Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Eighteen & Nineteen (standard:drama, 3018 words) [10/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Nov 27 2011	Views/Reads: 2413/1700	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Suspicion mounts against Chelsey Carruthers, following the murder of a rogue publisher.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Carruthers honked again. He was travelling away from his intended
direction, back towards the heart of the Forest, the steadily 
encroaching firs told him as much, but he didn't care – in his own mind 
he was becoming convinced that Robin Noades, after all, held the key to 
Chelsey's whereabouts. He'd overlooked the significance of how the pair 
had interacted that lunchtime, or perhaps until now he'd not wanted to 
consider it. 

The road was becoming more uneven and rose at an ever increasing
gradient – something in the Range Rover's favour, and moreover Noades' 
speed was restricted by a slow moving vehicle in front. 

Carruthers was experiencing increasingly deep hues of red and with his
anger heightening to new peaks he made the decision to ram Noades, and 
to hell with the consequences. 

Carruthers braced himself, pressed sharply on the accelerator and
powered forward, too late now to change his mind. He bore down on 
Noades, only to find him gather speed and swing sharp left into a 
narrow lane that his anger had blinded him from seeing. Carruthers 
could do nothing to adjust, his Range Rover ploughed on, making 
immediate impact with the caravanette in front of him. 

His seat belt prevented him from crashing through the windscreen but it
couldn't protect him from the backbreaking wrench that followed as his 
vehicle impacted with the camper van. 

Shaken, Carruthers held his hands to his head, watching through his
spread fingers as a ruddy-faced, angry man stomped towards him. ‘What 
the hell do you think you're doing, eh? You been drinking?' Carruthers 
shook his head, ‘No – I'm sorry, my foot slipped on the pedal,' was all 
he could think of saying. He stepped out, surveyed the large indent in 
the rear of the caravanette. ‘My insurance company will make good the 
damage – I'll give you my details.' 

But as his senses began to recover, Carruthers' eyes fell on the
signpost indicating the road where Noades had swerved left. It read 
‘Beaulieu and Lymington.' What concerned him now was this – had Noades' 
course been deliberate, or taken merely to shrug him off? 

Chapter Nineteen 

Carruthers was gripped by a desire to remain and to search out Noades –
to get to the root of the new turmoil he was experiencing. But he had 
to endure the drive to London, no matter how much he disliked the 
prospect. It wouldn't do to antagonise Manners – Adrian was right about 
one thing, if Manners had a prime suspect right now it was sure to be 
him. 

Carruthers watched the aggrieved driver pull away and sighed. Beaulieu
three miles; Lymington nine. He'd keep the signpost and mileage locked 
in his mind, because he'd be back to scour the area, make no mistake 
about that. And now Foulkes' shabby features loomed large and dark, 
bringing with them a new significance – 

Goldhawk's death and the appearance of Manners had pushed Foulkes to the
back-burner of his quest to find Chelsey, but not any longer – if 
Foulkes could be found, and the description of what he'd seen did match 
that of Noades, then that was surely proof of their conniving – and 
what then? 

Carruthers didn't know; he didn't have the answer to that, but he
guessed he'd be one very bitter man. 

But right now he'd an appointment with Manners, and his chase after
Noades had taken him several miles out of his way. 

Carruthers found a farm track further along the lane, reversed into it
and headed back towards the motorway. The damage to his Range Rover 
could have been worse, there was frontal damage that needed workshop 
repair, but it didn't appear to be affecting the performance of his 
motor. He'd agreed to call Manners immediately on arriving back in 
Chiswick, and the police inspector had indicated he'd be right over. 

Despite the need to summon all his concentration on the drive back,
Carruthers couldn't get the association between Noades and Chelsey out 
of his mind – But had all the worry and torment over Chelsey's 
disappearance escalated to the point where imagination overruled logic? 
After all, he had no real evidence to support his blind belief, but 
that could change – once he'd returned to Lyndhurst and found Foulkes. 

*** 

Carruthers arrived in Chiswick nearly three hours later, to find parts
of the towpath near his mews house sealed off and a good deal of police 
activity in the surrounding streets. 

He had expected as much having been forewarned by Casey, whose account
had differed markedly from Adrian's. 

His first move was to unlock the door and then to hurry through the
house checking that everything was as he'd left it; as far as his 
memory was concerned, that was the case. Her drawers showed no signs of 
being disturbed, there was no sign of anything untoward, and upstairs 
the utility room which she used as her study, and afforded views down 
to the river, was much as he'd remembered it. 

He checked her desk drawers for her diary, even though he was certain
she'd taken it with her. Her memo pad was there along with her 
notebook, but apart from a few jottings – Chelsey was a keen observer 
of human behaviour – there was nothing he could find that could link to 
her disappearance. 

Carruthers was resigning himself to the fact that he had to call
Manners, when his mobile phone rang. ‘Mr. Carruthers? Inspector Manners 
here, have you not arrived yet? It seems some time since we last 
spoke.' 

Carruthers felt a surge of irritation, he'd only been back a few minutes
for goodness sake and already the man was plaguing him. He consulted 
his watch. ‘Two hours fifty minutes,' he said tersely. ‘I'm sorry I got 
held up, I'm back now.' 

‘Just in time then, I'd say. I was beginning to think we might need a
warrant. Expect me in fifteen minutes.' 

‘Now look Insp...' but Carruthers heard the click of the phone and bit
his lip. He really disliked Manners, even allowing for the fact that 
the man was doing his job there was something in his demeanour which 
grated and was in danger of becoming personal. Manners couldn't have 
been less aptly named. 

Carruthers went outside and lit a cigarette, glancing down the mews
where it intersected a narrow street, beyond which, lay the towpath and 
river. The mews was quiet enough but he could make out through its 
continuation the shimmer of red and white tape along the towpath. 
Several police vehicles were parked in the street itself, while white 
clad figures scoured the river's edge. 

Shortly afterwards he saw a grey Jaguar saloon swing into the mews and
head in his direction at speed, pulling to a halt with what Carruthers 
thought was an unnecessary squeal of tyres. Manners stepped briskly 
out, opened the unlocked side gate and joined him in the small patio 
garden, accompanied by a thick set colleague whom Carruthers adjudged 
to be in his mid thirties. 

‘You know who I am, Mr. Carruthers, this is Sergeant Harman,' Manners
said with a slight inclination of his head. ‘I apologise for the 
necessity to bring you back here. However this is now a murder 
investigation and as such, your co-operation is required and 
appreciated.' 

Manners stood still, fixed him with cold grey eyes that matched his
suit. ‘Yes, that's right Mr. Carruthers, I did say murder. Indentations 
around the throat if you're interested; we've now confirmed 
strangulation as the cause of death. Shall we go inside? I have some 
questions you might be able to assist me with.' 

Manners walked into the lounge, looked around him, placed his hands in
his pockets and stared down the mews. ‘I've perceived that you have a 
temper, Mr. Carruthers, but it appears that your wife has one to 
match.' 

‘I find that remark insulting and without foundation,' Carruthers
snapped, reddening. 

‘Oh really? Not according to my records.' Manners said, consulting his
notes. ‘There have been altercations at this address, which due to 
complaints from the public we have been required to attend, and it 
appears from reports I've studied that on at least one occasion Mrs. 
Carruthers needed pacifying.' 

‘Oh that.' Carruthers swept a hand through his hair in frustration.
‘You're referring to a single instance.' Carruthers raised a finger as 
Manners turned to face him. 

‘One instance perhaps.' Manners gave a quick nod of his head, grudging
acceptance of what was a fact, Carruthers thought. ‘However, one 
instance serious enough to take two officers to physically restrain 
her.' 

Manners' eyes travelled slowly around the room, resting on a framed
photo of Carruthers and Chelsey, side by side, hands linked. It had 
been taken by a friend following a cycle rally three years previous, 
and took pride of place on their mantelpiece. 

‘Quite a striking woman, your wife if I might say so; tall and
athletically built. I can imagine her being a considerable handful when 
enraged.' 

‘Come to the point, Inspector,' Carruthers muttered, lips twisted, face
crimson, ‘what are you implying?' 

Manners produced a handkerchief from his pocket and sneezed into it.
‘Very well.' He straightened, locked eyes with Carruthers. ‘I'm 
suggesting that your wife is physically capable of applying sufficient 
force to inflict the injury which caused the fatality.' 

‘That's preposterous!' Carruthers yelled. ‘Your own speculation; Chelsey
could never commit murder.' 

‘Maybe, maybe not.' Manners raised his head in his infuriating fashion
and strolled through the lounge. ‘What I'm looking for, you'll 
understand, Mr. Carruthers, is anything which might point to a 
connection between Mrs. Carruthers and Mr. Goldhawk's demise. As such, 
it might prove necessary to remove some of her belongings...' 

‘No, I don't understand, I don't understand at all,' Carruthers blurted
out. ‘There is no way on earth that my wife is connected with 
Goldhawk's death!' 

‘I need to establish that as a fact,' Manners said in polished, matter
of fact tones. ‘If you co-operate with us, we can be out of here a lot 
quicker than we could if you prove a hindrance.' 

‘Right, be my guest,' Carruthers said in a voice that implied nothing of
the kind.  He led them upstairs to the bedroom and her study, flinging 
open wardrobes and drawers. ‘There's nothing to hide here.' 

‘I'll need a listing of your wife's relations and known contacts...'
Manners nodded to Sergeant Harman who began manhandling Chelsey's 
clothing, ‘...comprehensive, if you wouldn't mind.' 

‘Her parents have retired to Malta,' Carruthers said seething, ‘her
father has heart disease – I haven't bothered them...' 

‘I'm afraid I may need to,' Manners said stiffly, ‘any other family more
local?' 

‘Adrian Frampton-Williams,' Carruthers answered with a large exhalation.
‘He lives in Denham, Buckinghamshire. Look, I'll drop you a detailed 
list off tomorrow – I need to think straight.' 

‘Manners considered, nodded. ‘The earlier the better.' He turned his
attention to items of Chelsey's clothing, took them from Harman and 
when he'd finished in the bedroom strode through to her study, where he 
removed her notebooks and more alarmingly, her computer. 

‘I take it you'll issue a receipt for my wife's possessions?' Carruthers
request was more of a demand, his voice tremulous with outrage 
–‘They're all very valuable.' 

‘Naturally, Mr. Carruthers, I'll see to that.' 

Carruthers suddenly lost his tenuous hold on his temper and marched
across the floor, raising his arms towards Manners, forcing the 
inspector to take a step back and prompting the intervention of Harman. 
But Carruthers managed to restrain himself from laying hands on 
Manners. ‘Why are you taking this course of action?' He pleaded. 

Manners sighed, raised his head in aloof stance and slowly extended a
hand towards a chair. ‘Sit down, Mr. Carruthers, please, you're making 
me nervous. Now look,' he began, waiting for Carruthers to seat 
himself, which was achieved with extreme reluctance, ‘we feel it is 
more than mere coincidence that your wife disappeared shortly before 
Mr. Goldhawk's body was found...' 

‘Then why didn't you say so yesterday?' 

Manners looked down, appeared to contemplate. ‘Because additional
factors have become apparent.' 

‘And they are?' 

‘I'm not prepared to divulge at this stage Mr...' 

‘Then I'll get a solicitor.' 

‘You might well be advised to.' Manners turned his back on Carruthers,
gazed through the study window with its view of the Thames in the 
background. ‘You see for all I know your wife and yourself could be in 
cohorts.' 

‘That is the most outrageous assumption I have ever...' Carruthers was
on his feet, straight into the restraining arms of Sergeant Harman. 

‘As I say,' Manners said smoothly, ‘it's quite some temper you have
there...one to match your wife's, I wonder?' 

‘You can hardly blame me, this is preposterous!' Carruthers exhaled
heavily, and Harman removed his hands from the agent's shoulders. ‘In 
any case, I don't know what you've got on her, but it can't be 
Chelsey.' 

Manners raised his head, fixed Carruthers with his cold, grey eyes. ‘Oh
– and why might that be?' 

‘Because she's run off with another man,' Carruthers snapped bitterly.
‘It was arranged, I was tricked.' 

There was a slight narrowing of the policeman's eyes. ‘And you know
that, do you?' 

Carruthers swallowed, examined his fingers. ‘Not as a fact, no – but I'm
as damned well sure as I can be...' 

‘And the evidence?' 

Carruthers dropped his head again, shook it, what evidence was there
apart from Noades' behaviour, and a guy like Manners wasn't going to 
buy that. 

‘Let's get this straight, Mr. Carruthers,' Manners said, his voice
slackening a touch in severity, ‘I am not, at this stage accusing you 
of complicity concerning Mr. Goldhawk's death, but I am regarding you 
as a possible suspect nonetheless. Your wife however, is somewhat 
higher up the tree.' 

‘And you can't tell me why?' Carruthers pressed angrily. 

‘It would be inappropriate at the current time. My investigations are at
any early stage.' Manners made for the door. ‘I am not demanding you 
stay in the locality, Mr. Carruthers, although you might find it 
advisable given the current situation.' Manners ran a finger across his 
lip. ‘I will almost certainly find it necessary to conduct a formal 
interview and I don't want to be chasing the breadth of the country for 
you.' He nodded to Harman, ‘Begin loading Mrs. Carruthers' possessions, 
Sergeant – Good-day Mr. Carruthers.' 

Carruthers didn't answer. When Harman had finished loading Chelsey's
belongings and the pair had departed, he snatched up the phone and 
dialled Adrian's number. 


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