Free Catch a Crooked Clown by Joan Lowery Nixon Page B

handed it to Sergeant Kerry. “Someone in a brown sedan with tinted windows picked up the clown. I copied the license plate.”
    “Very good,” Sergeant Kerry said. He wrote down the information. Then he opened his briefcase and took out a sketch of a clown face. “Do you recognize this?” he asked.
    “Yes,” Brian and Sean answered at the same time.
    “That’s him,” Brian said. “How’d you find a witness who could remember everything about the face so clearly?”
    “The sketch isn’t from a witness description,” Sergeant Kerry said. “It’s from one of the circus ads. Crackers the Clown. His real name is Marco Moroney. He comes from a long line of circus clowns. He and his partner, Dale Erhard, own the Star-Spangled Circus together.”
    Mr. Quinn broke in. “Does this Marco Moroney have a list of prior arrests? Has he pulled this trick in other towns in which the circus has appeared?”
    Sergeant Kerry shook his head. “No. That’s what’s strange about this situation. Moroney doesn’t have a police record, and there’s never been a single complaint from local merchants when the Star-Spangled Circus was around.” He glanced again at the picture before he tucked it away. “However, a number of people—like you two—identified this picture right away.”
    Sergeant Kerry thanked Brian and Sean for their help. Then he got to his feet and headed to the door. Mr. Quinn, who walked with him, asked, “What’s your next step, Tom?”
    “One of my assistants is getting a search warrant, and we’re going to the circus grounds to look for the stolen items and talk to Moroney,” Sergeant Kerry said.
    Sean thought about the clown’s angry glare. Sergeant Kerry would find out that Marco Moroney wasn’t as friendly as his makeup made him appear to be. He was downright mean!

3

    T HE NEXT DAY BRIAN and Sean met on their way home from school. They bent over the handlebars of their bikes and raced each other the rest of the way. But as they turned into the driveway next to their house, they came to a skidding stop.
    A sad-looking boy, about Sean’s size, was sitting on the steps to their front porch, his bike lying on the grass near his feet. He glanced up at them, scrambled to his feet, and rubbed his reddened eyes. “Are you the Casebusters?” he called.
    Brian and Sean laid their bikes on the grass and walked to the porch. “Yes, we’re the Casebusters. I’m Brian and this is Sean,” Brian answered.
    “I’m Dan Moroney,” the boy said.
    “Moroney?” Sean repeated. “Oh, but Moroney is…”
    Dan interrupted. “That’s right. My dad’s Crackers the Clown. It’s his picture the police have—the picture a lot of people identified yesterday. But my dad didn’t steal anything. He wasn’t even in town yesterday. He’s half owner of the circus, and he was busy helping to set up the tents. People who identified that drawing think my dad’s guilty, but he isn’t!”
    Brian sat on the steps. Sean and Dan sat with him. “Last night Detective Tom Kerry went to see your dad, didn’t he?” Brian asked. He wondered if Dan’s father had been arrested.
    “He was there on the circus grounds,” Dan said. “Some policemen came with him, and they looked for whatever stuff was stolen, but they didn’t find anything.”
    Brian kept on. “Where’s your dad now?”
    “They didn’t arrest him, if that’s what you mean,” Dan said, “but I’m worried that sooner or later they’ll decide that Dad was the only one who could have done it, and then they’ll arrest him.”
    Sean broke in. “If your dad was working to help set up the tents, he’d have an alibi, wouldn’t he? Some of the people there would have seen him.”
    “Just for part of the time, because he also was working alone in the office in our trailer,” Dan said. “And none of the people who saw him during the afternoon knew what time it was. Either they weren’t wearing watches or they weren’t paying attention to the