Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (14 page)

“
Where is Maria now?”

Anthony
pointed over to the roadside, where an ambulance sat with blinking
lights in the darkness. “They are both over there in the ambulance,
no real harm done apparently.”

Bridger did
not wait for anything else from Anthony, motioning to Brian and
Grant to join them; he started walking purposefully towards the
ambulance. He could feel Anthony’s stare drilling into his back,
but did not care; he had a killer to lock up.

“
This-Mon-keys-gone-to-heaven… This-Mon-keys-gone…” Grant’s
not very tuneful voice was a little louder than it should have been
in the circumstances. Bridger saw Becky look back at Grant
reproachfully.

“
What…? It’s an old Pixies song…, you must remember it
Becky…”

“
Not now Grant.” The smile on Grants face faded as Bridger put
a stop to their conversation. He found himself smiling just a
little in the darkness though; Grants black humour, well timed as
always, broke the seriousness of the situation so his mind would
deal with it a little easier. It cleared his head and made room for
the next thing he had to do. As he got closer to the open rear
doors of the Ambulance, he could see two figures sitting either
side of the narrow space. The one with the coloured cast on her
wrist was his intended target, but the other one drew his
attention. She was familiar. He knew this girl. When he reached the
open doors, he stood, unable to think why he was looking at Jo
Williamson sitting opposite Maria, face covered by an oxygen mask,
her eyes showing slight confusion.

There was a
slightly smoky odour in the confines of the interview room, even
though it had been over three hours since the fire. Bridger could
not tell if the smell was clinging to him or the sullen girl on the
other side of the table. He found himself wondering if he had any
clean clothes for the next day.

Maria Staverly was sitting across from him with her legs
crossed and arms folded. There was a look of ‘I dare you’ on her
face and she had an arrogance about her that got right up his
nose.

It had thrown
him a little too find Jo Williamson in the ambulance alongside
Maria, it bought back the vivid memory of her in another ambulance
at another frightful scene, not that long ago. Thankfully, it was
second time lucky, he just hoped he would never have to see strike
three and you’re out. He knew Jo was going through a tough time,
but she still had some explaining to do about tonight. That was for
another time though, as he had enough on his plate with this girl
called Maria and her involvement in the death of Michael Wilson. He
forced himself too concentrate on the task.

Neither Maria
nor Jo had said what they were doing in the tent before the fire,
and then the ambulance had taken them both to the hospital for a
check before he could push the subject any further. They had not
even found the top they were looking for in the first search of
Maria’s caravan. He had inspected Maria’s cast for the drops of
blood he had seen, but it was covered in soot and dirt, not
surprising considering, but she would have cleaned it anyway, he
was sure of it.

He was at a
loss with what to do about Jo, so had sent her home with Becky
after being checked over at the hospital. He had then persuaded
Maria that it was in her best interest to come into the police
station, just too talk. She was not under arrest, as he did not
feel he had enough evidence yet, without the top, but she had
requested to speak with a lawyer anyway. They were currently
sitting patiently in the interview room, awaiting her duty lawyer
too arrive.

Bridger
studied the girl in front of him, she had relatively clear eyes
considering. One of the Ambulance officers back at the fire had
told him that they had given both girls something to bring them
down. It must have been powerful stuff, as whatever it was that
Maria and Jo had taken, it looked too have completely worn off. The
magic of modern medicine could rectify the overindulgence of the
curious and the hardened user alike, a sort of safety net for an
unfortunate human condition.

She had a
slightly cherubic look, which almost endeared her too him, he could
not imagine her being able to kill, but still, the bloody top he
had seen her wearing spoke volumes. She certainly looked strong
enough. She had to speak up for the evidence against her, give an
account. It was the way policing and investigations
worked.

He had wanted
to start this conversation before her lawyer got involved. Most
lawyers would just advise to say nothing if police did not present
enough evidence to hurt their clients. The fact the lawyer had
wanted to come in personally and not just dish out advice over the
telephone, as was the usual custom, slightly puzzled him. Lawyers
did not usually like leaving their office space, or their
comfortable homes, especially at this time of night. Police
stations were places they had very little control over, their
office was their environment, just like the courtroom. It was where
they felt most comfortable. The custody sergeant had arranged
everything for Maria though and so he had no say in it.

He remained
quiet, with the sullen girl staring back at him. A slightly awkward
silence between them, like a father and daughter, in the throes of
well meaning advice dished out about an unsuitable
boyfriend.

A knock on
the door turned his head; Jane Little breezed into the room as only
she could. Her sultry fragrance was the second thing he noticed
after the high hemline of her skirt. Jane must have caught the
direction of his gaze and she cleared her throat. Raising his eyes
too hers, he could see a slight smile on her face.

“
Hello again Mike…, can you give me some time with Miss
Staverly please.” She was all business, but he had always found
that slightly attractive about her

Bridger stood
up as Jane brushed past him in the small room, her hand lingering
on his hip a little longer than was appropriate. He found himself
getting slightly aroused and then silently scolded himself for how
appropriate that was. “I will be in the office when you are done.”
Bridger was speaking to Jane’s back as she sat down in front of
Maria, she acknowledged him without turning around with a wave of
her hand. He caught an amused look in Maria’s eyes as he backed out
of the room and closed the door.

Why did Jane
always make him feel like a little boy? Even Maria had sensed it;
he had seen her appraising him with a puzzled look. He knew it was
those feelings that had ultimately led to the dismantling of his
marriage. Should he be feeling guilty right now? Laura had made it
clear they were not going anywhere fast, but he could not help it.
He needed to concentrate on Maria, and the blood on her
top.

Walking into
the office he saw Grant and Brian standing in the corner by his
desk computer, they were watching the Zebra clip from
earlier.

“
Did you find the top?” Bridger saw them both jump in the semi
darkness.

“
No sign of it Boss” Grant looked a bit sheepish “We were
having another look at it on the clip, just in case we missed it.
You know how all girls clothes seem too look alike, and she had a
lot of costumes in that caravan.”

“
I’m pretty sure we did not miss it, Mike” Brian spoke up “If
it is still there, I reckon she has hidden it…, or destroyed
it.”

Bridger
agreed, “Which makes her even guiltier in my eyes… How about Reece
Coster, any sign of him?”

“
He’s not at his flat, we don’t really know where else to
look. Stan Walton and his surveillance boys are working on a few
possibilities, they will let us know if he shows his face anywhere.
I have given them my number, and Gillian and Steve are working all
night, so they can make the arrest if he shows
up.”

“
Cheers Grant, it would be good to have them both here before
we start any interviews, it’s easier to compare stories that
way.”

Jane Little
walked into the room behind them and cleared her throat. “Good
evening gentleman, I hope I’m not interrupting
anything.”

Bridger
turned and saw her eyes wander over to the computer monitor that
was currently displaying the image of the defiled Zebra. Raising
her eyebrows, she looked back at him.

“
Miss Staverly denies any involvement in the murder, she wants
to cooperate but only if you treat her as a witness and not a
suspect.”

“
She has blood on her top, and cast, that were not there when
she left the hospital, she has too explain that at least. She has
to be a suspect.”

“
There is no blood on her cast now, Mike, and you don’t have
the top.”

“
Not yet”

“
Maria is willing to let you know where the top is, just too
show good will, but only if you listen to her side of the story.
She says she did not kill Mr Wilson; I have no idea of the veracity
of that statement. That is your job to work out. But right now that
is all you are going to get.”

Bridger did
not like having someone dictate the rules of the game, especially
by someone who has the evidence stacked against her, but right now,
he was grasping at straws without the top. “Okay, I’m willing to
listen, but I’m not making any deals with her. If she gives us the
top, the blood turns out to be Mr Wilsons and her side of the story
does not stack up, then she has to take her chances in
court.”

“
I will let her know…” Jane’s eyes bored into his “Two more
things Mike, first, as she is not under arrest, she would like to
go home for the night and return voluntarily in the
morning.”

Bridger did
not like that idea, but could not see any way to keep her in
overnight without charging her. “And the second?”

“
She will only speak with Jo Williamson…”

Chapter
Thirteen

Reece Coster
opened his eyes and a sharp pain shot through his forehead almost
immediately, making him wince. Bloody hell…, he needed a drink of
water, his mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool, and his
limbs felt weak and useless. That drink might have to wait just a
little bit until he woke up more. It was just a typical hangover
though, nothing he had not experienced before. There was a strong
smell clinging to his clothes and dank hair, sniffing distastefully
he detected a hint of smoke sitting over a stronger odour he could
not place. The fire came back to him. He had actually done it,
direct action that would make everybody sit up and take notice. He
wanted to savour the thought, but last night’s mission was a bit
hazy; he remembered setting light to the tent, although he could
not recall what he had done after the fire. Whatever it was, it
must have been awesome. Hangovers like this did not come along
every day.

Hair of the
dog is just what the doctor would order. Stuff the water; he needed
another real drink, keep celebrating last night’s victory. More of
the spectacle came back to him. Those flames were so pretty, they
had spread faster than he thought, and that tent was gone in a
matter of minutes. Faster than any fire engine. The heat and the
brightness were intense, a very sharp contrast to where he was now.
Looking around, he noticed the room was unusually dark, he could
not see much past his nose and somehow he had ended up sleeping on
the floor. Maybe he had pulled… and the girl had kicked him out of
bed at the last minute. It had happened before; he was no good for
anything when he had too much to drink. What was that rancid smell?
His hands automatically went to his pants, just in case he had
soiled himself. There was nothing there, but there was stuff all
over the floor, it felt like straw. Maybe he had torn his mattress,
and that is why he ended up on the floor. He tried to speak, just
see what the girl sounded like, or if she was still pissed at him.
He hoped she was hot; he hated having to pretend he was interested
when she looked like a bush pig. That is what the smell reminded
him of…, animals. The same smell as the circus. Maybe he was with
the circus slut from the other night.

“
Hello sexy, are you up for a dawn breaker?” He spoke into the
darkness. Might as well get right to the point, if you don’t ask,
you don’t get.

There was no
reply. Maybe she was still asleep; he wondered what time it was. It
was still dark here on the floor. He fumbled for the side of the
bed, arms flaying in the black space before him. Not feeling
anything, his sluggish brain kicked into gear, a slight feeling of
fear started to seep into his consciousness. Kicking out, his foot
collided painfully with something solid, hidden in the darkness.
Sitting upright, he reached as far as he could to one side. Cold
steel grazed his touch; reaching to the other side, he felt the
same sensation. What in the hell is this…

The media
were in frenzy, there were reporters from both print and television
camped under the large front awning of the central police station.
Cameras were blinking at serious presenters with serious by-lines
and shocking sound bites to inform the masses over breakfast of
Dunedin’s latest atrocity. Bridger, seen before he had the chance
to slip inside the safety of the building, could only watch
helplessly as the media scrum pushed its way in his
direction.