Hallow Be the Haunt (Krewe of Hunters #22.5)(21)

Chapter 6



Clowns, not witches.

But a trio.

And Ashley had seen clearly they were heading for the man dressed elegantly as Henry VIII.

They had been coming her way. And they stopped—as if stunned—when they’d seen her. Why? Because she’d resembled the woman in the painting?

It might be a stretch of the imagination, but with Jake out on the street—hopefully catching a clown—she moved through the still-laughing crowd toward the stage, listening.

“That was great,” someone said. “An FBI guy in a cape chasing clowns.”

“Isn’t that life?” someone else replied.

“This party gets better every year. You just never know what you’ll see. Performances all around,” another woman said.

Ashley was by them. King Henry VIII was up near the stage, clapping. The performance had just ended and the band was picking back up where it had left off—now playing a Journey song.

Henry VIII turned from the stage and the thudding music to Ashley. She couldn’t tell much about him—he was wearing a wig, cap, and fake facial hair—but he seemed to quickly size her up.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Richard Showalter. Nice to meet you. And you are…?”

“Ashley,” she said. He didn’t really want her last name. He was thinking about the direction in which the night might take them.

She hesitated, not sure how to ask a man why three evil clowns might want to kill him.

“Did you—see the clowns?” she asked.

“Yeah. Cool costumes.”

“They seemed focused on you.”

“Maybe they’re fans.”

“Oh? What do you do?” Ashley asked him.

“Well, I blog. Mainly. I have a few books out, too. Nonfiction. The state of man and all that. You’re sure you’ve never heard of me? I’m on local TV often enough.”

“I’m sorry. The state of man. What exactly do you see the state of man being?”

“Well, it’s rather sad, to be honest. I was just on TV—local network affiliate—talking against some of the laws being bandied about. Florida—and that ‘stand your ground’ thing. People are taking the law into their own hands. And, because of it, other people are being murdered. It’s not a self-defense thing. Okay, so yes, we get crime waves. But then you get idiots out there who want to shoot up the crooks. And end up shooting others. Or baiting crooks to come on over and get shot. I did a great piece on supporting our local police, bolstering them up instead of tearing them down.”

She stared at him, wondering where to go from there. Was someone in the city wanting to murder crooks—and then, maybe, murder Richard Showalter for not wanting crooks to be murdered in the street?

But that brought them back to Shelley Broussard. She was no crook.

She didn’t have to say anything more. Jake was back, panting a little. Obviously concerned as he caught up to her.

“This is Richard Showalter. He writes a blog,” Ashley told him and studied his reaction. He shook his head slightly.

He hadn’t caught up with any clowns.

“And I have several books out,” Showalter said, shouting to be heard over the music. He was being polite, not necessarily interested in the conversation any more—now that another man was involved. He knew he wasn’t going to be taking Ashley home with him.

“About?” Jake asked.

At least Showalter’s ego was such that he had to stay and tell Jake what he did.

Jake didn’t hesitate.

“I think those clowns were about to kill you,” he said flatly.

“Hey, I’m not your size but I’m not a shrinking violet either. I could have held my own—until security reached me, at least. Until the law stepped in.”

“No,” Jake said. “They didn’t mean to beat you up. They wanted to slit your throat.”

“Ah, come on, it’s Halloween,” Showalter said, clearly not taking the threat seriously. “But really, enough is enough. You two are obviously together. If you don’t mind, I’d kind of like to meet a new friend tonight.”

Jake pulled out his credentials.

“Where’d you buy that? Looks real,” Showalter said.

“It is real,” Jake snapped, his patience evidently on edge. “You heard about the witches who killed the man the other day.”

“Of course.”

“Well, I believe that was them.”

“Those were clowns.”

“Oh, good God!” Jake exploded. “They were dressed up as witches. Now they’re dressed up as clowns. And they seem to have a vendetta against you. They were heading straight for you.”

“Witches, clowns, whatever. I’m not a criminal,” Showalter said indignantly. His confidence, however, seemed to be fraying. “The guy who was killed… He was a criminal. Sure, that’s my platform—people just can’t take the law into their own hands. It’s against everything we stand for as Americans. And it causes more and more damage. Oh, my God.” He stopped, his face draining of color as the situation became clear to him. “Do you really think that they were the killers and… You think they wanted to kill me? Right here? Now? In this crowd?”