A Fear of Clowns (The Greasepaint Chronicals) (9 page)

"Jay! That was some good
work. Have you eaten anything today?" There was real concern in the words,
which was warranted, as it turned out.

"Half a bagel, before I left
this morning. I hear I get paid in sandwiches though, so things are looking
up!"

Benny, who'd packed things up
already, gave him a dirty look and walked over.

"Damn, are you always on
then? I don't suppose I can get some help carrying things to my room? You're
like the stage manager, right?" There were three big boxes, all with
handles, but the man clearly didn't want to leave them there behind the curtain.

Jason nodded, even if it wasn't
exactly right. He'd been hired, and that meant doing whatever he could to make
himself valuable, didn't it?

"Close enough! Let's get
that done, then get something to eat? I could change first." This got him
to glance at Carlos, who nodded.

"That's a plan. Let's all
meet in twenty minutes? In the restaurant on the first floor. They still have a
buffet set up for us. Max set it up."

Everyone changed, and he helped
get Benny to his room, which was only three doors away from his own. That
meant, by hurrying and scrubbing a bit more roughly than normal, he wasn't too
late. Hobo makeup was just lighter than the full face kind. Easier to remove.

So, pink faced and tired he got
into the restaurant, and settled next to Benny and one of the Rhondettes. The
ventriloquist was flirting with her pretty outrageously, but she was giving as
good as she got. Her name was Micki, which he tried to remember, placing the
name to the face and repeating it several times in his head. Then he tried to
do the rest of them, after getting his plate of food. It was good, but he
barely noticed it. Mainly because everyone started complaining almost
instantly. Well, not
everyone
. Wendy was fine, just eating a salad
without dressing, and Carlos munched small portions of a more well rounded
plate of food, but the rest seemed bitter suddenly.

Rhonda complained about her
music, her voice slightly angry. "That shouldn't have happened. Even a
high school production would have better sound tech than this place. The lights
were
good, but that bull with Joey shouldn't have been needed at all.
Not that you didn't save my tush out there. I was about to quit, and I actually
need this job."

Micki smiled, "our tushes,
plural. It's good to see a pro at work like that. Not that it excuses that
mess. First day though, so like the man said, we can fix it." That was
nearly positive, compared to what everyone else did next. Which was whine and
complain, mainly at him, since he was sort of like someone important now.

Rather than complain back, he
ate, and listened to what was being said. Benny was the worst, being that he
wanted a personal assistant to help with his gear, a free pass for a massage in
the salon, which was a thing that Jay didn't even know they had there, and some
of that cocaine that Max had mentioned earlier. When he finally wound down,
Jason tilted his head.

"I'll ask about an
assistant, and help you move things myself for now, so you won't be stuck. I'll
look into the massages, for everyone, since that could be a cool perk. As for
drugs... No. I won't help with that. No judgments, but I've had problems with
booze and even drugs are too tempting for me. So you get the drill there, if
you want that kind of thing, either get it yourself or don't do it." That
would have to be in the morning, since he'd been up for nearly a day already. Yawning
he explained, and then stood, to get to bed. It was going to be an early day,
after all. For him at least.

Jason didn't have an alarm, but
the clock in the room did, so he set it for nine-thirty, hoping to get six
hours of honest sleep. The bed was soft, and even the idea that hundreds or
thousands of others had used it, probably for things he didn't want to consider
really, didn't faze him at all. What were hotels for, if not to sleep in the
filth of strangers? Life on the street had cured him of any squeamishness that
his middle class upbringing had left him anyway. You did what you had to.

The night was calm, except for a
few people talking too loudly in the hallway, and he managed to get cleaned up
and shaved, and dressed for the day, in his second best clown outfit, with his
one nice jacket and pair of job hunting slacks on underneath. Wendy had bought
them for him, so that he'd have at least one nice thing to wear. The outfit over
that had been sewn, by him, and wasn't that poorly done. It was all in loud
stripes, with six different colors. He put on his happy mask, but didn't have
any makeup on underneath it yet. That would come later in the day, but he had
that lunch meeting, and even the police might find it hard to take him
seriously if he showed up in full clown gear.

There was no time to eat, since
he was supposed to put in four hours a day as a greeter, or whatever they
called what he was doing. He ran through material, and made jokes, as well as
showed people around, and called for drinks if people wanted them. That, and
handed out coupons. Mainly he just had to be helpful and sound happy.
Approachable too. A few people avoided him, because some people really hated
clowns, like Deputy Mills back in Brickston, but in the main it worked pretty
well. Just before noon he managed to find the second meeting room, which was on
the second floor, strangely enough. His buddy Kibs, the janitor showed him to
it.

"Here you go, Joe. Say, you
do parties? My granddaughter is having a birthday in two weeks. I probably
can't afford a real clown, but we're old buddies and all that. Maybe I can get
a discount?"

He pulled the mask off and
nodded, his thin face exposed to the man for the first time. Then he let his
voice drop back to normal. It was a relief, after the last few hours.

"Sure. Let me know when and
I'll try to schedule it off. How old is she?" Memories of poor Seth's
party a few days before flooded back, but Kibs had better news.

"Nine. Growing up so fast.
Kids do that. You have any?"

That was a hard question to
answer, without going into a whole back story that he didn't particularly feel
like sharing.

"No." It felt wrong,
saying that. Alex was his, even if he were a horrible father that hadn't called
in years.

The man didn't seem unhappy to
hear that, and just nodded, his short gray hair not moving at all. Salt and
pepper more than white. He wasn't all that old, being about five to ten years
more than Jay was himself, at most. He already had a granddaughter too. It
showed that he was more successful, in a way, than Jason Hadley had ever been.

Then, using the string that
hooked to the zipper and tucked inside the outfit, he took it off, revealing
his black suit underneath. Kibs just nodded, as if that was what all the clowns
wore.

"Well, here you are. I'll
get back to you with that party information?"

"I look forward to it."
He didn't, really, but even if he was doing it for free, being the man that was
useful just made sense. Even for the rest of the staff. Who knew when he'd need
a buddy that could get him cleaning supplies? It didn't seem likely, but it
could come up.

He had a large case with him, one
that was fake leather, and looked like an oversized doctor's bag from an old
movie. It was big enough for him to fold his outfit up and stuff it in, along
with his mask, and overshoes, before going into the room. Everyone else was
already there, but there was no food yet. For some reason he didn't think they
were going to get any, lunch meeting or not.

Greg, the head of security gave
him a searching look, but didn't ask who he was. The large fellow just spoke,
his voice a bit gruff, but not totally unkind.

"It looks like we're all
here, gentlemen. Let's get started?"

The two men dressed in jackets
and ties both nodded, as if that only made sense.

"Detectives Carter and
Rennet, Las Vegas Police Department." The dark man that stood didn't say
which one of those he was, but it was probably Carter, since he gave that name
first. The other man, who looked young enough to be the first man's son and
white enough to be Jason's, just nodded and leaned forward to shake. "We
hear that you're being brought in to consult on this? What's the angle? Mr.
Michelson wasn't very clear on that part of things." There was a look
across the room at the man, who seemed embarrassed by being represented by a
clown, even if he was in civilian clothing.

Jay got that, without having to
ask about it at all. He wasn't really there in official clown capacity though,
so went with the part of him that made sense. He did have some skills that
might relate, after all.

"Doctor Jason Hadley. Phd,
not Md. I specialize in historical reconstructions and data analysis. It's
similar to what you gentlemen do, only with an eye toward historical context.
If possible I'll reconstruct the operation and identify who was involved. Then
I'll work out why it happened. It may not be achievable, but that depends on
the data." He waved to the large screen television that was set up, and
moved to the chair that the older detective gestured to.

The man smiled.

"That works for me. This
isn't a criminal investigation, so it doesn't matter. Let's take a look?"

The video was cut together from
tens of different views, and from the change of clothing showed the people in
question working over fifteen days, it stopped suddenly, as one woman, who was
at the blackjack table turned. She was one of the performers, and looked like
it. Pretty, in a blonde way, and young. Behind her, looking directly at the
woman, was his friend, Ginger the waitress. The one that had asked him about
the whole thing, or at least brought it up.

Greg walked to the front, remote
control in hand. "There. You can just make out the ear piece. There are
others. The confederates stood back and signaled to the players, so that they
could do the calculations off site. That's the theory at least."

It went on, and in the end they
watched nearly an hour of footage, with the security man assuring them that
they actually had hundreds of hours of proof. It was a bit strange, but he kept
noticing a certain waitress, watching each of the cheating people closely. Not
all the time, but enough that it stood out to him.

Jason nodded as soon as it was
finished.

"I see the problem. There's
no way to tell who was actually running the thing. If they set it up correctly
they could have another team in place inside a week, or sooner, doing the same
thing. How much did they get?"

The security man grunted, and
then shrugged. It wasn't a pleased thing at all.

"About a hundred thousand
before we caught on. If they'd spread things out and not used employees it
would have taken longer. People win, sometimes. That
is
the real thing
here, whoever was running it is still unknown. That's why we asked you in. If
they did it to us, who's next? They could strip all the casinos in Vegas, if
they worked it right." He looked at the screen, his face dark and a bit
angry. It made sense, given that someone had pretty much just ate his lunch and
could do it again anytime they wanted. A proud man would have to have a problem
with that.

The detectives didn't seem to
have any clues, but Jason thought he had some places to start. "The style
reminds me of the MIT blackjack team. They managed a similar scam for a while,
until they came forward, in fact. It was a group effort, but I'm willing to bet
that any of them, or anyone smart enough, could put something similar together.
That narrows things down to a few hundred thousand people." He smiled,
because it was a joke, but the younger detective gave him a nod.

"Yep. If they were that
smart they never came into the building either. It might pay to ask some of
these people a few questions. The ones that were let go. In the mean time, the
best you can do here is probably keep an eye out. We'll make sure the word gets
passed to the other casinos in the area. You'll do the same?" This got
said to Greg, who nodded.

"Already done. We've got a
network set up. Thanks for coming, gentlemen. Doctor Hadley." They all
shook hands, but the two police detectives left first, with Michelson stopping
Jay from leaving with a hand on his shoulder. He felt almost like a little kid
that had been caught shoplifting candy.

"Wait. That was a good line,
but what if they run your info?"

Jason understood what he meant.
It would look a bit off, or could, if he'd been lying.

"Then they'll see that I'm
exactly who, and what, I told them I was. Just because I'm working here doesn't
take away the degree. If it comes up I also used to be a college professor.
History. I might be again someday too, if all goes well. For now, I'm here,
that's all."

"Oh." That was the only
thing he said, but he did let go of Jay's shoulder. After a moment he made a
face, one that seemed considering, rather than dismissive. "Can you really
do all that crud you said? With the data and all that? If we can figure this
out, reconstruct the methods, then I bet we can stop it from happening again.
Or at least make it harder to pull off on us."

That was probably true, but he
already knew what was going on. Or, if he were going to be fair, he had a
starting place, which was more than the cops had. Sighing he pointed to the
television. "Run it again? There was something I realized, from context. I
don't have much time right now, but..." It was all there, right on the
screen.

He watched Ginger, and pointed to
who she kept looking at, which at least showed that she was being pretty
attentive to the performers. That might have just been her version of star
gazing, since she'd done that to him too, but it seemed off. He looked at them
blankly, most of the time. With him she'd smiled, or even looked slightly
suspicious. With these cheating folk, she watched closely, but tried to pretend
she wasn't.