Carruthers' Demise, Chapters Twenty Four & Twenty Five (standard:drama, 2248 words) [14/24] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Mar 10 2012	Views/Reads: 2296/1633	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Carruthers discovers some unpleasant facts; continuation of my drama.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Manners was on the wrong track but only Carruthers' own belief and
intuition told him that. 

He'd come close to pointing a finger at Casey, she might have jumped out
in front of him, so stark was the sudden notion of her involvement. But 
as much as he needed to confront her he was hell bent on finding 
Chelsey, even though he knew he might find her in Noades' arms. The 
shock revelation that Manners was looking to arrest her brought added 
urgency to Carruthers' objectives. 

The chances were she'd find out anyway, because no matter what Noades
and Chelsey had going between them, it would be unthinkable that she 
could avoid the tentacles of the media with all its forms; but he'd 
made it his personal quest to find his wife and nothing was going to 
deter him from that. 

Thoughts of the media brought him around to the distasteful subject of
Adrian; no doubt with his press connections the man was well informed, 
nonetheless Carruthers summoned up the spirit to contact him, more out 
of a sense of duty than anything else. 

Oddly he found the conditions less oppressive out on the Forest. Free of
Manners he found the rain squalls a relief from the intense humidity. 
Not for the first time he thought Adrian sounded harassed. ‘Just a 
moment.' He heard the furious ‘hush' to the barking dog. 

‘I expect you've already heard,' Carruthers began, ‘but in case you
haven't, the police have issued a warrant for Chelsey's arrest.' 

‘What? Are you kidding me? Adrian blustered. ‘This is your doing,
Carruthers – what the blazes...' 

‘It's not my fault, damn you,' Carruthers yelled back, then steadying
himself, ‘they've found pieces of her diary in Goldhawk's pocket...' 

‘How the hell could they have done that?' 

“Because someone took them from her bag and for all I know that might
have been you...” Carruthers narrowly held back from uttering his 
thoughts, because what possible reason could Adrian have had? And in 
any case the man jumped in again with another outrageous remark – 

‘And who put them there, you?' 

‘Oh for goodness sake, if you're going to continue to take this absurd
line I'm ringing off...' Carruthers thought to do just that but he 
needed to let rip. ‘I don't see you doing anything to help find her, 
when you came here you disappeared soon enough.' 

‘Rubbish, Carruthers,' Adrian responded sounding angrier by the minute.
‘I'm utilizing all my media contacts to try and locate her. I'm more 
concerned than anybody.' 

Carruthers stifled a sneer. ‘There are a couple I'm not sure about –
this hotel guy for one, I thought there was something about him...' he 
broke off, on the verge of relaying the Noades issue, but he knew how 
possessive Adrian was about his half-sister. 

‘What hotel guy?' Adrian's voice rose. ‘What on earth are you talking
about?' 

It doesn't matter,' Carruthers said tiredly. ‘And Casey Jennings,
there's never been any love lost between them, she's been acting 
strangely.' 

‘Now look Carruthers, you're trying to blame everyone but yourself!'
Adrian stormed. 

‘Fine, if that's what you think.' Carruthers terminated the call, not
being willing to listen to any more bluster from a man he'd always 
struggled to tolerate. 

He caught a bus for the first time in a long while. It came along as he
was ending his unsavory conversation with Adrian, and wondering how on 
earth the man had managed to engage all available media contacts to 
determine Chelsey's whereabouts, while being unaware of the warrant for 
her arrest. 

That didn't gel. He had to assume that Adrian's claim was plucked out of
the air in response to his counter-accusation of her half-brother's 
lack of concern. 

Given Adrian's closeness to Chelsey this puzzled Carruthers, because
despite his blustering, accusatory tone there seemed to be no 
underlying concern for her whereabouts. 

Carruthers showered and changed clothes, and then eager to scour the
area where he'd lost sight of Noades he headed out to his car. And then 
he had a thought – if he was to search clinically then he needed to 
start from the beginning. When the hotel had employed Noades they must 
surely have recorded his personal details – and that would have 
included an address. 

He strode back to the hotel and engaged the receptionist, one he hadn't
seen before. She gave him an awkward glance when he asked whether they 
had Noades' address. ‘I'm an old friend,' he lied, putting on his most 
amiable face, ‘and I'm looking to surprise him.' 

The receptionist appeared to accept this and went through to the main
office, emerging a few minutes later with some details scribbled on a 
complimentary slip. ‘This is the address we were given, Mr. Carruthers. 
It's against our normal procedure to release employee details but as 
you're a guest at the hotel we've made an exception in this instance.' 

Carruthers thanked her and returned to his car. There had been an
apprehension about the woman which suggested that Chelsey's 
disappearance and ensuing incidents had afforded him a degree of 
notoriety. He wondered whether this was the way it would be from now 
on. 

Once in his car Carruthers studied the address the receptionist had
given him. Brockenhurst was as good a start as he could have hoped for, 
being close to the point where Noades had slipped away from him. He 
punched ‘The Rise,' into his navigation system and arrived at the 
location, close to Brockenhurst centre, in fifteen minutes. The house 
was a sizeable, nondescript grey brick affair, with a ‘no vacancies' 
sign displayed inside a front window. 

Giving three raps on the door pane with his knuckles, he was met by a
portly middle-aged male who evidently thought he couldn't read. With 
the index finger of his right hand arcing towards it, he said, ‘I'm 
afraid there aren't any vacancies as the sign says.' 

‘No.' Carruthers raised the palm of a hand. ‘I'm not looking to stay.
I'm led to believe that a Robin Noades is living here.' 

‘Robin Noades?' The proprietor frowned, gave a shake of the head. ‘I
don't have anyone of that name, I'm afraid you've been misinformed. I 
had a Robert Bodes book in a couple of weeks back, stayed a week – but 
other than that I can't help you.' ‘I see. I'm sorry to have disturbed 
you.' Carruthers turned, irritated at the apparent dead-end, but then 
had a thought, wheeling round as the man was closing the door. ‘No, 
wait – can you describe this – Mr. Bodes?' 

The proprietor sucked in breath. ‘As I recall he was tall, fair haired
and slim, seemed a likeable young chap. A bit of a ladies' man I should 
imagine.' Carruthers bit his lip, the last part hurt. Could this man be 
Noades? 

‘And I don't suppose you've any idea where he is now?' Carruthers asked,
aware of his accelerating heart rate. 

‘None at all.' The podgy man looked up at Noades thoughtfully. ‘He said
he was touring the area, enjoying his holiday, though I suspected there 
was more.' 

‘Why do you say that?' 

‘After he moved on I found some property rental leaflets from estate
agents in his drawer. It seemed to me he might have had plans for 
staying longer term.' 

Carruthers enlivened heart missed a beat, causing him to cough. ‘Have
you got them now?' 

The proprietor shook his head. ‘I'd no reason to keep them.' He narrowed
his greying brows. ‘Why do you ask – are you a detective?' 

‘No, only a friend needing contact – I don't suppose you recall the
agents who provided the leaflets?' Carruthers asked, feeling a wave of 
sudden optimism. 

‘Oh yes, of course – there are only two.' The man turned towards the
door. ‘I'll jot them down for you...' 

‘No it's okay.' Carruthers didn't want to waste time with pen and paper.
A glance at his watch told him that time was pressing on. ‘If you could 
provide me with their names that should be enough.' 

‘Yes, very well. One's Buddington and Hart, the other's Jeffries. You'll
find them both on the main street.' 

‘Thank you very much,' Carruthers said, getting the feeling he was
really on the trail, but not liking the picture his mind was painting 
for him. 

Carruthers sped to the main street to find one agent closed and the
other in the process of doing so. But the second of the two, Julian 
Jeffries, had been obliging enough to check his records for any 
property lettings related to Robert Bodes and call him in the morning. 
When asked for his name Carruthers had given it as Cousins. The name 
Carruthers right now, was bound to invite questions he wasn't willing 
to answer. 

He returned to the hotel that evening fired up, the picture developing
in his mind having provided the fuel. He had the feeling he was on the 
verge of tracking down Noades and confronting Chelsey. She had nothing 
to do with any murder, he'd always known that in his heart – but her 
heart appeared to have deserted him in favour of Noades. 

If this really was Noades, then had he known Chelsey for longer than
he'd thought? Had they formed a relationship prior to their arrival, 
and had his stay at the lodgings been to scout for a house? Was this 
the reason for Chelsey's increasingly disturbed and aggressive 
behaviour? 

He'd soon find out the answer to that. 

Carruthers headed for the bar and ordered a double whisky. 


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