Chartreux Shock

by Katherine Hayton

  “Anybody who really knew Fletcher would know he spent a lot of his nights at the Poolside Tavern,” Adelaide said with an edge to her voice. “I bet even Duncan knows that and he lives a ninety-minute drive away.”

  Duncan mumbled something noncommittal and Marjorie smiled. Good boy. Stay out of the middle of this argument and it would all blow over rather than continue to blow up.

  “At least I know how to message him when he doesn’t want desperate pleas written all over his Facebook page. From the time I’ve spent with Fletcher, he appreciates restraint.”

  “And I know he wouldn’t be seen dead with someone who dresses in Salvation Army rags.” Adelaide gave a giant sniff as punctuation. “Fletcher had such an acute sense of style, I’m not surprised you were skulking around on the down-low. Who’d want to be seen in public with someone who thinks an ensemble is a band?”

  “The man I know doesn’t wallow in artificial societal constructs like being a slave to fashion or the race to own the latest gadget. He prefers depth and intelligent debate. No wonder he needed to foster a relationship with a woman of substance instead of a barbie doll, dressing up like her world got stuck in playtime.”

  “I’ve gotta say, none of these sounds like my brother at all.” Duncan drummed his fingers on the table. “And I’m not sure you two bickering offers any clues where he might hide. Don’t either of you have any solid information?”

  Marjorie pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to stop laughing. The man was reacting out of the depths of his grief and worry so no one could hold it against him. Still, the harsh response delighted her.

  “Time to make a reappearance,” she told Monkey, setting him free to peruse the sofa. He liked to stick his nose far down into the cracks between the cushions. Once, she’d lost him for a few hours to the back of the couch, only seeing his pleading eyes when she came over to sit down.

  “Have you thought what you’d like to drink?” Marjorie called out in a loud voice, descending the staircase. “I’ll bring over a plate with the leftovers from today.”

  “No, thanks,” Adelaide said, patting her flat stomach as though it repulsed her. “I’m still stuffed from lunch.”

  Vicky tipped her nose in the air, not bothering to respond at all.

  “I’d love a latte if it’s not too much bother,” Duncan said. “But you must let me pay this time.”

  “You can pay once your brother’s found,” Marjorie said, slipping in behind the counter. “And I don’t charge after hours. Not for my guests.”

  “Even when they barge in on you,” he said with a grin, showing a degree of self-awareness. “Seriously, thank you.”

  “It’s just bean water and milk. No thanks required.” She brought a plate of scones and cupcakes, denying the local piggery of the pleasure, and their drinks. With a hot mug of chai warming her hands, Marjorie turned them back to the main subject. “What new information have you learned today?”

  Duncan ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “Nothing on my part. How about you?”

  I found out your brother has another girlfriend. “I completely forgot to research the professor we bumped into yesterday,” Marjorie said, clapping a hand down on the table. “Did you?”

  “No.” He whipped his phone out and typed into the keyboard, Marjorie envying his dexterity. Even with Swype enabled, her words often came out as pure gibberish. “There’s nothing here.”

  “What’s the name?” Adelaide asked, frowning. “I’ve never heard Fletcher mention his professors.”

  Vicky raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, only to find Marjorie raising a warning finger near her face. “Let’s not get back into one-upmanship. The name’s Tyrone Jasper. I would’ve thought he’d be the only one with that name in the country.”

  At the name, Vicky’s face drained of colour and she bit at her thumbnail. The young woman pulled her phone out and began tapping away, the screen hidden under the table.

  “I’ve heard him mention the man before,” the redhead muttered but Marjorie could only make out the words because she sat right next to her. To the other side of the table, they’d be lost beneath her breath.

  “Massey University, wasn’t it?” Marjorie asked, typing the name in before getting any confirmation. A link to the list of staff members was on the side and it only took two goes before her clumsy thumbs passed the correct message to her phone screen. “Nope. Not listed.”

  “Well, he wouldn’t necessarily be from Massey,” Adelaide said in a hesitant voice. Her eyes skittered towards Vicky’s face then jerked away. “Especially not if you met him in town. We’re a long way from Palmerston North.”

  “But I just searched generally,” Duncan protested. “It didn’t bring up any straight matches. Not for New Zealand.”

  Marjorie jerked as her phone rang while she was holding it. “Excuse me.” She moved away from the table before answering. The screen only showed private, the number withheld.

  “It’s me here,” Regina said in a strained voice. “We’re at Fletcher’s house, looking for Duncan, but he’s out. I wondered if he was with you.”

  “Yeah, he’s here.” Marjorie moved farther back behind the counter, hooking her shoulder over to shield her whisper. “Along with two of Fletcher’s girlfriends. Do you want me to pass the phone over?”

  “No. Just keep him there if you can and ask him where he’s going if not. I’m heading straight for your place with Sergeant Matthewson.”

  “Are we in danger?”

  “I’d tell you if you were.” Regina hung up the call before Marjorie could question her further. She glanced over at the table where Duncan was staring at his phone as though it’d insulted him. Her stomach performed a cartwheel, and she pressed her hand against it.

  Bad news. The tension in Regina’s voice heralded bad news.

  Although Marjorie tried to convince herself not to worry unnecessarily, Regina and her Sergeant arrived in a few minutes. Their faces were grim as they asked Duncan to step outside the café.

  “What’s happening?” Adelaide asked, her voice shrill with fear. She moved closer to Marjorie, grabbing hold of her wrist. “Do you think they’ve found Fletcher?”

  Duncan staggered back a step, as though hit by an invisible blow. He turned and stared through the window, his features pinched together.

  A minute later, Regina led the trio inside, nodding to Marjorie. “It’s not good news, I’m afraid. We’ve found Fletcher’s car. It’s submerged in the river.”

  Chapter Ten

  The sun was close to setting as Marjorie stood near Duncan on the bridge. It was on private property, though the signposts at the entrance allowed strangers to use the land as a crossing point, provided any visitors remembered to close the gate.

  On one side, the bridge had a strong concrete balustrade protecting any passing vehicles from driving over the side. On the other, wires strung along robust wooden posts had done the same, until they’d snapped under the weight of a vehicle.

  If only the crossing had been on the main road, someone would have spotted the breakage sooner, which would have led them to the vehicle lying beneath the shade of the bridge. But the farmer was deep in the tail end of lambing season and it took a few days for a tourist using a shortcut to discover the accident.

  Adelaide and Vicky stood shoulder to shoulder a few metres away—an odd positioning for the women who’d sniping at each other just an hour before. Marjorie stuck fast to Fletcher’s brother, trying to stop horrible thoughts running through her mind.

  “You can head on home, if you want to,” Duncan offered for the dozenth time since they’d arrived. “I’m fine to stay around here by myself.”

  Marjorie gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and murmured something noncommittal under her breath. The man didn’t look at all fine and the thought of abandoning him to stand guard alone while the police fished his brother’s vehicle out of the river made her shudder.

  “He’s a good swimmer.” Duncan
hugged himself, his cotton shirt no match for the stiff breeze blowing straight off the water. “Mum used to call him her fish boy when we were holidaying up at Queen Charlotte Sound. Fletcher just couldn’t get enough of the water.”

  She didn’t bother to say anything. A reality check would come soon enough, courtesy of the police divers working to free the wreckage. He didn’t need an anticipatory one from her.

  Some part of him must already realise a car crash off the side of the bridge might incapacitate even the hardiest of swimmers. Even a brief stint of unconsciousness could have taken away Fletcher’s only hope of escape. “The current doesn’t look all that strong.”

  Considering the divers couldn’t stand in the shallows of the river, despite it only being waist-deep, Marjorie thought otherwise. The car must be wedged in tight to still be in position, this many days after the crash.

  A movie short played in her mind—a car plummeting off the side of a bridge into the depths of a river. She’d seen alternates of the same footage so many times, the vision came easily. What was less easy was shutting it out of her head despite knowing it would just set her nerves further on edge.

  “I’m fine if you want to go.”

  “And I’m fine staying right here until you decide you want to leave,” Marjorie said in a firm voice. “Don’t worry about me. I’m old and ugly enough to take care of myself.”

  Regina waved to her from a position fifty metres up the riverbed. Sergeant Matthewson was talking to the dive team captain, his shoulders held in a tense line.

  Marjorie waved back, then fished her mobile out of her pocket. She hadn’t lied when telling Duncan she’d stay beside him until the bitter end, but it didn’t mean she had to do it alone. Braden’s number was on speed dial and she stepped a few feet away to make the conversation as private as possible.

  To her relief, Braden seemed happy to give up an evening of tinkering on computers to come and keep her company. Seeing Duncan clutch at himself again, Marjorie also asked if he could throw a spare jersey or two into the car. “We came down here so quickly, it didn’t occur to any of us to dress for the conditions.”

  Ten minutes later, Braden pulled up on the rest area to the side of the bridge and emerged, waving an armful of coats, sweaters, and cardigans in his hands. “I raided the boxes I’ve had packed and ready for the donation centre for the past few years,” he admitted with a sheepish grin, distributing the goodies. “What’s a loss for the Sallies is a gain for your friends.”

  Adelaide broke free of her rival to stay near Marjorie and Braden. Vicky remained where she was, not even coming over to check out the warmer clothes on offer.

  “I’m sorry, mate,” Braden said, shaking Duncan’s hand and clapping him on the shoulder. “This whole situation sucks.”

  A shout from below had them all crowding up to the rails. The crane sitting on the bank now had its hook through the front window of Fletcher’s car, slowly dragging it upright.

  As the bonnet lifted above the level of the water, a shout from the opposite bank brought the progress to a halt. “Let it drain,” Sergeant Matthewson yelled, trying to replicate the thought with erratic gestures.

  The setting sun hit the expanse of water, lighting it with a glittering array of pinks and yellows. Against the deep green of the bushes lining the banks and the tussock covered mountains rising on either side, the image was spectacular.

  The view should have been the backdrop to a love story or an inspiring tale about woes being overcome by righteous action. Instead, Fletcher’s rusting car drizzled water back into the river; a frightful patter of rain.

  His body is probably lying inside the front seat.

  Marjorie bit down on her tongue, using the pain to shut down the thoughts. She grabbed Braden’s hand and clamped it hard—so hard he winced. The taste of iron and sweetness filled her mouth. She’d drawn blood.

  “It doesn’t even look like his car,” Duncan said in a voice that shot up the scales. “His was different.”

  Braden sent Marjorie a questioning glance, and she shook her head. “They checked the number plate,” she whispered to him. “It’s registered to Fletcher.”

  She didn’t add it was the same vehicle Efron had witnessed driving away from the house on Wednesday. No matter how different, how jarring it appeared in this setting, there wasn’t a question it belonged to the missing young man.

  After a good ten minutes of no action, Sergeant Matthewson gave another hand signal, and the crane lifted the car further from the water. This time, rather than pausing, it continued the motion, swinging it to the side until the operator deposited it on the riverbank.

  Marjorie ducked her head to avoid seeing something that would stay etched in her memory long after this moment was gone. Her glance only took in the myriad cracks across the windscreen, obscuring the view inside the car.

  “Do you think we should go down there?” Duncan asked. “I feel like I should be nearby if Fletcher’s inside.”

  “Stay here, mate,” Braden said, reaching out an arm and pulling the younger man close. “If the police want your input, they’ll come here and ask.”

  Behind them, Vicky kicked at a pebble, sending it skidding across the bridge until it hit against the curb. A farm vehicle, far off in the distance, reminded the group they were standing on a road and they all moved to the side as though ordered.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Adelaide asked, grabbing hold of Marjorie’s free hand. “I have something important to tell you.”

  With a nod, Marjorie escorted her a few metres along the bridge, almost to the centre piles.

  “There’s no way that woman is Fletcher’s girlfriend.”

  Marjorie held back a sigh and glanced over her shoulder. Vicky leant over the railing of the bridge, getting a closer view at the recovered vehicle.

  “I can’t comment on that. All I know is what she told me.”

  “But don’t you think it’s weird? The timing and all. She acts like she knows everything there is to know about Fletcher but none of it’s personal.” Adelaide rubbed at the side of her face and shivered. “Like she talked lots about the equipment he was holding in the bedroom but didn’t know the first thing about his brand of aftershave or what he was studying.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. If she’s not his girlfriend, why on earth would she pretend to be? It’s not as though it puts her in line for a cash windfall or something.”

  Adelaide tugged on her earlobe, turning to stare up the road. “I just thought I should mention it in case the police need to check her out.” She gulped and turned back to stare at the riverbed, her eyes jumping away from the drowned car. “Or perhaps they know all about her already. She could be working undercover.”

  Marjorie would have scoffed at the absurd suggestion—Fletcher’s small circle of disjointed acquaintances were hardly important enough to plant an officer in their midst—but she recalled her earlier impression, that the woman seemed to act more like a dispassionate journalist than a close friend and confidante.

  It wasn’t too great a leap from there to an undercover officer or even an informant. It fit in with Vicky’s slightly off-kilter reactions along with the timing of her appearance. The longer Marjorie considered the idea, the more it made sense.

  “We can talk to the police tomorrow and share your concerns,” she said, touching the young woman’s elbow. “But how about you stop worrying about it right now? We should be focused on Fletcher.”

  A tear rolled down Adelaide’s cheek. “I’m scared the police will come over soon and tell me he’s dead,” she whispered. “It’s making me feel sick. Even talking to that weirdo is better than just standing around, waiting for my world to shatter. I can’t stand this.”

  “Me, either.” Marjorie pulled the woman into a hug.

  She broke away from the embrace at the sound of pebbles being dislodged and turned to see Regina climbing the steep bank to the side of the bridge. A cold hand gripped Marjorie’s stomac
h, tightening ruthlessly. The pair hurried back to join Braden and Duncan as the officer walked towards them.

  “We didn’t find anybody in the car,” she called out before reaching them and Duncan sagged with relief. “But it’s definitely his vehicle and there are signs he was driving it at the time it went over the bank.”

  “Could he have made it to shore?” Marjorie asked when Duncan appeared lost for words. “Fletcher was a very good swimmer.”

  Regina bit her lip and glanced down at the riverbank. “Until we find him, we won’t know for sure, but if he escaped the vehicle and make it out of the river, where is he?”

  “We should put together a search party,” Duncan said, pulling his shoulders back and standing tall. “If my brother’s seriously hurt, he might be waiting for rescue.”

  “The sergeant is discussing matters with the dive team, but we’ll raise the possibility,” Regina said. From the set of her jaw, Marjorie guessed her friend didn’t believe Fletcher was alive and waiting somewhere for help. “There’s another thing we’ve discovered in the car.” The policewoman glanced around at the group. “It’s a delicate matter.”

  Duncan let Regina take his arm and escort him to the other side of the bridge. Marjorie turned to Braden with a wan expression. “I was prepared for bad news, but this doesn’t feel like news at all.”

  “They say that not knowing what happened to someone is worse than finding them dead,” Braden said with a nod.

  “Who?” Adelaide shouted. “Who says that?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s far better to still have hope he’s alive and well somewhere. How dare you suggest it’s not! How dare you say we’d be better off if Fletcher was dead?”

  Marjorie reached out a comforting hand, but Adelaide shrugged her off and stalked down the road. The muscles of her jaw were rigid as she stared down to where the dive team captain talked with Sergeant Matthewson.