Clown by Michael Z. Lewin

For forty years, Michael Z. Lewin has been a popular and prolific writer of private-eye and police series, non-series tales at both novel and short-story length, and plays for radio. A few years ago, entries in his newest series in the private-eye genre, starring the Italian Lunghi family, in Bath, England, appeared in EQMM. In December of this year, Family Way, a new Lunghi novel, is due to be published in the U.S. by Five Star Press. It’s set during Walcot Nation Day, an annual street party that used to take place on Walcot Street in Bath. An American by birth, the author makes his home in Bath.

* * *

The interrogation began conventionally enough. “Please state your name for the tape.”

“Howard Timmins.”

“And, Mr. Timmins, are you known by any other names?”

Timmins squinted up at me, a small man curled even smaller from the gravity of the situation. “You know I am.”

I waited.

“I’m Gordo the Clown,” he said.

“Gordo the Clown.”

“Mostly people just call me Gordo. I’m much better known by that name than my given one. Because of what I do, being Gordo. Well, that’s all I do now I’m not working at Whitney’s anymore.”

“What did you do at Whitney’s?” I asked. Sammonville is not a big town and most people around these parts work for the company one way or another. Originally it made aircraft engine parts but now it’s baby carriages — top-quality carriages that get shipped all over the world. The company’s long story is commemorated in the Sammonville Museum. That’s where my wife works, so I know a lot about it.

“I ran the catering department,” Gordo-Timmins said.

“Ran it? So you had a lot of responsibility?”

For the first time since he was brought into the station he seemed to perk up. “Before the downsizing we fed between a hundred and fifty and a hundred and eighty a day. Plus, the hospitality side, whenever the managers had visitors. I don’t know how many they feed now — I hear they may even close the cafeteria — but it’s a lot less.”

“How long ago were you fired?”

“Made redundant.” A flicker of steel. “I’ve never been fired. I work hard. I give quality.”

“Made redundant.”

“Twenty-seven months.”

“And that hit you hard?”

“It didn’t help. Whitney’s was perfect for me because it amounted to a halftime job and that left me the time to be Gordo. I finished in time to do after-school children’s parties and I had plenty of time to travel to evening parties for children and adults outside of Sammonville. I’ve done shows as far away as a hundred miles.”

“Adults hire clowns for parties?”

“Adults like to be entertained, too.”

“It’s just that when you think about grown-up parties, you don’t automatically think of clowns.”

“There are parties and parties.”

“You advertise?”

“Posters and fliers around the area. And on the Internet.”

“Generally speaking, what kind of clown is Gordo?”

“Today, a sad one.”

“And yesterday?”

“Happy. Excited.”

I didn’t want to get to the nub of the thing too quickly. I find that I get better information if they’ve become relaxed about talking to me. So I said, “So Gordo does slapstick?”

“Of course.”

“Magic?”

“Sure. Both tricks that went right and ones that went wrong — kids love it when a grownup screws up, and adults love it, too. It lets them feel superior.”

“And blue routines?”

“Absolutely. Gordo caters for all tastes.”

The question wasn’t a random one. I’d already interviewed Mrs. Barton. “Was it when you were doing a blue routine that you met Melanie Barton?”

He looked up at me with a wry expression. “You must know it was if you ask that question.”

“Where was the party?”

“It was a corporate event in Bedford. Well, in the entertainment industry we call them corporates but they don’t have to be anything huge. It was just a company party.”

“To mark what occasion?”

“Not going out of business yet? That’s the biggest achievement these days, isn’t it? Only they said it was the boss’s birthday party.”

“What was the company?”

“Caldicott Car Repairs.”

Bedford was less than twenty miles away from Sammonville. “And you met Melanie at the party.”

“Yes.”

“And her husband?”

“The arrogant, self-congratulatory, athletic Jack? Yes, I met Jack Barton at the Caldicott Car Repair summer party.”

“They live in Sammonville, so what was their connection to Caldicott?”

“No idea.”

“Were you the only entertainment act hired that night?”

“There was a disco. Mrs. Caldicott likes clowns, is what her husband told me.”

“Even though the routine was a dirty one?”

“We call it ‘adult,’ and women like sexual material as much as men, if it’s a bit subtle and verbal.”

“So you were subtle and verbal, as Gordo?”

“Certainly. In fact, there was a clown theme. Caldicott, the boss, made a speech to say it was because these were ‘funny’ times. Half the people there dressed up. To tell the truth, I think his wife really gets off on clowns. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had him dress up for her in private. She certainly had the look in her eye after her first half-dozen drinks.”

“What look?”

“The groupie look.” He held my gaze. “Don’t act like I’m crazy. It happens to any of us in show business.”

“And Melanie got the look in her eye, too?”

Gordo glared at me. “Don’t demean what Melanie and I had. It was nothing like what comes over a drunk fantasist.”

“Okay, what did you and Melanie have, then?”

“We were soulmates.”

This caught me by surprise. I had already interviewed the woman, after all. “You felt she was your soulmate?”

“She felt the same.”

“She said so?”

“She didn’t have to. Something just clicked between us. Really clicked.

“When?”

“Right away. When we met at the bar after I did my routine. She came up and said I was wonderful.” He looked up at me. “Wonderful. That was the word she used. She said I was wonderful and that I’d been speaking to her innermost self. If that’s not soulmates, I don’t know what is.”

“And one thing led to another.”

“Don’t make it sound sordid or trivial.”

“Okay, what happened?”

“When we were at the bar talking, her odious and idiotic husband came in.” “He dragged her away?”

“He barely noticed us. So I slipped Melanie a business card while he was getting drinks. Two drinks. And neither of them for her.”

“Two for himself?”

“One for another woman.”

“And the card you gave Melanie was for Gordo?”

“Yes.”

“And she called you?”

“Monday.”

Today was Wednesday. “To meet up today?”

“To come to her house today. At two.”

“And how long ago was the party where you met?”

“Friday.”

“Had you spoken with her since then?”

“No.”

“But you went to her home today without hesitation?”

“Yes. I’d been dreaming day and night about her call. I knew, just knew, that we’d connected. And then the call came.”

“And when you got to her house, how was she?”

“Friendly.”

“Not surprised to see you?”

“She’d invited me over.”

“I only meant that she hadn’t seen you other than as Gordo.”

“I was still the same person.”

“But you didn’t dress up as Gordo?”

He hesitated. “Not exactly. I wore the jacket I’d worn on the night but no face paint.”

“Or red nose.”

“Or red nose.”

“And she was friendly.”

“Very friendly.”

“Not resistant to your advances?”

Gordo laughed.

His dismissal of this question confirmed what Melanie had already told me.

He said, “She practically dragged me to the bedroom.”

“And there?”

“We made love. I mean love. The real thing. Not something animals can do. We did what only human beings with a real connection can do.”

“So she enjoyed it.”

“She certainly did.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I... I know enough to know.”

I let that go. “Okay. And what happened then?”

“At about three-thirty there were noises downstairs in the house.”

“What did Melanie say about them?”

“She said to ignore them.” He frowned. “She said they weren’t anything to worry about.”

“But...?”

“A few minutes later her bottom-drivel of a husband, Jack, came in.”

“Into the bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Without knocking?”

“Just walked right in.”

“Was he carrying anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“A weapon of some kind? A gun, a bat, a bust of Beethoven?”

“A candlestick or a lead pipe? No, nothing. He just walked in and said, ‘Whose car is that in the driveway?’ ”

“Your car was outside?”

“She hadn’t told me not to leave it there.”

“And what did Melanie do?”

“She grabbed me and said, ‘Don’t hurt him, Jack, please don’t hurt him.’ ”

“So she thought he might hurt you?”

“It seemed like it.”

“And what did Jack do?”

“He stood at the foot of the bed and looked at us. At me.”

“And?”

“Then he said, ‘This is payback for Barbara? This?’ ”

“And then?”

“Melanie said to me, ‘I think you’d better go.’ And when I hesitated she said, ‘He won’t hurt me.’ Then ‘Please, Gordo, go.’ So I rolled out of the bed to where my clothes and stuff were lying on the floor.”

“And?”

“And I dressed myself. But I didn’t run and I didn’t hurry, because I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. Melanie invited me there because we had a true connection. And Jack Barton was a grotesque and odious man. I’d seen him pawing other women at the party. Even taking their hands and moving them to touch him down there. You know. Down there. Melanie deserved so much better.”

“So you dressed. And what was Jack doing?”

“Standing there, just looking from me to her and back again. And then he said, ‘This is for Barbara?’ again. And she said, ‘For Barbara, Juanita, Yvonne, and all the others.’ And he said, ‘With a clown? A scruffy little clown?’ ”

“And?”

“And then he started laughing.”

“And then?”

“He kept laughing. And looking me in the eyes.”

“And then?”

“I killed him.”

“How?”

“My adult Gordo jacket is stocked with tricks and implements. I had throwing knives in a pocket. I used one of them.”

“You threw it?”

“I stabbed him. In the heart. Well, where a heart would be in a normal man.”

“And?”

“He died. Pretty quickly, I think. The knife went in up to the hilt.”

How he came to have the knife was important. If he only had it because he thought he might have to perform for Melanie, it wouldn’t constitute premeditation. He’d probably get off with murder two.

“You stabbed Jack and he died.”

“Yes.”

“Though he wasn’t threatening you with anything.”

“No.”

“Not even with his fists or hands or posture? He was a wrestler in college.”

“No, he wasn’t threatening me at all.”

“So he was just standing there.”

Anger rose on Gordo’s face. He sat up in his chair. “He was not just standing there.”

“So what was he doing that provoked you so much.”

“He was saying, ‘With a clown? With a clown?’ ” He glared at me. “Can’t you picture what I’m saying to you? Vile Jack Barton was repeating, ‘With a clown,’ and he was laughing at me. Laughing at me.”

So there it was. A murder that happened because the victim had laughed at a clown.

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