by Vanda Symon
10
Rosie Bateman for Pope. That is the poster her flatmates had apparently stuck on her bedroom door for a good-natured joke. They’d even Photoshopped her picture and added a papal mitre and staff. According to the flatmate interviews, her worst vice was gingernut finger biscuits or pineapple lumps – it was too close to call. Her strongest beverage was Red Bull and her worst habit was leaving strands of hair in the shower, clogging the drain. The last claim was made by a flatmate with waist-length black hair, so was most likely unreliable. Her taste in music, always at a considerate volume, was retro – Steely Dan, Cat Stevens. She was rostered to cook on Tuesday nights and always cooked spaghetti bolognese. She saw her boyfriend occasionally; he never stayed the night and she always came home to sleep. The overall consensus was she was a good girl, a statement that was becoming a familiar mantra when talking about Rose-Marie. She was a fun, intelligent young woman, dedicated to her studies and very involved in her church.
Just as her boyfriend said, Rose-Marie seemed to have struck it lucky with her flatmates. As far as I could tell, they all got on well, and they seemed to have an almost family-like camaraderie. I could relate to the benefits of a good flatmate – Maggie and I had flatted together for years, in different places, and I would have to say she was a calming influence on me. I couldn’t quite say what benefits Maggie got from the relationship, but she continued to put up with me, so I couldn’t be too bad.
I thought about Rose-Marie’s involvement with the church. It would be interesting to talk with her priest, or youth pastor, to see if she’d mentioned any concerns. If she couldn’t confide in them, who could she confide in? I jotted the thoughts down in my notebook – I’d put it to Smithy in the morning.
Smithy had finally got to go home to his family around three. It didn’t leave the poor man much time to play with the kids, so I hadn’t quizzed him for too long. One of the consolations of singledom was not having to keep tabs on the work hours.
According to Smithy the interview with Dr Hawkins wasn’t that interesting. The main impression he got was that politics was alive and well in academic circles. The pursuit of higher learning didn’t exempt the university from the curse of the large institution – in-house posturing and turf guarding. Hawkins and Rose-Marie got on fine: there may have been one or two disagreements on small matters, but according to Hawkins, they were all her own doing because, as she put it, Rose-Marie had a brilliant mind, and she found it hard to compete. Smithy had been quite disarmed by her honesty. Most people in a murder investigation wouldn’t admit, up front, to any form of jealousy, lest it incriminated them. This woman had no such qualms and admitted she’d have loved to have half of the natural ability of this girl. She insinuated that she wasn’t the only one in this situation, and that Prof Simpson had felt more than a little threatened by his student’s skills. A further trip to the university would clearly be in order in the morning, and hopefully, I’d be able to sneak in on the ride.
For the moment, I was done in. I leaned back in the chair and stretched my arms up and back behind me, loosening up the accumulated shoulder tension of the day.
A run, a hot shower, Sunday-night roast with a nice glass of red – you had to love families with old-fashioned traditions. Then a DVD and early to bed with the weekend crossword puzzles. That was the soother I needed. It had been a hell of a few days.
11
It was only nine o’clock in the morning and already the gloss had been knocked off my day. DI I’m-God-with-a-grudge Johns had taken his usual dose of perverted delight in sending me off on another dregs job, and this one surpassed all others with respect to the ugh factor.
Just for a change, I was at the circus. By now, any joy my brain had previously associated with The Greatest Show on Earth had been displaced by dread. Somehow, I didn’t think this visit was going to go down too well with the surly Terry Bennett. Madame Time Warp behind the ticket-office security grille window didn’t look that pleased to see me here again, and I was certain what I was about to ask Bennett would put him in a right shitty liver. I seemed to have become the unofficial circus liaison, yippee, and DI Johns appeared to derive a great deal of pleasure from sending me back here again. I only wished he’d sent Smithy or some other company with me. Terry Bennett was one of the few people in this world who had the knack of making me all too aware of my vertical shortcomings.
I passed some of the time fidgeting, while looking at the cheerful circus posters that adorned the ticket-office walls. They did get around. Before Dunedin, Darling Bros Circus had been to six other towns or cities in the South Island, with more to perform in yet. I bet they were all glad to get home at the end of a tour, wherever home was. There were a fair few foreigners among the travelling company, judging by the array of accents and Babelish languages. There was no question of where Mr Bennett originated from though, as his harsh, eardrumgrating accent was all Kiwi.
‘To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit this time?’ I hadn’t heard his approach and the magnitude of his voice made me jump. He certainly knew how to project.
‘Mr Bennett, yes, here again. You’ll be giving me a job here soon.’ I laughed, a thin, nervy giggle.
He gave me a kind of up-and-down look. ‘Well, you’re small,’ he said. ‘The acrobats need someone to throw.’
I didn’t know whether to say thanks, or not. There was no point in procrastinating my task, so I swallowed hard and pitched straight in. ‘I need to ask you a few questions about some motorbikes.’
‘Motorbikes? What motorbikes?’
‘I don’t know if you’ve been following the news, but three specialised miniature motorbikes were stolen from a Dunedin property earlier in the week, and we have had a witness come forward claiming to have seen one of them over the back of the circus.’ I indicated towards the rear of their set-up. I’d already been down there for a nosey and had found no trace of the bikes. I would have been tempted to leave it at that if I’d thought I could get away with it, but was obliged to followup verbally with the mercurial Mr B. I braced myself.
‘And did this person happen to mention what the hell business they had skulking around the back of my circus?’ The reaction and its volume were as anticipated.
‘They said they were passing through.’
‘They were trespassing or casing us out, and don’t think I don’t know exactly where this line of conversation is going. You people are all the same. Where the hell do you all get off treating us like we’re criminals? The circus comes to the town, so they must all be ratbags or thieves, every one of them.’ Okay, more than anticipated. I had to work hard not to openly stare at the array of death symbolism and straight-out expletives tattooed all over his arms as he mentioned the word ‘criminal’. Hard to figure out where that kind of impression might come from.
‘You come with me.’ He grabbed me by the arm and I wondered if I should be alarmed at being dragged off towards the middle of the compound. He stopped abruptly before I could make a decision on whether to panic or not.
‘See that container there.’ He pointed at a large white shipping container on the back of an equally sizable black truck and trailer. ‘There is over half a million dollars’ worth of equipment kept in there. He pulled me around the corner to the big top. ‘Do you have any idea how much that thing is worth?’ He stabbed at the air with his forefinger.
I shook my head, quite certain he was about to educate me.
‘Four hundred thousand dollars, four-hundred K. The lighting and sound systems alone are worth over two hundred grand. What about the animals?’ He pointed over to what I considered the cramped and unappealing cages of three lions and several morose-looking monkeys. ‘I paid out a small fortune for those, they’re worth a bomb. The elephant alone is worth … well, she’s irreplaceable.’ He turned me around so I was facing him. ‘So why the fuck do you think anyone at this circus would bother to steal some piddling crappy little motorbikes? Tell me that will you? Why do you think we would need to
do that?’
I could have done with an umbrella and he could have done with a breath mint. ‘Look, I don’t mean to cause you any offence,’ I said. God knew he took offence like an Olympic hurdler. ‘But someone has reported this and it is our duty to follow it up. I am certain none of your people would have had anything to do with the thefts, but I would still appreciate it if you’d quietly keep an eye or an ear out just in case.’
‘I’ll do no such thing, young lady.’ He moved slightly closer in a deliberate attempt to intimidate me. I was eye-level with his sizeable chest and already well aware of how imposing he could be. His move only served to piss me off, so I stood my ground and maintained firm eye contact as he continued on his rant. ‘I can tell you right here and now none of my crew would steal anything, not only because they are decent people, but because they all know they would have to deal with me first.’ It didn’t take much imagination to work out how they’d be handled. ‘So you can take your little enquiry and stick it, as far as I’m concerned.’
Count to ten; you’re the bigger person, Shep, I coached myself, don’t make it worse. I seemed to have been doing a lot of maths lately. When I was certain my dander was under control, I spoke with deliberate calm. ‘There’s no reason to be rude.’ I couldn’t resist some admonishment, delivered with what I hoped was a soothing kind of voice. ‘If it were your equipment that had been stolen, you’d expect us to make a complete and thorough investigation, as is our duty. It’s the same for this person.’
He reciprocated with what I guessed was his version of control. ‘Yeah, well I’m sick to bloody death of everyone treating us like scumbags. You can go back and tell your superiors they’re looking up the wrong tree here. They should be looking at the sod that was poking around my property, not at us. He was the one up to no damned good.’
‘Yes, I know that, and of course we’ll be looking into his behaviour too. Do you want to make a formal complaint about trespass?’ I thought maybe if I turned it around his temper might fully defuse.
‘Bah.’ He threw his hands up into the air. ‘Like it would make any difference. You’d be amazed how people think they can walk through our compound at any time of day or night. Wander where they like, like it’s all one big sideshow attraction. They wouldn’t take kindly to complete strangers wandering through their backyards, looking at their laundry, hassling their pets.’
I wouldn’t have thought of a bloody great elephant and several wild animals as pets, but I could see it would get a little tiresome. Meanwhile, something I’d seen earlier was playing on my mind a bit, so I took the opportunity to change the subject completely. ‘I think that’s all I need to ask about the bikes. Like I said, please let me know if you hear of anything. While I’m here, my niece is a huge circus fan. Her folks are bringing her along tomorrow night. Do you have any spare copies of your circus poster she could have for her bedroom wall? I think she’d love that.’
Actually, it wasn’t for my niece at all, and her mum probably wouldn’t let her have posters on the wall anyway – they might make pinholes. No, there was something about the towns on the itinerary that was bugging me.
‘Yeah, sure, we’ve got hundreds of the things. You can have a couple. It’s the kids that keep the circus going, isn’t it? We can put up with all the crap because in the end, it’s the kids who love it and have a good time.’ I didn’t peg him as the sentimental type, so was quite sure it wasn’t all about the kids – publicity speak if I ever heard it. Cynical, I suppose. But judging by how flash the trailer unit was that he lived in, he could put up with the crap because he made a damned good bob out of it. It was all about business. That’s how he could keep lions caged up all day and monkeys imprisoned, miniature ponies and dogs in less than ideal conditions and as for that poor bloody elephant … I was brought up on a farm where animal welfare was paramount. My impression of this place was that welfare was secondary to profits.
The circus had lost its appeal. I’d get out of here, head back to the station, write up the report on this wild goose-chase and then sit and try to figure out why the posters were bugging me so much.
12
There was quite the hubbub going on at the station as the other CIB members worked hard on what I considered the good stuff, interviewing Rose-Marie’s friends, family, university associates, while I toiled away, as usual, on the dross. Maybe I’d get lucky one day and DI Johns and his grudge would get transferred out of here, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. Wankers never walked. God only knew what it would take to impress the DI and get into his good books, and even he probably couldn’t manage it. Whoever would have thought I’d have wistful thoughts back to my sole-charge Mataura days and the simplicity of policing there? This was supposed to be my dream, detective training, the big D, advancing my career, today the CIB, tomorrow, the world. No one mentioned some of the bloody great obstacles in the way. Reality bit.
Once at the little scrap of timber and veneer in the corner that was my desk, I rolled out the circus posters and had a good look. It wasn’t the impressive pictures of roaring lions and ridiculously costumed monkeys that held my interest, but the towns that had hosted the greatest show on earth. Kaikoura, Christchurch, Ashburton, Timaru, Oamaru, Dunedin. They were working their way down the east coast, then returning up via the West. After their stay in Dunners they’d plunge further south to Balclutha and Invercargill, then up to Queenstown and Wanaka and the Central Lakes, then over the Alps to Greymouth, Westport, and Nelson before heading back to the North Island. Some of those alpine passes would be interesting to negotiate with their collection of vehicles. I wondered if elephants got car-sick? Wouldn’t want that clean-up job.
‘Yo, Shephard, you back from the circus already? Oh, and I see you got yourself a souvenir.’ Smithy dumped a wad of paper on the desk next to mine and came over for a look. One day I’d work up the courage and tell him that words like ‘yo’ didn’t work coming from the mouth of a middle-aged, slightly plump, white guy. He pointed to the pictures. ‘I like the hats on the monkeys, very stylish. You should get yourself one of those.’
‘As soon as you go get yourself one of those clown suits.’ Judging by the less grumpy than usual look on his face, it looked like he’d been on to more interesting jobs than me this morning. ‘Who’d you get to interview?’ I asked.
‘Been back down at the university. Professor Simpson was lecturing this morning, so I couldn’t follow up on the little inconsistencies of accounts between him and Dr Hawkins and Dr Collins. That whole thing sounds so much like tit for tat. I’ve come to the conclusion the university is just a more articulate version of a primary-school playground, except the school kids are better behaved.’ Academics weren’t Smithy’s thing; he seemed to have an innate distrust of anyone who used their brain for a living, which was amusing really, when you considered detective work was precisely that, and that Smithy possessed a damned good one. ‘We were working our way through Rosie’s colleagues and the students she tutored. Nothing surprising so far, other than the usual ‘she was so nice, she worked hard’ etcetera, etcetera. Tell you what though. They all look so damned young. It made me feel geriatric.’
‘You are. They probably think you’re their parents’ vintage, and they wouldn’t be too far off the mark.’ Smithy had a lovely wife, Veronica, and two young kids. He was a bit of an older dad, having not found his true love until his forties.
‘Yeah, thanks for that, like I needed reminding.’ He gave me a pretend clip around the ear. ‘Anyway, how did you get on with the charming Mr Bennett?’
‘Exactly as you’d expect. I got nowhere. He was a bit miffed by the insinuation they could be a pack of criminals. He just couldn’t see how anyone would get that impression.’
‘I think that man’s policy is to take offence at everything. He’s so damned overreactive. No wonder the media love following him around, he’s perfect camera fodder.’
‘You got that right. He’s a consummate performer with a well-rehearsed line for any o
ccasion. He’s a bit like my old dog – any attention’s good attention for him.’ I was pleased Smithy read Terry Bennett the same way I did.
‘I see you’ve got a couple of those posters; can I grab one for the kids? Katie would love that in her room,’ he said, hovering over my desk like a blowfly.
‘Course you can.’ I slid the top one off and passed it over.
‘What’s the story with those?’
‘They’re not for my bedroom wall, if that’s what you were meaning. I think I’ve outgrown the need for posters. No, there was something bugging me about them. I’m sure I’ll figure it out if I stare at them long enough.’
‘You stare away, then. I’m off to meet the Mrs for lunch, I’ll catch you later.’ He rolled up the poster and headed off with it towards the door.
‘Say hi from me.’
‘Sure thing. Have fun.’
I sat down and stared at the poster in the hope something would jump out and take me by the jugular. I didn’t know what, exactly, but I knew my instincts well enough to trust that if something was bugging me, it was worth looking at.
I didn’t have to stare too long before the bug flew into view. Both of the computers in the room were free for a change, so I hopped on to one and logged in. I typed in the names of the towns the circus had visited and confirmed what had been banging around in the back of my mind. I’d been looking at these place names yesterday, when I was wasting time on my pointless task du jour from DI Johns. Perhaps the task hadn’t been so pointless, after all. Most of the places were there. But it was the dates that made me utter a very rude word.
Christchurch, unsolved murder.
Ashburton, unexplained death.
Timaru, unexplained death.
Oamaru, unsolved murder.
And of course, Dunedin, very recent unsolved murder. Any thoughts of coincidence evaporated when I compared the dates of the murders to the itinerary of the circus. They were in town every single time.