Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (5 page)

Pocketing his cellphone
he looked up again, Brian Johnson and Grant Wylie were standing
beside the whiteboard attached to the rear wall. It contained a
collage of pictures and scribble, the sum total of the murder
inquiry after twelve hours. It did not look like much more than a
child’s picture of an abstract octopus, but it would start too
spread its tentacles once they had completed more enquiries using
the information already on that board. It was an old-fashioned
method and seemed outdated in the modern computer era, but there
was nothing like a visual indication of the crime you were dealing
with, to help the thought process.

“
Sorry about
last night Mike, I was out with Mrs Johnson for our anniversary and
had my phone switched off.” Brian was the oldest Detective on the
squad and a hard worker. Bridger also thought of him as a bit of a
mentor, there was no need to apologise, but he knew Brian would
still feel the need.

“
Not to
worry, we managed to borrow a couple of uniforms to help us with
the enquiries at the Circus, but we need to revisit most of them
this morning as just about everybody was too intoxicated to be of
much use last night.” Brian just nodded as Bridger
spoke.

“
They are a
pretty hard living crew, the stories about Carnies and their
‘lifestyle’ certainly rang true last night.” Grant added. “Speaking
of last night Mike, you did not tell me how your date went with
your wife…”

Bridger looked at Grant,
he had asked the question with no agenda attached, and he genuinely
cared about the answer. “It looks like Laura and I will be back to
square one after last night. I had to walk out on her in the middle
of our date to come back to work. Never ‘being there’ was one of
the reasons she left me in the first place.” That and the heavy
drinking, he thought, with a sense of regret. At least he had
sorted the drinking out, but he could not do anything about his
work. It was always going to be an uphill battle.

Brian looked at the
whiteboard intently as if he did not expect such an honest answer
to Grants question. “We don’t have much, Mike. I have sent someone
downstairs in search of Gillian and Steve. They attended the job at
the Circus a few hours before the body was found, something about
an accident on the Trapeze. They spoke with our victim last night,
so they may be able to add something.”

“
Thanks
Brian…Grant” Bridger looked at them both in turn, and then down at
his wristwatch “Briefing in ten minutes.”

Bridger’s cell phone
beeped in his pocket indicating a call and he excused himself, the
number on the screen was withheld.

“
Detective
Sergeant Mike Bridger…” formalities were a work thing, even though
he thought it was John Mouller returning his message.

“
Sergeant
Bridger, this is Keith Joyce from the independent police conduct
authority, have you got a minute?”

That was quick, his
admiration for his new inspector diminished slightly. He had hoped
she would give him a couple of days at least to progress the
current enquiry before throwing him to the wolves.

“
I’ll give
you two…” He could not help himself. He did not like the sound of
the man with two first names on the other end of the line. What was
it about those name combinations and positions of power?

“
Right… Well
Sergeant, we have received a file from Inspector Allison regarding
an historical incident involving yourself and a detainee. I would
appreciate a meeting at your earliest convenience to discuss this
matter. You may contact your association representative for advice
and he or she may be present at any subsequent
meetings.”

It sounded like he was
reading from a cue card, typical bureaucracy; no one could afford
to put a foot wrong these days and Keith Joyce had the added
difficulty of dealing with a Detective who knew the rules. Bridger
decided to play for time.

“
I’m a little
tied up at the moment on a homicide investigation, it’s hard to
tell how long it will take, or when I will have a spare moment. Can
I get back to you?”

Keith Joyce was not
playing the game. “I’ll be in Dunedin for three days this week from
tomorrow. Shall we say eighteen hundred hours the day after
tomorrow, which should give you enough time to speak to someone… if
you want to that is?”

His tone of voice left
Bridger with no room to negotiate. “Okay Mr Joyce, I can spare you
thirty minutes, where is the meeting?”

“
That’s the
spirit Sergeant. The meeting will be on the third floor conference
room in your police station. I will look forward to it.”

The phone went dead in
Bridger’s hands. Staring at the little black device, the content of
their brief conversation tumbled inside his head. He could not read
Keith Joyce’s motives or preconceptions, which worried him
slightly. Was he the friendly assassin plotting against him? He
would find out either way in two days. That skeleton, born of
frustration and unwarranted anger directed at someone who was
probably deserving, was finally coming back to haunt him. It was
the remnants of his tumultuous first few months of promotion, or if
he was honest, the last couple of years, flaring up before dying
and finally being put to rest. It was a bit like hotspots in an
extinguished forest fire, just there to make the harried fire
fighter’s job that much more difficult. This was not what he needed
right now but he knew he had to face up to his past if he was truly
going to move on.

The sight of Gillian
Holler entering the room forced him to push the thoughts to the
back of his mind; he had a murder to solve.

Two days…

Chapter Six

Reece Coster hated the
way they did things these days. It was all too passive, where was
the passion? P.A.A.I.N was no longer the group he had joined five
years ago. The People Against Animals In captivity Network had
sounded good too him as an idealistic student. Their colourful
recruiting stand during University orientation week had attracted
him right from the start. Pictures of past demonstrations, and
‘Operations’ they had been involved in, promised a lot of
excitement to those that genuinely cared about animal welfare. It
indicated they would go to any lengths to get their point across,
something that excited him. There were plenty of girls hanging
around as well, so that was an added bonus. Of course, they were
only there for Bruce Millar, the charismatic self-styled leader
that he had idolised back in the day. As it turned out, Bruce
Millar was only there for the girls, he did not really care about
the animals at all. The pictures from the stand were mostly
bullshit as well. As soon as Bruce graduated, he disappeared into
the corporate world and was rumoured to be working for a company
that tested on animals. A few of them had kept the group going, but
no one else seemed too have any heart for it anymore. After Bruce
left, the group dynamic changed, the females in the group became
more serious. They got uglier and talked about things with which he
had no interest. It did not matter much anyway; they seemed to
exclude him more and more these days. They became secretive, not
inviting him to meetings as often as they should…, as often as he
was entitled as a paid member. What was so secret about what they
were doing now? The group who claimed to be behind the lions
release from a Circus in Lawrence back in the seventies reduced too
passive protest. He no longer cared about the girls, he could have
as many of those as he liked, and that Circus slut last night had
proven that. She was so easy. What he craved was
excitement.

Standing around outside
the Circus now, wearing animal masks, was not doing it for him
anymore. He stared at the collection of tents and caravans across
the road. The Circus was far from his favourite place, memories of
the terror filled visits his parents subjected him to as a child
bubbled in his head. Those animals scared the shit out of him and
his parents made him sit there and enjoy it. Snorting, slobbering,
and breathing, with their massive scary heads, the big eyes that
told him to be scared. He did not know it then, but he did now,
those animals were blaming him for their subservience, just waiting
for an opportunity to jump over the ringside and inhale him into
oblivion. Caged terror and hate, it was a crappy
existence.

Silent protests were
shit; he wanted more direct action, those animal abusers needed to
learn some lessons. Last night was just a start, what he had in
mind for today was going to make everyone stand up and take notice.
He would follow in his forebears footsteps, animals did not belong
in captivity; the Circus should only be for Clowns.

“
Well done on
your promotion Gill, it’s about time”

“
Thanks Mike,
although I still haven’t got used to the sound of Sergeant Holler,
yet. I didn’t think I would ever take the step, but now I have, I
sometimes wish I hadn’t.”

You and I both, Bridger
thought. “You will get used to it Gill, you just have to learn to
ignore anything rolling downhill from the third floor and just get
on with the job.” Even as he said it, Bridger knew he had not
learned anything about that particular piece of advice yet
either.

“
We’ll see…
anyway, Steve is away at Armed Offender Squad training today, so
it’s just me. I’m not sure how much more I can add.” Gillian took
out her notebook and faced the rest of the group. “The Circus has
been in town for three days. It was their first performance last
night. Gonzales called us, after a Maria Staverly fell from her
trapeze. She went too Dunedin Hospital A&E with minor injuries.
When we arrived at the circus, we heard Michael Wilson and Anthony
Gonzales arguing. Gonzales is Wilson’s business partner and
one-half of the trapeze… He was blaming the Clowns for shortening
the ropes they used, causing Staverly too fall. There seems to be a
bit of a rivalry between different factions of the Circus. It is
not all fun and laughter in the ranks apparently. From what I could
see, both Wilson and Gonzales were intoxicated and continued to
drink while we were there. It was not making much sense as a
legitimate complaint and I advised them that it was not really a
Police issue… He was still in his caravan with Gonzales when we
left” Gillian looked at each one of them in turn but no one
questioned Gillian’s decision of whether it warranted Police action
or not, they all respected her abilities and
decision-making.

“
Do we know
why Wilson was in town last night?” Grant asked.

“
I think he
must have gone too see Maria Staverly in the hospital, he kept
going on about that to Gonzales.”

“
That makes
sense,” Brian said. “The alleyway he was found in is almost
directly across the road from the Accident and Emergency
entry.”

Bridger moved back too
whiteboard and picked up a marker pen “Right then…, from our
timeline we see two persons of interest we need to speak too and
firm up their stories… Anthony Gonzales, possibly the last person
to see Wilson alive and Maria Staverly, whom he was possibly on the
way to see. I spoke with Staverly earlier this morning; she was
coming off a big night and had just arrived back, apparently. She
seemed upset at the news; one of the cooks had informed her of it
that morning. She could not tell me much about her night after
leaving the Hospital apart from saying she had not seen Wilson. She
would have had a sleep by now and may remember more. So Gonzales
and Staverly is where we start this morning then…”

A knock on the office
door interrupted their discussion and a red-faced uniformed officer
put his head in the door, puffing slightly. “Sergeant Holler, there
you are, we have a problem… Someone has released all of the Circus
animals down at Wilsons Circus on the Oval. Four horses, a
Chimpanzee, two Tigers, one Lion and an Elephant…” The officer was
counting them off on his fingers.

The situation sounded
comical but the implications were clear, wild animals and people
did not mix well, in any circumstance. Bridger’s stomach boiled
with adrenalin, which had dumped into it without warning. He looked
at Gillian’s calm unflappable face as she replied to the
officer.

“
Where are
the animals now, Constable?”

“
The Clowns
have one of the Tigers cornered in the back of the Oval, over on
the motorway side. The others have scattered far and
wide…”

Standing beside Steve
Kirkland, who was dressed from head to toe in his black coveralls
and was bristling with weapons, Bridger could almost imagine he was
in a war zone. Apart from the silent protesters, who refused to
move, the streets around the Circus were deserted and eerily quiet.
Everybody they could reach, in the short time they had too cordon
the area, was instructed to stay indoors and report any strange
animals directly to the Police. The petrol station attendant across
the road had shut his doors and stood behind the glass, staring out
at the oval, eyes searching for the excitement.

Bridger tried to do a
mental calculation of where the animals were and how many were
still outstanding. The Elephant had not gone very far, the Clowns
rounding it up while it was helping itself too a few delicacies off
the surrounding trees. A couple of the monkeys had stayed within
the confines of the tented area, content to swing in the rigging.
It was the more exotic ones that had them worried; the tigers were
roaming somewhere, searching out a free meal no doubt. A cold chill
ran down his spine at the thought. Thank god for people with guns,
he just hoped that his colleagues aim was true.