The Last Laugh - 5. Friday, February 21, 2025 (I)

Cut the chapter in half, otherwise it would get too long

Friday began with slight snowfall. My Golf looked like a toadstool and grinned goodbye to me as I left it in the QFPD parking lot. At the side entrance, I ran into Harry standing outside the door, typing on his phone.

“You could do that inside in the warm,” I remarked with amusement and with a questioning sound he looked up.

“Ah. Hm. Yes.” He grinned wryly.

We went in together and had just hung up our jackets in our office when Josy breezed in.

“Good morning. The DNA is through.”

“What DNA?” I asked, puzzled.

She blinked, no less puzzled. “Oh yes, it got lost, you were out so much yesterday. Catherine's stepfather gave a sample yesterday so that he and his son - Catherine's stepbrother - could be excluded. The family apparently moved furniture at Grandma's on Sunday.”

“But negative, I suppose,” Harry said with a sigh and Josy nodded silently as she handed him the relevant documents.

Once we were seated, Harry sighed again.

“It's frustrating.” I spoke up and he nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Brick isn't thrilled. Green probably even less so.”

“At least there wasn't another body,” I muttered darkly.

Harry snorted. “That's not a plus for anyone but us. Brick and Green will politely remind us Monday that three weeks have already passed, and then they'll slowly but meticulously preheat hell. For us, mind you.”

I sighed long and deep before muttering, “Let Green walk in our shoes for a day.”

“Oh Violet...” Harry sighed back a little theatrically, which elicited a smile from me. Then he pointed to the case wall. “To come back to this... I can't get the notes out of my head. The clown shirt and the wig are message enough.”

“You think?” Pensively, I tilted my head. “The clown stuff is a reference to the movie. 'You were a killer clown, now you're going to be killed as one yourself'. But the notes are different. They're more personal, Harry, the killer wrote them by hand.”

With his mouth open for an answer, Harry twirled a pen, lowered it with a frown and closed his mouth.

I watched him, waiting; I could literally see it working behind his forehead.

“You know,” he then said slowly, “Don as the perp is starting to come into a different light.”

“What's going through your mind?”

“Guys, you need to see this!”

We flinched as Jonah suddenly stood in the doorway, grinning.

“My God, did he murderer admit himself?” asked Harry, a little pale around the nose.

“I thought you were looking for a reason to summon The Don yesterday. We've got something.” Jonah waggled his eyebrows.

That made me smile wryly, at least. “Then I'll forgive you the half heart attack.”

~

“I'm not quite sure why Jonah is so cheerful,” confessed Nico skeptically. “When I read this, it rather spoiled my mood.” He pulled up a document on the big screen. “Fowler not only sent the invoice, but also the protocol for the racist insult against Amanda Grey.” He highlighted a section of text.

“- following her words, he said, 'Clowns don't belong in your culture. If you're so keen on being in front of the camera, find a movie about geishas.' Miss Grey seemed more perplexed than seriously offended; according to her, it was more a sense of justice prompting her to make this statement.”

“And this...”

“Mr. Venn did not deny it, on the contrary, he reaffirmed his words. Disgust was written on his face and something which really worried me.”

“In between, there's the correction that Amanda Grey is half Thai, and a few more comments about the conversations,” Nico said seriously.

“Don is a lot more unpleasant than I thought.” Harry made a strange face. “But it backs up my train of thought and Violet's instinct.”

“What on earth do you find funny about this, Jonah?” I asked, shaking my head.

He shrugged with a wry smile. “The man doesn't know Japanese from Thai, which makes his insult kind of ridiculous.” However, he seemed to notice that the rest of us still couldn't understand his amusement, because he cleared his throat sheepishly and nudged Nico.

“Dubious insults aside, I think this is the basis for a summons,” Nico said after nodding and showing us another document. “Fowler has also included a long explanation here as to why there was so much argument about it. The order includes six costumes, six wigs and stage makeup, the makeup was used for the movie. That makes this a partial invoice and, according to the administration, it can't be submitted - so Don had to send the items back or keep them.”

“Okay. And what are these costumes?” I wanted to know, because the invoice itself had a very cryptic product description.

“Ta-da.” Nico clicked and I let out an “oh” when we saw the product images on the website.

Clown shirts in bright pink with the typical large red pompon on the chest and belly and with a separate white collar. White clown pants with large red and green dots. Red wigs with a center parting and straight hair. And at least these were the shirts and wigs worn by our five dead women.

“Well, look at that...” Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and nodded slowly. “We're definitely calling Mr. Venn in for a chat.”

“Oh yes,” I agreed. “And we should just happen to have Mrs. Potter here as well.”

Jonah grinned again.

“Simon said the wigs had a special coating and I'll talk to him to see if that's what he means.” Nico picked up the thread again and highlighted something in the product description of the wigs. “Don ordered stage wigs specifically for the spotlights in theaters and the like.”

“I've already contacted the online store to see how much and how often they sell them, and then I'll do some research to see where else they can be purchased,” Jonah explained cheerfully. “Maybe we'll get a search warrant right away.”

“If Mr. D.A. Cooper knows what's good for him, he'll bring it right up to the judge,” Harry snorted. “If Green hears he's been persnickety...”

I couldn't stop myself from saying, “A little punch in the nose like this would do him a world of good...”

Harry grunted a laugh. “You've got a point...”

~

Donald Venn didn't seem enthusiastic about the summons, but complied. “Is it really necessary to chew it up again?” he asked with a hint of bad mood. His gaze twitched sullenly around the sparse interrogation room.

“I'm sorry, sir, but yes.” Apologetically, Harry raised his hands and gave Don a thin smile. “The murders are connected to the movie and even though your name doesn't appear in the credits“ - I could have sworn there was a flash of anger in Don's eyes - ”we need to investigate everyone involved in the movie.”

Don snorted. “Arthur's always bragged about his connection to the Blue Star Cinema, so his student projects will probably play there. There are plenty of people who like the cinema and will have seen the movie accordingly.”

“That doesn't change the fact that you were involved in the making of it, and that you were noticed negatively, Mr. Venn,” I replied coolly - hello Miss Bad Cop.

Of course, I promptly got a scowl and Don snorted again before turning directly to Harry: “Fine. Ask your questions, Detective.”

And so we went over everything again. Or rather, Harry went over everything with Don. I was more of a decorative accessory and could see Don's mood steadily declining. Finally, we reached uncharted territory when Harry laid out the photos of the five women in front of Don.

“Have you seen these women before, Mr. Venn?”

“On the news.” Don replied, annoyed, but then put his fingertips to the photo of Nina Matthews. “This one.” He nodded thoughtfully. “In the big indoor playground in Thylle. One of the ones who looks after and entertains the kids at the birthday parties.”

Nico, who was sitting in the next room and listening, would verify this immediately.

“When did you see her there?”

“Several times.” Don gave a shrug. “The playground is popular. Plenty of space, good supervision, whatever the weather. Cheap to boot.”

“And the other four- never met?”

Don's frown twitched into a genuinely angry grimace for a moment before he shook his head.

“Mr. Venn,” I took over now and slid the photo of Amanda Grey into the center, along with the transcript of Fowler's conversation, “Miss Amanda Grey has filed a complaint with Professor Fowler because she received a racist insult from you.” I tapped on the highlighted lines. “And according to Fowler, you openly admitted it. What do you say to this now?”

If for a brief moment I had thought I saw bewilderment on Don's face, he now seemed to want to plaster a neutral mask over his negative feelings.

“Racism is not a crime,” I said calmly, getting a deadly glare from him.

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”