Carruthers' Demise, Chapters two and three (standard:drama, 3510 words) [2/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Mar 21 2011	Views/Reads: 2686/2292	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Carruthers' wife, a best selling novelist as just suffered rejection. They take a short holiday as a pick-me-up, but all is not getting off to a good start.

Chapter Two 

Carruthers' mobile phone rang. He yawned, reached across the basin to
answer it and was greeted by Casey Jennings' throaty voice. ‘Marty – 
any chance we could meet up today? I've got great hopes for my new 
effort – I'm naming it Stapleton's Demise. I have a feeling this could 
be my biggest ever, I'd really appreciate running through the outline 
with you...' 

Carruthers placed his razor back in the cabinet and sighed. ‘Look Casey,
this isn't the best of times...' 

‘Oh come on, Marty. Where's your enthusiasm? You stand to gain from it
as well...' 

‘It's not all about money, Casey.' 

Carruthers caught Casey's impatient exhalation. ‘Dammit – if I didn't
know you better I'd say that was exactly what it was – that right now 
your finances are balancing just fine; that you don't need...' 

‘Stop. Stop right there Casey. Don't go down that road. You know I
wouldn't use you as a cash cow. As a matter of fact Chelsey and I 
are...' 

Carruthers hesitated. Perhaps he was being unfair – Casey was, after
all, both a client and friend, and Chelsey, perhaps on account of the 
mood she was in, seemed nowhere near ready; when all said and done it 
was only a fifteen minute drive to her house. It couldn't do any harm. 

‘Okay, I'll be over shortly – but I'll need to be quick. I'll explain
when I see you.' 

Carruthers towelled his face dry and strode to the landing. ‘I'm just
popping out,' he said, sticking his head around the bathroom door. ‘A 
few loose ends to tie up.' 

‘Let me guess what they are...' but Chelsey's tone was sarcastic rather
than malicious as she slipped off her night gown, and Carruthers 
avoiding comment covered the short journey to Casey's Ealing Common 
home in a little over ten minutes. 

Pulling up at Casey's neat, ivy adorned cottage on the east side of the
common, Carruthers saw her door was ajar. He gave a quiet tap and 
walked through. 

‘In here, Marty,' Casey called from her study, which she'd created from
a small subsidiary lounge. ‘Be a dear and shut the front door will you? 
It seems to have got cooler all of a sudden.' 

Carruthers retraced his steps and duly obliged, Casey having slipped off
her reading spectacles as he joined her in the study. Holding them 
between thumb and forefinger she gave him a long, questioning look. 

‘So what's the big development that you can't find time for your
bestselling author?' 

Carruthers raised his eyes to the ceiling fleetingly. ‘That's just what
I am doing,' he said in a voice of tested patience. He sat opposite her 
desk, slapping his hands on thighs. ‘As a matter of fact I'm taking 
Chelsey on a few days' break. She's been a bit under the weather of 
late.' 

Casey curved her full face into a sympathetic, though knowing smile,
fingering her long dark hair. ‘Looking to cheer her up a bit are you? I 
heard that her latest effort got rejected...' 

‘How the hell have you got wind of that?' Carruthers spurted, astonished
at the speed at which she'd come by Goldhawk's decision. 

‘Oh come on, Marty,' Casey leaned forward, patted Carruthers' arm. 

‘Nothing's sacred in this business, now you should know that; news
travels with the speed of a neuron cell.  Now I thought you'd like to 
spend a few moments of your precious time with me, going through the 


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