Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [53]
“So you didn’t see anything?”
She said, “I wouldn’t go that far. You saw the clown too, didn’t you?”
“Clown? What are you talking about?”
“Standing just to the side of you was a man in clown makeup. He had on a red and blue suit and wore those ridiculous floppy shoes, too. I thought it odd that he had one of those toy guns that said bang on a piece of cloth unfurled from the barrel just after that poor woman was shot. Quite inappropriate, if you ask me.”
“I missed him,” I admitted. “I was more focused on Gretel falling.”
“He was standing right beside the cannon, I don’t know how you could have missed him.”
“Did you tell the police what you saw?”
She said, “I tried, but the moment I mentioned the clown, the deputy I was speaking with got an odd look on his face, as if he were trying not to laugh. Well, sir, I know when I’m being mocked. I wasn’t about to just stand there and take it.”
“I don’t suppose you could identify this clown if you saw him again, could you?”
“Mr. Black, are you making fun of me as well?” she asked as she started to rise out of her chair.
“No, Ma’am, I just remember reading that most clowns like to stick to a particular design in their makeup. I was just wondering what this clown’s face looked like.”
“They really are evil, aren’t they, always mocking us,” she said. “This one had teardrops running down each cheek, and a huge frown painted across his mouth. That’s all I remember. Honestly, I shouldn’t even have been there in the first place, but I went by Flickering Lights and they were closed.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked.
“Now Mr. Black, to be fair, I didn’t even know about At Wick’s End. I just moved to Micah’s Ridge.”
I waved a hand in the air. “I’m not worried about where you were shopping. I thought Flickering Lights was open all day Saturday.”
“I’m sure the store was open at some point, but I must have caught Mr. Grant on his lunch hour. I knew Gretel was operating a booth, so I decided to drive over to New Conover on the spur of the moment.”
I fully realized that there were businesses that closed during lunch, especially on Saturdays, but Jubal had claimed to have worked through his lunch hour that day. Had he lied to me, or had he stepped into the restroom for a discreet break, unwilling to leave the candleshop unattended for even a few moments? Or perhaps he’d stepped out for a bite and didn’t want to admit that he’d closed the shop. I envied him the ability to do it if that was the case, but it just highlighted the differences between working at a store and owning it. When I’d first taken over At Wick’s End, I was reticent to even close the place down at night, and it was obvious from my conversations with Jubal that candlemaking wasn’t a passion for him.
Our food came before I had the chance to ask any more questions, and once that sandwich was in front of Evelyn, she lost all interest in talking to me. It was amazing watching her devour her order. It took me a few minutes to remember my own sandwich, lying half-forgotten on my plate.
When she’d finished, Evelyn said, “That was wonderful. I’ve been dying to try it since I first came here. Thank you, Mr. Black.”
I couldn’t believe she’d taken advantage of me like that, but there was nothing left to do but be gracious about the whole thing. “You’re most welcome. I have another question. Would you be willing to talk to the police again about this clown you saw?”
She stood and said, “I doubt it. What do you expect me to do, pick him out of a lineup? Come now, he was in full makeup. I wouldn’t know the man if he walked up to me on the street and slapped me in the face with a dead fish.”
“What makes you think it was a man?” I asked.
“Come now, it was a general expression.” She started for the door, then paused and looked back at me. “Actually, I’m fairly certain it was a man. He had an average build, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made me assume his gender. I’m truly sorry I couldn’t be more help to you.”
She bolted out the door before