Read Online Send in the Clowns, a Detective Mike Bridger novel by Mark Bredenbeck - Free Book Online Page B

opened his mouth as if to say something but decided better
of it and looked at the floor instead. It was not a very fair thing
to do, Anthony was not a suspect at this point, but Bridger had
found it was better to put someone on the back foot before starting
an interview; they were less likely to try to pull one over
him.
    “ Please, sit
down…” Anthony had regained some of his composure and was
indicating two of the small chairs next to a very small dining
table. He took a deep breath as if he was trying too steady
himself. “You will have to forgive me Sergeant; it’s not been a
very nice couple of days and I’m not sure how I can be of much
help… I feel so useless…” he sniffed and turned his head away
again.
    Bridger was not sure he
believed Anthony’s depreciation of himself, his voice sounded too
mechanical and practised. The man was a performer, he would know
how to play to a crowd, it made sense he could pretend to be
anything he wanted, in anyone’s company. “Mr Gonzales, if you could
go over the events last night leading up to the last time you saw
Michael Wilson.”
    Anthony sat down opposite
them, put his hands on the table in between, and spoke quietly. “We
set up for the performance last night as usual, the Clowns do most
of the labouring, it leaves me able to get in a few practice swings
before the show. Mick was in his caravan warming up; he needs a bit
of quiet time to get himself in the right headspace...” Anthony’s
voice caught in his throat, “He needed space… I still cannot
believe he is gone…” A tear glistened on his cheek and he sniffed
loudly.
    This time his emotions
were not for Bridger’s benefit, they would not get very far if he
broke down. A bottle caught Bridger’s eye, the amber liquid a very
familiar sight. Without thinking, he reached over and picked it up,
along with a small tumbler sitting next to it. It just seemed a
natural thing to do. He poured a generous two fingers with a
practiced hand as Anthony watched over with the subtle eye of a
drinker, nodding his approval when the tumbler was almost three
quarters full. Bridger pushed it towards Anthony without speaking
and he grabbed it up with both hands, imbibing deeply. He watched
as Anthony’s shoulders visibly relaxed and calmness descended over
his features. Bridger felt everything Anthony did in his head, as
only a fellow drinker could. He felt the pull of the bottle,
tugging at his senses, and he had to screw the cap on quickly too
stop himself taking a pull. His own sobriety was something he had
control over now, which was more than he could say for other parts
of his personal life.
    Bridger noticed that
Grant did not say anything, as he no doubt watched the interaction
between the two of them. Instead, he saw that he had taken out his
notebook and pen, waiting for Anthony to speak, his features not
giving anything away about whether he approved of this action or
not. Good man, he was glad of the support. He looked back at
Anthony.
    “ Thank you
Sergeant.” Anthony looked at the tumbler in his hands. “Mick was a
very important part of our lives here at the Circus, as well as
being the owner he was also our friend… a very proud man… proud of
the legacy of this Circus. He does not have any children; he was
the last Wilson in a very long line. I’m not sure where we go from
here.” He took another smaller sip of the whisky. “Mick’s great,
great, Grandfather Cyril Wilson started this Circus, with just a
few animals and some Clowns… quite a small affair it was back then.
Then I guess travelling with a big operation in those days would
have been too difficult. It was not until my own great grandfather
arrived from the old country that they could really offer a good
show though. He was only seventeen years old and a gifted athlete;
he practically pioneered the acrobatic styles we have today. He put
Wilsons Circus on the map; he was the one they all came to see. The
Clowns had nothing on