HAPTER 11
M ichael left Jay’s house with the printed emails, dropped them on his passenger seat, and drove to a costume shop on the south side of town, close to the beach. The store was a combination bridal shop and costume store, with the rentable wedding gowns filling the front half of the shop, and racks and racks of dingy, over-worn costumes in the back.
He went in, hoping he could convey a sense of authority so they’d give him information.
The man behind the counter smiled a friendly smile. “Help you, sir?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m an investigator working on a case, and I was wondering if you could tell me if anyone has rented a clown costume in the last week or so.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “An investigator? You mean a cop? You got any identification?”
“No, not a cop.” The words still twisted in his gut. “I’m a private investigator.”
“Well, I don’t know if I should give out information about my customers. Did one of them do something illegal?”
“One of them may have committed a serious crime today wearing a clown suit. Unless you want to be implicated yourself, I suggest you look through your records to see if it was your suit.”
“Implicated
myself
?”
Michael had known that would get his attention.
“Look, I’m not responsible for anything anybody does wearing my costumes. I’ll look.”
The guy moved his computer mouse until his display came to life, then typed in a few things. As he waited for his search results, he glanced at Michael again. “Wait a minute. I know who you are. You’re that cop who lied on the stand.” He snapped his fingers. “Michael Hogan, right?”
Michael’s voice went flat. “Yes, that’s who I am.”
“Yeah …,” the man said, staring at him as if fascinated. “Shame about your brother. I’m really sorry.”
Biting his molars hard, Michael nodded.
“They said you were a real good cop. It was all just a crying shame.”
Michael cleared his throat. “About the clown suit …”
“Yeah, sure.” He put on his glasses and looked at the screen. “This week, you say?”
“Right. Or better yet, tell me the last time any of your clown suits were rented out, and if any are still out.”
The man studied the screen. “We have several clown suits, different styles, different sizes. We rented one last month. Two this month so far … Any idea how big the person is you’re looking for?”
“Five-ten, average build, unless the shoes gave himheight … or the wig added inches. Here’s a picture.” He showed him Jay’s crude drawing.
The man shook his head. “That wouldn’t be either of these. Rented these to some regular customers, two girls who go to the children’s hospital to entertain the kids. Petite little things.”
“Did you rent
any
to a man?”
He clicked around a little more. “No, I’m sorry. I just don’t show that any of our larger-sized ones were rented. Besides, I don’t have a costume that looks like this. Mine are yellow, not red.”
Michael couldn’t give up so easily. “Do you sell any of your costumes? Can people order them here?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“See if anybody has ordered one.”
The man did another search, then shook his head. “No, I didn’t think so. We get lots of orders around Halloween, but not that many this time of year. No clowns.”
Michael hesitated. “Are there other shops in town?”
The man looked pained to have to speak of his competition. “Yeah, there are a couple. You could try the Party Hearty. They have a few clown costumes — mostly cheap stuff that I wouldn’t be caught dead selling. And there’s a store called Dance, Etc. over at Pier Park. It has dance costumes mostly, but they sell other costumes too.”
“All right,” Michael said, jotting the names down. “Could you do me a favor and print out pictures of the clown costumes you carry?”
“Sure,” the guy said. “No harm in doing that.”
As he waited for the prints, the owner
M ichael left Jay’s house with the printed emails, dropped them on his passenger seat, and drove to a costume shop on the south side of town, close to the beach. The store was a combination bridal shop and costume store, with the rentable wedding gowns filling the front half of the shop, and racks and racks of dingy, over-worn costumes in the back.
He went in, hoping he could convey a sense of authority so they’d give him information.
The man behind the counter smiled a friendly smile. “Help you, sir?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m an investigator working on a case, and I was wondering if you could tell me if anyone has rented a clown costume in the last week or so.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “An investigator? You mean a cop? You got any identification?”
“No, not a cop.” The words still twisted in his gut. “I’m a private investigator.”
“Well, I don’t know if I should give out information about my customers. Did one of them do something illegal?”
“One of them may have committed a serious crime today wearing a clown suit. Unless you want to be implicated yourself, I suggest you look through your records to see if it was your suit.”
“Implicated
myself
?”
Michael had known that would get his attention.
“Look, I’m not responsible for anything anybody does wearing my costumes. I’ll look.”
The guy moved his computer mouse until his display came to life, then typed in a few things. As he waited for his search results, he glanced at Michael again. “Wait a minute. I know who you are. You’re that cop who lied on the stand.” He snapped his fingers. “Michael Hogan, right?”
Michael’s voice went flat. “Yes, that’s who I am.”
“Yeah …,” the man said, staring at him as if fascinated. “Shame about your brother. I’m really sorry.”
Biting his molars hard, Michael nodded.
“They said you were a real good cop. It was all just a crying shame.”
Michael cleared his throat. “About the clown suit …”
“Yeah, sure.” He put on his glasses and looked at the screen. “This week, you say?”
“Right. Or better yet, tell me the last time any of your clown suits were rented out, and if any are still out.”
The man studied the screen. “We have several clown suits, different styles, different sizes. We rented one last month. Two this month so far … Any idea how big the person is you’re looking for?”
“Five-ten, average build, unless the shoes gave himheight … or the wig added inches. Here’s a picture.” He showed him Jay’s crude drawing.
The man shook his head. “That wouldn’t be either of these. Rented these to some regular customers, two girls who go to the children’s hospital to entertain the kids. Petite little things.”
“Did you rent
any
to a man?”
He clicked around a little more. “No, I’m sorry. I just don’t show that any of our larger-sized ones were rented. Besides, I don’t have a costume that looks like this. Mine are yellow, not red.”
Michael couldn’t give up so easily. “Do you sell any of your costumes? Can people order them here?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“See if anybody has ordered one.”
The man did another search, then shook his head. “No, I didn’t think so. We get lots of orders around Halloween, but not that many this time of year. No clowns.”
Michael hesitated. “Are there other shops in town?”
The man looked pained to have to speak of his competition. “Yeah, there are a couple. You could try the Party Hearty. They have a few clown costumes — mostly cheap stuff that I wouldn’t be caught dead selling. And there’s a store called Dance, Etc. over at Pier Park. It has dance costumes mostly, but they sell other costumes too.”
“All right,” Michael said, jotting the names down. “Could you do me a favor and print out pictures of the clown costumes you carry?”
“Sure,” the guy said. “No harm in doing that.”
As he waited for the prints, the owner
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