The Careful Implementation of External Pressure

Case #14: Kai Burnett.

Case #14: Kai Burnett
Wednesday/March/25/2020/ 9:01PM

Kai Burnett hated the circus. He'd been twice before, and a third time- now, and it never changed. Always just a crowd of tired parents trying to find something colourful to distract their children with. The seats were sticky. It was hot. The smell of popcorn and syrup, and cotton candy so strong it made him nauseous.

He hated it.

So, really, his current circumstances were just one more reason to hate Them. And his boss, for making him investigate such a shoddy lead. If the lead had been anywhere else he would have been out the door faster than he could get his badge in his pocket, but of course, it was the circus. What criminal doesn't love the circus?

He made it about halfway through the sixth performance- "The Twin Trapezists," if the ringmaster was to be believed- before he couldn't take it anymore. It'd be a good chance to poke around, he reasoned to himself as he ducked through the heavy fabric of the tent's entrance. He was more likely to uncover a gang of drug smugglers than he was the criminals he was actually looking for, but at least he wouldn't have to watch the show.

He started towards the rigged carnival games, all dark and powered down, hoping to find a stuffed elephant to leave on his bosses desk. Preferably doused in itching powder for good measure.

Gem thieves at a circus. Unbelievable. Did his boss think they were in some kind of movie?

The path that he followed was dark and gravelly, he stumbled over a tent-peg or pebble twice before fumbling for the compact flashlight in his back pocket, using it to light his way. He'd just started poking around when he heard voices approaching, and his eyes narrowed. He glanced at his watch, seeing it had only been twenty minutes since he'd stepped out; everyone was still supposed to be watching the show.

"I'd let you throw knives at me but, ya know, you suck at it," one of the voices was saying. He stepped out of the concealed space he was standing in, where it would be obvious he had been snooping. Performers then.

"How am I supposed to get better at throwing knives if I never practice?" A second voice replied, higher, sounding childish and pouty. He could see them approaching now, emerging from the foggy night. From a distance, it looked like they were both wearing wigs- one so blonde it was nearly white, and the other a fiery red- but as they grew closer he could tell it was their actual hair. Ironically, the fire-swallower was the blonde one.

"You can practice, just not on me! Use apples or something like a normal person! Or, even better," the first voice proposed, "stick to your own act! You get your fire and I get my knives like we agreed." They were standing in front of him now, ignoring him. He flicked off the flashlight.

"If I can't throw the knives at you, then what's the point?" The second voice replied, finally turning to him to pettily end the conversation. Their talking partner huffed, then turned to him as well. He blanched a little, not sure what to do with their expectant gazes.

"Uhh," he started, wondering if he should question them. They both looked a little too young to have any helpful information- their parents probably worked at the circus too, or they were runaways. Not that he could tell how old they were, both their faces painted ghost-white with red hearts drawn on their cheeks, but they gave off the air of being young. Their hands were interlocked between them, and they swung them back and forth slightly with the restless energy of young lovers that can't sit still. In their free hands, they each had a stuffed elephant tucked under their arm.

"Can we help you?" the girl on the left- the knife-thrower, if he was placing her voice right- asked. The second girl, the fire-swallower, gave him a tight smile and stomped on the foot of the other.

"...Sir," the knife-thrower added belatedly, through grit teeth. Definitely runaways then, the knife-thrower at least; if her parents worked at the circus she'd be much more inclined to respect guests.

"Ah, yes," he floundered, still looking between the two of them. He couldn't get a solid read on either of them.

"I was just looking for a stuffed animal, for my wife, before I leave," he lied, wincing at the reaction the director would have if he found out Kai had referred to him as his wife.

"...Right," the knife-thrower noded, sounding strangely like she didn't believe his lie. The fire-swallower remained eerily silent, still giving him that tight, peering smile.

...Maybe he should question them. He could see if the runaway had a home to get back to, at least.

He was in the process of reaching for his badge, reading to introduce himself as an FBI agent, when the knife-thrower thrust the stuffed elephant under her arm in his direction. His hand slipped out his back pocket, his badge falling through his fingers. Shit, he didn't have a reason to refuse.

"I- uh, thank you." It was heavier than he expected a stuffed animal to be, but he braced the weight against his hip, struggling for something to keep the conversation going. Maybe he could steer the conversation towards some of the other performers? See if anyone new had recently linked up- someone with sticky fingers and an eye for priceless gems?

God, was he always this nervous on a case? Where had his composer gone? If this kept up, he'd start to see why the director kept insisting he needed a partner.

"No problem," the knife-thrower said after a moment of silence, managing to make the words sound so much like "fuck off" that for a solid second that's what he thought she had said.

They didn't look like they planned on leaving him, so he couldn't go back to investigate, and he was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. For some reason, he really didn't want to annoy the knife-thrower anymore than he already had.

This is why he hates circuses, he thought as he turned on his heel and headed back to the parking lot, knowing he'd have to come back and question some of the performers the next morning.

He threw the stuffed elephant against the passenger side window as he lowered into his car, and it made a weird clacking sound upon impact. Weird, he thought, staring across the console at the shoddily stitched elephant. It almost looked like the stitching had been ripped out and redone once or twice.

Sighing he thought, that's what you get from a circus, as he started the car.

-0-0-0-0-

"Please tell me you didn't just give the FBI agent following us the elephant with the stolen jewels hidden in it?" Qween asked, as soon as the FBI agent had disappeared out of earshot.

"I uh," Cookie started, scratching her cheek with one finger and ruining her makeup, "...oops?"