Bridger cringed inwardly; two things that he disliked the most were bosses and reporters. Now he had both in one room together, there was not much he could do about it now though. Putting on his best, ‘I care’, face, he straightened his tie a little before going through the internal doors. He needed this distraction just as he needed a hole in the head.
“There you are Mike; I was beginning to think you had slept in.”
Inspector Amanda Allyson’s voice was friendly and business like in one breath, something that put Bridger on edge. Looking at his wristwatch he saw the time was only seven fifteen in the morning, early by his standards. He was going to say something about that, but stopped himself, he did not know enough about his temporary boss to know how to read her mood. “Sorry Ma’am, I got held up out the front by that wake of vultures…” The words had left his mouth before he thought about them. The petite female dressed in a crisp skirt and jacket standing next to his boss smiled thinly at him. Her face was slightly familiar.
“Sergeant, this is Kate Atkinson, she is with the Daily Times.” The inspector’s voice had lost any friendliness it had and was now all business. “Kate would like to speak to you in relation to the enquiry you are currently pursuing. I gave her permission to take some of your valuable time this morning. Please make yourself available.” She turned to Kate “Don’t worry, he won’t bite…”
Both females laughed before Inspector Allyson turned and walked towards the elevators, leaving the reporter he had just insulted standing there looking at him with a look he could not quite interpret. He did not know what Miss Atkinson could offer that would give her more access to his time than the other birds of prey outside the front door, but whatever it was, the Inspector had spoken. He had about two hours before Jane Little and Maria would be here to speak with him.
“Miss Atkinson…, would you like to come up to my office?”
“How about we go to that little café around the corner, grab a coffee.” Kate smiled and looked around “Police stations always make me nervous.”
Because of the early time, the streets were full of busy people in pressed suits on their way to busy jobs. They all had takeaway coffee cups in one hand and briefcases or purses clutched precariously with one finger underneath the mandatory cellphone. Coffee and social media looked like the breakfast of choice for the working masses.
They had slipped out the back door to bypass the media scrum packed down at the front. Kate Atkinson had not said a word on the way to the café, even though she was walking beside him and he began to feel a little uncomfortable. Had he actually angered her with his comments back at the Police station? He hoped not.
Something flashed in his periphery and a Clowns image jumped off the wall beside him, making him stumble slightly. His heart started to race a little before he realised sheepishly that it was just a poster. The face smiled at him, but with a sinister undertone, one that spoke of there being a price to pay for his joviality. He shook the thought from his head and glanced back at Kate; she did not appear to have noticed his boyish fright at the poster and was engrossed in negotiating the busy footpath.
She looked so ordinary, pretty, but ordinary. Why Kate, out of all of the others, had access to their information escaped him. He nearly walked into the back of her as she stood to one side to let a group of suits high on caffeine jostle their way back onto the street. Shaking his head again, he had to force himself to concentrate. The coffee shop Kate had led him too was directly across from Jane Little’s office building and he found himself subconsciously trying to stay out of the sightline for her office windows on the second floor as they waited for the mêlée to clear. Once inside, Kate chose a table beside the window and sat down. He could not read her expression as she already had her face buried in a menu.
Bridger put on his best placating smile and sat down in front of her. “Miss Atkinson, I’m sorry about my comment before, I don’t really think you are all vultures… I open my mouth before thinking sometimes.” He was actually glad she had chosen the café so he did not have to apologise in front of his colleagues back at the office.
Kate smiled, with more warmth this time. “It’s okay Sergeant, you should hear how we speak about you lot in my office sometimes… Please, call me Kate, and for the record, I do think we can be a little over zealous at times.” She had a slight lilt in her voice and she rolled her R’s a little, like many did in this part of the country.
“It was you…, the other day, weren’t it?” Bridger had remembered where he had seen her before, the serious face, the lilt in her voice. “You asked me if Michael Wilson was gay. Why was that?”
“Let’s just say a girl can tell sometimes, and no… you are most definitely not… in case you were wondering…” Kate smiled slightly as she spoke, and waved the staff member over. “I asked because I think he is gay, although he has never let on to anyone that I know of. He and Anthony Gonzales have been… were, in relationship. It is the worst kept secret in the Circus, although no one has ever come out and told me, more sort of innuendos. I am not so sure it makes a difference though…, each too their own and all that.”
Bridger was beginning to like this reporter; he just hoped he had not been staring at her chest too long, realising where his eyes were resting.
“What can I get you two this morning?” The middle-aged woman standing in front of them looked at Bridger and raised her eyebrow as if he and Kate made an odd couple.
“Just a coffee for me…” he looked at Kate who proceeded to order a large breakfast off the menu.
“You are paying aren’t you?”
Bridger instinctively felt for his wallet, wondering if she was joking or not. He could see the middle-aged woman smirk as she turned and left with their order. He turned his attention back to Kate.
“So, Kate, what brings you to see me this morning…?”
He watched as she reached into her handbag and pulled out a folded A4 size piece of paper. Placing it in front of him, she opened it up, smoothing it down with her hand.
“This…”
Bridger could see it was a photocopy of what looked like an old newspaper article; he looked back at her questioningly.
“It’s an article from the Otago Witness in 1876; I found it years ago while I was studying for my degree. It is about Wilson’s Circus… at least, what was Wilsons Circus back then. This is the same Circus as the one in town now.”
“I’m sorry Kate but I don’t follow… how do you think this can help?”
“Well…,” Kate looked uncertain now that Bridger had expressed his doubts. “I guess it may give you an insight into how this Circus actually operates. I have done numerous interviews and stories on this Circus whenever it comes to town and I even spoke with Irish Mick last time, which is why I think he was gay, or at least bi-sexual. He didn’t say anything, but I could just sense it.”
“What sort of stories do you write about the Circus?”
“It all stems back to the article, I like the historical nature of it all, it is as if I am continuing to document what the author of this article started all those years ago, sort of like a Circus legacy. I wanted to see if what was written affected the Circus in anyway. If you read the article, you will see it is not exactly a glowing review. I guess that these days it does not matter so much… less competition. Did you know that Wilson’s is one of only two Circus’s based in New Zealand?”
“No I didn’t Kate, but I still don’t understand how this helps.”
He saw Kate look at him like the long-suffering mother of an idiot child and felt his cheeks flush. What did she expect; she was not being very clear about where this was going. On the other hand, was he not seeing something that he should?
Kate sucked a breath in and spoke slowly. “Let me run you through this…”
Bridger had left Kate at the café to finish her breakfast. She had actually refused his offer to pay for it, telling him she was going to eat there anyway. The smell of her food had made him hungry
as well and he had picked up a sausage roll on the way back to the office. Flakes of pastry had fallen on his desk and he brushed them onto the floor with his hand, feeling only slightly guilty that the cleaners would think he was a pig. He had briefed Brian, Grant, and Becky, on the outcome of his lecture from Kate Atkinson. She had been right, the Circus did not sound like a very happy place. She had not just covered the show itself when writing her articles, but the very nature of what it was like to live that life. The hardships of touring an act on a shoe string budget. Big animals, bigger personalities, dwindling audiences, it all led to a very unhappy place. There had even been a suicide after an affair between the troupes members had surfaced; Kate could not elaborate much more on this, as no one had really been willing to speak much about it.
Unfortunately, this information had just widened his pool of suspects; each with their own reasons for wanting Irish Mick, the Ringmaster extraordinaire, out of the way. Dead was always another story though and in his opinion, it was mostly those closest to you that would deliver the fatal blows. What he had discovered about Maria certainly changed his attitude towards her guilt, but which way, of that he was not so sure of anymore.
Brian had suggested they revisit the living quarters of the deceased and see if they had missed anything, and had taken the other two with him. All he needed to do was sort out Jo Williamson before the interview with Maria.
“What I don’t understand Jo, is why you were there with Maria in the first place?” Bridger was sitting on the edge of his desk with Jo standing in the middle of the office, looking slightly sheepish. The phone rang, behind him, but he ignored the call, trying to give Jo a chance to explain her actions.
“I don’t know Sergeant…, I am a little blurry on everything after I got there, but I went in because I needed to ask her something.”
“What about?”
Jo did not answer straight away, instead she looked at the floor, and Bridger could see her biting on her bottom lip. “It’s… its personal…” She spoke to the floor in a small voice.
“Personal or not, you could have compromised this investigation… you do realise that?” He saw Jo nod her head slightly, eyes still down. “Luckily for you Maria seems to have some sort of bond with you.” Jo’s cheeks flushed as he said this. As hard as Bridger tried, he could not get angry with her. She was obviously ashamed of her actions, and knew the last thing she would have done on purpose was disrupt an investigation. “I know you have had an extremely rough time of it lately, so if you don’t feel up to it, just say. We don’t normally let suspects dictate the terms of an interview.”
Jo looked up and held Bridger’s gaze. “I am up to this Sergeant, I need to work. Last night was…, was…” She looked to be struggling with the word she wanted.
Bridger let her off, “Just tell me when you are ready to Jo”
There was a knock on the door, which turned their heads.
“Excuse me Mike.” Julie Downie’s friendly smile looked in on them “Ms Little and her client are here to see you; she told me you had an appointment?” Julie Downie was a civilian employee; she did a number of things around the police station, including fetching errant police officers who did not answer their phones. Looking at his wristwatch, he realised the time. Bridger felt slightly bad that he had made her come up to the second floor just to tell him something he should already know.
The previous evening, Jane had talked him into releasing Maria into her care, guaranteeing she would have her come back of her own free will this morning to speak to them as arranged. It was not ideal, but he had no option, he did not have the evidence to arrest her. There had been an ulterior motive behind her request as well though; she thought it would be better to have a certain Detective Sergeant in her house to help keep an eye on her. Bridger sniffed at his smoky clothes, he wished he had had enough time to go home and change this morning before work.
He thanked Julie and motioned for Jo to follow him out of the office. Whether or not Maria were guilty would come clear in the next couple of hours, she had already indicated her denials, but if she provided the top as promised she would have a hard time explaining the blood on it. There were also other things to clear up, thanks to Kate Atkinson and her judicious reporting of the life and times of Wilson’s Circus. He looked forward to hearing Maria’s story.
Chapter Fourteen
Reece Coster wanted to scream for help, he wanted to be out of this dark, smelly place, he wanted to go home, but he could not do either. He had felt steel walls on every side of him, close enough to touch with his arms outstretched, and when he had yelled for someone to help, all he got was a deep rumbling reply. An animalistic sound that had intensified with every shout he made. It frightened him, the noise, hidden in the darkness. It had to be the lion, he must be very near, and so he remained silent, sitting against the cold wall, staring into the darkness. He could hear it breathing and snorting, moving from side to side. Agitated and trapped. If he moved, he knew the Lion would sense it, and it would tear him to bits. Better to remain silent.
Six years with P.A.A.I.N and he had not actually thought a lot about the reality of what they stood for. He felt it now though, trapped, caged, and scared. The darkness closed in on him and he started crying. The things he had done came back to him, bad things, not done for the animals, but only for him. P.A.A.I.N had just been a way to feed his ego, build his legend. He wanted to go back and start again but he knew it was impossible. He was sorry for the fire. He was sorry for the girl; she did not know what she was doing. She was so out of it on something; he was able to do as he pleased with her. He was most sorry for not speaking up though; telling someone, anybody, what he did that night. Telling them how that Circus man had died.
“Why did I go into that alleyway…, it all started there.” He felt his breathing quicken, he was getting a little panicked. “It is not too late, I can put this right. I just need to tell the truth…” He was talking aloud, looking into the darkness for his saviour. “If I get out of here that is the first thing I will do.” Closing his eyes against the blackness he did something he had never done before, he started praying. “Please God… or whoever in the hell you are up there; get me out of this shithole. I am sorry… I want to go home now.”
Maria Staverly sat across the table from them dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt. Jane Little was sitting on her right, she had dressed in a more business like jacket and skirt, which was different from what Bridger remembered her wearing that morning. Then she was not wearing much when he had left her flat just before seven, something Bridger was trying to put to the back of his mind. Maria was glancing furtively at Jo who was sitting next to him and he noticed Jo was starting to blush and kept looking at the notes she had placed in front of her. Jane was all business, but she had brushed his foot beneath the table with hers as they had sat down. The atmosphere in the small stuffy room was electric.
“Right, let’s get started then…, Maria, do you have the item of clothing you promised us?”
Maria reached down beside her chair and lifted the bloodied costume onto the table. “This is the top I was wearing the other night…, when Mick died…. It has blood on the front…, I have no idea whose blood it is or how it got onto the top. I’m here to answer your questions as best I can…” Maria’s voice sounded mechanical and she looked at Jane for confirmation.
“That’s right,” Jane was looking directly at him “as we discussed Mike, Maria is here of her own free will and will answer your questions to the best of her ability. However I would like it formally noted that she denies having anything to do with the murder of Michael Wilson, and she does not know the current whereabouts of Reece Coster.”
Well that was him told. Bridger took the package with the top, placing it down beside him then looked at Jo to start the interview as they had discussed. Jo began speaking in a semi formal manner and he switched off slightly as she went through the process of outlining Maria’s various rights while she was with them, his mind w
as already contemplating what her answers would be to the questions they had for her now. He looked closely at Maria, the arrogant look was still evident but a slightly nervous slant had found its way in. The way her eyes kept glancing around, not making contact with his, and the way she kept wetting her lips with her tongue. These things he had seen before on the guilty and the nervous alike. Which was she? He could not tell. Reading the female species was not his strong suit.
He tried to imagine her on the ropes, doing what she did for the audience on a nightly basis. She looked physically fit and strong enough, but then she would have to be. When he was a child his parents’ had taken him to the Circus, everything and everyone had seemed larger than life. The Clowns, the Acrobats, the animals, it was a magical world. The girl sitting before them just seemed so ordinary in comparison, was she an ordinary killer? She was denying it. Her response to Jo’s first question was to claim amnesia, due to having been on extremely strong painkillers. She could not remember anything after leaving the hospital. From what the medics had told him last night about her drug of choice, it was not surprising she did not remember anything when she took them.
Maria had fallen asleep as soon as she reached Jane’s house the previous evening, a side effect of the drugs pumped into her system to counteract the ones she had taken. She had no idea Bridger had stayed over with Jane.
Would Maria be capable of the killing in that state? It was possible, but Reece Coster was now his first choice as killer, possibly working with Maria…
Jo had already shown Maria the CCTV footage of her leaving the hospital, and had now started the clip of her and Reece from the P.A.A.I.N website. Bridger watched her face to gauge any reaction. Jane was trying not to look at what the flickering screen portrayed, an unfamiliar redness was showing on her cheeks, but Maria was starring at it intently. The look on her face was one of interest, not one of embarrassment or repulsion at having her intimate actions broadcast for all to see. He even saw a flicker of a smile, very brief, but still a strange reaction to her predicament.
Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel Page 11
