Send Out The Clowns (Frank River Series) (20 page)

"What did you find in the bathroom?" Frank asked
once they were in the squad car and moving.

"Funny. I found that cretin, Gus, waiting at the top of
the stairs. He directed me to a bathroom in the guest room; I mean, we walked
past two facilities along the way. When I looked under the basin, I found new
makeup, slightly used, and a pamphlet showing various ideas for clown faces.
The faces on the two bodies we have were both there."

"What's bothering you?"

"It's too easy. I think it's a plant."

Frank considered Chad's idea, wondering if all was not
friendly between the two brothers. He remembered what Gretchen Sullivan had
said about resenting the hand that fed you. Was Gus rolling over on Reuben?

"Where are we headed now?" Chad asked.

"HPD. I want to check in with the task force and visit
the lieutenant. She'll have to approve a warrant after what we found out this
morning."

"Search warrant?"

"I'm going to ask for an arrest warrant. Motive is a
little shaky, but we have probable cause, access, and possession of the murder
weapon, the Cinchona tree."

"No peyote for the Lowe murder."

"I'll settle for a conviction on Nguyen." Frank
thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what, you go straight to the task
force and I'll scope out the lieutenant. When I get her approval, we'll go for
Rankin as the murder suspect and Gus as an accessory. If we can get those two in
custody, Gerry will be safe. Then we'll see."

"I still don't like how easy I found the makeup
evidence."

"You sound like me. My old partner always said I tended
to reject evidence as being 'too easy.' I'll admit I have lingering doubts, but
I really think Rankin is our man, and he had to have help. I like Gloomy Gus
for the accessory."

Frank and Chad split up, and Frank made his way to the
lieutenant's office. He found Sheridan Barker on the telephone. She waved him
in and motioned for him to sit, casting an inquisitive glare as she listened to
whoever talked on the other end.

"Okay, Grace."

Captain Holloman's assistant, Grace Villalobos, Frank
decided.

"Detective Rivers just entered my office. I'll come up
as soon as I'm finished here." She hung up and leaned back in her chair.
"So, Frank, bring me up to date. How's the undercover assignment
going?"

Frank filled her in on what had happened since their last
briefing, starting with Gerry and Roger being followed and the sighting of
Rankin's Mercedes at the motel, the progress of the task force and his search
of Rankin's house with Chad Sherman. She sat back in her chair and listened
without interruption, stippling her fingers, her eyes never wavering from his.
When he finished, she leaned forward, placing her arms on the desk.

"So what's next?" she asked.

Frank thought the next step obvious. Maybe her question was
a test. "I want an arrest warrant for both Rankin and Gus," he
stated.

"Why Gus?"

"Rankin couldn't have done this alone. He's confined to
a wheelchair. He had to have had help. It seems to me he has a strong hold on
his brother, and is forcing him to act against his will; however, that doesn't
excuse him as an accessory."

"According to what you've told me, the person who
followed Gerry and Roger last night moved quickly and with agility. That
doesn't sound like Gus. You have no motive for Reuben to have killed Nguyen or
Lowe. You can't connect Reuben with any of the peyote deaths. Any information
you gained from the search this morning is unauthorized and inadmissible. In
short, you're on a witch hunt. You decided early on that Reuben was your man,
and have bent everything in that direction. If I sign an arrest warrant with
what we've got, it'll blow up in our face. I'm aware that Reuben Rankin retains
one of the best lawyers in the city. He'll have Rankin out before the ink's dry
on the booking."

"You aren't going to approve my request?" Frank
couldn't hide his shock and disappointment.

"I -" The telephone rang. She looked angry as she
grabbed the receiver. "Lieutenant Barker." Her eyes flitted; she sat
up straight in her chair. "Oh... hi... wait, you must be crazy... Don't do
that..." She covered the receiver with her hand. Frank saw panic in her
eyes. "Frank, this is something I must handle right now. Excuse me. I'll
meet you downstairs as soon as I can."

Frank pulled himself to his feet and trudged out the door,
aware she was watching him fight his displeasure at being dismissed. He heard
her re-engage the caller as he pulled the door closed behind him. "All right
now. Let's talk sense..."

Frank stood for a moment outside the lieutenant's door,
trying to get his mind around what had transpired. It never entered his
thoughts that Sumbitch would argue against his request for arrest warrants. Her
points were valid, but they had arrested suspects with less evidence than he
had against Rankin. Granted, he didn't have anything on Gus Sullivan except
association and circumstances, but someone had to be helping Rankin.

As he walked to the stairway, a thought hit him. Barker had
talked about Sullivan and Rankin by first name, sounding familiar rather than
official. She had kept up with the case, of course, and she hadn't become
lieutenant on her good looks and personality alone. She was a good cop. Maybe
he was looking for a dent in her armor to salve the rebuke he had suffered by
her put-off. He shrugged and continued down the stairs to the task force room.
It was buzzing when he walked in.

Chad and Olivia Stanton stood side by side in front of the
white boards. Chad had filled the other detectives in on what he and Frank had
discovered earlier, and both boards were covered with notations. He heard
Olivia Stanton suggest they should either get more writing space or redo what
they had, so it was easier to read. George Foster sat at a desk with a
telephone to his ear. Aaron Fox was sorting through a pile of three by five
index cards, shifting them with an expression of studied curiosity as if he was
sorting the suits of a newly dealt bridge hand. Arnold Grisham peered at a computer
monitor, his hands unmoving above the keyboard, hovering like a bird of prey
intent on not missing a single suspicious fluctuation. Everyone turned their
attention to Frank. No questions, only lingering curiosity and observation of
his body language.

"The lieutenant will be down after she handles a phone
call. She seems reluctant to sign an arrest warrant with what we have. So,
what's new since this morning?"

Aaron Fox was the first to speak. "Arnold and I have
been tracing the evidence on the peyote deaths. There's a conspicuous pattern
that follows an MO, and time-line like a blazed trail from Las Vegas to
Houston."

George Foster hung up the telephone and stood, flipping back
and forth between pages of his notebook. "I just talked to John Magruder,
a homicide detective in Galveston," he said. "Magruder was surfing
the net and came across our data on the peyote deaths. He decided that one of
their inactive files, a Jane Doe, bore too much similarity to be ignored."
He walked toward Frank, still studying his notes. "About two years ago,
Magruder couldn't recall the exact date, they discovered a white female
floating nude in the reeds of Offat’s Bay near the 61st Street causeway. She'd
been in the water too long to produce an accurate artist's sketch for ID, but
they've got DNA and prints. No connection on either." He looked up at
Frank. "Here's the kicker. The autopsy showed COD to be an overdose of
peyote."

"Some coincidence," Frank noted.

"It was ruled an accidental death, and filed away until
he saw our case file review. He's going to reopen the case and send us anything
we might be able to use."

"Good work." Frank turned to Aaron Fox. "You
too. How would this new victim fit into your time line?"

"Like a glove. I was worried about a gap between the
last one out of town and Laurie Lowe, but the Galveston body tightens up the
scenario."

"Do we have any more on the suspects associated with
the comedy clubs?"

"Grisham's working on that now."

"Arnold?" Frank asked.

Grisham spun his chair away from the monitor and grinned.
"Most of what I've been able to determine isn't useful. I've got the
details outlined in the file, if you want to go over them. But..."

Frank allowed himself a smile while he watched Grisham milk
the moment. Finally he said, "Yes?" and raised his eyebrows.

"When Chad came in with what y'all found up in River
Oaks, I decided to dig into the affair in Las Vegas that left Rankin
paralyzed."

"Good," Frank smiled. "The stuff I got at the
library was really sketchy."

"Gus Sullivan was involved in a major drug ring and
brother Reuben cooperated with the local narcs to break it up." Grisham
handed a printout to Frank. "You can read the details, but the bottom line
is, Gus was assigned to put a hit on Rankin and blew it. The locals broke the ring
and when Rankin got out of the hospital, he had his lawyer intervene for Gus,
promising to take responsibility for his brother's rehabilitation with the
proviso that if Gus ever relapsed, he would serve the rest of his life in
prison. Don't know how the hell they worked a deal like that. You can bet some
big bills changed hands."

"That certainly gives Reuben a strong hold on Gus, and
provides a reason for resentment," Frank agreed, glancing at Chad.
"Might explain why he would want to help put his brother away."

"Rankin has no problem with nepotism," Grisham
noted. "Sammy Sullivan has a fabricated job as janitor and bouncer, his
wife, Rankin's sister-in-law tends bar, and Gus is Rankin's lackey. Makes one
wonder who else in the employment pool owes their livelihood to Rankin's Good
Samaritan policy."

"I agree," Frank nodded. "What do we know
about Rankin's life before the shooting?"

"Not much. He married young, but about the time he was
making a splash in Vegas, there was a nasty divorce. His wife drops off the map
after that."

"Any children?"

"Yeah, two daughters: twelve and three at the time of
the divorce, but what happened to them is shadowy. I'll see if I can run
anything down on them." Grisham returned to the computer.

Frank read the printout Grisham had retrieved from the
Internet and was turning to say something to Olivia Stanton when the door to
the room burst open, interrupting his thoughts.

Captain Holloman marched in, glowering more than usual.
"Detective Rivers," he barked. "We've got a problem. Lieutenant
Barker just barged into my office and resigned from the force."

Gerry opened her eyes and rolled over in the bed. Roger
stood in front of the window, his fingers holding the drapes in such a way that
he could see out without opening a major gap. She hugged herself and felt a
broad grin cover her face as she took in the magnificence of Roger, a strong,
muscled brute of a man whom she knew had a heart as big as Texas and a gentle
disposition, except when he was in pursuit of some scumbag drug pusher or on
the tail of an effete motorist driving recklessly in a controlled zone.

"What you doing, Roger? Looking for an escape
route?" she asked.

He didn't turn around, kept peering out the window.
"No. I'm counting my blessings and trying to figure a way to make this
assignment last a long time." He looked at her and smiled. "Only
problem is, the department don't take kindly to sexual interaction between
officers. Wrong folks find out, we could be in deep doo-doo."

"The way I figure it, Sumbitch booked the rooms. She
didn't want us sleeping together, she shouldn't have specified adjoining rooms.
Shit's on her is my thinking."

Roger rolled his eyes and returned his gaze to the gap in
the window curtains. Gerry crawled out of bed and stretched like a lioness
getting ready for a night's hunt. It was Roger's turn to admire his partner, a
tall, well-toned feminine figure capable of causing a man to lose his sense of
decorum.

"You best get in the shower and put some clothes on or
we aren't ever gonna get to work."

Gerry flashed a provocative look and posed with her hands on
her hips. "You like what you see, big guy? Even the morning after?"

"I've liked seeing you ever since we first met. It gets
better every day. Now get out of here." He forced himself to turn back to
the window.

Gerry grabbed up her clothes and sauntered into the
bathroom. Roger waited until he heard the water running before he went to his
own room to get dressed.

Frank and the other officers of the task force stared in
disbelief. Chad Sherman was the only one able to mouth a response.

"What?" he asked. "Why on earth would she do
that?"

"I'm not absolutely certain about her
explanation," Captain Holloman replied, "but she claims she can no
longer carry out her duties without jeopardizing either her integrity or her
oath of office."

"I was just talking to her," Frank commented.
"Then, she got a phone call and ran me out, saying she would be down
momentarily."

Holloman walked over and hunched a hip on a desk, staring at
the white boards, and spoke more to the chains of evidence than to anyone in
the room. "I talked to her earlier this morning and she didn't strike me
as having a problem. Must have been that phone call." He looked at Frank.
"You got any idea who it was from or what it was about?"

"I was discussing how I wanted a warrant to arrest
Reuben Rankin," Frank explained. "She was picking holes in my
reasoning, like normal, when the phone interrupted. It sounded more like a
domestic problem than an official one."

Holloman considered this, looking at the floor. "Well,
I did my best to talk her out of it, but if there's anything I've learned about
Sheridan, it's that she knows her mind. Once it's decided, there's no changing
it."

"This puts us in a bind here, Captain," George
Foster offered. "We're closing in on this case, but we need all the
manpower we can get."

"Okay, here's what we'll do," Holloman decided as
he stood and clapped at the seat of his pants. "Frank, I'm assigning you
the lieutenant's responsibilities as of now. George, you take over Frank's job
as head of the task force. Sherman, you work with Stanton until we can find a
new detective to replace Frank."

Olivia Stanton beamed and sidled up to Chad. "What an
opportunity, Sherman. Maybe I can weasel in and make you forget about that idea
of leaving the department." Chad subconsciously fingered his wedding band
with his thumb and tried to b)ow the advance off as a tight-hearted comment.

"That all sounds reasonable," Frank agreed.
"As long as it's temporary."

Holloman snapped a glare at Frank. "Why temporary,
Rivers? You should have taken the opening when we hired Sheridan Barker."

"I'm no good at administration, Captain. I do my best
work on the street."

"I agree, but I'm the administrator. Barker chose to
run her office from a chair, but it's my thinking that the Lieutenant of
Homicide should work closely with the detectives in his or her department. You
can get as much street time as you want."

"I agree, Frank," Arnold Grisham nodded. "I
think you being the Loo is the best thing that could happen around here."

Frank was surprised at these words of support from one of
the people who'd been icing him ever since he sent Skip up. He scanned the
other detectives, and they each nodded in return. Chad showed a broad smile and
raised his thumb upward like Caesar sparing a valiant gladiator.

"We'll see," Frank murmured, knowing this was
neither the time nor the place to discuss his promotion. "We better get
back to work."

"Come on, Frank," Holloman urged, taking him by
the elbow, "Let me brief you in the office." They headed for the
door, Frank looking like a sheep headed for the slaughterhouse.

Donned in their "working" clothes, the two under
cover officers parked their car and walked into Denny's for breakfast.

"I'm glad this place serves breakfast 'round the clock.
I don't like to start a working day without eggs and sausage, no matter the
time," Roger smiled.

"Not me. That stuff is bad for my figure. I'm going
with juice and coffee, lots of coffee, and maybe a salad."

"A few calories won't show under that get-up you're
wearing."

"Yeah, I hear that, but one look in the mirror tells me
I don't want to look like this offstage."

"Did you call Frank?"

"No. I'll do that later in the car. We don't have
anything new to report, but I want to check in before we get to the club."

A Hispanic woman bristling with the energy and the banter
that suggested a long career in waitressing showed them to a booth, dropped the
menus and returned quickly with two cups and a brown and black carafe of
coffee. Before Gerry could down her first sip, she felt her cell phone vibrate
at her waist. She rolled her eyes.

"I've got a call. It'll be Frank." Roger nodded.
She stood and headed for the restroom so no one would overhear her
conversation. When she returned to the table, the food had been delivered and
Roger was putting hot sauce on his eggs.

"You aren't going to believe what Frank just told
me." Roger stuffed a fork full of eggs into his mouth and leaned back to
listen.

The first action Frank took after Captain Holloman left the
lieutenant's office was complete an arrest warrant request on Reuben Rankin,
aka Reuben Sullivan. He gave it to Grace Villalobos. When he arrived back in
"his" office, he called Gerry's cell phone number, filled her in on
the unexpected events of the morning, and told her he would drop by the Ha Ha
House for her evening routine. He scanned the incoming files and decided Barker
had left the ship with all current work up to date. He was reaching for the
telephone to tell Grace Villalobos he would be in the task force room, when it
rang.

"Frank Rivers."

"Good morning, Frank." There was no doubt the
voice was Reuben Rankin. "Congratulations on your promotion."

"You do have a pipeline to this office, Rankin. How
many other offices do you keep under surveillance?"

"None, actually, although at this juncture, I doubt you
believe me. That should all be cleared up soon."

"What's on your mind, Rankin?"

"Have you requested a warrant for my arrest yet?"

"It's in the works."

"I was told that would be your first act as
lieutenant."

Frank didn't respond.

"That's what this call is about, Frank. I'll surrender
today under two conditions."

Frank didn't respond.

"Condition one, I will only surrender to you
personally. If you send any other officer, my lawyer has the proper papers
prepared to avoid the arrest."

Frank remained silent.

"Condition two, Gus has dropped out of sight, so I'll
need you to pick me up and drive me to HPD. Do you have any problems with
either of these contingencies?"

Sounds like a trap, Frank mused. "I don't have a
problem with either of your demands, Rankin. Give me some time and I'll be
there."

"Anytime between six and seven should work. I'll look
for you then." Rankin hung up.

Frank looked at the buzzing phone for a long time, wondering
what other surprises were in store for him today.

Gerry and Roger entered the Ha Ha House and walked to the
bar, their heels echoing in the vastness of the empty hall. Gretchen met them
with what normally served as her smile.

"Another day older, and another step closer to Social
Security," The Grinch said.

Roger squirmed onto a stool and ordered a beer. Gerry asked
Gretchen to have a glass of white wine sent to her dressing room, and strolled
away to get out of her Bea Black street clothes and into her Bea Black stage dress.
She didn't particularly like white wine and didn't intend to drink much of it,
but the routine was part of Bea's persona. She planned to drink enough to have
the aroma on her breath and pour the remainder on an innocuous
"mother-in-law's tongue" plant that sat on a coffee table in the
dressing room, wondering to herself if that ugly damn plant would survive this
assignment.

She had hardly closed the door when it opened again and
Marsha Meyers came in carrying the wine glass on a round, dark brown plastic
tray. Gerry thought Mars looked more vacuous than usual. The girl placed the
glass on the dressing table and started to leave, then turned, with her hand on
the doorknob.

"Oh, incidentally," she reported. "We got
word that Chuck Wood won't be in tonight, so I guess you'll have to introduce
yourself."

Before Gerry could process this information and respond,
Meyers had swept out of the room and closed the door.