that guy,” Trey blurted to his partner. “He was lurking over by the body.”

  But when Trey turned back to confirm this with the young woman, she was gone. Trey looked around, trying to figure out how she’d done that. Apparently, everyone who worked in the circus knew some kind of magic.

  “Okay, so I guess we need to talk to Sorin,” he said, peering out in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of yellow sequins. “So, if you were a trapeze artist, where would you be hanging out
?”

  “On a trapeze,” Darc answered.

  Trey did a double take. That couldn’t have been a joke, right? But there was no way to tell. Darc had the perfect deadpan face. It was his actual face. There wasn’t any way to know for sure if he was kidding or not.

  And then there was another scream, off in the direction of the Midway.

  “That can’t be good,” Trey muttered, but Darc was already off and running. Groaning, Trey followed along behind.

  Once, just once, he’d like to be the one who dashed off in the direction of a crime.

  * * *

  The scream had sounded only seconds before Mala was there at the scene, dragged along by an enthusiastic Janey. The screamer stood right in front of her, apparently someone who worked at the barbeque rib place that was right next to them.

  There, wedged in between the two food stands, was the body of a man, dressed in the same garish clothes that the earlier victim had worn. Another trapeze artist.

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Carly yelled as she ran up behind Mala and Janey and dropped her enormous stuffed bear. Seriously, she would have to get used to this kind of thing if she was going to live with them for long.

  “Don’t worry,” Mala told the food service woman. “I’m with the police.”

  But that didn’t seem to be much of a consolation to her, as she continued to whimper and rock back and forth. Mala didn’t blame her.

  The man’s throat had been slit, again with the strange downward angle, and from the amount of blood that was still draining from his neck, it had been recently. In fact…

  Mala stepped forward, realizing that there was no way she could feel for a pulse on the man’s neck. Bending down, she grabbed for his wrist.

  “He’s still alive!” Mala called out to the gathering crowd. “Someone call 911!”

  In the meantime, she ripped off the bottom part of her cotton blouse and did what she could to staunch the bleeding. Within seconds the cloth was soaked. There was no way this man would survive.

  The woman next to her started to make gagging sounds. That was unfortunate. Carly moved over to try to soothe the poor woman.