“So you’re saying I have to break it off with Morrie? That will fix Oliver?”
“It’s not a question of fixing. Oliver’s not a broken machine. He’s simply a child, brilliant but lost.”
She looked truly lost herself, and I could tell that pushing her at this point would do no good.
“Take some time to think it over,” I advised. “But not too long. In the meantime, I’ll work with Oliver and do what I can to help him face the truth of the situation.”
“He can’t tell my husband,” she said, and now her eyes bloomed with fear. “He would kill me.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I promised.
When she’d gone, I called the boy into my office and we sat together.
I said, “Moriarty isn’t his real name, you know. His name is Morris Peterson.”
“That’s simply an alias,” the boy said. “He’s using a name similar to his own. A common ploy. Look, Watson, I know the true nature of his interest now.”
I thought I had a pretty good idea of the true nature of his interest myself. The boy’s aunt was a woman desperate for attention. She wanted to feel loved, young, special. And she would probably do almost anything to please the man who made her feel that way. Even a clown.
“You know, of course, about sexual attraction, Oliver.”
“Sherlock,” he said in an icy tone. “My name is Sherlock.” He took a moment to settle himself, then said, “Of course, I know that sex is a part of his attraction. Will you just listen to me for a moment, Watson? Let me explain everything to you.”
“You?” I said evenly, after he’d laid it all out for me. “He’s after you?”
“I present a threat to him. And a challenge. I’m the only person alive who is his intellectual equal and moral opposite.”
“And you believe he wants to do you harm?”
“Not just harm, Watson. He wants me dead.”
And there it was, the full manifestation of his delusion. Against my best judgment, I’d come to care about the boy, and this paranoia troubled me greatly.
“I can see that you don’t believe me,” Oliver said. “Just listen to me for a moment, Watson. Moriarty is, in fact, a fugitive on the run. He has warrants for his arrest in California, Oregon, and Colorado. Any other common criminal would have been taken into custody, but Moriarty is not your common criminal.”
“Warrants for what?”
“Theft, fraud, and one for a particularly nasty incident in Denver.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because of the greatest boon to the modern detective, Watson. The Internet. You know the game of poker?”
“Of course.”
“An experienced poker player watches for what’s called a tell, an unconscious gesture that gives another player away in the heat of betting. Moriarty has a tell.”
“And what would that be?”
“The clown costume. It’s an unusual disguise, to say the least. But it’s clearly one he’s comfortable with. I merely did an Internet search for crimes that involved clowns. I came across a case in California several years ago. A clown who called himself Professor Perplexing. He traveled with a small circus as one of their sideshow offerings. He entertained the children with his clown antics and their parents by appearing to read their minds. He also managed to read their credit cards and charged up a hefty sum. He skipped just ahead of the police. According to the circus folks, Professor Perplexing’s real name was Martin Petters.
“The next case I found was in Portland. A clown working for a non-profit called Smile A Day. The organization provided entertainment for nursing homes and senior residential facilities. In addition to offering the old people a few laughs, he offered to invest their savings. Again, he left town just before the police caught up with him. The non-profit reported his name was Mark Patterson.
“Finally Denver. A little over a year ago. A man working for a service that provided entertainment at children’s parties was accused of molesting a child during one of these parties. He vanished immediately thereafter. His name, according to the service, was Milton Parks.”
“That’s quite a leap from Denver to the Twin Cities.”
“There’s one more connection, Watson. Moriarty, or Parks, as he was calling himself then, was involved with a widow. Before he fled town, he’d stolen much of the money she’d received from her husband’s life insurance.” Oliver counted off on his fingers. “M. Petters. M. Patterson. M. Parks. And now Morris Peterson. All Moriarty.”
“I still don’t understand why he would want you dead.”
“The insurance money that came from my parents’ deaths is quite a tidy sum—over a million dollars. My aunt isn’t just my legal guardian. In the event of my death, she inherits the money. If Moriarty gets rid of me, he not only eliminates his greatest foe, but all that money becomes available to him.”
“There’s your uncle,” I said. “He’s an obstacle.”