Walking slowly towards the standoff, he could not hear anything passing between them; everything displayed in their stance. The Clowns were not going to back down; they had one group in their sites for releasing the animals and they looked like they wanted to make a point. The Zebra mask stepped forward, chest puffed, and stood right in front of the middle Clown. He saw the Clown lean forward slightly, his bushy red hair obscuring his face so he could not see if the Clown spoke or not, he would still be too far away to hear anyway. Whatever it was that had passed between them, it had an effect on the Zebra mask, as his chest deflated a little and he took a step backwards. One by one, the fake animals turned and walked away, watched by the Clowns.
Bridger and Steve reached the line of Clowns just as the last protester got back into their vehicle. The Clowns did not speak. Turning, they walked back towards the Circus in silence. Steve shouldered the rifle he had been carrying at the ready and stood beside him.
The protesters got back out of their vehicles, removing their masks in the process. A diverse group of people stood before them, with sweaty hair pressed to their scalps. Bridger could see them glancing nervously between Steve and his gun and the Circus tents behind them. The Clowns had disappeared; almost as if they had melted back into the world they lived in, within the various tents and cages. He looked at the group; all but the Zebra mask had revealed their identities to him.
“Right…, who wants to start?”
Chapter Seven
No one had confessed to releasing the animals. It had taken less than ten minutes to determine that all but one person from the group that called themselves P.A.A.I.N had an alibi for the time of the murder. They had tucked themselves away in a small suburban house in the northeast valley, which doubled as a makeshift headquarters. They all affirmed that they were planning their next move when someone was attacking Michael Wilson, and they all swore blind that it was not releasing the animals, as had happened. As hard as Bridger had pushed them they were not willing to say what it was they were planning. He was not sure about the animals, as that was P.A.A.I.N’s main purpose, but it was very unlikely that the murder would have been a group effort.
The person they had all noted for his absence at their meeting was now sitting across from him in the stuffy interview room. He was a very entitled, smug looking, twenty something male. He was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, the irony of him wearing an animal skin not escaping his attention, but without the Zebra mask, which was sitting on the desk in front of them. He looked like the type that would make a stand on anything that might end up in a scuffle.
The Clowns had tried to sort him out today though. He would have thought that having a something with a smiling painted face put him in his place with nothing more than a short interaction would lessen his stature a little, but it did not seem to faze him at all.
Reece Coster now had a smirk on his face that was trying for nonchalant, but Bridger saw right through it. He saw the nervous twitch next to his right eye. What was he hiding?
It was not implausible to link what had happened that morning to the events of the other night. Releasing the animals and the death of Wilson achieved the same outcome. Both of them had an effect on the Circus, however, the question would then have to be, why? What did this arrogant young man sitting in front of him have to gain by killing someone, and why did it happen back to front? Normally these things would escalate, ending in a death, not the other way round. This one made no sense. Nothing surprised him normally, but he did not like the timeline.
Detective Becky Wright entered the room carrying a tray of coffee; the aroma of cheap instant granules filled the small room. She had completed what she could with her dead body at the mortuary and would not need to be present again until the autopsy. She had volunteered to help with the interview to take her mind off it in the mean time.
“Two with and one without…” Becky held the black coffee out too Reece who took it and placed it on the desk in front of him, before leaning back and putting his hands behind his head.
Bridger read the preamble off the printed card sitting in front of him outlining their seemingly relaxed guest’s rights while being spoken too by police. Although he was not under arrest, they wanted him to stay and provide a statement in order to determine his involvement, if any, in the attack on Michael Wilson or the subsequent releasing of the animals from his Circus. Reece just nodded along as he spoke, and grunted when asked if he understood. The arrogance of this young man got right up Bridger’s nose but he tried not to let on.
“Mr Coster… Let us start with what happened this morning at the Circus. Did you or your colleagues have anything to do with the release of those animals?”
Reece snorted through his nose “No…, our mission is to protect those animals, releasing them would put them in all kinds of danger. The biggest threat too them would be you lot and your guns.”
“What does P.A.A.I.N stand for?”
“People against animals in captivity network… we have been around for over sixty years.”
“Is this not the same group that claim to be behind releasing those Lions from the Circus in Lawrence back in nineteen seventy eight?” Becky asked.
“And look what happened, the local Policeman shot them both. Sultan was trying to return to his cage, but could not get in, and Sonia was just cornered. If they had given her space, she would have returned to her captivity. Those Lions did not know anything but the two by four cages they spent their short lives in, performing for the enjoyment of the ignorant, day in and day out. So no, releasing animals is not something we like to do these days… for obvious reasons. Maybe you should look a bit closer to home… open your eyes and see.” A knowing smile spread across his face and then he stretched his arms revealing a scripted tattoo of the word PAAIN on the inside of his forearm, before yawning and looking at his watch.
Bridger was not sure he believed what he was saying, it sounded too scripted too be something he actually believed in. He had also seen many guilty people display the same indifferent actions when they were hiding something. “So what do you do when you are not saving animals Mr Coster?”
“I’m at the university…”
“You said you have been a member of P.A.A.I.N for how long?”
“I didn’t… but six years in total…, if you have to know.” There was a slight pride in Reece’s voice.
“P.A.A.I.N recruits first year students don’t they? So you must be doing a Masters degree by now, or even a Doctorate?” Becky had a slightly puzzled tone.
Bridger caught the reaction on Reece’s face as it went from pride too something else. Darkness descended in his features, as if he was ashamed of the answer. The question had obviously struck a nerve. He wondered why Becky had asked it.
“I never completed my first degree…, I am attending different lectures at the moment, trying to find something that interests me, but with my commitments to P.A.A.I.N it gets a bit difficult…”
“Ok, so you are unemployed, you’re not enrolled in a degree course and spend your time saving animals… Where were you last night, Mr Coster?” Becky had jumped straight in and asked the only question left to clarify.
Reece took a deep breath and looked at each one of them in the eye, as if contemplating how to phrase his answer. “I was at the pub; the Robbie Burns, plenty of people saw me… I even pulled.” He directed a sleazy look towards Becky “And before you ask, gentlemen do not kiss and tell, but if you want to know more, take a look at the P.A.A.I.N website this evening.” He folded his arms and leaned back against the chair with a satisfied smile. They were not going to get anything else from him today.
Bridger and Becky were walking back up to the office after they had released Reece Coster and told him they would be checking his alibi. They had what they needed from him for now, even if Bridger found it hard to believe he was not holding anything back. “Thanks for agreeing to look after Mr Wilson this morning Becky, it’s never a pleasant task.”
/> “As long as you note it down for my next appraisal, Mike.” Becky actually smiled as she spoke, the morning’s gruesome detail obviously not affecting her too much.
“You will get a glowing report Becky… Hey, what were all the questions about Reece’s degree courses?”
“I’ve met his type before; they pretend to be something they are not. Failed students who cannot quite let the life go, hanging around for one cause or another. His just happens to be animals; I bet he does not even believe in what he stands for. He is just there for a bit of action. He will be behind releasing those animals. All his spouting on about putting them in danger… he does not believe that, but he has to keep up the pretence or his fellow activists might oust him.”
“I would say he is good for releasing the animals…, but murder? Do you see a connection with what he says he believes in, and that?”
“I’m not sure Mike, but he needs to be added to our list of suspects.”
Bridger nodded his reply as his phone beeped in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw the name ‘Laura Bridger’ displayed prominently on the message icon. He stopped walking.
‘Mike, can we meet this afternoon. Need to talk about last night. I do not want to compete with your work again. L’
Shit… He was afraid this would happen. It had taken him weeks to convince Laura to come out for a meal, it had taken longer to reach the point they had last night. Things had been looking up for their marriage for the first time in at least a few years. They were still living apart, but he had seen some hope in her shy willingness. Now the same old rot had set in, but this time she was still gun-shy and looked like she wanted to pull back before his work got in the way again. He loved his wife, but needed his work. When it all came down to it, he knew he would not be able to choose easily.
“Mike, are you okay?” Becky’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“Sorry Becky, what were you saying?” Bridger put the phone back in his pocket, and tried to suppress the feeling that had started to make itself at home inside his head. He knew that the current murder enquiry would take up a lot of his time, he could not predict for how long either. Becky just shrugged and walked into the office with her back to him.
Walking into the office behind her, he saw Jo Williamson sitting behind her desk; she looked to be at a loose end for once and was gazing out of the window. He clicked back into work mode. “Jo can you make an enquiry at the hospital, see if you can dig up any CCTV footage of the entrance to the accident and emergency ward. We need to nail down the period of when Wilson came and went from the hospital. It makes sense that he may have entered the alleyway shortly after leaving the hospital.”
Jo looked back from the window and just nodded her reply, a slightly vacant look on her face. He had seen this look before on his own face, a look he had caught in the reflection of a window when he was not expecting it. Maybe it was not such a good idea for her to be back so soon, but then he had needed work as a way to escape in the past, so maybe she was in the right place. He spoke a little softer.
“Can you also dig up as much as you can on Reece Coster; there is more too him than meets the eye. Check with staff at the Robbie Burns Hotel; see if they can recall him being there. The rest of us have another trip to the Circus.”
The scene could not have been more different from what he had seen earlier in the morning. The interior of the Circus encampment almost seemed like another world now. They had circled the wagons against the outside world, the occupants hidden from view by the thin metal walls of their mobile homes and caravans. Temporary gates, shut tight against excited children and overzealous silent protestors, had a makeshift sign on them that read ‘Circus Closed’. No other explanation was given. The battlements drawn, the Oval was now a medieval wall of caravans’ and cages, and right in the centre of it all was the yellow ‘Big Top’ standing as proud as a castles keep.
Bridger stood with Brian, Becky and Grant in a small huddle and felt like he led a hopelessly outnumbered invading force that had no idea of the world they had entered. The smells and noises coming from behind canvas shrouds were a stark reminder of the animals they hid, animals he had seen at close range earlier in the day. Groups of strangely dressed people milled about in an ordered society known only to them. Bridger looked around at the strange breed of people. There was a subtle hierarchy at play, which seemed outdated, but obviously worked well for the inhabitants of this Circus.
The Clowns he recognised from earlier were jostling each other and laughing beside a large motor home on the far side, happy in each other’s company. A group of woman, dressed similar to the peasants of old, were gathered around a steaming pot under a canvas awning, toiling away their time. A couple of young men without shirts were leading various animals in and out of the big tents canvas doors, sweat glistening off the backs of human and animals alike.
A very small man had intercepted them at the front gate and had told them he would advise Mr Gonzales of their presence, before scurrying away in a strange shuffling motion. Bridger had no idea whether it was still appropriate to use the word ‘Midget’, but could not think of any other way to describe the little man. There was no sign of the rest of the performers. It looked as if everyone had his or her jobs to do in this travelling show and did them without complaint, a society at its most base level.
“Do you think that those women have a big pot of steaming cabbage cooking over there?” Grant was indicating the group of cooks as he spoke, and was smiling too himself. “Or maybe it’s an ancient spell...”
“Grant, that’s not very appropriate, is it.” Becky’s tone was sharp. “I didn’t think you stooped to using baseless stereotypes.”
Bridger decided the word Midget was probably not appropriate either “Alright you two, no arguments please, we are here to do a job.” Looking at Brian for backup, he saw he was looking slightly puzzled. “What’s on your mind, Brian?”
“I’m not sure Mike…, it’s just this place is strange. When the animals were out this morning, the Clowns took care of it. They knew what they were doing and just got on with it. Anthony Gonzales looked like he was out of his depth, yet he is now the only boss. He did not interact with anyone within the Circus that I saw during that whole episode, but the Circus Midget ran off too get him as if he was a King. Michael Wilson has only been dead for less than twenty-four hours. I don’t know, it is just a feeling I get, but something’s not right.” Brian shrugged his shoulders and indicated over Bridger’s shoulder. “Here he comes now…”
Bridger looked behind him and saw Anthony Gonzales approaching with the Midget trailing behind him. He was dressed in a velvet waistcoat and trousers and carried a walking stick, which he clearly did not need. Anthony was oblivious to the looks he was getting from his subjects but it did not escape Bridger’s attention. The Clowns were the worst of all, not bothering to hide the contempt in their eyes.
“Sergeant, it’s good to see you again.” He held out his hand, limply, like an old friend. “I would like to thank you again for your help this morning; none of the animals seem too have suffered in their ordeal.” He looked Bridger in the eye as if seeking conformation that he was saying the right thing. Bridger noticed a slight bruise around his eye, something he had not seen earlier.
“It’s just a shame that it happened this morning Mr Gonzales, we do have more important things too deal with at the moment. This brings us to what we need to do now. It is just a formality, but we need to speak too everyone here. Depending on what they have to tell us, will determine whether we need a formal statement or not.” There was no point in dressing it up as sympathy over the death of Anthony’s friend, they had a job to do and it was easier for everyone if they just got on with it.
Anthony looked over his shoulders at the groups surrounding them; they were all watching their discussion intently “Okay Sergeant, where would you like to start.” There was a slightly nervous look on Anthony’s face.
“Let’s start with you, Mr Gonzales. I
understand that you were with him last night, here at the Circus… Some sort of argument?” Bridger saw the flash of anger behind Anthony’s eyes, quickly replaced by another look he recognised all too well… fear.
“Okay Sergeant, we can use my caravan.” Anthony turned and retreated towards his caravan without bothering to wait for a reply.
Jo Williamson shuffled in her chair while the phone rang in her ear; she hated being stuck in the office, with its daily reminders of what she was missing. The job was her life; she had enjoyed every bit of it…, until it had happened. She just sat there now, day after day, watching her colleagues go about their lives, oblivious of her thoughts and fears, while she was stuck at a desk clearing someone else’s files. Bloody light duties. Of course, she could not blame them, she had not told anyone of how she felt. She was scared, scared of contact with anyone out in the real world, of herself, but most of all, she was scared of her dreams. Her dreams showed her the truth that her mind would not let her remember. That ugly tattooed face, framed with dreadlocked hair, came too her every night and smiled at her. The smile told her everything she needed to know, and now she was an emotional cripple. The face had started to make her despise men, how was she too trust a man if what this face showed her was true. Not knowing just made it all the more difficult.
She had not slept properly since that day and she was only just managing too hold herself together, but she could not let go of the job. She would disappear over the edge of sanity and never return if she could not come into work every day, it was her lifeline. She forced herself to concentrate on the task. A brisk sounding Scottish female answered the phone just as Jo was getting impatient.
Five minutes of forced banter with the nurse, while pretending to be efficient and together, and Jo had all the information she was going to get. She even managed to get the Nurse to email her an electronic copy of the CCTV footage she needed, thank god for modern technology. She clicked open on the file folder and a surprisingly clear image appeared on the screen in front of her. The front door of the Hospital and out into the car park were in plain view, every few seconds someone would enter or leave through the automatic doors. The nurse had told her that Maria Staverly had left the hospital at around ten o’clock on Thursday night; twenty two hundred hours in Police speak. She found the curser and scrolled forward to that time. Maria Staverly walked through the doors on the screen, still wearing her costume, slightly unsteady on her feet, and sporting a large cast on her left arm. Jo watched her recorded image as it stopped just outside the doors and then look up towards the camera as if she knew it was watching her. Maria Staverly smiled directly into the camera, a strange haunted smile that put a slight chill in Jo’s spine. Something behind the smile touched her, like a kindred spirit who could share her burden. She watched as Maria pulled what looked like rolls of bandages out of her pockets and dump them in the rubbish bin beside her, before walking away out of view. Less than thirty seconds of footage.
Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 5