“They require a permit and insurance to run pony rides in Black Rock Falls.” Wolfe’s gaze lifted from his phone. “We should check the past and present clown permit registrations. We might find if Price had any close friends.”
I’ll have to brush up on city council laws. “Yeah, great idea. Keep searching, I’ll check them out.”
He slipped out of the car and strolled toward the line of kids waiting for a ride, tickets in hand. When the clown returned to the starting position, he slapped him on the shoulder. “May I have a word?”
“I have kids waiting.” The flash of annoyance in the man’s amber eyes did not reflect the oversized smile on his white face.
Kane led him out of earshot of the kids. “It won’t take long.” He pulled out his notepad and pen. “What’s your name?”
“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.” The clown had a French accent and narrowed his gaze at him.
“I didn’t say you had, but you’re working with kids and in this town you need a permit and insurance to run a pony ride. Plus, you need to be able to show the permit on request.” Kane straightened. “Now answer the question. You wouldn’t want me to cuff you and drag you down to the sheriff’s office in front of the kids, would you?”
“I have a permit.” He pulled off a white glove, unzipped his costume, and reached inside. “My name is Claude Booval and my associate is my brother Pierre. Both names are on the permit.”
Kane made notes, taking down the names and address of the brothers. “Where were you this week?”
“It’s the Fall Festival. We are here in the park every day from nine until six. We stay at the Black Rock Falls Motel and before you ask, no, we didn’t leave the motel at any time. We used room service for meals.”
So, they are in the clear for Price’s murder but still might be in the pedophile ring. “Would you please remove your other glove?”
“Why?” Claude’s eyes opened wide with surprise.
“I’m investigating an incident involving a clown with a spider tattoo on his hand.” Kane narrowed his gaze on the man. “Know anyone fitting that description in town?”
“No.” Claude removed his other glove. “See? No tattoos.”
Kane glanced up to see the other clown walking toward him. “Pierre Booval?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Show him your hands.” Claude gave an exaggerated sigh. “He is looking for a clown with a tattoo.”
“Sure.” Pierre removed his gloves.
No tattoo.
Disappointed, Kane tried another angle. “Do you know a clown by the name of Amos Price or the names of clowns who frequent the festivals or who live close by?”
“We don’t associate with the other entertainers. You see, they are our competition for work.” Claude shrugged. “Many of them are clowns
one day, elves the next. For us it is a profession, not a chance to put on a costume. Although the rodeo clowns are different.”
“I’m not talking about the rodeo clowns but those who work with children.”
“Ah, I gather one of our profession has acted unprofessionally?” Pierre’s bright red mouth turned down in an almost comical way. “We are aware of child molesters. They ruin our reputation but it is not always clowns. A magician lured our sister, Angelique, away from a birthday party. She was missing for three days but managed to get out of the house when the monster was sleeping. He got seven years in jail.”
Bells and whistles went off in Kane’s brain. “When did this happen?”
“Eight years ago, in Blackwater. She was only twelve.” Pierre’s eyes filled with sorrow. “She has never been the same and after years of therapy she still sleeps with a knife beside her bed.”
“This is why I need to find this man.” Kane stared at the men. “What was the magician’s name?”
“Stewart James Macgregor.”
“Thanks.” He scribbled in his notebook. “Anyone else involved?”
“We don’t know. Angelique has never spoken to us about her ordeal. When she escaped, a woman walking her dog outside Macgregor’s house helped her. She took her to the police and was able to identify the house.”