Send Out The Clowns (Frank River Series) by Harry Hoge, Bill Walls Page B
Authors: Harry Hoge, Bill Walls
Ads: Link
her mascara-streaked eyes. "He just left," she mumbled.
She slapped at her nose with the tissue and sighed. Finally she looked at
Frank. "You should have run into him. The door had barely closed behind
him when you came in."
She was still assertive from finding the spunk to yell at
Gretchen. Frank didn't mention how factual her comment was about running into
Reuben.
"He was the man in the wheelchair?"
"Yeah."
"And who was the Sumo wrestler with him?"
Marsha looked quizzical. "That was Gus," Gretchen
stated. "He's never more than a heartbeat away from his boss, ever."
"Gus? And what do they call him around here?"
"I've never heard anything except Gus. Have you,
Marsha?" Marsha shook her head. "They met when Reuben was at his
prime in Las Vegas," Gretchen continued.
"Rankin is a comic?"
"Was. He had an accident on stage and lost the use of
his legs," Gretchen explained. "Hey, Detective, it's been awhile. Do
you mind if I smoke?" Frank shook his head. "Good. You'll have to let
me out. My cigarettes are behind the bar."
While Gretchen was gone, Frank focused on Marsha. "Your
friend doesn't seem to like your boss."
"She doesn't like anybody. Reuben is the sweetest
person. He owns this club and The Wit's End over on Westheimer, and I don't
know how many others. He devotes his life to helping young comics make it in
the business. You know he was famous... is famous. They've even named a street
after him here in Houston."
"Yeah, he's a sweetheart." Gretchen was back.
"Ask any performer. He pays peanuts and hooks anyone who dies on stage
without so much as a 'thank you man,' Not only that, if one of his stable
leaves for a better gig, Rankin forces them to pay him a percentage."
Marsha was winding up for another attack, but Frank cut her
off.
"You commented that he hooks anyone who dies on
stage?"
"Yeah, you know, like in old vaudeville. We don't use a
real hook anymore, but the expression is common. 'Get the Hook.' The audience
yells it, and Rankin turns off the stage lights. That's the end of that
act."
"Did Rankin ever hook Nguyen?"
"Are you kidding? Nguyen was his protégé. Reuben would
have killed to protect that boy."
Before Frank could ask another question, the front door
opened with a bang that startled all three of them. When Frank looked toward
the door, he couldn't tell if it was open or not. A man filled the entire
frame.
"That's my man," Gretchen smiled. "Old Sammy
the Stick - my husband, and the club's bouncer. It must be after six
o'clock."
Sammy the Stick glowered at Frank, and stalked all the way
to the men's room without a word.
Once he was out of sight, Frank turned to Gretchen.
"Why The Stick?'"
"You've heard the expression, dumb as a stick? Well
Sammy's the stick. Get it?"
Frank didn't respond to the question. "How many
bouncers do you have?"
"Only Sammy. If he can't handle the problem, it's time
to
call the National Guard."
"Do you have a list of the people who work here?"
"Sure," Gretchen answered. "I'll get one." She followed
Sammy's route to the door marked PRIVATE.
Frank turned to Marsha. "Will your boss be back
tonight?"
"He went to eat. He visits all of his clubs every
night. He generally gets here around eleven."
When Gretchen came back and handed him the list of
employees, Frank folded it and put it in his pocket. He smiled at Marsha and
Gretchen, and handed them each a business card.
"Do you think any of the other comics here resented
Nguyen enough to want him dead?"
"Oh, no," Marsha replied.
"No way," echoed Gretchen.
Frank smiled. "Thank you, ladies. I'll be back. In the
meantime, if you recall anything that might help, give me a call."
Chapter 7
Frank stopped on his way out of the club to compare the
employee after hours list with the posters by the door, and then, with a mock
salute to Marsha and Gretchen, he pushed out into the bright evening sun. He
sat in the squad car for a few minutes entering notes about the interview. When
he satisfied himself that he
She slapped at her nose with the tissue and sighed. Finally she looked at
Frank. "You should have run into him. The door had barely closed behind
him when you came in."
She was still assertive from finding the spunk to yell at
Gretchen. Frank didn't mention how factual her comment was about running into
Reuben.
"He was the man in the wheelchair?"
"Yeah."
"And who was the Sumo wrestler with him?"
Marsha looked quizzical. "That was Gus," Gretchen
stated. "He's never more than a heartbeat away from his boss, ever."
"Gus? And what do they call him around here?"
"I've never heard anything except Gus. Have you,
Marsha?" Marsha shook her head. "They met when Reuben was at his
prime in Las Vegas," Gretchen continued.
"Rankin is a comic?"
"Was. He had an accident on stage and lost the use of
his legs," Gretchen explained. "Hey, Detective, it's been awhile. Do
you mind if I smoke?" Frank shook his head. "Good. You'll have to let
me out. My cigarettes are behind the bar."
While Gretchen was gone, Frank focused on Marsha. "Your
friend doesn't seem to like your boss."
"She doesn't like anybody. Reuben is the sweetest
person. He owns this club and The Wit's End over on Westheimer, and I don't
know how many others. He devotes his life to helping young comics make it in
the business. You know he was famous... is famous. They've even named a street
after him here in Houston."
"Yeah, he's a sweetheart." Gretchen was back.
"Ask any performer. He pays peanuts and hooks anyone who dies on stage
without so much as a 'thank you man,' Not only that, if one of his stable
leaves for a better gig, Rankin forces them to pay him a percentage."
Marsha was winding up for another attack, but Frank cut her
off.
"You commented that he hooks anyone who dies on
stage?"
"Yeah, you know, like in old vaudeville. We don't use a
real hook anymore, but the expression is common. 'Get the Hook.' The audience
yells it, and Rankin turns off the stage lights. That's the end of that
act."
"Did Rankin ever hook Nguyen?"
"Are you kidding? Nguyen was his protégé. Reuben would
have killed to protect that boy."
Before Frank could ask another question, the front door
opened with a bang that startled all three of them. When Frank looked toward
the door, he couldn't tell if it was open or not. A man filled the entire
frame.
"That's my man," Gretchen smiled. "Old Sammy
the Stick - my husband, and the club's bouncer. It must be after six
o'clock."
Sammy the Stick glowered at Frank, and stalked all the way
to the men's room without a word.
Once he was out of sight, Frank turned to Gretchen.
"Why The Stick?'"
"You've heard the expression, dumb as a stick? Well
Sammy's the stick. Get it?"
Frank didn't respond to the question. "How many
bouncers do you have?"
"Only Sammy. If he can't handle the problem, it's time
to
call the National Guard."
"Do you have a list of the people who work here?"
"Sure," Gretchen answered. "I'll get one." She followed
Sammy's route to the door marked PRIVATE.
Frank turned to Marsha. "Will your boss be back
tonight?"
"He went to eat. He visits all of his clubs every
night. He generally gets here around eleven."
When Gretchen came back and handed him the list of
employees, Frank folded it and put it in his pocket. He smiled at Marsha and
Gretchen, and handed them each a business card.
"Do you think any of the other comics here resented
Nguyen enough to want him dead?"
"Oh, no," Marsha replied.
"No way," echoed Gretchen.
Frank smiled. "Thank you, ladies. I'll be back. In the
meantime, if you recall anything that might help, give me a call."
Chapter 7
Frank stopped on his way out of the club to compare the
employee after hours list with the posters by the door, and then, with a mock
salute to Marsha and Gretchen, he pushed out into the bright evening sun. He
sat in the squad car for a few minutes entering notes about the interview. When
he satisfied himself that he
Similar Books
