Date: Wed, 3 Oct 2007 13:53:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Matt Wess <cow91387@yahoo.com>
Subject: Double E: Part Fourteen

      Things aren't always as they appear.  One minute, I'm totally fine,
in control of the situation.  The next, the cold barrel of a gun is being
pressed against the back of my head by a woman I once actually cared for.
      My body becomes increasingly incased in ice.  Tendrils of panic
curl up in the pits of my stomach and then lunge, creating a wave of
nausea that threatens to loosen the grip of my own gun I have pointed at
Detective Booker.
      He continues to smile - success is written across his face.  "You
really didn't think you'd get away with this, did you?" He asked.
      Somehow I find my voice.  "I did - actually."
      "Always the confident one," Ms. Fisher said from behind me.  "Now
lower your gun and we'll talk this out."
      But I don't lower my gun.  In fact, I raised it a little higher so
instead of pointing it at Booker's bare chest, it's now directed between
his eyes.  "I always thought you made too much money for just being a
teacher," I told Ms. Fisher.
      I can feel her breath on my neck.  "You were always observant,
too."
      "So what - are you a prostitute/ assassin/ teacher?"
      "Something like that, Elijah."
      It's not easy remaining calm when a bullet could be placed through
your brain at any second, but somehow I retain my coolness.
      Suddenly from outside there was a frantic swerve of headlights.  A
car door opened, and then slammed shut.  A figure was running up to the
front door.
      Detective Booker was on alert.
      The moment Carrie burst through the front door, I yelled, "Carrie!
Get down!"
      Like a deer caught in the headlights, Carrie paused for a fraction
of a second, and then dove to the ground as Detective Booker swiftly
pulled a gun out from under the cushions and fired a single shot.
      A nearby vase exploded into a million pieces.
      Carrie rolled over onto her back and pointed her own gun upwards at
the approaching Detective.   He stopped in his tracks, and said slowly,
"Carrie Fisher - the Chief Medical Examiner's daughter, right?"
      "You got that right.  Score one for the bad guy."  Carrie was
panting heavily.  Broken glass lay all around her.
      "You're going to cause mommy to lose her job, you know that right?
By coming here and accusing an officer of murder - not a smart idea."
      "Luckily for me - my mother sides with me.  She has the evidence,
Detective Booker - to indict both you and," her eyes flickered over to
Ms. Fisher, "you're side-kick.  She's at the station right now - having
it cleared.  I would guess that we have all of five minutes to settle
this ordeal before the police arrive."
      Even though I could not see his face, I could hear the mounting
anger in his voice.  "You're bluffing, little girl."
      "I'm pointing a fucking gun at you - do you think I'm bluffing?"  I
never heard Carrie act so nastily - it actually made me smile.
      Detective Booker's next move was lowering his gun.  He then
signaled for Ms. Fisher to do the same.  I felt the pressure release from
the back of my head and I inwardly sighed with relief.
      Carrie got up, slowly, still taking aim at Detective Booker, while
brushing some glass off of her.   She met my eyes briefly.
      "Okay, let's talk about this like the adults we are," Booker said,
sitting next to Ms. Fisher on the couch.  Carrie and I remained standing
- keeping the guns trained on the two killers.  "If what Carrie is
telling is the truth and the police will be here momentarily, then we
need to solve this."
      "Why did you frame Eliot?" I angrily blurted out the question.
      Ms. Fisher answered immediately.  "He was good looking, wanting -
no needing - sex in his life and Georgina Cloves was marked for death for
awhile - we just needed an innocent guinea pig to take the wrap."
      I forgot Carrie never knew about the relationship between Eliot and
Ms. Fisher.  She looked sick.  "It's a disgrace sharing the last name
with you.  Thank God we're not related."
      "Anyway," Ms. Fisher spoke over Carrie.  "I'm afraid we will still
get away.  It will look like quite a tragedy when two teenagers commit
suicide right here in this very room."
      In the next second I was grabbing Carrie and tossing her to the
ground as Detective Booker and Ms. Fisher fired their guns at the same
time.   Carrie and I rolled a foot or two, bullets whizzing by our ears,
plunging headlong into the wooden floor.
      We both returned fire - causing a large bookshelf to splinter and a
couch cushion to be ripped apart.
      Heart pounding, Carrie and I ran for the dark kitchen at a low
crouch, sweating bullets and dodging them.   Things all around us were
exploding: glassware, windows, dining chair, lamps, and even the fruit
that was being held in a basket.
      Once I thought it was safe to semi-turn, I did so and squeezed off
a few bullets.  The powerful gun exploded in my hand and the bullet tore
through the air en-route for Booker's thigh.   I watched in morbid
amazement as he clutched his now bleeding thigh and stumbled forward,
coming closer.
      I never in my life shot a person.
      All I could imagine was his face contorted in extreme anger as he
limped towards me, growling, "Game's over, you little fuck.  Enough is
enough."
      I stood frozen in fear mingled with a surreal feeling when Carrie
grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me out of the path of destruction.
She quietly shoved me against the wall, cupping her hand over my mouth.
We were hidden in the darkness of the large kitchen - for the time being.
      We could hear Detective Booker's manic breathing coming closer as
he dragged his now bum leg.  "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he
called.
      Pressed tightly against the wall, sweat pelting down my face, I
could see him out of the corner of my eye as he stopped ten feet from us
and looked around.
      Then he was five feet from us...
      Then four...
      Three...
      Carrie was squeezing my hand so tight I thought it might burst.
      He stopped again.  "I can smell your fear, you little shit-bags."
Booker was about to proceed forward when from outside there came the
sound of squealing sirens.   Within moments the street outside was being
flooded with squad cars and ambulances.
      There was a deafening bang somewhere within five feet of us.   I
anticipated feeling the bullet tear through my skin, waited for the
excruciating pain.  I knew it was coming any moment.  Detective Booker
probably saw us at the last moment and had the final shot.
      But neither Carrie nor I were hurt.  Detective Booker remained
rooted on his spot to the left of us and on the right the body of Ms.
Fisher crumbled - a large gaping hole had been placed in her head by the
gun that was still in her hand.
      The front door followed by the back door burst open.  Hundreds of
people were storming the house.   Carrie and I remained motionless, still
concealed by the dark.  I don't think either of us breathed for several
minutes.
      Detective Booker, realizing defeat, dropped his gun and held up his
hand as policemen stormed the kitchen.
      A man in his late fifties, with love handles, white hair, and an
extremely grim expression parted the crowd.  I remembered his name was
Sergeant Manning.  He was shaking his head at the sight of his partner.
"I should have known better..." was all Manning said, before indicating
that the fellow police officers should arrest Booker.
      Booker barely resisted as the cold cuffs were slapped around his
wrists, still in his briefs.
      I thought Carrie and I still had gone unnoticed until Manning
turned around and looked directly at us.  I praised the lord Manning
wasn't the killer - otherwise he would have picked us out and had us dead
within moments.
      "Of course, you both realize what you did tonight was extremely
foolish," he said sternly, but did not allow us to apply.  "I would
normally have the book thrown at teenagers who pull a stunt like this,
yet in tonight's case it seems that the police were being even more
foolish."
      A hesitant smile flickered across his face.
      "What you two did tonight was very brave," he clapped my shoulder.
"However, I wouldn't encourage this to be a daily activity."  With those
departing he joined his fellow policemen in observing the death scene.

Carrie and I left through the backdoor, not wanting to encounter Ms.
Fisher's gruesome fallen body.   We did not immediately get in our cars
and head home.  We just began walking down the street side-by-side in
silent.
      We stayed like this for quite some time.  I guess we were still
trying to get over the unreal events of the night.   The crisp, autumn
night wind cleared our minds - for the most part.
      As we turned the corner, I finally said, "I thought you swore off
helping me with the case."
      "Well - I did, at first.  We make one hell of a team, Elijah."
      I smiled.  "I know.  One thing I didn't know was how well you can
handle a gun.  You were a pro."
      Unexpectedly, her hand slipped into mine.  "There's a lot you don't
know about me, Elijah."
      We found ourselves standing outside a populated oldie diner.
Despite the mild coldness of the weather, several people were sitting
around eating sundaes and the outside speakers were playing the Righteous
Brother's Unchained Melody.
      To me the setting sent a flicker of awkwardness through the
situation.  I waited for Carrie to release my hand - but she didn't.
      "I love this song," she commented, leading me over to an empty
bench outside the diner.   It was just big enough for the two of us to
sit down.
      And there we sat.
      Carrie rested her head on my shoulder, humming along with the
lyrics:
      "Whoa my love/
      My darling/
      I hunger for your touch..."

I'm not sure how long we sat on that bench listening to the soothing
melody.  For long after the song ended, the diner closed, the light above
us went out - and we still sat there.  I didn't protest.  Carrie didn't
fidget.  Something about that moment felt right.   I never felt so at
peace for the longest time.
      The stars above us twinkled.   The moon was full.  Even after some
of the place cars passed us - no doubt coming from Booker's place - we
didn't move.  We just watched as the flashing lights disappeared down the
street.
      Eventually I did make it home.   It was late.  My house was dark,
but I was still feeling pretty damn good, ready to retire in my room
under the eaves.
      I once thought that solving the murder would reveal Eliot's sexual
orientation.  Though I wasn't completely sure, I had to guess that he was
bi - leaning more towards straight.  Otherwise he wouldn't have fallen
for Ms. Fisher and then she and Booker could never have pinned him to the
murders.
      It was a hard fact to swallow, but I forced myself to do it.
      While unlocking the front door something brushed up against my leg
sending my nerves through the roof.  Recently the tiniest things were
causing me to jump.  When I looked down a familiar tawny cat was looking
up at me with gleaming eyes.
      "Ruby!" I exclaimed in a whisper.
      The cat purred lovingly, rubbing up against my leg.  I stared at
Ruby for a few seconds, she stared right back at me.  "You're supposed to
be dead!" I finally said, scooping her up.  She willingly leapt into my
arms as I carried her inside.
      Deciding to go to bed immediately before anymore dead things come
alive, I made my way up to my room.  On the landing below mine - I
noticed Eliot's light on and the door slightly open.
      He was home.
      But he wasn't in his room.  The bathroom door came out and his
voice came from behind me.  "I think I owe you an apology," he began.