Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Twelve and Thirteen (standard:drama, 3077 words) [7/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Aug 27 2011	Views/Reads: 2471/1727	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Carruthers' wife has gone missing in the New Forest, and he's desperately trying to track her down.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


‘Okay.' Carruthers got to his feet, conceding it was too late to stop
her. ‘I'll meet you in the hotel lounge.' 

‘Fine Marty, I won't be long.' 

Carruthers trudged back to the hotel, ordered a Cajun chicken salad and
then took it through to the lounge where his sore stomach accepted it 
grudgingly. 

So, by her reference to the ‘incident', Casey had to have been referring
to his fiasco at Goldhawk's. Despite his fatigue and worry Carruthers' 
curiosity was piqued. How had Casey picked up on it, and so quickly? 
Similarly she'd seemed to have had instant knowledge of Chelsey's 
rejection by Goldhawk – and now he'd wrenched the real reason from the 
editor, that still bit deep. He wondered briefly whether Casey might 
actually have been at Goldhawk's party, but didn't have time to dwell 
on it, because within a few minutes of him having consumed his food 
Casey Jennings had breezed through the lounge double doors. 

‘Oh Marty, but you look so pale.' She took his hands, kissed him on the
cheek. ‘I'm sorry to arrive like this but I was so worried – 
particularly after I'd heard what happened. 

‘By that I take it you heard about my little run-in with Alexander...' 

‘Yeah.' Casey sighed, sat down, clasping her hands in her lap. She was
smaller than Chelsey, perhaps five feet four with a firm figure and an 
attractive full face, marred only by a blemish on her left cheek from 
where she'd had a mole removed. 

‘I'd worked for ages on “Stapleton's Demise” and then completed my
collection of short stories. I called Alexander to let him know, only 
he wasn't at his office. His secretary hadn't heard from him either, 
which was unusual. I thought he must be at home so I tried there, and 
that's when I spoke to Jacqueline.' Casey placed a hand on Carruthers' 
wrist, her husky voice dropping a touch further. ‘What's happening 
Marty, what's going on?' 

‘Well if I knew, I sure as hell wouldn't be sitting here now...'
Carruthers saw Casey's chin rise in resentment. ‘Oh look I'm sorry 
love; plain fact is I saw the old green monster for a while...' 

He summarized finding Chelsey's phone with Goldhawk's message on it –
‘Fact is, I ended up getting things completely wrong and doing a 
two-hundred mile round trip in the process.' 

Casey's head dropped, she examined her fingers absently before returning
her gaze to him – ‘You said that you spoke to Jacqueline...' Carruthers 
prompted. 

‘Yeah – Jacqueline didn't elaborate, I'm not sure she knows anything
about the lecherous old rogue's motives. She just said there'd been a 
bust-up, that you socked him one, though he didn't say why – and that 
since then Alexander's been acting odd. She couldn't reach him on his 
mobile phone, at his office – or anywhere.' 

‘Did you know that was the reason the old bastard rejected Chelsey's
book?' Carruthers asked, renewed bitterness causing tremors in his 
voice. 

‘What was?' 

Carruthers exhaled heavily. ‘I would have thought you'd have grasped it
– Chelsey rejects his advances – albeit in text form, so he rejects her 
latest book....' 

Casey shook her head. ‘But surely Marty, he'd be the loser there...' 

‘Only if it sold, and I'm afraid the main ingredients there lie in its
advertising and distribution, which of course Goldhawk has control of.  
The old rogue could quite easily shut her out if he'd a mind to – and 
quite frankly, that's exactly how I think his mind works. I've tried 
telling her – at any rate, that's how it is.' Carruthers sank back in 
his chair, met Casey's eyes. ‘Thanks for coming Casey – I'm sorry I've 
been a little offhand, just so worked up. You'll excuse me if I don't 
show too much concern that Alex has gone off in a huff. Right now I 
reckon I owe him a lot more than a punch on the nose.' 

Casey gave a thin smile, stretched across and patted his hand. ‘So what
happens now?' 

‘The police reckon it's domestic, nothing suspicious.' Carruthers
glanced across to the large coffee table where several papers lay. He 
found the local and handed it to her. ‘Here,it's made the headlines.' 

Casey swept her long dark hair from her eyes, read through it quickly
and then regarded him with a sorry expression. ‘Oh, Marty, do you think 
that's plausible though. That she simply arranged to meet some fella, 
had it planned all along?' 

‘Absolutely not!' Carruthers responded more forcefully than intended,
attracting the attention of an old couple in an alcove. ‘Sorry no...' 
he said in a deliberately hushed voice. ‘Okay, I might have thought 
that earlier, but now my head's cleared...' he shook his head, ‘no, I 
don't see it at all.' 

‘Okay.' Casey nodded, expressionless, took the paper back and returned
to her seat. ‘So what do you do now? Just sit around here hoping she 
shows?' 

‘No, there's a guy called Foulkes, looks and acts like a creep. Even if
it wasn't intentional, he's the reason she's missing today.' 

Carruthers gave his account of their meeting and explained what happened
thereafter. ‘He knows something, Casey – and he's known to the police 
as well – I'm going back first light tomorrow. I'm counting on him 
living rough – he seems the type. I'll find him, you bet I will.' 

‘I'll come with you.' 

Carruthers looked into Casey's large brown eyes, wide open, earnest –
‘No Casey, you go home. I don't want to involve you.' ‘You need 
support, that's why I'm here.' She leaned across, held his wrist, 
tightened her grip. ‘You wouldn't send me out into the dark, cold night 
would you?' 

Carruthers forced a smile, ‘No. I don't suppose I would. I'll see if I
can get you a room.' He freed himself from Casey's grip and made for 
the foyer. 

‘No Marty, Casey called softly. ‘I can sleep on your floor, or in a
chair, nobody will know. 

‘It's a room or no deal,' Carruthers said firmly, receiving a wistful
look from his visitor. He continued through to reception. No, nobody 
would know, only Chelsey if she came back that very night, and that was 
what he wanted most of all. 

Chapter Thirteen 

‘Are you sure you don't want a companion for the night, Marty? I'd be
more than happy...' 

‘No, thanks all the same, but hey – thanks for coming.' Carruthers
looked at his attractive friend poised by the door in her low-cut silk 
blouse and almost wavered. The fact that he could even consider such a 
thought when not knowing Chelsey's demise disgusted him. Looking at 
Casey now - mouth slightly parted, white teeth showing between her 
lips, eyes wide and seeming to will him to say yes, and fringed by her 
tumbling long black hair – one thing could so easily lead to another – 

For a second he was frightened she wouldn't budge and allow him through
until he consented, but as he moved towards the door she stepped aside. 
Pulling his head down towards her with her right arm she planted a kiss 
on his cheek and then released her grip. ‘Okay Marty, you get a good 
night's sleep. I'll be just down the corridor if you need me.' 

‘Thanks love, I'll remember that.' Carruthers unlocked his door and
slipped into the room, closing it on her before he'd a chance to 
reconsider. 

He let out a deep sigh; he needed sleep badly but doubted whether he'd
get it. There were too many thoughts revolving in his head, clashing 
with each other, jarring him with worry. He checked Chelsey's bag 
again, searching for some clue that might have been missed before. 
There was nothing amiss until he looked into its upper compartment. Her 
diary was missing – but it had been there when he'd checked. He was 
positive. 

He checked all the drawers in a flustered flurry but to no avail –
asking how it could have vanished, but his mind was too fuddled to come 
up with an answer. | When he finally slumped onto his bed and closed 
his eyes he surprisingly got some sleep, but it was broken and 
interrupted on one occasion by what he thought was someone tapping on 
his door. The sound jerked him back to consciousness, and a succession 
of possibilities blew through his mind before he'd a chance to consider 
any of them.  When he drew the latch, however, the dimly lit corridor 
was empty, neither sight nor sound of anybody. 

That did for him as far as sleep was concerned, and he laid still, hands
locked behind his head, staring out of his open window watching the 
dawn mist give way to blue sky, and lending volume to the birds' dawn 
chorus. 

He was itching to get out to the Forest, to find Foulkes, even if he
knew in his heart the chances of stumbling blindly across him were 
remote. But it had barely turned five and out of respect for Casey and 
her offer to assist him, he needed to wait, at least until breakfast. 

That was what he thought, but at five thirty the dull ring of the hotel
phone had Carruthers reaching for it in such a hurry that he knocked 
the table lamp alongside it to the floor, shattering the bulb. 

Cursing his clumsiness he grasped the receiver; Casey's deep, cultured
tones greeted his ears. ‘Marty, if I've guessed right, you can't sleep; 
if I've got it wrong, I've woken you up – in which case I'm sorry – but 
I thought you might like an early start in seeking out this guy...' 

‘Are you sure you can't read my mind?' Carruthers raised himself to the
edge of the bed, carefully nudged the broken glass aside and stepped 
down. He had visions of dragging the low-life from his sleeping bag and 
shaking him until he had an answer – but in reality – ‘I think we might 
be a bit early love...' 

‘Excuse the old pun, but doesn't the early bird catch the worm?' ‘So
they say.' What the hell, he wasn't going to do anything else other 
than to lay and wonder. ‘Okay, you're on – meet me downstairs in twenty 
– and thanks.' 

He hastily swept up the broken glass, showered and dressed, and went
downstairs to find Casey ready and waiting in her car. ‘Thought I'd 
drive,' she said brightly, hope you don't mind, it'll save you the 
bother.' 

‘Yeah, good idea, my concentration's shot to pieces.' 

Carruthers yawned; the fatigue was still there in his limbs, his eyes
were sore and the remnants of a headache he'd taken to bed with him 
still nagged. 

‘Come on, wakey, wakey.' Casey reached across and ruffled Carruthers
hair. ‘Which way are we heading?' 

‘Once we've gone round the one-way system take the A35 out of the
village,' Carruthers said, Casey's strong hand having done nothing to 
remedy his aching head. ‘A couple of miles on there's a turn-off – it 
shouldn't take us too long.' He glanced over at Casey as they met the 
road; fresh and bubbly he thought, for such an unsocial hour. One 
question bugged him, had prodded him constantly during his long, 
largely sleepless night – okay, he could understand how she'd found out 
about his confrontation with Goldhawk, but – 

‘Mind if I ask you a question?' 

‘Ask away,' Casey said, her eyes fixed on the road. 

‘How did you find out so soon about Chelsey's rejection?' 

‘What a strange question.' For a moment the cheeriness had gone from
Casey's manner; she glanced at him. ‘Why do you ask?' 

‘Purely from a professional point of view,' Carruthers lied, keeping his
voice steady. ‘Speaking as an agent who provides him with quality 
writers and material, I wouldn't want to think that Alexander advises 
all and sundry of his decisions.' 

There was a delay before Casey answered, as she pulled out to overtake a
slow-moving vehicle, a chancy manoeuvre Carruthers considered, as an 
oncoming car blasted its horn. ‘He did call me as a matter of fact, 
though it was out of concern for you – I don't think it was anymore 
than that. I think he felt guilty because he really does appreciate 
your time and effort –as do I Marty.' 

Carruthers felt that Casey was about to reach over to him again,  having
taken a hand off the wheel, when he barked out, ‘Left here,' a little 
louder and later than he'd intended. Casey's reply was occupying his 
mind, something about it didn't gel. 

‘You could have given me a little more warning.' Casey braked heavily,
swung left as he apologized, aware of how aggressively she was driving. 
He'd been a passenger in her car on occasion and hadn't picked up on it 
before. 

‘Gosh it's nice out here...' Casey's brow furrowed as she took her eyes
from the road, ‘such a shame that you've had your break spoiled, 
Marty...' 

‘I'm more concerned about Chelsey at the moment.' Carruthers shot a
glance at Casey, scarcely concealing his indignation at her apparent 
lack of concern for his wife – except of course that she had made the 
journey down on his – or their – behalf – 

‘I do understand that, Marty,' and as if picking up on his thoughts,
‘that's why I've driven down here.' 

‘Yes, of course.' Carruthers sat stiffly; he recognised the large oak
looming up. ‘This is it.' He crouched forward. ‘Pull into the parking 
area – please.' 

Casey pulled into a clearing and parked a distance away from two others
cars Carruthers was surprised to find there, given the time of day. 
‘Perhaps one of them belongs to your fella Foulkes,' she said, killing 
the engine. 

‘I don't think he's the driving type,' Carruthers scoffed. ‘More like a
Forest vagrant.' 

‘Then how did he manage to turn up at where you last saw Chelsey?' 

‘Say again?' 

Casey sniffed, gave him a searching glance. ‘Well, correct me if I'm
wrong, but I thought you told me you'd cycled some distance before you 
found the picnic area.' 

‘Yes – we did...' Carruthers hadn't thought of that, though perhaps he
should have done. Any optimism he had of finding the man began to ebb 
as he considered Casey's remark. He couldn't picture Foulkes in charge 
of a vehicle for one moment and yet that seemed the only way he could 
have found them – 

Nevertheless, he wasn't abandoning his immediate goal now; his wife was
far too important a cause for that. 

‘Stay here, Casey,' he said with as much authority as he could muster. 

‘What – are you joking?' He saw Casey's jaw drop in protest. ‘So what am
I going to do, sit and stare at that big tree?' 

‘It's famous.' Carruthers opened the passenger door, stepped out. 

‘Oh – I'm impressed, but it's still only a tree – look, Marty...' 

‘No Casey, you look,' Carruthers said, holding the door open. ‘You've
been good enough to drop me here, but this isn't your concern. I don't 
want you getting wrapped up with guys like these, understand? I said, 
understand?' 

Casey flashed a glance which he might have termed indignant, crossed her
arms and stared at the Knightwood Oak, leaving Carruthers to pursue as 
closely as possible the course he'd taken with Chelsey on their first 
afternoon, though without any great optimism. 


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