Who Killed The Clown?

By Paul Kater

Lester Jones isn't your usual detective. He's a Pagan and sometimes resorts to less common ways to solve his assignments. Lester also isn't a famous, well-known detective, which is reflected by his lack of clientèle and his financial state. Until one day a client asks him to locate a missing person.
This is the beginning of a hunt for a lady and for the answer to the question "Who killed the clown?" The road to this answer leads Lester past many people and places, along which he also had to admit his love for someone special.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Kater
• Release date: Dec 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310257025

Paul Kater

Paul Kater was born in the Netherlands in 1960. He quickly developed a feel for books and languages but ended up in the IT business despite that. Books and languages never ceased to fascinate him, so since 2003 he's been actively writing, encouraged by friends on the internet. The internet is the reason why most of his work is in English. A friend asking for writing help is why some of his writing is now also in Dutch. Paul currently lives in Cuijk, the Netherlands, with his books, possibly with cats, and the many characters he's developed in the past years, who claim he is a figment of their imagination.

Book preview

Who killed the clown?

by

Paul Kater

Published by the author as a member of the

Alexandria Publishing Group

Smashwords Edition

Who killed the clown? - © Copyright 2014, Paul Kater

Artwork: Paul Kater

Park photography: Фонтан у Карасанському парку by AlissaDere - Own work. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.

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This is a work of fiction, and as a work of fiction, any resemblance to people, places or things is entirely accidental. The creation of certain buildings and locations is entirely the work of the author to avoid conflict and comparison with existing structures

License Notes - Smashwords Edition

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To table of contents

1. The tarot spoke.

It was an average day in an average street, and an average-looking man who wasn't what he looked like entered an average looking building. Its front was covered in plaques that announced to the world what companies, large and small, were scattered all over the five floors behind the massive, concrete wall. The man moved through the building with ease; he had been here many times. Without any haste he walked up the stairs to the floor where the two small offices of his own agency were located. His business, although busy-ness was not exactly the word that sprung to mind as he mulled over his destination. After walking halfway through the hall, he stopped in front of a door. He glanced at the sign on it and grinned. Lester Jones, private detective. He pushed open the door and entered.

The office was originally designed to be average in shape and organisation. Lester, the current owner, had done everything he had in his power to make the place as non-average as possible without making people feel uncomfortable. The couch where clients could wait, the coffee table with magazines and a few forgotten, ancient newspapers, the pictures and paintings on the wall, the plants that were scattered throughout the room, everything was just the right amount of different. With a gesture that was meant to show flair, Lester threw his hat towards the coat rack in the corner as he said, Hello, Tabbycat, he greeted his secretary.

"Meow, said Tabbycat, watching the hat sail towards the corner and miss its target. You'll never get that right, Lester, his secretary continued, it's not in your wrist. And stop calling me Tabbycat. My name is Tabitha and I'm not a cat."

Whatever you wish, Tabbycat. Is there any mail for me?, Lester asked, walking to the fallen hat that lay against a skilfully crafted lion's paw, the foot of the coat rack. He brushed off whatever dust there might be on his hat and carefully placed it where he'd intended it to go.

Yes, there is mail for you, Lester, Tabitha said, pointing at the thin stack of paperwork. Two bills and a picture postcard from your ex-wife. From Bermuda this time.

Hmmf, Lester shared with her as he looked at the card. So many people disappear there and somehow she manages to miss that triangle. He turned the card over. "'Glad you're not here.' As he carelessly dropped the card in the bin, he said, Same here, Madeleine, same here. Now give me those bills, they'll cheer me up even more."

Give? Tabitha asked with a raised eyebrow. They're there. In front of you.

Lester grinned, and before he picked up the envelopes, he stroked Tabitha's hair. Nice Tabbycat, he said.

"Purrrrr," Tabbycat said, not protesting this time. She watched Lester walk off to his own office; he was shaking his head about something he alone saw. Or knew. She knew that her boss wasn't the average guy that he looked. That was why she'd jumped at working for him when she had the opportunity.

Before Lester entered his own office, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He turned back to Tabitha and asked, How was the meeting last night? Did I miss much?

Not really, just that many people missed you. And I would not take that as a compliment, Lester, Tabitha said with a grin.

Hey, come on, that thing with the candle last time was just a stupid mishap. I really did not mean to set fire to Mary.

Actually Mary missed you for the right reason, Tabitha enlightened Lester. She asked me to say hi to you, so hi.

Oh, good. Lester's face lit up for a moment. Thank you. He then opened the door and disappeared from Tabitha's view.

After sitting down and switching on the computer, Lester opened the first envelope. Its contents did not make him very happy; it was the bill for removing his car that had given up the ghost indefinitely a few days ago. Should have known that there is no real traffic Goddess, he muttered as he stuck the bill on top of the others that were waiting to be dealt with. The second bill was high also, but he had anticipated that. It was for the books on herbs he had ordered and gotten in. That paper ended up on the pile as well.

He frowned as he watched the pile. Tomorrow, he said. Tomorrow I am going to make at least three people happy. I hope. Then he turned to the computer and looked annoyed as each key he pressed on the keyboard evoked an angry, short beep come from the humming box under his desk instead of making letters appear on the screen. Lester got up, sighed and marched to the door. Tabitha? he asked after opening it.

What's wrong today, Lester?

Why should something be wrong?

You only call me by my name when you want something from me. Tabitha grinned and got up. It's the computer again, isn't it?

Yes, Lester said, blasted box. Should I get a Mac? Julian said they are so much better.

Julian knows nothing of computers, so a Mac would suit him, Tabitha said, as she did some magic to the keyboard. Here, that should get you on the network. For all the fancy things you can do, you're amazingly a-technical, boss.

Lester slipped behind the desk and quickly typed his name before Tabitha had left. The words he had hoped for appeared on the screen. You are fantastic, Tabitha, he said with as great a smile as he could muster.

I know, the young woman said, tossing back her long brown hair and batting her dark eyes at him, and I'm gorgeous too, so how I ended up here still is something the Goddess owes me an explanation for. With that and a chuckle she walked out the door, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Lester stared at the door for a few seconds. Then he grinned and logged onto the network, checked his e-mail messages, and purposely avoided looking at the on-line news-sites. He knew he'd get lost in those again, leaving his job untouched for the better part of the day. The problem however was that there was not much of a job to do, as there was a staggering shortage of clientèle. After thinking about this and a number of other issues, Lester got up and walked into Tabitha's office again. Dear secretary, would you like a cup of tea? he asked.

Tabitha looked up from the newspaper on her desk. Sure, thank you. What do you reckon... will today be like yesterday again?

I certainly hope not, Lester replied as he made his way to the improvised kitchen behind a large plant in the corner. Too many days have been like yesterday already; our funding is beginning to run low-ish.

Low-ish..., Tabitha repeated. You are an incorrigible optimist, do you know that? Most businessmen in your situation would have taken drastic steps to get out of the mess.

Whoa, stop right there, Lester interrupted Tabitha while he waited for the water to boil. We are not in a mess. This is just a temporary phase of negativism that we have to deal with. You know, Mercury and a bunch of other planets being retrograde and all that. Mary explained that to me. Things will look up soon. I did tell you about the runes I laid out a few weeks ago, and they predicted that something good was coming up.

"Yes, you told me so, but the dumb luck was that they did not say when this good thing was going to show, Lester. Tabitha leaned back in her chair, pretending to check her nails. If this good thing is showing up two days after you had to fold up the place then the runes were right and you're still down the drain. And so will I be, come to think of it. She snorted. Blame Mercury, sure."

Lester worked on the tea and walked over with two mugs. He put one in front of Tabitha. Here you are, Tabbycat. What are you reading? He leaned over her desk, scanning the newspaper. There were circles around several small text blocks. They were job openings. Uhm, are you planning on leaving me?

Look, Lester, I am not planning on anything. But if we keep up with this - what did you call it - temporary phase of negativism, I may have to adjust my plans towards the positive accordingly, and it is a good thing to know where the opportunities are to get the negativism out of my way. The last bit was added with a bit of a smirk. Tabitha then picked up her tea and took a careful sip. Hmm. I have to hand it to you, Lester, you always know the right tea for the right time. At that moment something happened that startled the both of them: the telephone rang.

Lester stared at the phone, then at Tabitha. Who is that?

Let me wield my magic and find out, Tabitha said with a dramatic touch and then answered the call. Lester Jones Detective Agency, good morning. This is Tabitha Simmons, how may I help you? Lester's face jumped through hoops, trying to keep up with the emotions that were haunting him. He tried to figure out what the call was all about, but Tabitha's vocabulary was limited to yes, of course, and I understand for a while. At the point where she concluded with Thank you sir, yes, we'll be here all day. Good bye, Lester was frantic about a speed course in mind reading. Or a phone with a speaker, so he could listen in. Tabitha smiled a teasing smile as she slowly put down the phone. That was interesting. She knew how to torture Lester.

What was? Come on, tell me. I have to know.

"Yes, you do in fact have to know. That was a specimen of a rare breed called potential customer, and he said he'd be here later today." Tabitha smiled at Lester as her eyes challenged him to bring up the runes again. He did not fall for her eyes this time.

2. One of the rare breed.

Not even half an hour after the call a buzzing sound rang through the room. Lester was still chatting with Tabitha, so they both jumped at the uncanny sound. I'll be in my office, Lester quickly said as he started for the connecting door.

Cleaning up, I'm sure, Tabitha sent after him as she went to answer the buzzer that sounded again. Lester was behind his desk trying to look occupied when Tabitha knocked on the door. Lester? Mr Bothwell is here to see you. She came in, a gentleman trailing behind her.

Mr Bothwell was indeed very much a gentleman. He was tastefully dressed, wearing an obviously hand-made, brown, Italian suit, although Lester would only recognise that if a card was attached to it stating so. Italian suits were not his cup of tea. The potential customer looked around the office that the woman, who was dressed in wide garments with obnoxious and loud colours, had shown him into. The walls here were filled with images. He probably didn't recognise many of the characters depicted, who looked like saints but dressed the wrong way for that. Lester knew that most of the imagery would remind the man of fantasy paintings. That usually was so when someone non-Pagan entered his office. Mr Bothwell observed Lester. The man's face made clear that he wondered if he'd made the right decision. The mediocre suit that this detective was wearing was not much for giving him confidence either, and it was one of Lester's best.

Mr Bothwell, nice to meet you, Lester said as he extended a hand that was shaken shortly. Lester Jones. Would you please sit down? It is easier to talk when sitting down.

Thank you, Mr Jones, Mr Bothwell commented as he carefully sat down. The chair that was offered didn't look all too stable. Despite the slightly cracking noise that came from it nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Can I offer you some tea? Tabitha then asked.

Tea would be nice, miss... Mr Bothwell had obviously not paid attention to her name when she had let him in. The avalanche of colours she wore was probably to blame for that.

Tabitha. Tabitha Simmons. I'll be back soon. With a smile she left.

Well, sir, what can I do for you? Lester knew it was best to come directly to the point. That showed professionalism.

Mr Bothwell turned to Lester. He seemed to ponder his words, carefully selecting which things he wanted to share first. Mister Jones... I am turning to you because there is a situation at hand that worries me. He steepled his fingers. And let me be bluntly honest, sir, I am not certain if you are the person who can help me to shed some light on certain affairs.

Mr Bothwell, let us decide on that later. Perhaps it is good if you just start at the beginning, and we'll work this through together, Lester commented, feeling a bit miffed at the underlying remark of Bothwell. The detective knew that he was not an incompetent person. A bit particular and out of the ordinary, yes, but by far not incompetent. His odd abilities should actually make him a better detective.

The gentleman in the expensive clothes stared at his manicured fingertips for a while. Very well. I should grant you that. But it goes without saying that everything I tell you is to be kept within these walls.

Naturally, sir. My discretion is guaranteed. Lester said it with a straight face. He stood for his work and reputation.

Mr Bothwell nodded and still seemed to hesitate. Tabitha broke the tension by coming in with two cups of tea on a tray. The cups were accompanied by a saucer with pretzels. It was the best they had for that, lacking funds for a proper plate. After putting down the cups and the pretzels, she asked, Is there anything else, Lester? Want me to light some incense?

Not now, Tabitha. That's all, thank you. Lester's face turned a shade more red as she mentioned the incense.

Okay. Tabitha winked at him and sailed out of the office. Again Mr Bothwell's eyes followed her until she disappeared behind the door.

An intriguing person for a secretary, I must say, the man in the suit said as he turned to Lester again. Incense?

Don't worry, sir, that's something she likes. Lester waved the subject away. It would not serve anything to state that he liked incense also.

Mr Bothwell leaned over and studied the pretzels. Lester swallowed. This man probably was used to quite something else than common cookies. To his surprise however, a smile appeared on the potential client's face. Pretzels. Long time since I saw those. The man carefully picked one from the saucer and bit off a small bit, crumbs falling from it and landing on his costly, brown suit. Lester waited in silence until the man was ready to talk further. Very well, Mr Jones. Mr Bothwell looked at the door, as if he wanted to make sure nobody was listening in. The matter is this... There is a particular lady in my life. Lester kept his mouth shut, not wanting to fill in bits. Those usually were wrong and it was not polite. He just nodded, to acknowledge the statement. And there is also my wife. Lester remained as he was, hoping that his facial expression would encourage the potential customer to go on. Whatever the reason was, Mr Bothwell continue indeed. I was supposed to meet this particular lady again two evenings ago, but she did not appear at the designated place. Mr Bothwell was gathering courage from somewhere as his voice sounded more level again. Lester could see that there was something swirling around the man, something that was severely bothering him. She has not gotten in touch with me since then, she hasn't sent me any messages, nor has she responded to messages I have sent her. And now I worry about her well-being.

Lester waited a few moments longer, but as Mr Bothwell picked up his tea the detective nodded. And you are looking for someone who is able to look for her.

Indeed. And this search has to be done discretely, of course. Very discretely.

Of course, Lester nodded again, and waited for the man to pick up the talk.

Do you think you can do this, Mr Jones? I do beg your pardon as I don't want to sound snobbish but you do not strike me as the kind of person who usually rubs elbows with my usual society.

Lester did not react to that. Mr Bothwell, I am certain I can handle this assignment. If you are uncertain about my abilities then I ask you to give me a week. I will update you daily through a channel of your choice, and if you think I am beginning to stir up too much dust you can order me to stop at any moment. In which case I will not charge you, Lester added boldly, squeezing his toes together. Tabbycat's voice suddenly echoed in his ears, with words like low-ish and incorrigible optimist. Idiot perhaps was more to the point but he could not back out now.

Mr Bothwell calmly looked at Lester. That, sir, is very generous, but I cannot accept that. If you are going to work for me, it is my duty to reimburse you for this. Lester's toes relaxed somewhat, which was a good thing. New shoes were an expense he had no place for. Mr Bothwell reached into his coat and brought out a large, brown envelope. Mr Jones, I am going to put my faith in you for now. I hereby ask you to accept this assignment. For you to do this work, here is some information concerning the lady in the matter and a small sum of money to cover initial expenses.

Lester accepted the envelope and opened it, his exterior a lot calmer than his interior. In the envelope were two photographs of a very pretty woman. She had short, blond, curly hair, big blue eyes, a pale skin and lips that were just a little bit too red. A few sheets of paper were next. They contained some information on the woman, Mathilda Ingram, and also there were her address, a short list of addresses of places where she and Mr Bothwell sometimes went and more things like that. Lester then put down the envelope, as if it was burning in his fingers. There was time to look at the money later, he said to himself, plenty of time.

Mr Bothwell then handed him a business card. You can use the mobile number at the bottom to get in contact with me. Text messages are for now my preferred means of communication but if something extremely urgent comes up you can of course call me.

Thank you, sir. I'll get on this as soon as possible. And please rest assured, discretion is guaranteed. Lester was about to get up, then something popped up in his head. If you allow me a question, sir... why did you come to me? I can imagine that someone of your standing could afford a detective of more class.

Mr Bothwell smiled. "You are right, Mr Jones, I can