“You live in Blackwater?” He did not recognize the address on the permit. “Do you live there now?”
“No. We have a place in the low county. Ten miles east of here. We moved there three months ago. We purchased a small ranch from the retired Mayor Rockford. Angelique still lives with our parents in Blackwater.” He sighed. “Before you ask, we stay in town because our vehicle is being repaired at Miller’s Garage if you need to check.”
“Okay, thanks.” Kane pulled out his cards and handed them to the men. “If you notice a man with a black widow spider tattoo on his hand, call me. If you hear a whisper about anyone working with children acting inappropriately, call me. I’ll keep your names out of any inquiry. I just want to catch this guy.”
When both men took the cards and nodded, Kane strolled back to his vehicle. He slid behind the wheel and turned the key, looking at Wolfe. “We have another woman who was molested as a child. Her name is Angelique Booval. The incident happened eight years ago in Blackwater. There would have been a trial—the man charged was Stewart James Macgregor. See what you can find out.”
“Do we add her to our suspect list?”
Kane backed the car onto the busy road then spun the wheel and headed out of town. “I think anyone with a motive should be considered. Angelique Booval became unstable after Macgregor kidnapped her, and if she noticed Price acting inappropriately with kids, she could be out for revenge.”
“Well, this is interesting.” Wolfe’s blond eyebrows rose above the screen of his cellphone. “I discovered where Macgregor last worked before his arrest and googled the company. It seems a company by the name of Party Time employs Macgregor and Price. The company’s main business is supplying acts, clowns, magicians, Santa Claus, and all kinds of characters for kids’ parties and for festivals in at least three local towns including here and Blackwater. I’ve checked out the list of employees on their website against the sexual offenders register and they all come up clean apart from Macgregor.” He held up the screen of his cellphone. “See, Stu Macgregor is still listed as available in a limited capacity street license entertainment, only no kids’ parties. He is a low-risk sexual offender. I doubt he gets much work.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, and I have Rosemarie Harper’s number.” Wolfe glanced at him. “Want to speak to her now?”
“Yeah.” He pulled the car to the side of the road and took Wolfe’s phone.
A woman answered after a couple of rings.
“Am I speaking to Rosemarie Harper? Good, this is Deputy Kane from the Black Rock Falls Sheriff’s Department. I need to ask you a few things in the strictest of confidence.”
He asked her a few questions then disconnected and handed back the cellphone. “That is too crazy to explain right now. I’ll fill you in after I’ve run it past the sheriff.” He turned the SUV back onto the highway and accelerated.
“Sure.” Wolfe took the phone and smiled at him. “I do understand the term ‘confidential.’”
About five miles out of town, Kane turned the SUV into the parking lot of the Triple Z bar and pulled into a space. He turned in his seat and stared at the cellphone. “I wonder how many of the men working at Party Time have priors.”
“I’ll check them out the moment we get back to the office.”
“From what we know about Price, he didn’t work alone. It’s more than likely he has been doing this for a long time and could have also been involved in the Angelique Booval kidnapping, but she only mentioned one man— Stu Macgregor. It is something we have to consider as they worked together and were both pedophiles.” Kane opened the car door. “He would have worked the festivals here and in Blackwater. Miss Booval might have caught sight of him in costume and it triggered a memory. Although his type of murder takes a lot of planning.”
“She could have identified him years ago and she’s had years to plan his murder.” Wolfe snorted. “It’s not something a person gets over easy.”
Kane led the way into the Triple Z and strolled up to the bar. In his peripheral vision, he noticed men slipping out the back door and smiled to himself. He had bigger fish to fry.
“What can I get you?” The man behind the counter rubbed a filthy rag over the bar, avoiding his gaze.
“Information.” Kane straightened. “Do you have a customer with a black widow tattoo on his hand?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” The barman snorted in disgust. “We don’t rat on our friends.”
“Okay, I’ll take a look for myself.” Kane turned and glanced over the room. He moved closer to Wolfe. “Split up and take a look. I doubt we’ll find anything.”
After moving through the eight men in the bar, they returned to the vehicle and found a woman wearing tight cutoff jeans, a shirt that left nothing to the imagination, and red stilettos leaning against the door. Kane touched his hat. “Do you want to speak to me, ma’am?”
“You asked about a black widow tattoo?”
“Yeah, do you know the name of the man who has one?”
“Nothing’s free.” She pushed out her chest and winked at him. “Fifty bucks.”
Kane barked out a laugh. “Twenty.” He slid a bill from his wallet and dangled it in the air “Take it or leave it.”
“Okay. Some years ago, maybe as long as six, a biker gang called the Black Widows used to come here from Blackwater. They all had those tattoos on their hands.” She pointed one red-tipped fingernail between her thumb and first finger. “Right here but I haven’t seen any of them for years.” She plucked the twenty out of Kane’s fingers then turned and sashayed away.
Kane rubbed his chin and stared after her. “It seems every clue we have leads to Blackwater.”