Send Out The Clowns (Frank River Series) (15 page)

"Yes, Detective Shields broke up a ring operating out
of the comedy clubs before Rankin purchased them. He followed up after the
transfer of title, and found no reason to believe that Rankin was involved in
similar dealings." Everyone at the table except Gerry stared at Frank,
contempt poorly disguised in their eyes.

"I talked to Skip yesterday. He filled me in on the
investigation."

Silence.

"I still like Rankin for the murders, but I must
confess, it's a weak link right now. Give me some time and I may be able to dig
up something else. Call it a hunch..." Still no comment. Frank picked
George Foster and locked on his glare, defying him to make a comment. He sensed
both Arnold Grisham and Aaron Fox turn their gaze to Foster. Olivia Stanton
looked down at the table.

Gerry broke the silence. "I have another
consideration," she interjected. "On Frank's suggestion, I did a
search for other unsolved deaths due to mescaline overdose."

Frank ended his stare down with Foster, and shot his partner
a surprised look. He'd never suggested that. Gerry was doing her best to take
the focus off his past 'betrayal' with Skip, and draw attention to his
dedicated aptitude as an investigator.

"There are at least five, maybe more cases outside of Texas,
where victims of mescaline poisoning where found stripped naked in parking
areas with no evidence available. There's one other with normal trace evidence,
but no connection was made to a perpetrator."

Now everyone was looking at her.

"We need a thorough follow up on everyone associated
with the Ha Ha House and The Wit's End," Frank said. "And, I need to
search Rankin's house."

"We have a problem there," Lieutenant Barker
stated. "Reuben Rankin is a model citizen, to all I can determine. We have
no evidence that justifies a search."

Captain Holloman had been listening without comment. He
rapped his knuckles on the table. He looked at Frank, then at Gerry.

"Do either of you have anything else?"

Neither detective responded.

"All right. Detective Foster, you and Detective Stanton
take over the burden of collecting everything you can on the mescaline murders
from Detective Gardner. Aaron, you and Arnold do background on Rankin's
employees and all the comedians that have worked his clubs during the past two years.
Look for connections, disagreements, salary disputes, things like that. Frank,
you and Gerry work on Rankin and his family. I expect a daily summary by way of
Lieutenant Barker, and we'll plan to meet every other day at 0800 right
here."

"What should we do about Julia Brewster?" the
lieutenant asked.

"With what I've got here, I'll schedule a press
conference. None of you are to talk to reporters about this case until further
notice. I want a complete gag on everything. If this is a serial and we don't
work fast, we'll probably have another body before we solve this case. We damn
sure don't want that." He hesitated. "Does anyone have any questions
about what's expected?"

No one did.

"All right then, get cracking." Holloman stood and
marched from the room, Grace Villalobos on his heel.

Holloman made such a rapid departure that it caught Gerry by
surprise. She lurched to her feet and called out. "Captain Holloman. If
you could spare a moment, I have a suggestion." Holloman stopped and
turned. Frank was amazed at how deftly Villalobos avoided running into her
boss.

"What is it Geraldine?"

Gerry looked at Barker. "I think we're missing a
necessary course of action here." No one said anything, all eyes on Gerry,
waiting for her to continue. "Why don't we put an undercover investigator
in one of the comedy clubs?"

After what seemed like an eternity of non-response,
Lieutenant Barker said, "I don't think that's possible. Policemen in
general, and detectives in particular don't have the background to walk into a
comedy club and get a job."

"That's not entirely accurate, Loo," Gerry
replied.

"Okay, who in this department could handle that
assignment?"

"Me."

"What?" The collective response from everyone
echoed around the room like bell tones from a barbershop quartet.

"When I was in the Marine Corps, I worked in a lot of
talent shows and USO gigs as a stand-up. And before I decided on law
enforcement at U of H, my major was Theater. I worked several of the rooms
around Houston to help pay my expenses."

Barker was caught off balance. She hesitated. "That's
all well and good, Gerry, but it's not that simple. You'd need to enroll in 'in
service' and get specialized training before you could go under cover."

Gerry smiled. "You must not have read my profile carefully,
Loo. I've had all that training. I worked under cover several times while I was
in Kingwood. We broke two drug rings and a prostitution combine with me under
cover."

"What... what about backup? We don't have anyone
trained to handle you."

"That's not accurate either. Officer Harrington worked
as my backup in Kingwood and he was transferred downtown three months before I
was. He always worked as my backup, and he's here and ready to help."

Barker appeared frustrated. She was searching for ways to block
Gerry from being assigned this dangerous responsibility. "What happens to
Harrington's partner while Roger's playing pimp?"

"Chad Sherman? We all know that Officer Sherman has
been going to night school for the last several years. He's enrolled in his last
classes now. Anadarko Petroleum has already made him an offer to head up their
security force starting in January." That caught everyone by surprise.
"He said it was all right if I told you that," Gerry continued in a
soft voice.

"If you're undercover, who helps Frank?" Barker
said, her voice soft, but with an edge of panic.

"Why not Chad? He can ride with Frank and watch his
back. That would eliminate a need to reassign someone or train a rookie to ride
with Sherman for such a short time."

"But... I mean..."

"Looks like Officer Gardner has thought this through,
Lieutenant Barker," Captain Holloman grinned, joining the conversation for
the first time. "It seems ready to go except for the paper work. I
approve. Get the forms to me before noon." He turned and stalked out of
the office.

It was all going too fast. Frank had been listening quietly,
more amused by Gerry's suggestion than anything else, confident that the
administrators would reject her offer. The Captain's words alarmed him.

"Wait a minute," he protested. "You can't do
this. It's too dangerous. Gerry's only been in homicide for a week. She can't
go under cover. I won't allow it."

Now everyone was staring at Frank. He felt foolish. He had
no authority to interfere with decisions made by the lieutenant and the
captain. No one cared what he would or would not allow. "I mean... I don't
like anything about this plan. It's too..., too dangerous. I can't think of a
more appropriate word." He ducked his head.

"You're out of line, Detective," Lieutenant Barker
scolded.

"Yeah, Loo. You're right. But we have to at least
supply her with a wire."

"No wire," Gerry said. "If I get turned, it's
going to be for a bad performance, not getting patted down by some bruiser in a
night club."

Frank shook his head. "You've got to have some sort of
recording device. Not only for your protection, but to collect evidence."

"No wire," Gerry insisted. "We don't have the
technology on hand right now for me to conceal it successfully, and if I wore
one in my shoe, it would be difficult to get anyone to talk into the mike. No
wire."

"I suppose you're planning on going in without a weapon
too?" Frank was beginning to share Barker's panic.

"Oh, no. I'm not that brave. I own a Smith & Wesson
3913. It's a "compact 9" that fits neatly in my purse. If someone
turns the piece, it's easier to explain than a recording device."

"Where can you get convincing ID's and clothes?"
Barker asked. "We can't come up with your cover like this was a Hollywood
set."

Gerry smiled. "I've got the clothes. I guarantee that
the first time you see me on stage, you won't recognize me. I've never been in
the Ha Ha House, and when Frank and I went to The Wit's End, we were customers.
No one made us as cops."

"Okay. What about false ID?"

"I've got all that from before: driver's license,
library card, video store card, Master Card, even a resume and portfolio of
previous jobs. I'm a split personality, Loo, known in less civilized
circuits," she looked around the officious conference room, "as Bea
Black."

Barker sputtered. "Bea Black? That's ridiculous.
Nobody's named Bea Black. It's too obviously phony."

"It fits," Frank said. "I'm still opposed to
this whole idea, but from what I've learned, that's a perfect name for a
stand-up comic."

"You'll need to check out one of our undercover
cars."

"I know."

"I'll have someone set it up with the DMV so it will
come back as being registered to Bea Black. And, you'll have to refrain from
any contact with the department or other detectives."

"I know."

"Okay." Lieutenant Barker sighed, evidently
resigned to the assignment. "How do you plan to make reports?"

"I'll call Frank if I come across anything. If anyone
sees me on the phone, I'll tell them I'm calling my ex-husband."

Silence.

Lieutenant Barker put her hands on her hips, glaring at the
ceiling and then at Gerry. "Why do I feel I've been sandbagged?"
Barker asked, almost breaking into a smile. "I still don't like anything
about this, but Captain Holloman has ordered it, so..." Her arm swept the
room, "all of you get out of here and get this task force organized. I
don't want Gerry hung out there any longer than necessary." No one moved,
too stunned to react. "Go on now, get. I've got paperwork to do."

The three couples of detectives moved out of the conference
room and walked down the hall toward the stairs. They were clustered in groups
designated by partners. Frank and Gerry were in the front, walking in silence.
Next, about five yards behind, came Stanton and Foster grumbling below earshot
about having drawn a boring and tedious assignment, and commenting about the
strange turn of events. Behind them another five yards, were Arnold Grisham and
Aaron Fox, apparently too stunned to comment.

When Frank and Gerry reached the stairs leading to the squad
room, Gerry broke the silence.

"You pissed at me, partner?"

"Well, yeah. Partners talk these decisions out before
running off and challenging the brass."

"Let's face it, Frank. If I'd brought this idea to you,
you would have done everything possible to squash it. Am I right?"

Frank knew she was right. He answered her question by saying
nothing.

"Am I right?" Gerry asked, her voice louder and
her tone displaying irritation.

Frank simply looked at her and nodded his head, then asked,
"In there, you said you had some experience as a stand-up. You told me
you'd done a little, but have you really done all that?"

"Well, I've thought about it. Let's just call it
'resume enhancement.' Whatever it takes to complete the mission. That's what
they taught me in the Marine Corps," she explained, grinning.

They had reached the squad room. Frank pushed the door open
and held it until all the detectives were inside. Gerry went directly to her
desk and sat with one hip on the top of it, her folders clutched by her side.
Stanton, Foster, Grisham, and Fox formed a semi-circle in front of her. They
looked like students waiting for wisdom from their teacher during an outdoor
field trip.

Frank came up and pushed a mobile white-board where they
could all see it. On the board, he and Gerry had drawn a line down the center
to the halfway point, and a horizontal line from side to side, dividing the
board into two squares at the top and a long rectangle at the bottom. At the
top of the first square was the name "Nguyen," and in the second
square was "Lowe." Below each name were neatly printed facts about
each case. It summed up what had been discussed at the conference.

"We have pictures tacked to the wall near the coffee
pot," Frank started, and waved that way. "All of the files are kept
in this file cabinet." He pointed to a four-drawer gray cabinet beside
Gerry's desk. Gerry eased herself off her desk and put the folders she had been
carrying in the top drawer.

"Well," Foster responded. "Holloman assigned
us the scut work. Where do you want us to start?"

Gerry reached back into the file cabinet and withdrew the
thinner of the two folders. She handed it to Frank, and Frank, looking
quizzical, passed it on to Foster.

"Those are the cases I downloaded from the
Internet," Gerry explained. "I don't know what Frank wants, but if it
were me, I'd start with the oldest and work a time line."

Frank nodded. "Sounds good," he agreed, then
reached into the cabinet and selected the file with the information he had on
the employees of the two clubs. "I think it best to start with the people
connected to the Ha Ha House. That appears to be the main business, and Rankin
spends more time there."

They exchanged cell phone numbers and set a schedule for
reporting to each other, and then the four detectives retired to their desks to
begin their work.

Gerry flashed Frank a charming smile. "Guess I best go
home and get prepared for my interview with Rankin. It's scheduled for high
noon."

"You're pretty damn sure of yourself, Bea Black. What
makes you so sure Rankin will even hire you?"

"I've learned in this business, that if you line your
ducks in a row and present logical solutions to most questions, you generally
get what you want. Besides, when I first joined the department, we did a sting
on a club in Kingwood. A place called Rising Stars. There was a guy working
there named Richard Appleway who helped us out on it. Nice fellow. We've kept
in touch. After the place closed, he moved to New Jersey. I've already called
him. He wasn't there, but I left him a message asking him to vouch for me. I've
got him listed as a reference, and I think he'll back me if it comes down to
it."

"I seem to remember something about the place, but that
begs the question as to why you want to go under cover again."

She laid her hand on his arm and looked at him without a
hint of humor. "Maybe I'm just a ham, partner. Gotta go."

Frank covered her hand with his. "You be careful and
remember, I'm looking out for you."

Now she smiled a small, soft smile, and left.