Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Sixteen & Seventeen (standard:drama, 2676 words) [9/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 25 2011	Views/Reads: 2447/1819	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.

Chapter Sixteen 

A cloak of trepidation engulfed Carruthers as he made his way along the
hallway towards reception, strangling any attempt at rational thought. 

A tall man, seemingly in his mid-thirties had been sitting in a lounge
chair by the window, elegantly attired in a beige suit, and with short 
receding brown hair. The man rose on his approach and Carruthers 
followed the line of the receptionist's eye for confirmation, if he 
needed it, that this was the inspector. 

‘Mr. Carruthers? Inspector Manners of Hounslow Borough Police,' the
newcomer announced in a formal, and Carruthers thought, surprisingly 
polished accent. ‘I'm told there is somewhere we can talk in private.' 
Manners walked briskly to the desk, and the receptionist, unlocking the 
catch, led them through to an inner office which seemed to have been 
vacated for the purpose. 

Carruthers waited impatiently for the woman to close the door behind
her. ‘Is it Chelsey, Inspector, what's happened?' 

Manners shook his head, took a seat behind the empty desk, stretched out
and invited Carruthers to take a chair opposite. 

‘I'm afraid I know nothing of the whereabouts of your wife, Mr.
Carruthers. Suffice to say that at the present time her activities 
aren't my primary concern.' 

‘Not your primary concern?' Carruthers met the steady gaze of the lean
inspector. ‘Then why are you here?' 

Manners chewed his lip, seemed to consider an instant before answering.
‘You are, I gather, at the very least an acquaintance of an Alexander 
Goldhawk?' 

'Through working practices, yes...' Carruthers edged forward in his
seat. ‘Why do you ask?' 

Manners produced a gold pen, held the top against his bottom lip. ‘Would
you describe your relationship with Mr. Goldhawk to be in any way 
strained?' 

‘He's not my favourite person on earth right now, I gave an account to
the police here...' 

‘If you're referring to the statement you gave Sergeant Higginbotham,
yes – I am aware.' Manners reached down for his case and drew out a 
document, placing it before him and slipping on his reading spectacles. 
‘You see, Mrs Goldhawk tells of a serious altercation, during which you 
are alleged to have punched her husband in the face causing serious 
injury.' 

Carruthers clamped a hand to his cheeks, held it there for a second
before slapping it on the desk. ‘Serious injury? I hardly think so. I 
may have hit him, yes – look Inspector, what are you getting at, why 
are you here – surely that doesn't make it a major incident?' 

Manners leaned back in his chair, fixed Carruthers with a remorseless,
grey-eyed gaze. ‘I am here, Mr. Carruthers because Mr. Goldhawk was 
found dead yesterday afternoon. We do have reason to suspect foul play, 
and the way I see it, you have a motive.' 

‘I suggest you speak to Sergeant Higginbotham again, Inspector,'
Carruthers said, his shock rapidly followed by bitterness that rose 
like bile. ‘That matter is cleared up. I may have acted impulsively – 
and yes recklessly, but I now firmly believe that my wife was not 
having an affair with him. Therefore my motive, were I to have one, has 
gone.' 

‘Nonetheless, you punched him in the face; you do not deny this and less
than twenty four hours later the man is found dead. These are the facts 
Mr. Carruthers.' 

Carruthers pounded a fist on the table. ‘I know nothing of this
Inspector; I had nothing to do with it.' 


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