Chasing Clowns: A Novel (Girl Clown Hatchet Suspense Series Book 2) Page 19

  Chloe looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”

  Wes’ face hardened. “Attacking that clown at the hospital, drinking a whole bottle of whiskey— “

  “Half.”

  “What?” Wes turned to her exasperated. He met her eyes, and she said, “It was half a bottle of whiskey.”

  “This needs to stop.”

  Chloe leaped up from the couch. “Yeah? So does your affair.” It wasn’t fair to change the subject, but she did anyway.

  Wes set down his coffee mug and stood up, too, placing his hands on his hips. “Great. First, it’s clowns, now it’s affairs.”

  “I saw her, Wes, at the restaurant, last night.”

  Chloe recognized guilt when it flooded over his features.

  “What are you—?”

  “I saw you painting with that girl. You were flirting with her.”

  “We were painting, that’s all.” His faced flushed.

  “She must be barely in her twenties.”

  “Twenty-six, actually.”

  Chloe folded her arms. “Who is she?”

  He glanced away. “A waitress.”

  Chloe said, “The restaurant isn’t ready for a waitress yet. It barely has walls.”

  “Look, she stopped by asking if she could work. I told her it’d be awhile yet, but she was desperate and needed a job. I decided I could use the help.”

  “Why didn’t you hire a man if you needed help?”

  “I have plenty of contractors.”

  “But they weren’t there helping you paint at nine o’clock at night when you should have been home with your family!” Chloe found herself inexplicably angry. If she had been holding her coffee cup, she would have thrown it.

  He yelled back, “Nothing happened! I’d never do that to you.”

  Chloe turned her back on him and marched toward the dining room.

  Flip Flop watched her, whining from his carpet.

  Behind her, Wes said, “But I thought about it.”

  She swirled around. “What?”

  “I said I wanted to!” Wes ran his hands over his hair and murmured a curse under his breath.

  “Say that to my face.”

  “I thought about it. She offered, and I thought about it. I wanted it. I wanted to…” Wes didn’t finish the sentence, but he finished the thought. “But I didn’t, Chloe, because of you and the kids.”

  The words were out before she could stop them. “Boy, don’t I feel special.”

  He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. “Forget it.”

  Chloe took a few steps into the living room and paused. “I can’t forget that.”

  He half laughed when he opened the door. “Isn’t that ironic?”

  “Slip me a pill, why don’t you?”

  “Real funny.” Wes slipped on his jean jacket and glared at her. “Look, you haven’t been here.”

  Chloe held out her arms. “I’m here.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. You haven’t been here.” He pointed at his chest. “With me. For months now.”

  Chloe felt a pang. He was right, but she didn’t want him to be. She pointed at him, then herself. “You’ve been the one avoiding me.”

  “That’s not true, Chloe, not completely, and you know it.” He glanced at her. “You’re chasing clowns. You’ll always be chasing clowns.”

  Perhaps he was right? Chloe looked down at the floor, squeezing her hands into fists, her head pounding. All the memories from last night, and now this.

  The more pieces of herself she found, the more she was lost.

  “I’m sorry, Chloe,” Wes said softly, “I’ll get rid of the girl. I… I shouldn’t have hired her.”

  Chloe folded her arms, bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

  “I don’t want to lose you.”

  She gulped down the emotion rising in her throat.

  He said, “The kids will be up any minute now. You may want to…”

  Chloe raised her eyes.

  He waved his hands around his face. “Wash your face or something.”

  She touched her cheek and raised her eyebrows.

  He tapped at his chin. Here.

  Chloe touched her chin and felt dried vomit there. She frowned.

  With that, he shut the door.

  Chloe grabbed a quick shower, trying to let the past roll off her shoulders like water droplets, but the vision of Mama Nola dressed as Mr. Jingles’ lying on the carpet with her brains blown out… She bent and threw up again.

  The tears came. They came for Mama Nola, for Joey. She didn’t know if she cried because of the love that overwhelmed her for them or because they were gone, dead. There wouldn’t be the closure Chloe had been so determined to have.

  Chev pounded on the bathroom door. “Mom! Shayla’s taking a dump in the other bathroom, and I really have to pee!”

  “I am not!” came a high-pitched shriek that could only be attributed to Shayla from the other side of the bathroom wall.

  “Are too!” yelled Chev. “Besides, I’m hungrrrrrry!”

  This was enough reality for Chloe to hold on to. As she popped her pills and pulled on her housecoat, stepping out long enough for Chev to use the bathroom, Chloe realized this was how she was going to function over the next few days, weeks, years perhaps. Chloe needed to grasp the moment if she didn’t want to stay buried in the past.

  Hours ago, she couldn’t imagine going to work, and now she couldn’t imagine staying home. She needed to keep moving, keep her mind busy.

  Chloe went through the motions of dressing, started a fresh pot of coffee and whipped up scrambled eggs, hoping the kids would cheer up enough to let the morning flow easily.

  It couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

  Both kids knew immediately something was off. Instead of giving Chloe some space, they crowded her with their insecurities by acting out.

  Chev kept bounding across the house on Chloe’s work out ball, rolling over and crashing into the lamp. And Shayla was insisting on staying the night with her friends in tents in the school yard. There would be no chaperones. She was wearing a midriff t-shirt and miniskirt. Chloe was willing to let the clothes fly, but not the overnighter, which had resulted in Shayla going into fierce fight mode.

  Chloe tried to push everything to the back of her mind, to forget everything from the night before.

  Funny thing was—the insanely hilarious thing was—she couldn’t.

  She couldn’t forget.

  Mama Nola. Joey. Murder. Killer Clowns.

  Mr. Jingles.

  “It isn’t fair!” shrieked Shayla.

  Chloe sipped her coffee. “Life isn’t fair.”

  “All my friends are allowed to. Everybody is going except me!”

  “Your Aunt Tanya is a lawyer, so sue me.”

  Shayla stomped her foot like a toddler and shrieked, “That’s not funny!”

  Chloe calmly set down her coffee cup. “Life is not a fairytale. You don’t always get to go to the ball.”

  “That’s cuz I got the ball!” Chev bounced into the kitchen.

  Shayla yelled, “Shut up, you butt crack!”

  Chloe raised her voice. “Shayla!”

  Chev blew a raspberry at his sister. “You shut up, fat cow!”

  Shayla shrieked, “Shut up!”

  Chev laughed and bounced on the ball, repeating, “Fat cow! Faaaat cow!”

  Chloe closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  Shayla screamed, “That’s it. I’m catching a ride with my friends.”

  She brushed by Chev, still on the ball, making him lose his footing. As he scrambled to right himself, Flip Flop trotted into the kitchen—straight into Chev, rolling him back into the dining table.

  There was a loud crack as his head knocked directly into the table’s sharp edge. An uneaten plate of eggs crashed to the floor and shattered. Chev squealed at the top of his lungs, blood pouring from the gash on his forehead.

  “I’m outta here!” Shayla sla
mmed the front door.

  Three hours and one emergency room visit later, Chloe drove Chev to school. She had wanted to keep him home, but he was too excited to tell his friends about his stitches. A thick white bandage wrapped around his forehead and the nurse had given him a high dose of Tylenol.

  Chloe slowed when she spotted a clown in a bright pink suit with black polka dots hopping on a pogo stick down the sidewalk.

  “Whoa!” Chev screamed as they passed it. “Did you see that? Clown on a pogo stick.”

  The clown waved at Chev, and he waved back.

  “Don’t wave at it!” Chills ran down Chloe’s spine.

  “Why not?” It was an innocent enough question. “I’m not afraid of clowns anymore.”

  Chloe said, “Good, I’m happy about that Chev. Look, I doubt I need to tell you this, but even though you aren’t afraid of them, don’t mess around with clowns.”

  “Don’t mess around with clowns. That rhymes. Funny joke.”

  Chloe gave him a look. “That wasn’t a joke.”

  Chev said, “But Mom, my friend.”

  Surprised, Chloe turned to him. “What friend?”

  “The friend I want you to meet, but keep not meeting.”

  Chloe sighed. “I’d love to meet him. I’m sorry I haven’t yet, honey.”

  Chev sighed and folded his arms, grumpy at her. At the school, he jumped out of the car as Chloe said, “Remember to give that doctor’s note to the office.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I know.”

  “And remember what I said about the clowns.”

  Chev said, “He’s my friend, Mom,” and slammed the door.

  Chloe shook her head. What was that about?

  As Chloe drove to the small parole office, she saw a cluster of clowns around a newspaper dispenser, huddled together and talking. One in a bright pink suit with polka dots, the one she’d seen hopping down the street on a pogo stick, turned toward her. The grin on its painted face was too big. Its eyes were beady and black. He raised his hand and waggled his fingers at her.

  Dance! Dance! Dance! cried Mama Nola.

  The small hairs on the back of Chloe’s neck bristled, and her stomach turned over.

  No one else was in the office yet—not even the secretary.

  Chloe found a message waiting for her from Burt Lowgowen, the gas station attendant from Bob’s Stop and Gas who had last seen Alicia. She had found his phone number in the DMV and had left a voice mail.

  Chloe immediately called back. Only the voicemail answered, which meant a game of phone tag. This time, she left her personal cell number. Feeling good about making progress on Alicia’s case, Chloe hoped to have news to tell Thomas soon.

  She went about her duties, making phone calls, arranging appointments.

  Chloe wasn’t prepared for what she was going to discover later that day, but she was more ready for it than she had been the night before.

  18

  Heisenberg Rules

  AJ SLID OUT FROM BENEATH THE car. “Yo, Sammy, hand me that wrench.”

  Sammy stared at the garage ceiling, daydreaming with his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his coveralls.

  “Yo, Sam-Sam!” AJ snapped his fingers.

  Sammy lowered his face. “Huh?”

  “Hand me that wrench.”

  “Oh yeah.” Sammy plucked it from the nail on the garage wall and handed it to AJ, cringing when he saw AJ’s face.

  “What’d you say happened to your face again?”

  “Uh, I was practicing on the unicycle.” AJ glided on the creeper back under the Honda, hoping to avoid the subject. His face was swollen and looked like hell. He’d even lost a tooth.

  It wasn’t a full out lie. He had been practicing on the unicycle and fell a few days back. He sucked, and everyone knew it, but that wasn’t why he looked like he’d been pummeled by the Hulk.

  Sunlight flooded through the open garage door. It bathed AJ in light. He closed his puffy eyes and let the sun bathe his face. It wasn’t warm, but it felt good. He wished the sunlight reached the back office. His Uncle was in a foul mood, the kind of foul mood where bad things happened.

  AJ glanced at the long window that ran the length of the office wall. Martinez strolled back and forth in his office, tossing his free hand in the air as he screamed into the phone.

  It wasn’t good news.

  Border Patrol had picked up yet another of the clowns’ shipment of crystal. Martinez was counting on the revenue from that shipment to pay off the last deal gone bad.

  The truth was, they’d been exchanging the goods with the Canadians at the same spot for months and hadn’t had a problem. It could have happened to any of them.

  His Uncle needed someone to blame, someone to pour his rage on and the new kid drew the short straw.

  The Carnival Circus clowns had scrambled to come up with the money for the lost shipment, afraid that if they didn’t it could be their necks next.

  Sammy said, “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks now. You know what I think we should do?”

  AJ opened his eyes and stared at the filthy car engine. “What?”

  Sammy squatted and poked a screwdriver into the grease and filth on the cement. “I think we should rob the bank.”

  AJ laughed. “Gee, that’s dumb. You can’t rob banks in this day and age. Too risky with surveillance, the internet, security systems—all of it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it.” Sammy quieted for a minute, then said, “Even technology has its weaknesses.”

  AJ popped out his hand from beneath the car. “Phillips.”

  Sammy plopped it in his hand.

  AJ shook his head. Sammy was a dreamer. That, combined with a lack of common sense, AJ seriously doubted Sammy’s ability to screw in a lightbulb. Even still, his curiosity was piqued. “What weakness?”

  “Technology thrives on electricity.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, take away electricity.”

  AJ paused a minute, closing his eyes in the sun. “I’m sure a bank would have a generator or backup batteries for the security camera.”

  Sammy said, “I know a bank that doesn’t. The same bank also happens to have an employee who owes me a favor and knows how to work the security cameras.”

  AJ pulled himself out from under the car, and Sammy passed him a rag to wipe his hands on. “Who?”

  Sammy glanced around, making sure they were alone. “Jill.”

  AJ said, “Well, shit. Your sis works at the bank.”

  Sammy smiled. “She ain’t my sister.” He held out his hand.

  “Heck, we all knew that.” AJ reached for it and stood up. He put his hands on his hips. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this.”

  Sammy nodded. “I have.”

  AJ walked over to the little fridge kept in the corner by the tool cabinets. He grabbed a bottle of Rainier beer, pressed the lid against the edge of the wooden counter, and slammed his fist against it, popping off the cap. He took a long drink and leaned against the counter. “Let’s say, someone did cut the power somehow, and Jill screwed up the security cameras, how do you know there’s money in the vault?”

  “Jill, stupid.” Sammy slipped a beer out of the fridge and popped off the cap.

  “They tell her that kind of stuff?”

  “She’s friends with the bank owner’s daughter.” He shrugged. “They trust her.”

  “Even so,” said AJ. “Way things are these days with cell phones, the cops could be there in two minutes.”

  Sammy smiled. “Unless there was a distraction across town.”

  AJ laughed and pointed at him. “I like the way you think, but this isn’t the Old West.”

  Sammy said, “It isn’t the Old West, but one can still use the same tactics.”

  Sammy was brighter than AJ had given him credit for. AJ said, “Say, which bank are you thinking of?”

  “Spindler Credit Union.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah.�
�

  “They don’t have a generator? Back up cameras?”

  Sammy wiggled his eyebrows and shook his head.

  “And Jill works there?”

  Sammy nodded.

  AJ whistled. “What kind of distraction across town? Fire or something?”

  Sammy folded his arms. “The Harvest Parade. The Chief has ordered all hands on deck to either be in the parade or monitoring it.”

  “They’ve never had the whole SPD unit there before.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard the Chief cut some deal with the Mayor; gonna turn him into a superstar at the parade. I also heard, with the trend in gunmen mowing down crowds, they require the whole force to be there, plus a few state troopers for backup.”

  “That’s a lot of coppers.”

  Sammy gave him a minute to think about it.

  AJ said, “All occupied on the other part of town. We’d have at least five minutes. That’s plenty of time to disappear.”

  Sammy said, “Exactly. Plus, Carnival Circus is sponsoring the parade this year. They have this giant float like a Trojan horse; only it’s a tent that takes up the space of ten cars. Clowns flock from it and do their tricks and stunts and throw candy at the kids; then they jump back into it. There’s going to be clowns everywhere distracting the Po Po’s.”

  “Hmm…” AJ stroked his goatee. “Might work.”

  Sammy said, “Not might. I’ve thought it over. It will work. It has to.” He glanced over at AJ’s Uncle still on the phone.

  AJ followed his gaze. Martinez’ face had turned red, and he was yelling.

  Sammy said, “That new kid took the heat the other day, but it could be my ass next if he finds out about the crystal we lost a few weeks back.”

  AJ said, “Uncle Marty likes you, he wouldn’t…”

  Sammy interrupted. His voice was low. “You don’t know that.”

  AJ felt prickles on his arm. That was true. AJ could throw a punch if he needed to, but Uncle Marty was driven by a passion that most couldn’t even begin to comprehend. The way he’d beat a man’s face in, break every bone in his hands, pluck his toenails off with a pair of pliers, put a screwdriver through a man’s eye, string his penis to the tailgate on the back of his truck and… AJ took another swig of beer and erased the images from his mind.