Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Sixteen & Seventeen (standard:drama, 2676 words) [9/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 25 2011	Views/Reads: 2248/1690	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A body has been washed up on the banks of the Thames, but whose is it? Continuation of my drama.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Manners stared, unmoved. ‘Shows of aggression, Mr. Carruthers, are
hardly likely to help your case. Neither is your apparent unconcern at 
Mr Goldhawk's demise.' 

'Now look – what do you inspect from me?' Carruthers crouched in his
chair, thrust out a hand. ‘My wife is missing. I've been worried out of 
my mind, and now this.' He gave a heavy nasal exhalation. ‘Are you 
charging me?' 

For the first time there was a ghost of a smile from Manners. ‘I am not
some hatchet man; grant me more intelligence than that. I am simply 
following a line of inquiry. Do you intend remaining here?' 

‘I was going to see the week out,' Carruthers answered, head bowed.
‘Chelsey wouldn't have left me high and dry.' 

Manners produced a handkerchief and sneezed. ‘Excuse me, Mr. Carruthers,
hay fever.' He fell silent for a moment and Carruthers had no doubt he 
was being assessed. ‘Which brings me to the question of Mrs Carruthers; 
she is a well-known novelist, is she not?' 

‘Yes, that's right.' 

‘And you act as her agent?' 

Carruthers nodded, mincing his lips. 

‘And Mr. Goldhawk, the publisher of her books, is dead, and your wife is
missing.' 

‘Inspector I...' 

‘Mr. Carruthers I merely state the facts.' Manners raised a hand
silencing Carruthers. ‘If you're thinking of leaving the locality 
please advise me of your whereabouts.' Manners delved into his suit 
pocket and produced a card. ‘You will be hearing from me shortly; in 
the meantime should you recall anything you might have forgotten, 
please advise me of such. Naturally the local constabulary is aware of 
the situation; they are also likely to be in touch with you.' 

Manners got up, headed for the door, stopped and turned. ‘I'm surprised
about one thing, Mr. Carruthers...' 

‘What's that?' Carruthers said tiredly, rifling a hand through his hair.


‘That you didn't ask where the body was found.' 

Carruthers shook his head. ‘I'm just too overwhelmed by the whole thing
to really care. Well go on, tell me, where was it found?' 

‘We found it washed up on the banks of the Thames in Chiswick, not far
from your abode by all accounts. You might also be interested to know 
that there were indentations around the victim's neck, although it's 
premature at this stage to determine them as the cause of death. 
Goodbye for now.' 

Manners' final remarks echoed in Carruthers' head with the repetition of
a tolling bell. 

Chapter Seventeen 

It wasn't enough that Carruthers had to contend with Chelsey's
disappearance, the shock of Goldhawk's death and Inspector Manners' 
suspicion that he might be implicated in it – on top of it all the 
man's body had been found by the Thames, in Chiswick, within walking 
distance of his own home. 

Was that pure coincidence or something more worrying and ominous?  And
had Chelsey's disappearance something to do with it? The possibility of 
that was too painful to contemplate right now. His stomach felt knotted 
and contracted as he wound his way through the hotel to the rear 
garden, where he selected a bench and had a smoke.  The taste was 
acrid, lingered unpleasantly and did nothing to settle his belly. He'd 
give up the habit if he had the willpower to do it, just now though, he 
couldn't even consider doing so. 

Perhaps he should go home, what was there to do with his day apart from
worry? In light of recent developments that might prove the best course 
of action. But his gut instinct held him in the New Forest; he couldn't 
bring himself to leave the area where he'd last seen Chelsey. He still 
believed that left to her own devices she wouldn't simply have up and 
left him. 

He needed to do something constructive with his time, to engage in
something that might count towards finding her. He wondered whether 
Casey had got wind of Goldhawk's demise, and checked his watch. She 
should have arrived back by now, at the neat town house bordering 
Ealing Common where she lived alone. 

No boyfriend for Casey, not for some time now, which was surprising
because with her looks she certainly wouldn't be short of suitors. 
Perhaps some of the reason might lie in the fact that whereas Chelsey 
undeniably thrived at social functions, Casey for the most part had a 
tendency to stay away from them. Sometimes that baffled him; it didn't 
seem to fit her character. 

Carruthers called Casey's home and found the line switched to automatic
answering. He supposed the traffic was heavy and that she was still 
driving back. Opting not to call her mobile for fear of distracting her 
concentration he decided to try Adrian; obnoxious as the man was, he 
needed to be kept in touch with developments, and moreover, as a 
journalist, it was highly probable he already knew about Goldhawk. He'd 
been surprised by Adrian's hasty departure the previous morning, and 
more so, though hardly offended, that he hadn't been in contact since. 

As in Casey's instance, Adrian's phone went straight to recorded
message, but a call to his mobile was met at the first bleep. 

‘Adrian Frampton-Williams,' the supercilious voice announced with an
enhanced formality, even though, as Carruthers knew, Adrian was fully 
aware that he was the caller. 

‘Adrian,' Carruthers began with thinly-disguised irritation, ‘I take it
you've heard?' 

‘Heard what? Are you talking about Chelsey? What in God's name's
happened?' 

‘No – it's Goldhawk, he's been found dead.' Carruthers masked his face
with his hand. ‘I thought you might have heard...' 

‘Goldhawk found dead?' Adrian sounded bemused, muttering the words
slowly. ‘No, I've been out of touch, taking a day or two off – how – 
where did it happen?' 

Carruthers gave a sharp nasal inhalation. ‘His body was found washed up
on the banks of the Thames at Chiswick.' 

‘Well, I'll be damned. That's your back yard.' 

Carruthers grimaced, as if he didn't know. ‘I've already had a police
inspector from London question me – they're not saying much but they're 
treating it as suspicious.' 

‘Well be careful what you say to them – you know how they can twist
things. You're on a sticky enough wicket as it is.' 

‘What do you mean by that?' 

‘Simply that you had...' Adrian broke off, shouted something as in the
background a dog barked, deep and loudly. 

‘Simply that you have a motive to want him harmed – his attempted affair
with Chelsey, his subsequent rejection of her new book – and from where 
you say they found his body, things hardly look good for you, Martin.' 

‘I've been in Lyndhurst all the time...' 

‘All the time? Not from what you told me.' 

‘Apart from that incident, I mean.' 

‘Well there you go, so be careful.' 

Carruthers snorted, he was getting hotter by the minute. ‘Things won't
look good for Chelsey either; I wish I knew where the hell she was.' 

‘Whatever happened to Chelsey, Martin, don't you go implicating her.' A
touch of anger crept into Adrian's haughty voice. ‘I won't stand for 
it.' 

‘I'm not trying to implicate her,' Carruthers retorted his voice rising.
‘I'm trying to fathom out what's happened here – and you don't seem to 
be offering much help.' 

‘What help do you expect me to be? Good God man, I'm as worried as you
are; I lay awake wondering. I came up as soon as I heard.' 

Yes, and just as quickly went back, Carruthers thought. But there was
little point in putting that fact to him, the conversation had become 
heated enough. 

‘Yes, well – I'm going to see the week out. I won't be returning before
then – I've got a gut feeling Chelsey's still in the area...' 

‘You have? Why?' 

The sudden elevation in Adrian's tone caused Carruthers to throw up his
free hand. ‘I don't know. I just feel it – but listen, there's one way 
you can help – pay home a visit for me if you can find time, see if 
there's any trace of Chelsey having been back.' 

‘No point, I already did.' 

‘What?' Carruthers was taken aback. ‘Why didn't you say – is there
any...' 

‘No there isn't,' Adrian said tersely. ‘From the outside the place is
clearly empty. I just thought I'd check, she's my sister after all.' 

‘Yes, yes,' Carruthers muttered, didn't he know it. ‘When was that?' 

‘Oh, I don't recall...' the sound of the barking dog filled the
background once more. ‘Yes – yesterday afternoon, it was all quiet.' 

‘Okay,' Carruthers said tiredly, ‘well if you hear anything, call me.' 

‘Of course I will,' Adrian answered, his manner still offhand, but there
wasn't anything unusual in that. ‘I'll check with the news agency, see 
what I can find on the Goldhawk case. Anything crops up, I'll let you 
know.' The phone went down. 

As abrupt as ever. Carruthers blew smoke into the air, how he abhorred
the man. 

He spent a few minutes in deep contemplation before taking himself out
to the high street –  the bustle, comparative to the solitude of the 
garden, might do him some good. 

His mobile rang and wrenching it from his pocket he dropped the
appliance on the street, his fingers were so clammy, but that wasn't 
caused by the heat of the day as much as his own internal temperature. 
If the concept of spontaneous human combustion were to be a reality 
then he would be in real danger of exploding into flames. 

He retrieved it from the pavement, his mind linking back to the moment
Noades had found Chelsey's phone at the picnic spot. Any faint hope 
that it might be her was blown to smithereens as the flashing screen 
brought up Casey's number. 

‘Sorry Marty, missed your call. I got caught up in the traffic I'm
afraid – you wouldn't believe the lane closures.' There was a pause. 
‘Isn't it horrible? You wouldn't believe the commotion it's caused 
around your locality, either.' 

‘You've been there? You've heard?' 

‘Right on one count, Marty – I've heard, but I haven't been near the
place,  I didn't need to – the radio stations are full of it, and the 
press too, I wouldn't be surprised.' 

‘Are you sure?' Carruthers scratched his head, caught a blister on his
scalp and instantly regretted it. 

‘Of course I'm sure.' 

‘It's just that Adrian was remarking on how quiet it had been –
apparently he'd checked for any sign of Chelsey having been back.' 

He heard Casey's slow intake of breath. ‘Don't you think it's strange,
Marty?' 

‘What's strange?' Carruthers asked, although he was aware of where Casey
was leading. 

‘That Alexander's body was found so close to ...' she broke off... 
‘it's all so horrible – so very horrible.' 

Carruthers temperature climbed another degree. ‘Adrian seems to be
laying the blame at my door.' 

‘What – Chelsey's disappearance, you mean?' 

Carruthers sighed, turned a corner where the pavement was so narrow he
was forced to step onto the road to avoid a pedestrian, nearly getting 
run down by a car in the process. ‘No, of course not, silly,' he said 
struggling to regain his composure. ‘I mean Alexander.' 

‘Well that would be just typical of Adrian,' Casey said with venom. ‘Pay
him no heed. Everybody knows you don't have murder in your veins.' 

‘What do you mean, everybody? If the police take the same line as
Adrian, they'll have made their minds up.' 

‘Nonsense,' Casey said sternly, ‘the guy's a creep; look, you've got to
snap out of it, Marty – bring yourself back to civilization – closer to 
the ones who care about you.' 

But the one who cares about me the most isn't there...though Carruthers
refrained from making his thoughts audible, because despite it all 
there were seeds of doubt, and Casey had been their cultivator. 

But he knew the truth – he couldn't go back home without his wife being
there. 

‘I'll hang it out for the week, Casey – as I've told you.' 

‘I wish you'd reconsider...' 

‘We've been through that – I'll contact you when I'm back – bye Casey.' 

But any ideas Carruthers had of spending his time away from home were
soon to be curtailed. He'd reached the entrance to the Country Park 
when his mobile rang again, the words, ‘number withheld,' concealing 
any identity until the caller announced himself. 

‘Mr. Carruthers? Inspector Manners here – I require your presence down
here in Chiswick, forthwith I'm afraid.' 

Carruthers heartbeat skipped then raced. ‘What is it Inspector? What's
happened?' 

‘We need to consider a new angle in the case, Mr. Carruthers, and I'd
like you here sooner rather than later if you wouldn't mind.' 

‘But...' 

‘That's all I'm prepared to say at the moment,' came the firm reply. 

Carruthers bit his lip, turned and headed back to the hotel. Just what
was Manners up to? 


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