The Guild of Fallen Clowns

  “I know it’s a sign, but is this your way of sending me a ‘sign’?” he mumbled. He leaned back and removed the keys from the ignition and exited the car. “Maybe you are listening,” he said to himself as he locked his door and proceeded to the front door of the establishment.

  *****

  “I love carnival food,” Mary said, hugging Alan’s arm as they stood up to the concession stand.

  “We’ll have two hot dogs,” Alan said to the vendor. He turned to Mary and frowned. “Sorry, did you want something else?”

  “You read my mind,” she said with a grin.

  “I’m getting a small root beer. What do you want to drink?” he asked.

  “Make it a medium and we’ll share. No sense paying double,” she said

  Alan turned and ordered the drink. Then he turned back to Mary. “I’m gonna have medium fries. Do you want fries?”

  Mary’s eyes smiled back at his. Alan grinned and turned back to the person behind the counter. “And one large fries,” he said.

  *****

  A food worker tossed a bag of trash into the Dumpster, and as he turned, from the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. He looked back and saw Geno appearing to sneak past him.

  “Who let you out of your cage, freak?” he said, stopping Geno in his tracks. Geno looked at the burly middle-aged man and didn’t reply. The worker shook his head in disgust as Geno turned away and continued creeping.

  “That’s right, keep moving. I better not see you lurking around my side of the midway again, you mutant troll monkey.”

  *****

  “There’s an empty bench over there,” Mary said, pointing through the crowd. With the drink in her other hand, she rushed ahead to stake a claim on their dining location. Alan lagged behind, dodging the chaotic movement of pedestrians while maintaining a firm grip on the paper bag containing their first meal together.

  Mary sat in the middle of the bench, placed the shared drink beside her, and patted the bench on the opposite side of the cup. Alan caught up and took his seat. He proceeded to remove the bag’s contents by handing Mary her hot dog. Next, he took out his hot dog, then the shared fries. Using the bag as a platter, he spread it between them on the bench and tilted out some fries.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t eat many of them,” she said.

  “Take as many as you want,” he replied. He hoped she would be true to her word, though, because he liked his French fries.

  They were unwrapping their hot dogs when Mary noticed a frail elderly couple shuffling arm in arm toward a bench beside them which just became vacant.

  “Look at them, Alan,” she whispered. Alan glanced at the old couple. “Aren’t they cute?” she said.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” His attention returned to the food on his lap.

  The old man’s eyes were locked on the bench as the pair shuffled in slow motion toward their target. With less than ten feet remaining, three ten-year-old boys with ice cream cones scrambled past the couple and plopped on the bench. The couple stopped and the old man’s chin dropped in despair.

  Mary picked the drink up, tapped Alan’s leg, and told him to scoot over. He slid against the armrest and she picked up the bag of fries and placed them on his closed legs at mid-thigh. She closed the gap between them and called out to the couple. “Excuse me, sir.” The man turned. Mary patted the bench beside her. “There’s room over here,” she said.

  The couple looked at the space beside Mary and smiled in unison. Mary returned the smile and the couple shifted back into low gear toward them. Two more boys ran over from the opposite direction toward the newly created space. Mary raised her hand and yelled, “Not for you!” Her command appeared to knock the boys backward as if she had thrown up a force field in front of them. Stunned but unharmed, they spotted people leaving another bench fifty feet away. They shifted ninety degrees to the left and sprinted toward it.

  *****

  From beside a concessions trailer, Geno spotted Alan and Mary on the bench. It was a tight fit as the old couple squeezed in beside them. Mary removed the large purse from her shoulder to make more room. She handed it to Alan, who hung it from the armrest beside him.

  Geno stared long at the handbag, and then watched as Alan’s torso shifted toward the conversation Mary started up with their new friends.

  With his bag held tight under his arm, Geno began his approach. He brushed past the crowd, always keeping himself behind the plane of the bench. To Alan and Mary, he was invisible. However, his tunnel vision to avoid detection from Alan and Mary by tiptoeing from one hiding spot to the next started to creep out everyone around him. Mothers pulled their kids out of his path and shot disgusted looks as they got as much distance as possible from the creepy stalker.

  Geno was unaware of the attention he was drawing. A child asked her father who the man was. The father explained that he was probably an actor playing a trick on people. Geno didn’t notice the dozens of people stopping to see what this curious character was up to. His eyes and total focus were locked on one thing—his target.

  *****

  Alan sat, mesmerized by Mary’s ability to open up to everyone she met. In the two minutes they sat with the elderly couple, Mary showed a genuine interest in knowing everything about them. He didn’t say a word, but it didn’t matter. As she talked, she was sure to include Alan in the conversation by smiling back at him and grabbing hold of his hand. He looked down at their hands locked together and snapped a mental picture as a souvenir from the best night of his life. At one point, she caught him staring at her hand. When he realized she was facing him, he looked up at her. She smiled bigger than he’d ever seen her smile before and squeezed his hand three times before returning her attention to the couple.

  Three squeezes, he thought. What was that? Was it some sort of code? Is she getting tired of the conversation and asking me to rescue her? Three squeezes. Is she saying, “Please—help—me”? But she looks so interested in what they’re saying. Could it be that she is just the kind of person who doesn’t have the ability to be rude by finding her own escape? Three squeezes. Please help me. That’s got to be it. What else could it be? he wondered?

  *****

  Geno sat on the ground behind the bench. Mary’s purse was hanging within reach. He took the bag out from under his arm, opened it, and pulled out the figure of Peepers.

  Still unsure of the hidden message Mary squeezed him, Alan looked away to think. As he did, he noticed all the people stopped and staring at him. Some were smiling while others just stood there with blank expressions. Why are they all looking at me? he thought. Without taking his eyes off his audience, Alan let go of Mary’s hand. She turned to see why he let go. She followed his confused stare and her eyes widened when she saw all the people watching them.

  Hidden from the crowd behind the bench, Geno delicately opened Mary’s bag. Just as he began lowering the figure, Alan, not realizing Geno was there, grabbed the purse and handed it to Mary. Geno retracted the figure and shoved it inside his bag. He tucked into a fetal position as Alan stood.

  Alan looked at Mary and the couple and said, “I don’t want to appear rude, but I really need to find the bathroom.”

  Mary stood. Her eyes shifted between Alan, the couple, and the strange people in the crowd staring at them.

  “Okay,” she said. She turned toward the elderly couple, who were oblivious to the extra eyes fixed in their direction. “Uh, what can I say? Nature calls. It was a pleasure meeting you both. Good luck with your upcoming surgery.”

  Alan grabbed her hand and pulled her away. The elderly couple also stood and walked away, exposing Geno, tucked in a ball behind the bench. The curious watchers lost interest and moved on.

  Chapter 25

  “Ew, I hate using those things. They’re so gross and disgusting,” the college girl said to her three friends as they approached a row of Porta Potties.

  “I hope the last person wasn’t a big hairy guy taking deuce,” anot
her added.

  “You guys go on. I’ll wait for you out here,” said the third girl.

  “You’re so lucky you don’t have to pee, Holly. Watch my purse.” The girl handed her purse to Holly. The other two handed her theirs as well before all three entered neighboring green plastic relief huts.

  Holly waited beside an overflowing trash can off to the side. From inside one of the units her friend called out in a panic, “There’s no toilet paper. OMFG, there’s no TP in here!” The girls in the adjoining units busted out in laughter. “Holly! Bring me my purse. There’s tissues in my purse,” she called out in desperation.

  “Stay where you are, Holly. Don’t bring our purses near these things. I’ll bring you some TP in a sec, Meg.” Holly tried to contain her laughter as she noticed confused looks from passersby who overheard parts of their conversation.

  While hanging on to the purses, she noticed an odd-looking man walking toward her in a straight line. As he passed people along his path, his head and gaze remained fixed on her. She grew nervous and looked away, but as he got closer, his pace appeared to quicken. She looked away to the ground, gripping the purses more tightly. The determined stranger was less than ten feet away. She looked up and he stopped and smiled.

  He removed a bag from under his arm, pulled something out, and continued to close the distance between them.

  “Are you guys finished yet?” Holly cried out to her friends in an attempt to thwart the creepy man’s encroachment into her personal space.

  He stopped a few feet in front of her and turned to the trashcan beside her. Holding the item over the mound of trash, he gently placed it on a clean food wrapper. She looked down at the figure and quickly turned away as he turned his head to see her watching. He folded his empty bag and returned it under his arm and walked away.

  Once he was out of sight, Holly looked again at the discarded object. The Peepers figure was placed face down on the pile. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her. Confident that nobody would see her reach into the trash, she grabbed the object and turned it around to see what it was. Her faced winced as she scanned the figure.

  The sound of a creaky spring followed by a slamming Porta Potty door pulled her focus from the figure.

  “What’s that?” Caitlyn said as she approached. Another door slammed and they turned to watch the girl crack open the door of another Porta Potty and slip a wadded up ball of toilet paper to their friend. The door closed and she joined Holly and Caitlyn to wait for Meg.

  “You should have made her suffer a little longer, Loren,” Caitlyn said.

  Loren reclaimed her purse from Holly. “Yeah, that would have been classic. You should have said something.”

  All three girls chuckled over the missed opportunity to humiliate their friend. Caitlyn took her purse from Holly as Loren spotted the figure.

  “Ew, what is that thing? Where did you get it?”

  Holly held it out so all three of them could look it over. “Someone threw it in the trash.”

  “You picked it out of the trash?” Loren moaned. Caitlyn joined in.

  From behind, Megan stepped up. “What are we whining about?”

  Caitlyn pointed to the figure and turned to face Megan. “Holly took that thing out of the garbage.”

  “That’s gross. What is it?” Megan said.

  “It didn’t touch anything. It was on some clean napkins. I don’t know what it is. Looks like some kind of creepy clown thing,” Holly replied.

  “Put it back, it’s scaring me,” Loren said as she covered her eyes with her hand.

  “No, don’t throw it away,” Caitlyn said. “We can give it to Debbie. She’s scared to death of clowns. Remember how she reacted the other night when the pizza guy was dressed as a clown? That thing will freak her out big time!”

  “I say throw it back in the trash,” Loren said with her hand still blocking her view of it.

  “C’mon, guys, think about it. We have to give it to Debbie,” Caitlyn said.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Holly said. “She was terrified. That might be taking it a little too far.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Caitlyn said. “What about that time when Debbie turned the light out on you when you were in the basement? This will be payback.”

  “I still think you put her up to it, Caitlyn,” Holly replied. “But even if you didn’t and she did it on purpose, giving her this would be too much. I’ll find another way to get back at her, but not with this.”

  “Will you just toss it already so I can lower my hand?” Loren said.

  “What about Adam?” Megan said.

  “Adam?” Caitlyn questioned. “He wouldn’t be scared of it. Why would you give it to him?”

  “I know he’s not scared of stuff like this. He likes freaky things. He can add it to his collection of scary Halloween decorations. He’ll love it.”

  “Good idea, I’ll give it to Adam,” Holly said.

  “You guys are a bunch of wusses,” Caitlyn said.

  “Okay, now that you know what you’re gonna do with it, could you please hide it somewhere?” Loren said, peeking through her fingers.

  Holly looked around for something to wrap it with.

  “Put it in Megan’s ‘mom purse,’” Caitlyn said.

  “Oh, good idea,” Megan said as Holly handed her the purse. “I’ll have to make room first.” She removed three juice boxes and handed them to Caitlyn.

  “BOXTAILS!” Caitlyn cheered. Loren peeked through her fingers as Holly lowered the figure inside the large purse. With it hidden from view she lowered her hand and opened her own purse.

  “I got the juice, now where’s the Goose?” Caitlyn chanted.

  Loren wiggled a fifth of Grey Goose from her tight purse and raised it up. In an effort to avoid attention, Holly lowered Loren’s arm and shushed the girls. Holly watched as her friends proceeded to break the seals of the juice boxes, flip them upside down, and squirt a third of the contents to the ground. Caitlyn took a pen from her purse, widened the holes of the three boxes, and returned the pen. She reached into Megan’s “mom purse” and pulled out a small funnel. They replaced the spilled juice with vodka, then stuck their straws back through the holes.

  “Are you sure you don’t want some, Holly?” Megan said.

  “No, thanks. I’m happy to be the DD.”

  Caitlyn raised her box. “A Goose Juice toast to Holly, our DDBFF.”

  Loren and Megan clacked their boxed drinks to Caitlyn’s. Holly pulled her car keys from her pocket and joined their toast by jingling them above their boxtails. Holly pocketed her keys as her friends took long sips through the narrow straws.

  “Was that the last of the juice?” Caitlyn asked.

  “Yup,” Megan replied.

  “We’re also out of Goose,” Loren said, dangling the empty bottle above the trashcan before dropping it.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had enough of this place. This carnival is lame,” Caitlyn said.

  “Oh no, I know that look. What are you thinking?” Megan said suspiciously.

  Caitlyn’s smile turned devious. “Well, I say we go to RBG. I know the guy at the door. He’ll let is in.”

  “Get out!” Megan said. “How could you possibly know him?”

  “He’s hot for my older sister. She blows him off all the time, but I’ll bet he’ll let us in if I tell him I’ll work on her for him.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Loren said. She sucked the last of her drink, crushed the box against her forehead, and tossed it in the trash. Caitlyn and Megan finished theirs and tossed them on the trash, where they both slid to the ground. Holly picked up the boxes and pressed them into the trash. She turned and sprinted a few steps to catch up with her friends.

  *****

  “Are you ready for another, Sam?” the bartender asked as he held out a bottle of scotch.

  Sam looked down at the empty glass and slid it forward on the bar. “Sure, Jerry, hit me
again.”

  The bartender refilled the glass and returned the bottle to the shelf along the back wall. “How are Brenda and your grandson doing?”

  Sam smiled. “She’s fine, they’re fine. I just dropped them off. We spent the day together at the carnival.” Sam gulped his scotch.

  “That’s great. I’m sure you all had a good time. So, how old is he now, two, three?”

  “Four,” he replied.

  “God, I remember when Brenda was just a baby herself,” Jerry said as he wiped dry a clean glass.

  Sam’s smile faded as he nodded and took another sip. Jerry walked to the other end of the bar to serve another customer. When he returned, Sam slid his empty glass forward. Jerry looked concerned but responded by filling it. Sam grabbed it, took a swig, and slammed the half-empty glass on the bar.

  The two customers beside Sam stood from their stools and walked out together. Jerry kept one eye on Sam as he retrieved the tip and beer bottles from the bar top. He wiped the counter, then turned to Sam.

  “Something isn’t right,” he said.

  “C’mon Jerry, it’s only my third scotch. You know I always cut it off at three.”

  “No, it’s not that, Sam. It’s your aura. It’s dark,” Jerry said.

  Sam smirked. “Not that again. I thought you gave that crap up after our last case. Don’t tell me you’re seeing dead people again.”

  “No, you’re right,” Jerry said. “After that case, I stopped working with the FBI. But it’s not something I can just give up. It doesn’t go away. I just try to block it out and ignore what I’m feeling. Believe me, after seeing the things I saw back then, I’m done with it.”

  Sam took another sip as Jerry watched. Jerry’s face turned inquisitive. “Are you in trouble Sam?” he said.

  Sam sighed and looked up at Jerry. “Can I ask you a question?” he said. Jerry nodded. “First of all, I’m not saying I believe in that stuff or anything.”

  “That’s fine,” Jerry said.

  “But, what exactly did you see? Did you hear—voices? Or did you just see things in your head?”