|Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Thirty Six and Thirty Seven (standard:drama, 2723 words) [20/24] show all parts|
|Author: Brian Cross||Added: Apr 01 2013||Views/Reads: 1019/732||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Carruthers and Casey are held at gunpoint by Chelsey's enraged half brother Adrian. Approaching the conclusion of my thriller.|
Chapter Thirty Six ‘Oh well done old chap, you've finally guessed it.' The unwavering smile on Adrian's face bore total contrast to the harshness of his eyes. His right hand now gripped a small black pistol, and Carruthers, horror burning through his inners like acid didn't doubt it was the genuine article. With fleeting eye movement to where Casey now stood frozen he added, ‘I have a notion the delectable Miss Jennings got there sometime before you.' Adrian sniffed, sneered, his finger caressing the pistol's trigger. ‘Though I can't say it surprises me ...' Oh I might have.' Casey folded her arms, looked at Adrian askew, her rich throaty voice pierced the momentary silence. ‘I reckon you're going to tell us you've got Chelsey here somewhere – and it wouldn't surprise me one iota to learn that you killed the tramp – now the question is why you've lured Marty here ...' ‘Shut the fuck up! I'll come to you in a moment.' Adrian gave a lop-sided snarl as he leveled the pistol at Carruthers' chest. ‘You always were a dim one Carruthers. I guess you promote other people's books because you can't write your own.' He sniggered at the consternation on Carruthers' face. ‘Like I say, you've been ignorant of the facts; it's time to enlighten you.' Adrian leaned forward, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. ‘Fact – if it hadn't been for you, my sister wouldn't have got involved in this sickening self-satisfying fiction fiasco; fact – she'd have led a normal, stable life, one where she'd see reason, one that would have provided a future for her, that I could have arranged ...' ‘What codswallop are you ranting, man? Chelsey was already an established writer before ...' Carruthers broke off, because Adrian wasn't listening – He'd narrowed his eyes, emitting a curious incandescent aura in the glow of the oil lamp, and glanced at Casey, her eyes still burning defiance as she perched alongside Carruthers on the edge of the Chesterfield sofa where they'd been prompted to sit. ‘And you –you plagued my sister with your sexual desires,' Adrian said plainly. ‘Don't be so disgusting.' Casey rose from the couch, shrugging off Carruthers' restraining arm and he feared she would charge him, but Adrian extended the gun, his finger curling tighter around the trigger. ‘Stay where you are.' ‘Why should I?' She scowled, contorting her mouth in bitterness. ‘If you're going to use that thing get it over with – or face me without the weapon, let's see what a big boy you are then.' ‘Do you deny it?' Adrian growled, ignoring her remark. ‘Of course I damned well do.' ‘Then you're a liar. Don't think I haven't observed you playing up to her ...' ‘Give me one example,' Casey snarled, baring her teeth. ‘Goldhawk's function last month, to name but one – I watched your hand clawing hers ...' stabbing a finger at Carruthers he added, ‘... while he was distracted. I saw the way you followed her around the room ...' ‘Yes – to keep her away from you ...' Casey said, jutting out her chin. ‘Oh for goodness sake, let's stop this,' Carruthers said desperately. He shook his head; thrust a hand through his hair. ‘Why are you doing this, Adrian? Because you have some kind of warped desire for Chelsey? Just what is going on in your sick little mind – and what the hell have you done with her?' Click here to read the rest of this story (270 more lines)
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