The mask was the same as the one worn by Coster that morning. The clothing of the Zebra looked familiar as well, but Bridger could not quite place it. A male’s voice spoke over the heavy breathing ‘If you support the Circus, you may as well be screwing the animals… Make your choice” The torso behind the Zebra leaned too one side, lowering its head. A wicked red smile on a white painted face grinned at the camera, the false red nose fell off onto the floor and the wearer picked it up quickly, putting it back in place, before continuing his dominant thrusts. Bridger and John watched silently as the movements became more urgent. The psychotic looking clown gripped the zebra around the throat, and then pulled her onto her knees as he gave a final thrust. The noise coming from his throat making both Bridger and John cringe inwardly. The clowns arm then came across the screen and flicked a switch out of sight, and then the screen went blank.
Bridger stood and stared at the blackened screen, the final image seared into his brain. He had almost missed it; his mind had gone into autopilot while he watched, as it did many times before when watching such images, a reaction to protect his emotional response. However, this time it was the final image that stuck in his mind, not the actions themselves. What had he just seen, there were two things, but he had to be sure.
“Play that last bit again John…”
John looked up at him strangely. “I wouldn’t have picked you for a ‘money-shot’ sort of guy Mike.”
Bridger gave him a look that said he was not in the mood for any crude humour. “Just do it…”
John fiddled with a couple of buttons on the keyboard with one hand and moved the mouse with the other. The semi-pornographic image appeared back on screen a few seconds before the ‘money-shot’, the zebra was just about to rear up onto her knees. “Pause it there John.”
The image froze, the zebra had risen and the clown was reaching for the switch. Bridger stood and stared, adrenalin building in his gut… It was all there for him to see, a scripted tattoo on the forearm of the clown reading ‘PAAIN’, Reece Coster in all his sick glory. However, that was not what excited him most. Plainly visible on the tight spandex suit of the zebra, and contrasted next to a coloured cast on her wrist, were little droplets of blood, splayed out in an upwards spray pattern, and all displayed in high definition. It was the same spandex suit he had seen Maria Staverly wearing when leaving the hospital and it was blood, which had not been present when she had left. The hospital was only a few hundred meters from where Wilson had met his demise, and just to top it off, there on the cast covering her injured wrist, was a small droplet of blood.
“What is it Mike, what do you see?”
Bridger ignored Johns question and instead pulled out his cellphone. He was a long way from motive, but this was too much too ignore. Maria had some questions to answer and they needed to seize that top as soon as they could. If that were Wilson’s blood, then the motive would become less important, as physical evidence outweighs ones denial in most cases. Reece Coster was clearly on intimate terms with Maria as well, they would most likely be in it together. Simon West had said it; a male had carried out the killing. However, Bridger was willing to bet a strong female could have taken Wilson by surprise, or was it both of them.
The phone was answered after the forth ring and Bridger set the wheels in motion as he was walking towards the front door.
“Thanks for coming…, next time use the door…” John called from the back room.
Bridger did not reply as he closed the front door on his colleague’s musty existence. He had forgotten that he had only stopped by briefly to check on John’s welfare and with his intention to return to work, he had completely forgotten his next appointment with Laura, his mind was already thinking about the next steps towards catching a killer… or two.
Chapter Ten
Jo’s head was spinning a little as she watched Maria twirl expertly around a rope tied to the roof of the big top, unseen in the darkness above the lighting that had been set up in the middle of the ring. She moved casually and without fuss, almost intimately, as music played quietly in the background. The cast on her wrist was giving her no trouble as she gripped the rope tightly with the tips of her fingers left free of constraint.
“This is how I relax” Maria said, as she locked her long legs around the rope and lay backwards. Small drops of water were dripping off her still wet hair and landing in the sawdust at Jo’s feet. “Lie down on your back, below me… on the ground.” Maria pointed with her free hand “You will get a better view from down there.”
They had not said much too each other since Maria had finished her shower. They had skirted around each other for a short time back in the caravan, Maria not even asking why she was there. She had stared into her eyes, and had seen herself reflected in the depth of colour and experiences of this girl. The interaction betrayed a life of hardship and sorrow. Maria had broken the eye contact and went to say something, but stopped at the last minute. Instead, she had taken a tiny box from on top of a shelf. Placing it on the table silently, she had retrieved two small pills from inside. The pills were tinged blue and were the size of peas, Maria had placed one on her own tongue, before pushing the other into her hand and closing her fingers around it. The touch of her skin had been like a little electric shock. “Take it”, she had said, before turning and walking out of the caravan.
Jo had followed her as they had passed darkened cages, shallow agitated breathing from within, the smell of dung and straw. They had bypassed a small enclave of caravans circling a campfire; she had seen a group of Clowns among the sparks and embers, poking fun and angst at each other as they drank merrily from bottles and cans. Clowns gave her the creeps, ever since that horrible film when she was younger, a killer clown that delivered sick jokes instead of delight. They had left the clowns where they were and now she found herself enthralled by Maria’s seductive movements on the rope, twirling under the big top, as the small pill dissolved into her bloodstream. She felt nice; a long way from the last time, a different trip, one of her own choosing. Smiling, she lay down on the sawdust-covered floor and looked up at the floating angel above her. Maria’s loose white cotton shirt was billowing around her as she moved back and forth. Her sports bra was visible beneath the sheer fabric and she caught glimpses of Maria’s flat stomach as the shirt splayed open slightly. She did not feel embarrassed and did not divert her eyes, as she normally would have. She was mesmerised by the sheer sexiness of her movements, her strong body moving fluently despite the cast on her wrist. It was a foreign feeling, but one which she felt oddly comfortable with.
A small drop of water landed on her face making her blink, but she did not wipe it away. Instead, she savoured the sensation as it tracked its way down her cheek like a tear. She closed her eyes, trying to preserve the feelings of peace. She had not felt this way in a long time. Maybe it was being here with Maria, maybe it was the pill. She did not care; all she wanted right now was this feeling too remain. Maria’s smile had been right. This was right.
Jo felt hot breath on her cheek where the droplet had been, the sensation drying the wet track. She opened her eyes, Maria’s own eyes were inches from hers, but they were the wrong way up, making her appear attractively foreign.
“What do you want?” Maria said, as she hung upside down, their faces’ almost touching.
Jo could smell her just-washed scent of shampoo and soap, and damp locks of hair tickled at her face. “I…I don’t know…” was all she managed.
Maria’s eyes narrowed and she sucked in a deep breath before folding in the middle and raising her arms back up too her legs. She grabbed the rope and swung herself violently around, the ropes, swinging wildly as she twirled faster and faster. “You’re a copper, aren’t you…” a slight catch in her voice betraying her efforts.
Jo did not know what to say, how did she know she was with the Police? She had not told her anything about that. Maria had given her the pill with no shame or guilt; she must have known it was agains
t the law. But then she had taken it so easily… so much for the law.
“Well?” Maria let go of the rope and flipped her lithe body over, landing on her feet beside Jo. “I don’t really care either way… just be honest.” Her breathing was only slightly faster than normal.
“How did you know?”
“I can just tell… although you lot are normally not so attractive.”
Jo felt Maria’s eyes sweep up and down her figure, and she felt herself get smaller as her body tried too shy away from her sudden appraisal. Sitting up, she hugged her knees too her chest. “Thank you… I guess. I…” A sudden rush of blood to the head pulled her up short. A pleasurable sensation shot through her system… The little blue pill had dissolved completely into her, paired with her pleasure receptacles, and started spreading the good news around her body. She looked at Maria, her eyes were lost on their own journey, but they still managed to connect with hers, and hold them, trance like, as the smile spread on her face.
Maria and Jo sank down onto the sawdust next to each other, their hands touching slightly, as they navigated the pleasure spreading through their bodies.
Unseen, in the shadows beside the ring, dark eyes on painted faces stared intently at the show.
Bridger sat in front of his office computer waiting for delivery of the message he was expecting; he had called John back when he could not manage to find the P.A.A.I.N site on the internet. His computer knowledge ran as far as the on button and the email system. He still had trouble navigating his way around the Police National Intelligence Application, even though he had been on more than one training seminar. While waiting he had managed to raise Grant Wylie, Becky Wright and Brian Johnson and they were all currently en-route to the office, all be-it with an ounce of reluctance. Becky had been on a date, Grant was somewhere in the Ross Creek forest mountain bike track and had sounded very out of breath, and Brian was relaxing with Mrs Johnson. He had not been able to raise Jo, although she was on light duties anyway, and by rights should not be involved with the operation he had quickly formulated in his head. Everybody, it seemed, had a life except for him, something that drilled home after receiving a curt text message from Laura telling him not to bother showing up, she was going to have a drink with a friend instead. He had only just remembered his intended liaison that evening after walking through the front doors of the police station. He had been about forty minutes late at that point and decided not to text, out of guilt, or it may have been fear that Laura was right. Late was late though, he had no real excuses. It was something he was beginning to regret now, but he knew things would never change. Work sometimes had to come first, Laura had to know that, or it would never work between them anyway. The thought did not stop him retrieving his phone again and searching the message for any hidden meanings, other than the obvious angst it had portrayed.
The computer beeped a notification, breaking his inward thinking. As promised, John had sent a copy of the link containing the footage of Coster and Staverly together, in their disturbing tryst. Putting his phone away reluctantly, he scrolled the curser down to the little envelope icon on the email system and pressed open. The page displayed a line of incomprehensible letters and characters, which John had explained was the ‘hyperlink’, along with a short message. ‘Don’t linger over the ‘money shot’… enjoy.’ followed by a smiley face. Very droll, he thought, before clicking on the link. The screen shot changed, as another window opened up, revealing the P.A.A.I.N website in vivid detail. His eyes glanced over the short bio at the top of the screen.
People Against Animals In Captivity Network are an organisation that stands against cruelty to animals in the form of immoral incarceration. We as a people should not get too decide the fates of those who cannot speak for themselves. It is infinitely worse when we do it for our own pleasure. Circuses and Zoos must be held to account. Please join us in our struggle to free our lesser cousins. Remember, in the big scheme of things, we are all just animals…
Sitting just under the caption was the link to the video, aptly named, ‘Taming the Zebra’. Bridger’s mind flashed back to the images he had viewed at John’s house, Coster certainly fitted the description of an animal, but not one that the bio portrayed. He decided to wait for the others before subjecting himself too the footage once more.
Studying the rest of the page, he saw a list of names, most probably the members of P.A.A.I.N, and at the very bottom, he saw Coster’s name. There were pictures of animals, whipped by smiling men wearing funny clothes. There were bears wearing tutus and standing on their hind legs, and there was a wild-eyed elephant holding a manic faced clown off the ground with its trunk while the clowns smiling mates tormented it with water guns. The images were stark, taken in just the right light too imply something sinister about what they showed. It was quite captivating and enraging at the same time. Underneath the pictures, a simple statement read ‘How can we be so cruel…’
Bridger had not really thought about how you could mistreat an animal in a circus by forcing it to perform. He had always seen it as just another form of entertainment. They always looked well cared for and obedient. Looking at the pictures displayed, he could see how they would be a call to arms for the right type of person. Whips used to maintain obedience, animals doing unnatural things. It did paint a certain sort of picture although you can manipulate anything to appeal to your cause. However, that was the point of this website to stir up support, and it did that well. Humans and animals have always had an obscure relationship.
Glancing over at the promotional picture of Michael Wilson, dressed in his over the top finery, pasted onto the whiteboard on the far side of the room, he drew a breath and held it. Even from where he was sitting, he could see something in the practiced smile on Wilson's face, which echoed the pictures he saw on the screen. He looked like a man who commanded obedience in every living thing. Would that be enough to drive someone to commit murder? Did the pictures stir enough passion for that? He could see Coster’s reason for being involved, but why would Maria join in? She was part of the problem, if you believed the website. An inkling of doubt spread into his reasoning, but he quickly squashed it. He had seen many people do extreme things for little or no reason. Maria was probably no different. He clicked play on the little icon in the middle of the screen and the Zebra began its torment once more.
“Hi Mike, what is the big mystery?” Brian said, as he walked into the office followed by the rest of the team. “You sounded pretty rushed on the phone…”
Bridger jumped at the interruption, releasing the breath he had held unconsciously. He looked up to see Brian standing behind him staring at the screen; Becky and Grant were on either side of him and had their eyes fixed too the screen as well. The action was only half way through but there was enough displayed too see what was going on in vivid detail. Bridger scrolled onto the volume slide and increased the sound. The Zebra was making little mewing noises, which seemed somehow out of place with its species but fitted nicely within the context. The Clown’s voice overlaid the Zebra soundtrack and kept repeating in a deep breathy voice, ‘Get some, you dirty little Zebra slut, get some”, with every thrust. Bridger had not heard that during his first viewing back at John’s house. It was starting to make him feel a little dirty, sullied by someone else’s perversions.
“Geezuz Mike, where did you dig this up from?” Grants voice was slightly higher than normal. “Who are those two?”
“That’s Maria Staverly behind the Zebra mask, I recognise the sparkly top she is wearing, and I can see the top of her cast in the bottom of the shot.” Becky spoke up, obviously analysing what was in the scene, and not what it portrayed. “But who is the dodgy clown behind her?”
Bridger stopped the action on the screen just as the Zebra reared up and the Clown revealed his arm. “That’s Reece Coster…,” he said, pointing to the P.A.A.I.N tattoo on his forearm.
“And that’s blood on Maria’s top…” Brian said, nodding his head, the answer to his qu
estion of Bridger given in that moment.
Bridger looked at his three colleagues, they had all reached the same conclusion as he had, and he did not need to explain it any further.
Grant spoke up “I’ll start typing out the search warrant application…”
Chapter Eleven
Reece Coster stood in the shadows, just outside of the big yellow tent. His breath was making small white puffs as he breathed as slowly as he could while trying to make as little noise as possible. He had watched the Clowns file into the tent a few minutes earlier. If he was honest with himself, it had freaked him out a little, seeing the Clowns sneaking about in the darkness. They looked just like Clowns, did they not have days off? Their normally jolly painted faces certainly looked more sinister at night, but those big oversize shoes, feet the size of elephants, moved with the deftness of mice.
Each too thy own, he thought. Crazy Fuckers.
For his part, he was dressed from head to toe in his ‘Mission Gear’. A pair of plain black tracksuit pants, a plain black long sleeve top, and a black balaclava on his head, rolled up onto his forehead. Although it would be much cooler to have the mask cover his face, just like the movies, he hated to have his mouth covered by the wool. The animal masks were fine but the balaclava always made him feel claustrophobic.
Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 8