Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (13 page)

What was that smell of
smoke?

The deep rasping sound of
powerful air horns, coupled with the insistent red flash of an
emergency beacon joined their procession, heading in the same
direction.

“
Looks like
the Fire boys have a job on” Grant stating the obvious, as Bridger
pulled the car to a stop at the bottom of South Road.

A large red fire engine
passed close by, the displacement of air rocking the car slightly.
Up ahead, Gillian’s patrol car had completely disappeared in a haze
of choking black smoke, which was now threatening to swallow them
as well. Bridger looked over too his left; the same dense fog had
enveloped the Circus and had it a central core of red heat pulsing
through it. He could feel it prickling at his skin through the
glass in the door. Putting the car in reverse, he drove backwards,
blindly hoping Brian had not followed him into the quagmire. The
smoke had come out of nowhere; the fire had obviously just taken
hold as they had approached. He had certainly not seen anything
unusual less than thirty seconds ago.

Coming free from the
smoke, Bridger put the car into park and flung his door open. The
rancid smell of smoke and burning rubber stung his nostrils and the
back of his throat, making him cough uncontrollably. He moved
further back from the circling Black Death surrounding the area the
circus occupied on the Oval. Grant had done the same, while trying
vainly to cover his mouth and nose with a windscreen cloth he had
taken from the car. Brian and Becky had stopped a safe distance
back and were standing off to one side.

“
That smoke
just came out of nowhere Mike. When you disappeared into it… well,
that’s when I thought it best too stop where I was.” Brian almost
looked sheepish as he spoke.

“
It looks
like the main tent is on fire.” Becky said, pointing above the
trees. The top of a once yellow tent had angry orange flames
licking at the seams, the wall of heat and destruction roaring up
from the sides and culminating at the top, making it look like a
large bonfire. “I hope there was no one inside when the fire
started, nobody could survive that.” She had to speak up a little
louder over the immense roar of the fire, which sounded alive and
very angry. They could do nothing but stand there and watch as the
drama unfolded.

As Bridger stood with the
group and watched, out of the thick wall of smoke appeared large
shapes, dark and foreboding; they pushed their way into the fresher
air that was further into the Oval. He realised that they were the
cages containing some of the animals. The Clowns, assisted by a few
others, were pushing them too safety. The frightened noises coming
from the pacing animals within, only just audible over the fires
roar. No sooner had the Clowns pushed one too safety, they
disappeared back into the choking mess for another. One after the
next, the fresh air at the centre of the Oval started filling with
cages. It was a surreal sight, a makeshift refugee camp of caged
fright, presided over by sooty faced clowns. The animals pacing,
the clowns in charge, the others bent double trying to catch their
breath. The Clowns did not go back into the smoke this time; they
did not even pay any mind too their more human helpers. Instead,
they turned their attention to the animals in the cages. Bridger
watched the strange scene, as one by one the animals bowed to the
Clowns and settled. He could not hear what they said and their
actions were unclear in the smoky haze, but whatever it was they
did, it had an immediate effect.

The roar of the fire
suddenly changed too an angry hiss, the smoke went from filthy
black too an ugly grey, and then steam cooled the fierce dry heat
of the flames within. Bridger could see two fire fighters
struggling with a writhing hose moving along the side of the tent
putting up a wall of water. The flames responded instantly, and
shrank into themselves as they struggled to maintain any
heat.

“
Fire is a
living thing you know.”

The voice turned
Bridger’s attention away from the action; Station Officer Jack
Perry was standing beside him watching his men work the fire.
“What’s that Jack?”

“
Fire… It is
a living thing, and the three things that it needs to survive are,
oxygen, fuel, and heat. Take away one or more of those things and
it will die.” Jack Perry was indicating the hissing and steaming
monster beside them. “Fortunately a tent has little substance and
provides little fuel; the fire is easier to control. What is inside
has me slightly worried though. The wooden bleachers might be
harder to deal with, all those wooden planks and such. I guess we
will see very soon…” Walking away from Bridger, Jack Perry was
already throwing out more directions too his struggling
men.

Bridger had known Jack
for a long time; they had attended many of the same incidents when
Bridger had been a response constable and Perry a lowly fire
fighter. He had heard him spout that little piece of information
numerous times in different forms and every time he had delivered
it with the gravitas of an expert to a layman. All Bridger ever saw
were grown men playing with hoses and spoiling the fun of the
voyeurs that always gathered like moths to a flame. How much of an
expert did you need to be?

Just like a magic trick,
the smoke turned completely too steam and drifted into the sky, the
noise died away and the buckled and twisted skeleton of the
bleachers rose from the smouldering ground as the steam cleared,
creating an eerie spectacle. The only sound now was that of the
fire pump providing the water to the hoses. He could see pieces of
still burning canvas doted around some of the twisted steel
girders.

Bridger heard Jack call
more instructions to the fire crew. “Clear the bleachers before
they ignite as well. Do a full sweep and damp down all of the
hotspots you find.” He could see another three hoses trailing away
from the screaming pump on the fire appliance. The two-man crews on
each line, visible now after the tents destruction, were struggling
under the weight of a hose full of water to get it to the right
place. A few minutes of what looked like a huge effort ensued
before he saw one of the fire fighters raise his hand and call
‘water off’. The noise of the pump receded, leaving a ringing in
his ears, the smell reminding him of November bonfires doused by
spring rain.

“
Well that’s
that then… Time for your input I think Mike.” Jack had returned too
where Bridger was standing with the others “It’s not often we get
beaten to a fire by the Police who were not told about it in the
first place, and for you to be at work at this time of night it
must have been important.”

The question threw him
for a second, with all the excitement he had almost forgotten about
Maria. The reason they were there in the first place. Bridger
looked around at the pockets of soot-blackened Carnies milling
around the edges of the burnt out Big Top. Maria would be here
somewhere, but whatever had caused the fire had just made their job
that much harder. “We need to speak with one of the Carnival
workers in relation to the death of Michael Wilson…” Bridger had an
uneasy feeling building in his stomach the more he looked at the
blackened mess. The evidence they needed was here somewhere. “Do
you think any of the caravans have been damaged in the fire
Jack?”

“
I think they
have been lucky tonight, the caravans look to be okay, the fire
seems to have been contained in the area of the Big Top. Although
anything inside that would be a goner, it would have been over a
thousand degrees in there.”

‘
Boss, over
here…, we have got a couple of Crispies’

Bridger’s blood ran cold,
the insensitive call from one the fire fighters had just told him
something they did not need right now. A ‘Crispy’ was the wrong end
of black humour, used by fire fighters to describe a death by fire.
They now had two burnt bodies on their hands.

Jack Perry was already
jogging over to the middle of the charred ring, Bridger and the
others followed suit. Some of the Carnival workers had also heard
the call and started too edge forward, wondering what the commotion
was. Bridger saw Gillian and Steve approaching from the other side.
“Keep everyone back from here will you Gill. They don’t need to see
this.” He turned his attention back to what ‘this’ was.

Two blackened and charred
forms lay huddled beside each other, what was left of their bodies
fused together. Two inhuman heads, wizened and charred, were
grinning at them from the mess of fat and black tissue. The smell
of well-cooked meat was overpowering.

Bridger turned away and
sucked in a deep breath in an effort to stop himself from
vomiting.

Chapter
Twelve

Bridger looked down at
the hideous two-headed creature, birthed by fire, which was lying
before him. He had cleared everybody away from the immediate area
after the fire brigade had set up spotlights too light up the
grizzly scene in a cold clinical light. The lights were now making
it impossible for him to avoid any of the vile detail under their
brightness. Becky was the only other person with him. Brian and
Grant had taken the opportunity to move back to a safer distance,
further away from the smell… and the horror.

“
Who do you
think they are Mike?” Becky’s stomach had obviously held stronger
than his, her voice did not sound any different, despite the
circumstances.

Bridger cleared his
throat “I’m sure we will know soon enough once the word gets
around, they will realise someone is missing and then we can start
the identity procedures just too confirm that they have lost more
of their friends.” Even as he said it, he knew it sounded clinical
and detached, but what else could he be. This was not a happy
Circus right now and things were just getting worse for them. He
changed the subject.

“
Can you
smell that slight sulphurous smell, Becky?”

“
Is that the
one that is turning my stomach? Or is it the one stinging my eyes?
There are a lot of things I can smell Mike, and I don’t like any of
them.”

Bridger
ignored Becky’s tone “The sulphurous smell comes from burning hair;
there is a
n amino acid which has sulphur
as a component inside the Keratin which is in our hair. When that
burns, it gives off the smell...” realising Becky was looking at
him in a strange way, he did not bother explaining any further
“Anyway I can smell it quite clearly, these two possibly had a lot
of hair…”

“
This would mean they had long hair, nothing else, Mike. Men
have long hair as well, these days; it does not mean these two were
female.”

“
You’re right Becky; sorry… it was just a theory, more
something to say, really.” He did not want to think of the poor
souls before him as female either; if he was honest with himself,
he did not want to think of them as having been human at
all.

“
Oh my, Oh… what a terrible, terrible waste. You wouldn’t wish
that on your worst enemies would you. And these poor souls never
stood a chance.” Anthony Gonzales had pushed past Gillian and Steve
and had approached from Bridger’s right. “You poor, poor
souls…”

Bridger
watched as Anthony crouched down beside the black glutinous pile,
and put his hands out as if too stroke the hideous beast. Before he
made contact, he stood up abruptly, inspecting his hands as if for
contamination. “I guess we can replace them…,” he said, brushing
his hands off “but it doesn’t make this any easier, does
it.”

Bridger saw
Becky tense up, and take a deep breath; he knew she was going to
say something to Anthony about what she had just heard. She would
not be able to help herself. Bridger decided to get in first. “Do
you know who they were, Mr Gonzales?”

“
Arielle and Arrabella…, our two performing Apes. They were
the only two of their kind in New Zealand. We always keep their
cages inside the main tent at night, its warmer for them and they
get less agitated. They are… uh, were, more like us than you know
Sergeant.”

Bridger
actually felt a flood of relief wash through him, they were not
human, and as hard as it sounded they were now not his
responsibility. He saw Becky visibly relax as well; her earlier
agitation at Anthony’s callous comment had apparently gone; now she
too knew they were not human. “It’s still not a very nice thing to
happen Mr Gonzales, what with everything else going on. They must
almost be like pets to you and your colleagues.”

“
Y-Yes, I guess they were.” Anthony’s eyes betrayed a slight
indifference as he spoke his words. It was as if he did not really
care either way. “Anyway, I’m sure you will do your best to find
who started this fire. It certainly was not an accident; we are
very fastidious about safety around here. You have to be with
everything we have invested in this enterprise. If it hadn’t been
for our Clowns then it could have been a lot
worse.”

“
What do you mean, Mr Gonzales?” Becky spoke
up.

“
Maria Staverly and one of her…uh… conquests…, they were in
the tent when the fire started. They were away on one of Maria’s
Trips. They were both apparently so far gone, as is usual for
Maria, that they would not even have known what was happening. The
Clowns dragged them too safety, just as the fire really took hold.
A few seconds later and you would have been looking at four bodies
in here.”