Catch a Crooked Clown

With love to my granddaughter Kathryn Joan McGowan—J. L. N.

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B
RIAN PULLED HIS BIKE
to a quick stop as he saw a crowd gathering up ahead. “What’s going on?” Sean yelled. He stopped his bike next to Brian’s and hopped off. “There’s one way to find out,” Brian said, “but we’ll have to make it fast. It’s got to be at least four o’clock, and we’re supposed to be home by five.” He leaned his bike into a nearby rack and ran down the sidewalk to join the crowd, which was opposite the open main doors of a small shopping mall. Sean was right behind him.

Stumbling in his very large shoes, a clown in a wild green wig and a baggy costume pushed through the crowd. His painted grin and black crisscross eyes made him look as though he’d burst out laughing at any minute. Flip-flopping along, he handed out balloons and flyers.

Brian reached for a flyer and read it. “Hey Sean,” he said, “the Star-Spangled Circus will have its grand-opening performance tomorrow evening. Want to go?”

“Sure,” Sean said, but his attention was on the small monkey that rode on the clown’s left shoulder. The monkey wore a loose leather collar that was attached to a short leash, and the monkey kept jerking at the collar, as though he were unhappy about being tied up.

“Oh-oh,” Sean said. “Bri, do you know what I think? That collar—”

Suddenly, the monkey pulled the collar over his head, leaped from the clown’s shoulder, and dashed through the nearby open door to the mall.

“That’s just what I thought he’d do,” Sean yelled.

Some of the onlookers shrieked, and some of them laughed. Almost all of them ran with the stumbling, tripping clown after the monkey. Brian and Sean hurried after them.

The nearest store was Hart’s Jewels. The monkey, with the clown right behind him, jumped from counter to counter, then out the entrance and into the gift shop next door.

If I can just get ahead of him, Sean thought. The monkey leaped, and Sean grabbed for him, but missed.

“Darn!” Sean said and tried again, but this time the monkey dove right over Sean’s head.

From there the monkey raced into a sports-wear store. The clown and the yelling, laughing crowd gave chase.

It was just a hop and a swing into the next store—a small drugstore. The monkey would have made it except for Sean, who saw where he’d be heading and waited for him at the door. The monkey leaped, and Sean caught him, holding him tightly.

“There, there,” Sean murmured, as the monkey huddled against him, trembling. “You’re okay, little guy. Don’t be afraid.”

Brian and the drugstore owner kept the crowd back until the clown caught up.

“Your monkey’s collar is too loose.” Sean said to the clown. “He was able to pull it right over his head.”

The clown didn’t speak. His real lips, inside the painted grin, looked tight and angry, and he glared at Sean. He fastened the collar on the monkey, snatched him out of Sean’s arms, and stumbled and tripped his way out of the mall and to the sidewalk.

With the excitement over, the onlookers walked away. But Brian and Sean followed the clown. They watched him step into a dark brown sedan. They weren’t able to see the driver through the tinted windows, but Brian pulled out his private investigator’s notebook and pen and jotted down the license plate as the car drove off in the direction of the circus grounds.

“Why do you want his license number?” Sean asked. “You know the clown’s with the circus.”

“Private investigators never take anything for granted,” Brian told him.

Sean shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe that clown isn’t with the circus. Circus clowns are supposed to be funny, but this one was a real grouch.” He thought a moment, then said, “It sounds weird, Bri, and don’t laugh. But I think that clown was mad at me for saying that the monkey’s collar was too loose. It was kinda like he knew it was loose on purpose, but he didn’t want anyone else to know.”

Brian didn’t laugh. He said, “The clown should have thanked you for catching his monkey, but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything to you at all.”

Sean shrugged. “Okay, so he was rude. It doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I don’t know,” Brian said. “Maybe we should find out.”

D
URING THE REST OF
the day Sean worked so hard studying for a history test, he forgot all about the clown. So he was surprised when a friend of the family, Detective Sergeant Thomas Kerry, came to the Quinns’ home that evening to talk to Brian and Sean.

“Gus Hart told me you were in the crowd that chased after the monkey this afternoon,” he said.

Mrs. Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “What monkey?” she asked.

“What’s this about a monkey?” Mr. Quinn asked at the same time.

“Brian, suppose you tell your parents what happened. Sean can fill in,” Sergeant Kerry said. “Describe everything you saw. I’d like to hear all the details.”

Brian nodded. “There was a clown walking along Main Street. He handed out flyers about the opening performance of the Star-Spangled Circus tomorrow night. He was about five ten or eleven, and he was wearing huge shoes he could hardly walk in, baggy clothes, a straw hat with a daisy on it, and a big grin.”

“And he was real crabby,” Sean said.

Sergeant Kerry stopped writing. “I thought Brian said he was grinning.”

“The grin was painted on,” Sean said. “Besides, he didn’t even thank me.”

“Thank you? For what?” Mrs. Quinn asked.

“Because I caught his monkey,” Sean said.

Mr. Quinn gave a long sigh. “What are we talking about?” he asked.

Sergeant Kerry broke in. “Suppose we let Brian finish telling what happened. Then Sean can add his comments.”

Brian went on to describe the chase. “Sean figured out where the monkey would run next, so he was waiting for him outside the drugstore and—”

“I caught him!” Sean interrupted. “All by myself!”

“Good for you, dear.” Mrs. Quinn smiled at Sean.

Brian looked at Sergeant Kerry. “What else happened? Something did, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m here because of a complaint,” Sergeant Kerry said. “The owners of three of the shops in that mall claim they were burglarized. Gus Hart, in the jewelry shop; Merilee Hughes, in the gift shop; and Ron Harris in the sportswear shop. They all noticed during the late afternoon that small items were missing from their stores. They can’t be positive—especially Hart, who was at home working on his expenses at the time—but they think the thefts happened while the clown was rushing through the aisles, trying to catch the monkey.”

“There were lots of people there besides the clown,” Brian said. “I think everyone who’d been watching the clown ran into the mall after the monkey.”

Sergeant Kerry nodded. “Just between us, Gus Hart complains every time carnivals or circuses come to town. He insists they’re bad for business because people spend money with them, instead of with the stores in Redoaks.” He shrugged. “However, he claims that a gold bracelet and necklace were stolen from a display case on the counter, so I have to investigate the burglary.”

He looked at his notebook again, then back to Brian. “Do you have any idea what time the monkey chase took place? The clerks in the shops can’t agree.”

“The clock over Mr. Hart’s desk was at 4:02 p.m.,” Brian said. “It’s a large clock, and I noticed it.”

“And remembered the time. You’re a good investigator,” Mr. Quinn said proudly.

“Did you notice any suspicious actions on the part of the clown or any of the others who ran into the store?” Sergeant Kerry asked.

Brian and Sean looked at each other, then shook their heads.

“I was paying more attention to the monkey than to the people,” Brian said.

“Me, too,” Sean said. “I was thinking of how scared the poor monkey looked and how I could catch him.”

Brian pulled out his notebook, found the page he wanted, and handed it to Sergeant Kerry. “Someone in a brown sedan with tinted windows picked up the clown. I copied the license plate.”

“Very good,” Sergeant Kerry said. He wrote down the information. Then he opened his briefcase and took out a sketch of a clown face. “Do you recognize this?” he asked.

“Yes,” Brian and Sean answered at the same time.

“That’s him,” Brian said. “How’d you find a witness who could remember everything about the face so clearly?”

“The sketch isn’t from a witness description,” Sergeant Kerry said. “It’s from one of the circus ads. Crackers the Clown. His real name is Marco Moroney. He comes from a long line of circus clowns. He and his partner, Dale Erhard, own the Star-Spangled Circus together.”

Mr. Quinn broke in. “Does this Marco Moroney have a list of prior arrests? Has he pulled this trick in other towns in which the circus has appeared?”

Sergeant Kerry shook his head. “No. That’s what’s strange about this situation. Moroney doesn’t have a police record, and there’s never been a single complaint from local merchants when the Star-Spangled Circus was around.” He glanced again at the picture before he tucked it away. “However, a number of people—like you two—identified this picture right away.”

Sergeant Kerry thanked Brian and Sean for their help. Then he got to his feet and headed to the door. Mr. Quinn, who walked with him, asked, “What’s your next step, Tom?”

“One of my assistants is getting a search warrant, and we’re going to the circus grounds to look for the stolen items and talk to Moroney,” Sergeant Kerry said.

Sean thought about the clown’s angry glare. Sergeant Kerry would find out that Marco Moroney wasn’t as friendly as his makeup made him appear to be. He was downright mean!