Page 8

Grabbing his notebook from the inside of his jacket, Ronan took the seat Pinkie had used to apply her makeup. Fitz and Jude sat beside him. Leave it to Ten to uncover a thirty year old murder at the circus. What upset him more than Ten seeing a ghost clown was that he’d been to one of the shows in 1995 but remembered nothing about someone being murdered or about the dead man being found in the tiger cage. His thoughts wandered back to Sheba and her cub Siri. He wondered where they were now. Were either of them still alive? “Tell us what happened that night, Green Stars,”

Ronan urged.

“My real name is Kent,”

the clown began. “It was opening night and we were all so excited, especially Jack, because Alex was with him that night. He was really proud to show his son what made the circus so special. The performance went off without a hitch, which doesn’t always happen on the first night. The only sign something was wrong was that Jack didn’t come out for the final bow. I figured he must have been in the bathroom. Once the applause died down, everyone headed to the dressing rooms set aside for us. That night, we were in one of the locker rooms the hockey players used, but Jack wasn’t there.”

Kent paused, looking as if he were trying to get his emotions under control.

Ronan exchanged a look with Fitzgibbon and Jude. Both men wore grim looks. Each of them knew what was coming next.

“When I couldn’t find Jack in the dressing room, I went and checked out the restrooms. There was no sign of him there either. I was about to go back into the dressing room to ask the others if they knew where he was, but that was when-”

Kent paused again. His eyes swam in unshed tears.

In that moment, Ronan could see the depths of Kent’s love for Jack. He knew if the roles were reversed and he was speaking about Tennyson, there would be no holding back his grief. “When what?”

Ronan prodded gently.

Kent cleared his throat. “That was when the screaming started. I’ll never forget the sound as long as I live. Celestina’s voice was filled with terror. I knew she’d be back in the area reserved for the animals and ran there as fast as I could.”

“Celestina was there?”

Ronan asked, his mind flashing to the young girl he’d met all those years ago.

Kent nodded. “She was so young, only fifteen or so. When I got to her and saw what was making her scream, my brain felt like it was on overload. Like I couldn’t process what I was seeing.”

“What did you see?”

Jude asked, sounding as if he were hanging on Kent’s every word.

Jack was lying inside the tiger cage, face up, in a puddle of his own blood. His eyes were wide open and the look on his face was pure terror. The fur around Sheba’s face was tangled and matted with Jack’s blood. So were her paws. I understood in that moment why Celestina was screaming, it wasn’t so much for Jack, but for her beloved Sheba. She and the tiger grew up together, the same way a toddler would with the family dog.”

“Only Sheba weighed close to seven hundred pounds,”

Ronan muttered. He remembered being in awe of the tiger with her icy blue eyes. He used to watch animal documentaries with his mother and his favorite had been about big cats. Ronan knew what those teeth and claws could do to an unsuspecting prey animal, a human being wouldn’t stand a chance, especially inside an enclosure.

“That’s right,”

Kent agreed. “It didn’t take long for everyone to come running. Soon more people were screaming. In the middle of the chaos, someone, I don’t know who, called the police. When they arrived we were all taken away from Jack’s body, so we all could be questioned. That was when my true nightmare began. It wasn’t bad enough that the love of my life was dead, possibly mauled by a tiger, but I wasn’t given any time to grieve. In the span of an hour, I went from devastated partner to suspect.”

Ronan jotted notes as Kent spoke. His first step was going to be to putting in a call to old friend, and the current captain of Boston’s Cold Case Unit, Faulkner Hayes. Ronan was going to need access to the case file. His second call was going to be to Cisco Jackson, to see if he and the others could have a little time to work on Jumping Jack’s murder. He’d have Fitz make that call. Ronan, more likely than not, would just piss Cisco off with his burning need to solve this case.

“Were the two of you having any trouble?”

Fitzgibbon asked.

“See, this is what I didn’t want!”

Kent shouted. “To relive that awful night and be accused of killing my best friend all over again.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Kent,”

Fitzgibbon said gently. “As Jack’s partner, you’re the obvious first suspect, once we eliminate you, we can move on to other suspects. Does that make sense?”

Ronan was in awe of Fitzgibbon’s tenderness with the clown. Over the course of his career, he’d seen his share of domestic violence, which led to the death of an intimate partner. He’d guess that eight out of ten times the killer was the spouse. Fitz had always gone hard at those suspects, knowing they were the most likely culprit. This gentle side of his boss was something Ronan had very rarely seen.

Kent nodded. His hands were still balled into fists and his face red with anger. “There were no issues between Jack and me. In fact, I was going to ask him to move in with me when the circus went on hiatus before the summer season started.”

Fitz nodded. “Did Jack have any enemies in the circus that you were aware of?”

“Jack was great, don’t get me wrong, but he had his vices and the demons that came with them.”

Kent sighed. “He drank to excess and gambled. Jack owed money to a couple of the guys. One was a roadie named, Frank Whalen, or Whaley. He was a good natured sort, but when you owed him money, he wouldn’t hesitate to make you bleed. The other person he owed money to was one of the other clowns. His name was-”

Movement behind Ronan pulled his attention away from Kent. What he saw made him week in the knees. A familiar clown, dressed in black and white, with overexaggerated eyebrows stood with his arms crossed over his chest with a chilling look in his eyes. He recognized the man instantly. “Ying Yang.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

The angry-looking clown sneered at Ronan.

Ronan stood tall, there was no way he was going to show any weakness if front of his nemesis. “I’m Ronan O’Mara, former captain of Boston’s Cold Case Unit.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? As if I can’t guess.”

Ying Yang shouldered past Ronan, knocking him back a step. “You’re here to put the screws to us all over again.”

“Actually,”

Fitzgibbon said. “We’re here for the circus. My husband is Jace Lincoln, the man who is putting this gala together.”

Ying Yang’s menacing gaze softened a bit, but Ronan still wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.

“Mr. Lincoln has done well by us all. He was the one who flew us all out here for this performance and he’s paying for our accommodations and meals,”

Kent said. “They didn’t come here to put the screws to us. One of them saw Jack’s ghost.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Kent?”

Ying Yang shouted. “No one can see ghosts. It’s all a bunch of fucking bullshit.”

Ronan turned to Ten, who wore a bemused smile. Ying Yang wasn’t going to know what hit him.

“If you say so, Vincent,”

Ten said, his eyes glittering with glee. “Or do you prefer Anaconda?”

“You’re the psychic?”

Vincent scoffed. “All you have to do is read my Facebook page to get that information. Same with my wrestling name. Nice try, asshole.”

Ten’s grin widened. “I’ll give you that, but I can’t imagine you publicly posting about the time you tripped carrying your lunch tray in the fifth grade and wound up with a face full of mashed potatoes. I believe the kids all called you Tater after that?”

Vincent growled low in his throat like a rabid dog about to attack.

Ten carried on, seemingly oblivious to the clown’s raging temper. “We’re here to see the rehearsal for the circus with our families. A spirit dressed as a clown and drenched in blood introduced himself to me, asking for our help in solving his murder. Now, the way I see it, the only person who would be angry at us looking into this cold case would be the killer. Isn’t that right, Ronan?”

“No arguments here,”

Ronan agreed, anxiety churning in his gut. His last run in with Ying Yang was decades ago, but he felt the same fear he did that day so many years ago. “We’re not interested in railroading anyone. If we can help Jack’s family by bringing his killer to justice, then so be it.”

“I don’t like this one bit,”

Vincent grumbled.

“You were there that night, what do you remember?”

Ronan asked.

Vincent’s eyes widened. “How the fuck did you know I was there? Are you psycho too?”

Ronan wasn’t about to rise to Vincent’s bait. “Because I was too. I met you the morning of the performance after the parade of elephants. You were making balloon animal snakes.”

Ronan shivered. “You also threatened to break off my arm and beat me with it if I went near your daughter again.”

“Ronan?”

a woman asked, as she walked into the room. “Is that really you?”

Ronan would know those blue eyes anywhere, even after thirty years. “Hi, Celestina.”

She walked toward him, giving Ronan time to size her up. He’d guess she was about five and half feet tall, in heals. She wore a bright red dress, which hugged her every curve. Her long blonde hair was piled on top of her head. Her show makeup was perfectly applied. In a word, she was stunning. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Celestina hugged Ronan. “Who are your friends?”

“This is my best friend and boss, captain of Salem’s cold case unit, Kevin Fitzgibbon. My best friend and fellow detective, Jude Byrne, and my psychic husband , Tennyson.”

Ronan beamed at Vincent as he let that last little nugget fly. He looked to Vincent, who still wore an angry look. “Your daughter was never in any danger from me.”

Tennyson stepped past Ronan to get to Celestina. “You are absolutely gorgeous, just like Ronan described. I know my daughter and nieces would love to meet you. Ronan was showing us the pictures you took of him and the baby tiger all those years ago.”

“I’d love to meet them too.”

Celestina led Ten out of the room.

Ronan turned back to Vincent, who still looked like he wanted to punch someone. “Did you have any kind of beef with Jack that night?”

“Why would you ask that? Still butthurt over what I said to you back then?”

Vincent’s arms were crossed over his chest. He might be in his early fifties, but the man was in fantastic shape. Ronan could see the bulge of his biceps and had felt Vincent’s strength when he’d knocked into Ronan.

Ronan shook his head. “Once an asshole, always an asshole.”

He had much more to say on that matter, but he’d let the petty bullshit go, at least for now. “You’re wife and daughter were in charge of the tigers. Whoever killed Jack and put his body in the tiger cage needed a key to the enclosure. It wouldn’t have been hard for you to get it.”

“The killer wasn’t attacked by the tiger that night,”

Fitzgibbon said. “Therefore, it could be argued that whoever murdered Jack and put his body in the cage would have a passing relationship with the big cat. You fit that bill.”

“Fuck you all! I don’t have to stand here and listen to this shit.”

With one last sneer, Vincent left the room.

“Do you think you can help catch Jack’s killer?”

Kent asked. “All I want is for him to be able to rest in peace.”

“We can’t make any promises,”

Ronan said. Solving cold cases was difficult under the best of circumstances. Witnesses forget, die, or move away. In this case, all of the members of the circus were scattered to the four winds. A handful of them were here now, but many more were not. All Ronan could do was read the police file and then give it his best shot.

That shot would start with the original case file and with Ying Yang at the top of the suspect list.