Autumn of Terror || h.s. au

Chapter 11: It's Only Just Begun

           

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"Where did Harry run off to?" Niall asks, looking around the pub.

I shrug. "He just told me he has things to do, and then left before I could ask him anything," I turn to Artie, who's scribbling away in a little notebook that he brought with him. It's almost six, and Harry still hasn't returned. Every time someone walks into the pub, I get excited, until I realize that it's not Harry or Mr. Cutbush. The bartender told us he's have a scar going across his face, so that's the feature I'm looking for. Suddenly, the clock strikes six and someone walks through the door. I try to get a good look at his face and, luckily, he has a large scar going from his forehead across his face and reaching his jaw.

"Look," I whisper to Niall and Artie. "That must be him."

They look at him and they both grin. We watch him take a seat at a table and order a drink. I don't want to confront him without Harry, but I don't really have much of a choice. Just as I'm about to start walking towards him, a man in a top hat stops me. His coat collar is up, hiding his face.

"How much for an hour?" His scruffy voice asks me.

"What?" I ask, confused. Then, I realize what he means. "Oh, I'm not a prostitute," I quickly walk away from him. I turn around to see him going up to another girl. I shake my head and walk up to Mr. Cutbush, clearing my throat.

He looks up from his drink, "Why, hello there. Something I can do for you, Miss?"

"We're with Scotland Yard," I immediately say, and his eyes widen a bit. "We need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Cutbush, if you don't mind."

He shakes his head, "I don't mind at all. Take a seat, if you'd like," I sit across from him. Niall and Artie stay standing.

"Are you aware that you're the main suspect of a murder that occurred three days ago?" I ask him, and he gasps.

"What? That's preposterous!" He exclaims. "I've never murdered a soul, and I never would!"

"I know," I nod. "It wasn't you, it was somebody who used your name. I've heard you owe money to quite a lot of people, am I correct?"

He takes a gulp of his beer and shamefully nods. "Yeah, I owe money to people. Why?"

Niall speaks up, "We think one of the people you owe money to framed you for murder. Do you know anyone who might do such a thing?"

Mr. Cutbush scratches his head. "I can think of a few, actually. There's George, Al, John, Greg-"

"Which man do you think is the most dangerous?" I interrupt him, hoping to get a solid answer.

He looks up at the ceiling, like he's thinking before responding to me. "Well, Greg's quite the violent one, he beat the shit out of me a couple of weeks ago. Then again, John's got a bit of a temper...I just don't know, I'm sorry."

I sigh, "Then can you please give us their full names?" I ask, and Artie hands me a spare piece of paper.

"Sure, there's-"

"Where do you think you're going?!" A man shouts from across the pub. He's got a tight grip on one of Agnes's girls. I gasp when I realize it's the same man who thought I was a prostitute.

"Let me go!" The young girl exclaims, trying to get out of his grip. Nobody else seems to notice this happening, they're all still drinking and socializing.