There was a large banner unfurled and was lying on the ground in front of them; he could see it read, The Circus is for the Clowns, in large blood red letters. A gust of wind lifted it slightly and made it curl on one end before settling back on the ground.
Kate Atkinson was standing off to one side with a camera; she was ready to record whatever was going to happen next.
Bridger watched, as one by one, the silent animals took off their masks. They tossed them on the ground in front of them and kept their heads bowed. When the last mask came off, they looked up in unison, and the ordinary faces of the killers stared back at him. A bunch of serious looking emancipated men had just put their hands up to murder. Looking closely he could not help thinking that there was something familiar about the group kneeling before them, as if he had seen them in another time, in a more jovial way… It couldn’t be... Bridger shook his head at the thought. It made no sense, but it seemed these four were responsible, no matter whom they were.
Watching Brian move in behind the group with Steve and Gillian, he could not hear the instructions given, but he knew there would be some. He watched as the group all got down on their knees and placed their hands on their heads. That would be Steve Kirkland’s doing, with all his armed offender training, a little flashy in the circumstances, but typical Steve. He watched as the handcuffs locked onto their wrists and their heads bowed once more.
It was over…
Turning back to the trailer, he stared at the steel side, thankful the solid wall was hiding the grizzly contents. He thought of the last couple of days, a lot had happened, people had died, property destroyed, all in the name of an ancient entertainment form. Could society really outgrow the right of a child’s wonderment? Maybe the Circus had had its day, and more instant electronic gratification was now the new church. At least for this one the story was probably over, and according to what Kate had told him, that only left one.
He looked over to where Kate was standing. She had started moving around the group, who were kneeling on the ground; her camera was clicking away, recording her last illustrious piece on the history of Wilsons Circus, such that it was.
Chapter Twenty Five
Sitting in the enclosed space that served as an interview room, Bridger could still smell the acrid odour of smoke. He assumed it must be clinging to the clothes he was wearing, as it was something in which everybody seemed to delight in telling him when he wafted by. How is it that other people could do the simple task of laundering their clothes properly when he could not even figure out which wash cycle to put the stupid machine on. Maybe he should use the dry-cleaning allowance he was supposed to have as part of his employment agreement, but then that would probably mean filling out some sort of form and he could not be bothered with that. Anyway he had not even been home since the fire, so what was he to do. Four men had confessed to the killing of a killer, Maria Staverly had nothing to do with anything apparently. The Circus, what was left of it, had closed ranks and moved on, protecting their own as always. There was only one person left to sort out. He hoped, well he knew, that he would also clear up the matter of the fire, releasing the animals, and the unlawful sexual connection involving an incapacitated Maria Staverly. The media were going to have to report some good results for once.
Jane Little was facing him, a small table between him and the sly smile she had on her pretty face. He looked back at her, trying to gauge the truth in her eyes. Did she send him those photographs of him and Kate Atkinson; she had not let on when he had asked her straight, feigning ignorance. He thought about what had happened after the lights went out, after he had been in the same room as her. Could she have slipped him something in the coffee she had handed to him that had made him feel the way he had, or had it actually been something more sinister. She would have had the opportunity. What was her motive? Was it to stuff up his interview with Keith Joyce? Maybe…, either way, Clowns had never really worried him…, until now. He took a deep breath, he felt a little pathetic letting her get to him like she always did, but that was for another time.
Clicking record on the machine to his left, he looked over at the other pathetic figure sitting on the far side of the table. “So… Mr Coster, in your own words, from the beginning please.”
Maria was sitting next to the fat woman who always smelt of cabbage. Her name was Vivian. She had found out this and a number of other things that she was not sure just yet whether she cared about, but the fat woman just kept on talking. Vivian was more than just a cook then. She let the vibrations of the trucks rough chassis move her about in the old leather seat. It was something she remembered doing as a child on the endless road journey of her life.
They were a long way from Dunedin, travelling in a depleted convoy of dilapidated trucks and caravans. They were mostly just a misfit bunch of animals, labourers, and her. There were no Clowns, no Acrobats…, nothing really. They were all that was left of the Circus. A sudden sadness washed through her, and she felt alone. She had no real memory of her early life, but she knew that the clowns had saved her, then and now. They actually believed in her and they had proven that they would do anything to protect her. She did not understand, but they had said it was something that they owed her. Thanks to them, she knew whom the Clown was that she dreamed of now. He was no longer a Clown and would never haunt her dreams again. He was no longer, but that betrayal was something that would take a long time to forget.
She looked out the window at the passing scenery. The sea was glistening to her right and the lush green of native bush was rushing past on her left. Things had turned out all right really, she could not really complain. A small insect flew in front of her face and she brushed it away. The window was down, more to drown out the incessant talking of the fat woman than to breathe the salt air. She took a deep breath anyway, she was Maria, Maria Wilson, of Wilsons Circus, and she was going to take this show to the world…
Ω
Author’s note:
At the time of writing this story there are not many full-time Circuses’ operating in New Zealand and the fate of the real ‘Wilson’s Circus’ as written about in the article taken from the Otago Witness in 1876 is unknown. Animals, Clowns, and Acrobatics, however, continue to be an integral part of the entertainment offered by modern Circuses.
In 1978, two Lions, named Sultan and Sonia did escape from a Circus, which was performing in Lawrence, New Zealand, after someone had mistakenly left open the bolts on their cage.
It was just before the evening show began when the two lions made their bid for freedom and Sonia, believed to have scratched the face of a six-year-old child while fleeing, created panic.
Three-year-old Sultan, the male lion, actually tried to return to his cage a short time later but could not get back in. Due to fears for the safety of the public, the local Police Constable shot him dead, a decision endorsed by the manager of the Circus.
Sonia was eventually corralled in a local resident’s garage. Unfortunately, she escaped through a rear door before her recapture was possible and was later found in the Lawrence Hospital grounds. After two failed attempts to tranquilise her, she too was shot.
Both Lions underwent taxidermy procedures and are now displayed at the Otago Museum in Dunedin.
ῼ
More in the Detective Mike Bridger series:
-Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (Book One). Published 2013
-Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (Book Two). Published 2014
Connect with the Author:
On Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/HumanFrailtyCrimeNovel
On Twitter:
Mark Bredenbeck @mbredenbeck
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Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 18