Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Six and Seven (standard:drama, 2286 words) [4/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: May 23 2011	Views/Reads: 2337/1562	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Chelsey Carruthers has had her latest offering rejected by her publisher. Martin Carruthers, her agent, suggests a short break, but things are starting to go awry

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consider whether she might have seen Chelsey, and what of the odd 
exchange of looks with her husband? 

Of course it could have been the working of his own mind, paranoia
setting in, but he couldn't help thinking that it wasn't. 

Halfway along the lane that led to the main road into Lyndhurst,
Carruthers was forced to abandon his attempt at handling both bikes. A 
large four-by-four had approached from behind, the thunder having 
rendered its presence inaudible, until its rude booming horn gave him 
such a shock, destabilizing him as he careered into a roadside ditch 
with Chelsey's bike landing across his midriff. 

The four-by-four of course went by as though nothing had occurred, but
Carruthers could now add outrage to the myriad of emotions he'd already 
experienced in one short day. 

Already wet through, cuts and bruises now added to Carruthers'
discomfort, albeit minor ones but they itched like hell, as he pushed 
on towards Lyndhurst, reaching it one dreary hour later. 

He deposited the cycles in the rear of the hotel car park, he'd return
them tomorrow, and after all they were the least of his worries. 

Despite his ordeal, Carruthers bounded the broad hotel stairs two at a
time, hurrying along the corridor to his door, his hand on the lever in 
rising expectation and as it yielded to his pressure freely his spirits 
rose. So she was here, somehow she'd beaten him back – probably with a 
lift from whoever she'd met – 

Chapter Seven 

Carruthers swept into the room, his spirits having risen like a
high-powered elevator, but disappointingly there was no trace of 
Chelsey and the room appeared in the same condition as he'd left it. 

He snatched his phone from the bed where he'd deposited it prior to
leaving, but found no new calls or messages. Maybe she was downstairs; 
perhaps she was in the lounge reading, possibly in the bar. God forbid 
that she was chatting up Noades, but by the nature of things now he'd 
actually be glad about that, at least he'd know she was safe. It began 
to bother him now, that possibly he'd been in such a rush to get back 
downstairs earlier that he'd left without securing the door. Try as he 
might, he couldn't recall whether he'd done so or not. 

Carruthers didn't bother to change his soaked clothes; that could wait.
He had to know whether she'd somehow returned ahead of him. 

He ran down the stairway, hurried along the passage checking out the
lounge area as he went – it was empty save for an elderly couple 
playing a board game. 

Ringing the bell on the foyer desk he summoned the attention of the
receptionist. She'd asked at the outset if everything was all right, 
obviously taken aback by his bedraggled appearance and despairing 
manner. 

‘I'm looking for my wife, I managed to lose sight of her this afternoon
and wondered if she'd checked back in here – I'm a bit anxious.' 

‘Mrs?' 

‘I'm sorry, Carruthers. Chelsey Carruthers.' 

‘Not the writer? The receptionist laughed, checking her desk, clearly
expecting a negative answer. 

‘Yes – it is.' Carruthers was aware his reply sounded abrupt, he simply
wanted confirmation of her safe return. 

‘Oh, really?' She raised her head. ‘What a coincidence, I'm an avid
reader of her books – I was only thinking a few days ago – there 
doesn't seem to have been a new one for some time. When can we 
expect...' 

‘Soon...' Carruthers interrupted, rapping his fingers on the desk – he
hadn't expected this – certainly not to be led into having to explain 
how a publisher's rejection had brought them here – and he wasn't about 
to be drawn into it. ‘Look,' he said with mounting impatience, ‘I just 
need to know whether she's checked back in.' 

The receptionist glanced across her desk. ‘No, it doesn't seem so.' Her
reply was apologetic but negative. ‘Have you tried the lounge – or 
bar?' 

Carruthers shook his head. ‘Not the bar, no, thank you,' he muttered,
making full haste for it. Noades was there, he was washing glasses, but 
the bar was empty. 

‘Why, hello there.' Noades flashed a smile which irritated Carruthers no
end. ‘You got caught in the storm I see.' 

‘Ten out of ten for observation,' Carruthers muttered. ‘I was looking
for my wife.' 

‘Oh...' Noades bit his lip. ‘Well, as you can see she's not here,' he
said, sweeping an arm around the room  to emphasise the point. ‘I take 
it there was a race back and you won.' 

‘No,' Carruthers said tersely, aware now that he was standing in the bar
in his cycle gear, rain still dripping from his drenched body. ‘Look, 
I'd hardly have rushed in here like this if there was – I'd want to get 
the hell out of these clothes...' 

‘I'm sorry, a foolish assumption on my part,' Noades' smile, which
Carruthers couldn't help regarding as derisory, vanished. His tone 
became more sympathetic, earnest. ‘If there's been a problem, if I can 
help in any way, I'm due a break...' 

‘Thanks.' Carruthers breathed out heavily, he didn't want to be
explaining his dilemma to this man, but he had to start somewhere. He 
needed to converse with someone, and right now Noades, who'd seemed to 
have hit it off with his wife from the outset, was the obvious starting 
point. 

Carruthers ordered a lager shandy; he didn't feel stiff alcohol
appropriate right now, he needed a clear head. 

Noades served him before slipping into a room behind the bar, returning
a moment or two later with a pretty dark haired girl. ‘Lucy, here, will 
keep guard for ten minutes or so. I could do with a smoke, mind if we 
go outside?' 

‘My sentiments, exactly.' Carruthers swigged down his pint, he'd been
craving for a cigarette but Chelsey's disappearance had put that on 
hold. 

He followed Noades along the rear corridor, past the central stairway
and out into the hotel's garden, deserted now on account of the storm. 
Noades led him round the side of the building, where in the shelter 
provided by the platform of a fire escape stairway he produced a packet 
of cigarettes. 

‘Smoke?' 

‘I wouldn't say no.' Carruthers selected one from the packet, surprised
and grateful that Noades had taken such an interest in his plight. ‘The 
door was unlocked when I got back, I thought for a moment she had 
beaten me here, but I've searched everywhere, I'm pretty sure now I 
must have left the room without locking it. I'm at my wits end,' he 
said, explaining to a man who was little more than a stranger, the 
events of a sorry afternoon – of Chelsey's wish to cut across land, of 
them getting lost and seeking the help of the guy called Foulkes who 
Chelsey had at once regarded as obnoxious; of her belief that he'd 
purposefully misdirected them, and that he'd spied on her under cover 
of the woods surrounding the picnic area. Something that Carruthers 
couldn't substantiate, but that had now, with her sudden disappearance 
caused him increasing concern. 

‘Was she upset? Might she have gone straight home?' Noades asked, his
contracting brows producing few wrinkles on what was an enviably smooth 
skin. 

‘I hadn't even considered that, I'd no need to.' Carruthers inhaled on
his cigarette. ‘To be frank I can't see why she'd do that. This guy 
Foulkes had her rattled but apart from that Chelsey was as 
even-tempered as she could be.' He shook his head, ‘No, that's a 
non-starter.' 

‘Nonetheless,' Noades advised, ‘that should be your first move. Check
home.' 

‘Apart from calling the police, I suppose.' Carruthers exhaled heavily,
heard the rain hammering down on the fire escape landing, cascading 
onto the lawn below. It was difficult to imagine a worse start than 
this. 

‘It's what they'll ask you; they'll ask if you've had an argument and
try to convince you that she'll turn up safe and sound; in short, that 
you're making too much of it, to give it a while.' 

‘I thought you were supposed to be trying to help.' Carruthers frowned
at Noades, but there was no overly amicable smile now, just a steadfast 
expression on his handsome face. 

‘I said it's what they, the police will ask you, what you can expect
from them at the moment. Now, I'm quite prepared to offer all the 
assistance I can. I have a certain knowledge of the area as I've said. 
I'll be finished at seven, if you want to take a drive round I'll be 
happy to accompany you. But let's hope she's shown before then. I'm 
sure everything will be okay.' 

‘That's very kind of you.' Carruthers stubbed out his cigarette on an
ash can. ‘But I can't ask for any more of your time.' ‘Nonsense, I can 
see how upset you are, and your wife seems a very nice woman. You won't 
get a lot of help from the cops at this stage, that's why I'm offering 
to help.' 

‘Okay,' Carruthers managed a stiff smile. ‘I really appreciate it.' 

‘No problem. I'll be on the other side of the bar this time if you want
me. Let's hope it won't be necessary.' 

‘Yes, let's hope.' Carruthers smile dissolved with a grim twist of his
lips. ‘I reckon I'll get out of these clothes and clean up.' 

‘Yeah, you'll feel a lot better for it.' 

They returned inside and parted company at the main staircase, where
Noades slapped Carruthers gently on the shoulder. ‘Chin up fella. All's 
well, you'll see.' 

But all was far from well, and despite Noades' willingness to help, the
man's show of optimism did nothing to raise Carruthers' spirits. 

Carruthers let himself into the room, again painfully void of Chelsey,
leaving his phone on the bed while he showered. 

Then he heard it ring... 


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