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Cherringham - The Drowned Man

E-BookEPUB0 - No protectionE-Book
136 Seiten
Englisch
Bastei Entertainmenterschienen am10.04.20181. Aufl. 2018
Accidents happen to Charley Clutterbuck. Always just scraping by, living on his ramshackle boat, not above the dodgy deal here and there ... So when his body is found floating down river, accidental drowning seems the logical conclusion. But Charley's pal Ray thinks it's murder. And when Jack and Sarah get involved...they find themselves facing an unexpected danger as they uncover the strange truth.

Set in the sleepy English village of Cherringham, the detective series brings together an unlikely sleuthing duo: English web designer Sarah and American ex-cop Jack. Thrilling and deadly - but with a spot of tea - it's like Rosamunde Pilcher meets Inspector Barnaby. Each of the self-contained episodes is a quick read for the morning commute, while waiting for the doctor, or when curling up with a hot cuppa.

Co-authors Neil Richards (based in the UK) and Matthew Costello (based in the US), have been writing together since the mid 90's, creating content and working on projects for the BBC, Disney Channel, Sony, ABC, Eidos, and Nintendo to name but a few. Their transatlantic collaboration has underpinned scores of TV drama scripts, computer games, radio shows, and - most recently - the successful crime fiction series Cherringham.

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KlappentextAccidents happen to Charley Clutterbuck. Always just scraping by, living on his ramshackle boat, not above the dodgy deal here and there ... So when his body is found floating down river, accidental drowning seems the logical conclusion. But Charley's pal Ray thinks it's murder. And when Jack and Sarah get involved...they find themselves facing an unexpected danger as they uncover the strange truth.

Set in the sleepy English village of Cherringham, the detective series brings together an unlikely sleuthing duo: English web designer Sarah and American ex-cop Jack. Thrilling and deadly - but with a spot of tea - it's like Rosamunde Pilcher meets Inspector Barnaby. Each of the self-contained episodes is a quick read for the morning commute, while waiting for the doctor, or when curling up with a hot cuppa.

Co-authors Neil Richards (based in the UK) and Matthew Costello (based in the US), have been writing together since the mid 90's, creating content and working on projects for the BBC, Disney Channel, Sony, ABC, Eidos, and Nintendo to name but a few. Their transatlantic collaboration has underpinned scores of TV drama scripts, computer games, radio shows, and - most recently - the successful crime fiction series Cherringham.

Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9783732545575
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format Hinweis0 - No protection
FormatFormat mit automatischem Seitenumbruch (reflowable)
Erscheinungsjahr2018
Erscheinungsdatum10.04.2018
Auflage1. Aufl. 2018
ReiheCherringham: Mystery Shorts
Reihen-Nr.29
Seiten136 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.3013770
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe
1. Pot of Gold

Ray Stroud drained his beer glass and peered through the near-darkness at the jostling, dancing crowd that packed the back room of the Ploughman´s.

Up on the stage, Cherringham´s very own all-girl country and western band - The Cotswold Belles - were putting everything they had into an insanely loud cover of Jolene .

And, three pints in, not sounding bad at all to old Ray.

In the flickering lights from the stage, Ray saw that the whole crowd had their hands in the air singing along - beer tipping from plastic cups held aloft.

Look at ´em chucking all that booze around, thought Ray, reaching deep into his jeans pockets and finding only some old coins.

All right for some ...

Precious beer going to waste!

As for Ray - well - stony broke once again.

Still. Got some weed left.

Bit of sunshine there!

Then - an idea!

He decided to head for the bar and see if he could trade a few puffs with someone for another pint.

Besides - he´d heard the Belles murder Dolly Parton before and it never got any better. Only louder.

He pushed his way through the boozed-up crowd towards the door that led back into the pub, mouthing sorry mate to anyone he bumped a bit too hard. Locals didn´t mind that too much - all part of the Ploughman´s Friday night tradition - but he did get some hard stares from disgruntled visitors.

So fookin what! They don´t like it here in the country, they can bugger off back to London!

At last, he squeezed through the double doors into the corridor that led back into the pub. The doors swung closed behind him, and the music dropped a few decibels.

He stood for a second, swaying slightly under the neon lights, glad to be out of the noise and the sweaty heat, and - yeah - feeling a bit pissed but certainly not ready for the night to end.

Then he heard voices raised - not singing - but arguing. Nasty too, from the sound of it.

He turned towards the toilets. Yep, that´s where it was coming from.

He couldn´t make out the words, but definitely two blokes having a set-to.

He leaned against the wall and made a roll-up. A tad wobbly, so not his best effort. And listened. One voice he thought he recognised: Charlie Clutterbuck. He couldn´t place the other.

But - whoa - that other voice had a nasty edge to it. Threatening. Violent.

Get involved? Or not get involved?

Hmm ...

These were questions Ray normally knew the answer to. The answer usually being: No bloody way get involved.

But he and Charlie went back a long way. And though Charlie was probably too broke to buy Ray a drink if he came to his rescue, Ray did feel a sense of, almost, duty to help.

He knew that if the situation was reversed, Charlie would dive in without a second thought.

Bloody hell, said Ray to nobody in particular, spitting out a shred of tobacco onto the hard floor.

Then he put the just-made roll-up in his top pocket, stepped forward, and pushed open the door of the toilets.

*

Ray stopped, door wide open.

Ahead of him he saw Charlie, backed up against the basins, his head pressed hard against the grimy mirrors by a tall man in a dark suit. The man, his back to the door, had one fist on Charlie´s chest, gripping his shirt in a tight wad, and the other pulled back in the air, as if frozen in the act of delivering a meaty punch to Charlie´s face.

Which - Ray knew, because he knew these things - was exactly what the bloke was about to do.

He saw the man´s face in the mirror now. His eyes suddenly locked on this unexpected visitor to the bathroom, clearly assessing the threat level.

Those eyes, hard.

Damn intimidating is what they was.

But Ray reminded himself. Yeah, been in plenty of situations like this before.

He knew what to do.

He made a drunken wave with one hand and grinned innocently.

Hello Charlie, old son.

Hello Ray, said Charlie, out of the side of his mouth.

Um, everything okay? said Ray.

Th-think so, said Charlie.

Ray didn´t move, just stared. All right, mate? he said, with a wink.

But the eyes of the guy in the suit remained narrowed.

Not happy ...

Bloody hell, he thought. This might be about to go very wrong.

He watched as the bloke slowly lowered his fist, stepped back from Charlie and straightened his suit.

Without turning round to look at Ray, he raised one finger at Charlie as if to say you know the deal , then he turned, nudging Ray aside - just a bit, just enough - as he left.

The sound of a hundred people singing Stand by Your Man briefly filled the room.

Ray waited as the door swung slowly shut on its automatic hinge.

Quieter now.

He watched as Charlie stood up, straightened his shirt and tucked it back into his ancient work trousers. Then he ran the cold tap, splashed water on his face before he turned and looked at Ray in the mirror.

Bit of a smile.

Not much of one.

But-

Get you a drink, Ray? he said, wiping the water from his face with the back of his hand.

Wouldn´t mind a pint of Hooky, said Ray, heading over to the urinals, business still needing to be attended to. Just a sec, and I´ll be right out.

He watched Charlie head out of the toilets, and thought: Good deeds do get rewarded!

*

Ray walked through into the public bar and saw Charlie getting the pints in - Billy Leeper doing the pouring.

Busy night - sweat on Billy´s brow.

Not so many people in here, while the band was still playing. And no sign of Mr Nasty in the suit with the bad, bad eyes.

He walked over and pulled up a bar stool next to Charlie.

He watched as Billy set the pint of Hooky on the counter in front of him, looking frothy and delicious. Charlie reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out, not the scrappy old handful of coins that Ray was expecting - oh no - but, God, a fat roll of notes held tight in an elastic band.

Ray looked at Charlie, then at Billy - whose face was poker-straight but who caught his eye nevertheless. The two of them waited and watched while Charlie peeled off a twenty - a twenty! - and then put the roll back in his pocket as he handed the note over the counter.

Have one yourself, Billy, said Charlie. And keep the change.

Ray noticed that Charlie´s voice was slurred, his movements just a tad too controlled.

More pissed than I am, he thought.

Or maybe ... still rattled by the big man in his dark suit?

Very kind of you, Charlie, said Billy. Cheers, I´ll have it later if you don´t mind.

Fill your boots, said Charlie. Then he grabbed his pint and turned to Ray. Come on, mate.

Ray picked up his beer and followed Charlie as he swayed his way to a small table tucked out of the way by the main pub door. He sat and waited until Charlie seemed settled.

Cheers, said Ray, raising his glass.

Cheers, said Charlie, taking a big gulp of beer, and ... thanks.

Least I could do, said Ray. Spot of trouble, eh?

Nothing I can´t handle.

Charlie - always with the stupid bravado.

One good shove and Charlie usually went down. Ray had seen it happen more than once.

He took another mouthful of beer, his mind fixed on that big roll of cash in Charlie´s pocket.

Charlie, suddenly a more interesting amigo.

Charlie leaned in and gave him a toothy grin. I know what you´re thinking, Ray.

Oh yeah?

You´re thinking where the hell did Charlie get all that dosh?´. Eh?

Ray shrugged. None of my business, mate.

Damned right it isn´t, said Charlie, sitting back, grinning - cat that ate the canary - and taking another gulp of ale. Then he leaned forward again. Bet you´d like to know though. Eh? Eh?

Maybe, said Ray. Maybe not.

Ray thinking: Boy, would I ever!

He peered at Charlie´s stubbled face.

Then, remembering the man in the suit, thinking: Maybe it was wiser not to know. That bloke back in the toilets looked like he meant business.

And Ray guessed that the cash must have something to do with it.

Thing is, said Charlie, interrupting Ray´s chain of thought, I reckon my ship´s finally come in.

Oh, yeah?

Yeah. The big one.

Good for you, mate. About time.

Ray watched as Charlie swung in his seat and checked that nobody was listening. Then he took out the roll of notes and tapped it on the table. Leaned real close.

This - this is just the beginning. Down payment like. There´s more where this...
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