Ying Yang’s menacing gaze softened a bit, but Ronan still wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.
“Mr. Lincoln has done well by us all. He was the one who flew us all out here for this performance and he’s paying for our accommodations and meals,” Kent said. “They didn’t come here to put the screws to us. One of them saw Jack’s ghost.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Kent?” Ying Yang shouted. “No one can see ghosts. It’s all a bunch of fucking bullshit.”
Ronan turned to Ten, who wore a bemused smile. Ying Yang wasn’t going to know what hit him.
“If you say so, Vincent,” Ten said, his eyes glittering with glee. “Or do you prefer Anaconda?”
“You’re the psychic?” Vincent scoffed. “All you have to do is read my Facebook page to get that information. Same with my wrestling name. Nice try, asshole.”
Ten’s grin widened. “I’ll give you that, but I can’t imagine you publicly posting about the time you tripped carrying your lunch tray in the fifth grade and wound up with a face full of mashed potatoes. I believe the kids all called you Tater after that?”
Vincent growled low in his throat like a rabid dog about to attack.
Ten carried on, seemingly oblivious to the clown’s raging temper. “We’re here to see the rehearsal for the circus with our families. A spirit dressed as a clown and drenched in blood introduced himself to me, asking for our help in solving his murder. Now, the way I see it, the only person who would be angry at us looking into this cold case would be the killer. Isn’t that right, Ronan?”
“No arguments here,” Ronan agreed, anxiety churning in his gut. His last run in with Ying Yang was decades ago, but he felt the same fear he did that day so many years ago. “We’re not interested in railroading anyone. If we can help Jack’s family by bringing his killer to justice, then so be it.”
“I don’t like this one bit,” Vincent grumbled.
“You were there that night, what do you remember?” Ronan asked.
Vincent’s eyes widened. “How the fuck did you know I was there? Are you psycho too?”
Ronan wasn’t about to rise to Vincent’s bait. “Because I was too. I met you the morning of the performance after the parade of elephants. You were making balloon animal snakes.” Ronan shivered. “You also threatened to break off my arm and beat me with it if I went near your daughter again.”
“Ronan?” a woman asked, as she walked into the room. “Is that really you?”
Ronan would know those blue eyes anywhere, even after thirty years. “Hi, Celestina.”
She walked toward him, giving Ronan time to size her up. He’d guess she was about five and half feet tall, in heals. She wore a bright red dress, which hugged her every curve. Her long blonde hair was piled on top of her head. Her show makeup was perfectly applied. In a word, she was stunning. “I can’t believe it’s you.” Celestina hugged Ronan. “Who are your friends?”
“This is my best friend and boss, captain of Salem’s cold case unit, Kevin Fitzgibbon. My best friend and fellow detective, Jude Byrne, and my psychichusband, Tennyson.” Ronan beamed at Vincent as he let that last little nugget fly. He looked to Vincent, who still wore an angry look. “Your daughter was never in any danger from me.”
Tennyson stepped past Ronan to get to Celestina. “You are absolutely gorgeous, just like Ronan described. I know my daughter and nieces would love to meet you. Ronan was showing us the pictures you took of him and the baby tiger all those years ago.”
“I’d love to meet them too.” Celestina led Ten out of the room.
Ronan turned back to Vincent, who still looked like he wanted to punch someone. “Did you have any kind of beef with Jack that night?”
“Why would you ask that? Still butthurt over what I said to you back then?” Vincent’s arms were crossed over his chest. He might be in his early fifties, but the man was in fantastic shape. Ronan could see the bulge of his biceps and had felt Vincent’s strength when he’d knocked into Ronan.
Ronan shook his head. “Once an asshole, always an asshole.” He had much more to say on that matter, but he’d let the petty bullshit go, at least for now. “You’re wife and daughter were in charge of the tigers. Whoever killed Jack and put his body in the tiger cage needed a key to the enclosure. It wouldn’t have been hard for you to get it.”
“The killer wasn’t attacked by the tiger that night,” Fitzgibbon said. “Therefore, it could be argued that whoever murdered Jack and put his body in the cage would have a passing relationship with the big cat. You fit that bill.”
“Fuck you all! I don’t have to stand here and listen to this shit.” With one last sneer, Vincent left the room.
“Do you think you can help catch Jack’s killer?” Kent asked. “All I want is for him to be able to rest in peace.”
“We can’t make any promises,” Ronan said. Solving cold cases was difficult under the best of circumstances. Witnesses forget, die, or move away. In this case, all of the members of the circus were scattered to the four winds. A handful of them were here now, but many more were not. All Ronan could do was read the police file and then give it his best shot.
That shot would start with the original case file and with Ying Yang at the top of the suspect list.
8
Tennyson
