|Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Thirty Two & Thirty Three (standard:drama, 2369 words) [18/24] show all parts|
|Author: Brian Cross||Added: Nov 10 2012||Views/Reads: 1203/984||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Martin Carruthers' novelist wife Chelsey has disappeared, and is suspected of murder. Martin is adamant she is innocent, and sets out to find her and clear her name.|
Chapter Thirty Two ‘Well I hope I've given him something to think about,' Casey said, crouching beside the pond in the hotel garden, thumb and forefinger caressing a blade of grass. ‘Given who something to think about?' Carruthers stubbed out his cigarette, flicked it into the container provided. ‘That sergeant – Sidebottom.' ‘Higginbotham...' ‘Higginbotham then.' Casey snorted. ‘Honestly Marty, we were only speaking about it a moment ago – you're in a world of your own, there's a murderer too close for comfort and you're obsessed with this bloke Noades...' she got to her feet, straightened her blouse. ‘I wish you'd listen to me, Marty, initially I thought the same as you, but now I think we need to look again.' ‘No, no, no.' Carruthers waved her suggestion away, hushed his voice, there was a cream tea assembly at one of the tables fringing the pond and he saw heads turn. ‘I'm not going over that again.' Casey swung round, gave the group one of her icy stares and it seemed to do the trick. Satisfied, she fronted him again. ‘So where do you go from here, if you've no leads, and what do I do if the police won't see sense?' Carruthers leaned against the hotel wall, thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and tilted his head towards the cloudless sky. He sighed. ‘Adrian phoned yesterday, unusually civil for him I must say. He actually apologised for being no help and suggested we meet up. Two heads are better than one – that's what he said.' He met Casey's eyes, minced his lips. ‘I don't know what good it'll do but anything that helps find her I'm bound to take up. You might as well join me, pointless going back there if you are being watched.' ‘I guess there isn't. I'd feel tense and uncomfortable, certainly unable to write. I might as well see this thing through to the end.' Carruthers managed a grin. ‘You certainly look far from that right now.' He wiped his brow, the afternoon was becoming humid once more. ‘Fancy a drink, something cool?' Casey smiled, slapped him hard on the shoulder. ‘Thought you'd never ask – looks can be deceiving - all this heavy stuff's weighing me down...' ‘Yeah, well it's not going away any time soon, I'm afraid.' Carruthers led her through the rear of the hotel, along the plush red-carpeted corridor and into the bar. Casey ordered a Smirnoff while he asked for a lager. They took a seat by the window, looked down on the traffic below. He leaned forward, hand caressing the glass. ‘Oh I know I'm reaching the point where remaining here would be futile; I guess Adrian, strange as it may seem, is my last hope. His eyes widened, engaging Casey's. ‘I can't understand how the key could have gone. Nobody knew it was there apart from Chelsey and I, and the garage is protected by combination lock. I keep telling myself that if she has been back there, then there's precious little point in being here anyway.' Carruthers' mobile rang; he clutched it to his ear. ‘Ah – Adrian – what's that? You're here now? Well I'm in the Chequers, Casey's with me - Casey Jennings. Say, why don't you join us?' ‘Oh I see, well I suppose we could – I'll ask her.' Carruthers cupped a hand around the phone, leaned across to Casey. ‘Adrian's asked us to join him on the |Forest; I asked him here but apparently he has an engagement this evening...' Casey shook her head, raised her glass to her lips and then seemed to reconsider. ‘Okay, if you think you'd like a bit of civilized company.' Carruthers returned to his call. ‘Yes, Casey will join us. ‘Where will we find you? Wait a minute, let me write this down.' Carruthers took an A6 pad from his trouser pocket, jotted down a series of directions, not Click here to read the rest of this story (223 more lines)
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