Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel

by Mark Bredenbeck

  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.

  Steve had been happy enough to forego his training day for the chance of some excitement; he was standing beside him and shuffling from side to side. The rest of the Armed Offender Squad had dispersed themselves around the surrounding streets, along with just about every person they could round up from the Police Station.

  “I’ve shot a couple of sheep before, and a horse once too, but never a wild animal.” Steve’s voice was sombre but with a trace of excitement, he found himself wondering just how much pleasure Steve actually got from his role as a firearms officer.

  “Well you might get your chance today Steve, I don’t think you can reason with them, so talking them down is not really going to help us.”

  “Those pretend animals over there should be shot and all.” Steve indicated the small huddle of masked protesters standing across the road. “Either that, or leave them for the Tigers.”

  Bridger could see a couple of tiger masks and at least one horses head. “I would say that it is a pretty good bet that it was one of our friends over there that released the animals in the first place.”

  A male approached them from out of the huddle of caravans before Steve could reply.

  “Excuse me officer,” The male addressing Steve instead of Bridger “I hope you won’t shoot any of the animals…” he paused at the stony look he received from Steve “I see…, well if you find any, let me know immediately and I can deal with it. They really are very tame. We have lost too much already too lose the animals as well.” The male looked like he was fighting back tears.

  “I am Detective Sergeant Mike Bridger, I’m not sure that we meet this morning.” Bridger held out his hand in greeting, and the male looked at it as if he was inspecting it for germs before offering his own weak grip in return.

  “Anthony Gonzales… I am part owner… I’m…” A single tear leaked down his cheek. “I’m the owner of this Circus.”

  Bridger felt slightly uncomfortable with the show of emotion. “We are doing everything we can to find out what happened Mr Gonzales, and we will try not to shoot any of the animals… if we don’t have too.”

  A single shot rang out, followed by two more in quick succession, and the colour drained from Anthony’s face. He looked back at Bridger with obvious distress but underneath Bridger could not help notice a slight hardness that he did not see in him earlier.

  “Heads up…, the Tigers heading this way…” Steve was listening too something through his earpiece. “The lads took a shot at it, but missed. It’s running back towards the cages…”

  Despite Steve standing there with a firearm, a chill ran up Bridger’s spine and he scanned around in an effort to find the approaching threat. Mauled to death by a tiger was not the way he wanted to go. The small group of silent protestors standing across the road scattered, giving away the path the Tiger had chosen in his bid to escape. They all dived into the relative safety of nearby cars, all except one. This sole figure remained motionless, face hidden behind the mask of a Zebra, staring in silence back towards them. He raised his arm and pointed directly at Anthony Gonzales, keeping his arm straight. The image was slightly unnerving, only broken by the flash of orange brown that ambled into Bridger’s peripheral vision.

  He had not seen a Tiger up close before, but this one lived up to all his frightening boyhood images. It was a huge breathing mass of muscle, with a deep angry rumble coming from its throat. It was standing between them and the fake Zebra, its massive head switching between them both, specks of animal saliva misting from its mouth as it breathed heavily. He could not take his eyes off the massive beast. It gave out a quick snort, making Bridger jump; he could feel Steve tense up beside him and caught the barrel of his gun rising up out of the corner of his eye. Anthony Gonzales saw it too.

  “Don’t do it, he’s just scared that’s all, just give him room…” There was no trace of fear in Anthony’s voice. The Tiger just stood there, looking back and forth, snorting and growling at everything around him.

  “If that thing moves, shoot the bloody thing…” Bridger was talking out of the corner of his mouth, trying not to make any sudden movements. It was one moment in his life that he felt completely helpless. If the Tiger took a liking to any of them, it would be all over quicker than he cared to contemplate. He felt like a seven year old faced with an angry dog, only ten times worse, a guttural fear that he could not articulate, but it chilled him to the core. He just hoped that the tiger could not tell the zebra mask across the road was a fake.

  Steve had raised his Bushmaster rifle up too his shoulder and was pointing it directly at the dirty orange beast. Bridger could sense that he wanted to shoot, but something was stopping him from pulling the trigger. It was then he heard it.

  A strange clucking sound came from behind them, he heard different noises on either side of him, and then four partially dressed Clowns came into view. The noises coming from the Clowns throats were alien too him but the Tiger reacted instantly. Its regal head cocked too one side like a curious cat and its breathing slowed. Friends were near. The Clowns moved in from either side, one of them carrying a large leather collar and leash, one of them held a bullwhip in his gloved hand. The other two were making calming gestures with their arms.

  Bridger was sure that one of them had said ‘Move back behind us’ as he passed, or that might be what he wanted to hear, he couldn’t be sure. He moved backwards anyway, Steve stuck close to his side and retreated along with him. The Clowns moved forward as one, all speaking the strange animalistic dialect. The Tiger crouched on its hind legs and then lay down, submissive in its posture as the Clowns placed the lead over his massive head.

  “See… there was no need to worry at all, he’s not dangerous. They are just misunderstood creatures really.” Anthony’s voice spoke up from behind them. Bridger noticed he was using him and Steve as a partial human shield, so much for being misunderstood animals.

  “Is that all the dangerous animals accounted for then Mr Gonzales? We do have other business we could be getting on with.” The horses and chimpanzees did not worry him too much; someone else could take care of those.

  “All the animals are domesticated, Sergeant, not dangerous at all, but yes we have the elephant, lion and now both tigers back. But they would not have been in danger in the first place if it wasn’t for those bloody silent protesters.” Anthony was glaring in the direction of the sole protestor still standing silently over the road. “They will be the ones responsible for this; I hope you will be speaking with them as well.”

  Anthony’s demeanour had gone from distraught at the loss of his former business partner too outright rage, it was a strange distinction in such a short space of time, and Bridger wondered which show of emotion was more believable. He had a sixth sense, which he had learned to rely on. He liked too think he could tell when someone was hiding something, or trying to deceive him in some way and something was not quite right with Anthony Gonzales. He made a mental note to explore his theory further.

  “We will be speaking with them Mr Gonzales, in the course of our enquiries into Michael Wilsons death.” He did not think the release of animals from the Circus was quite as important. “And we also need to re-interview quite a few of the people here at the Circus, including you.”

  There was a flash of something behind Anthony’s eyes, “We can make ourselves available for yo
u any time you need Sergeant, but you should be concentrating on those idealistic waste of time protesters over there. They have more to gain by hurting us, as they have just proved…” Anthony indicated in the direction of the silent protesters again, most of them had come out of the safety of their cars and were now standing in a solemn line, staring at the circus from the safety of distance. Bridger did not take the bait and Anthony continued. “I have cancelled all the remaining Dunedin performances but we won’t be leaving just yet. It seems somehow inappropriate to go while the killer is still out there somewhere.”

  “Thank you Mr Gonzales, we will be speaking with the protesters this morning, so how about we arrange it for about one o’clock this afternoon.”

  “That’s fine; I will make sure everyone is available.”

  Bridger noticed a strange indifference in Anthony’s tone as he spoke, no real trace of grief now for his lost partner, cementing his doubts about Anthony’s emotional responses.

  “Mike…, the Clowns are going to kick off…” Steve was pointing in the direction of the protesters. Somehow, the Clowns had materialised across the road and were lining up, almost nose to nose, with the masked group. Bridger had not noticed them walk past him.

  The Clowns looked hopelessly outnumbered against the cast of fake animals who were standing their ground in silence, but their posture was menacing and confident. It was a surreal standoff; the faux jolly faces of the clowns now looked threatening, destroying any boyhood images he may have had of fun loving jesters. These Clowns were serious. Bridger did not fancy getting between them, but did not want it to escalate any further, whatever he thought of the reasons for both parties’ actions.