Date: Sat, 15 Sep 2007 15:40:59 -0700 (PDT)
From: Matt Wess <cow91387@yahoo.com>
Subject: Double E: Part 8

      I awoke to the steady drumming of rain on my window.  Wonderful.
Just what I needed to complicate my life further.  I crawled out of bed
and pulled the curtain aside, not pleased at the sight of an all-day
soaker.  The street had slicked up, reflecting light from mysterious
sources.  The rest of the world was gunmetal gray, the cloud cover low
and unending, the buildings robbed of color behind the rain.
      I showered and dressed in my school uniform, letting my hair dry on
its own.  No sense towel drying it when I was going to get drenched the
instant I stepped out of the house.  I did the breakfast thing, brushed
my teeth and did a book bag inventory, making sure I had all my typical
school stuff - you know, the list of suspects in Georgina's murder, my
tablet I've been jotting down notes on about Eliot, cuffs I stole from my
grandfather, and my cell phone.
      I was bounty hunting now.  I crammed Georgina's file in along with
my few school books and I headed for the car.
      After dropping Carrie off at her house yesterday, I'd convinced my
mom to let me take the Cherokee instead of riding with Eliot and
Genevieve.  I told her I had school business to attend to.  At least half
of that was true.
      This was the sort of day to curl up with a good book and eat the
icing from the middle of Oreos.  This was not the sort of day to go to
school and then chase down desperados afterwards.
      Much to my dismay, J.J. was still acting stubborn and was nowhere
in sight.  I caught sight of him in homeroom, sitting in the corner
chatting it up with a guy I knew as Nick Solar.  I had a feeling the
moment I looked away from J.J., he looked up at me.  Maybe he wanted to
apologize.
      Maybe you should apologize first, the voice in the back of my head
said.
      I tried to block that damn voice out.
      Half way through homeroom, a note came for me.  It was kind of like
a nurse's slip when they request to see you, but this came from the
school newspaper office and was signed Carrie Fisher.  I scrambled to
pick up my book bag and headed out the door.  While leaving I was
absolutely sure J.J. had been watching me with inquisitive eyes.
      Minutes later, I yanked open the door to the ever crowded newspaper
office.  "I didn't know you could write these things," I said when Carrie
was within ear-shot.
      She looked up from her desk.  "Oh, yeah, sure, but we can really
only pull people out of homeroom.  Sometimes it's mandatory that we meet
with some of our writers or prospective writers.  Pull up a seat."
      I did as I was instructed, saying, "So what's the news?"
      "Well first off, did you get the you-know-what from your
grandfather?"  I stared at her blankly.  Carrie dropped her voice down so
low that I had to strain to hear her.  "The gun."
      "Oh right - no, not yet.  I haven't talked to him about it, yet.
But I did get his cuffs!"
      "Great Elijah, you try to wrestle with a killer and get him into
cuffs."  She rolled her eyes.  "Oh - and - here," she rummage in her desk
and pulled out a stack of business cards.
      I was about to ask what I need with someone's business card when I
realized my name was on it.  Elijah A. Temime.  Jamestown Inquiry.  Then
it had my cell phone number and under that the fax machine number that
lead to the school newspaper office.
      "Carrie..." I started, struck with awe.  The cards looked genuine.
"How the hell..."


      "I have my ways," said Carrie smiling smartly.  "Took me all of
last night.  I used my mom's as a model.  Anyway, I won't be in lunch
today.  Newspaper meeting.  After school though, I'm going to get
estimates on defensive sprays if you care to join."
      I pocketed the cards.  My own business cards.  "As enticing as that
sounds, Carrie, I already have plans."
      The bell overhead rang.  "Well, then, Mr. Mysterious," said Carrie
standing up.  "I'll give you a call tonight and let you know how defense
spray shopping goes."
      "So," I said.  "Do the cards mean we're officially in the
business?"
      "Something like that, Elijah.  I'll tell you one thing; we damn
well better catch this murderer.  Right now, the police have so much to
pin against us it's not even funny."

Several times throughout the day I spotted the blonde, young teacher that
seduced Eliot.  Just at the mere sight of her made me want to tackle her
in the hall.  Or shout out her secret that she's screwing a student.  It
would be a huge relief to see her stop dead in her tracks and turn in
fright.
      During lunch I saw her walking the length of the cafeteria with an
elder teacher.  Our eyes met briefly.
      I wanted her to read my mind: Oh, yes, I know your secret,
sweetheart.
      Of course, she had no idea who I was, let alone that I was Eliot's
brother.  So she swept by me, still talking animatedly without faltering
once.
      The next person I ran into, I did not want to read my mind: J.J.
He was looking handsome in his school uniform, sitting among his other
friends.  He looked up from his tray when I passed his table.  The voice
inside my head was screaming at me to sit the fuck down at his table and
apologize, but my legs kept moving.
      I sat at the table Carrie and I usually sit at in the corner,
immediately took out Georgina Clove's file, and before I began my
research I noticed J.J. looking over his shoulder in my direction.  If I
could read his mind, I had a feeling it was saying the same thing mine
was.
      We were both stubborn.  That's why we became friends.  We think
alike.
      Unable to concentrate, I tucked away the manila envelope, picked up
my tray, and dragged my butt to the seat next to J.J.  I could smell the
Axe he was wearing, tempting.
      "So," I said, clearing my throat.  I couldn't say anything about
the murder with other kids sitting around.  "Did you do the math homework
for today?"
      A flicker of a smile crossed his face.  "You ass," said J.J.  "I
ought to slug you."
      "Nah, you wouldn't want to do that."  I leaned forward and
whispered, "I'm a fucking bounty hunter now."
      He rolled his eyes and punched me in my shoulder, hard.  It stung.
But I didn't hit back.  I figured maybe I deserved that.
      Reading my mind, J.J. said, "Yes, you did deserve that."  And
smiled.

By the end of school, I was in better spirits than I have been for quite
some time.  J.J. and I were talking.  I had my fake business cards, ready
to do some serious business.
      And that's exactly where I found myself thirty minutes after school
let out - doing serious business.
      I sat behind the wheel of the Cherokee waiting impatiently, tapping
my nails on the dash, counting the number of ridges in the steering
wheel, and trying not to look conspicuous.  My stomach felt hollow and I
longed to just blow this joint and grab something to eat.
      When I was considering going home, the rear door to the school,
that connected to the parking lot opened.  Eliot and his teacher Ms.
Fisher emerged.  They were smiling.  Looking kind of exhausted, and if
you looked up close they were probably still a bit sweaty.  My insides
churned.  I could have just jumped right out of the car and yelled
"busted!"
      I sunk down a bit when Eliot passed the car, not taking notice that
it was mine.  I wasn't interested in him.  So when he took off in the
P.T. Cruiser, I did not follow.
      I was interested in Ms. Fisher, the hot blonde, who was currently
living my fantasy with Eliot.  This had to be stopped.
      For holding down a lousy teaching job, she sure did have money.
Her eyes were hidden by Chanel sunglasses, a Prada bag dangled from her
wrist, and her car was the Mazda Miata.  Even though it had stopped
raining, it was still kind of dreary, and if I were driving her Mazda I
wouldn't call this top-down weather.  I figured when she lowered the roof
all she cared to do was show off.
      I gave her a head start.  Watched as she pulled out of the school
parking lot, tooting twice in Eliot's direction, and she was off.
      It was easy enough to tail her through the residential streets.  I
always remained several feet behind her, playing the part of your average
Joe heading home.
      The moment we hit a double lane highway, everything was kicked into
high gear.  It took me by complete and utter surprise.  In a flash of an
eye, her tiny Mazda tore down the highway, weaving between cars, her rich
blonde hair swirling wildly in the breeze.
      Within seconds she had easily placed several hundred feet between
us.  I cursed under my breath, and pressed the accelerator down to the
ground.
      My bulky Cherokee roared to life, pelting down the left lane.  The
speedometer was steadily climbing: 60, 65, 70...
      I gripped the steering wheel tighter, sweeping the other lanes for
the tiny Mazda Miata.  Looking for the blonde hair whipping around her
face.  Out of the corner of my eye, something tiny and silver streaked by
my car, it was her.  I had unknowingly past her up!
      Satisfied that I had not lost her, I eased up a bit on the
accelerator, but still going pretty fast, leaving a few car lengths
between Ms. Fisher and I.  She had slowed down a little, too.  A cell
phone was held up to her ear and I had to wonder, was she talking to
Eliot?
      Without warning, two tractor trailers came barreling down the right
lane next to me.  Within a few brief seconds, the one tractor trailer cut
me off and at the last minute I noticed the tiny Mazda turn the bend.
      "Shit!"
      Cursing out loud at the tractor trailers which were now acting as
road blocks, I estimated the possibility of bypassing one of them on the
shoulder.  Several yards from my current location were the yellow barrels
filled with water, so that before you go splat, you go splash.
      Acting on an impulse, I jerked the wheel hard to the left and
punched the accelerator.  The Cherokee picked up speed instantaneously.
My heart was beating unnaturally fast as I careened down the shoulder,
the large yellow barrels getting closer and closer.
      The large tractor trailer to my right rumbled noisily.  I began to
nose my way up, well aware that if I did not get back on the highway
within five seconds I will surely meet my demise with gallons upon
gallons of water.
      The driver noticed me and began honking his horn crazily.  I honked
back and pressed the pedal to the floor.  The tires on my car kicked up
stones and screeched noisily.  I thought at the sight of me the driver
would slow down - I thought wrong.
      The bastard picked up speed, keeping up to pace with his buddy next
to him.
      I laid on the horn, glanced to my right, then averted my eyes at
the precise moment the first yellow barrel was about to hit my front
bumper.  I gripped the wheel, held my breath, and turned viciously to the
right, merging back onto the highway.
      When I looked back in my rearview mirror, the menacing looking
tractor trailer was practically on my bumper, honking furiously.  I
managed to take out the first barrel, and a flood of water exploded in
the air, rushing across the highway.
      There was more honking from various cars now.  Shaking, I forced
myself to look for the Mazda.  Within seconds, I spotted the car turning
down an exit ramp.  Creating more ruckus I hurriedly crossed the lanes
and turned down the exit ramp at break-neck speed.  My tires screamed in
agony as I took the bend sharply, gaining on Ms. Fisher.
      A Ford truck was between her Mazda Miata and my Cherokee.  She was
slowly edging her way onto the next highway, yielding to the traffic.  My
foot hovered above the accelerator, ready to punch it hard.
      I was ready for her to take off.
      But it seemed like the moment we were on the highway, we turned
right back off.  This time there was no one between us.  My heart skipped
a beat as I thought I caught her eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror.
      Sure she might have noticed that a red Cherokee was following her
for some time.
      But would she recognize me?
      I prayed she didn't.  And as I cautiously followed her through a
residential area filled with modern mansions, I convinced myself that she
would have no idea who I was.
      To take extra precautions, when Ms. Fisher steered her tiny Mazda
down a cul-de-sac, I turned right and made it seem like I was heading in
the opposite direction.  However, two seconds later I turned back around
and parked my car at the top of her street.
      Ms. Fisher lived in a two story, stone mansion that I had a limited
view of.  Deciding to be risky, I nudged the car further down the street
on the opposite side of her house.
      Sliding down in my seat, I watched with binoculars as Ms. Fisher
traipsed up to the flagstone path, Prada purse dangling from her wrist.
She lifted her Chanel glasses from her eyes when she reached the front
door.
      In the next few minutes several earth-shattering things occurred.
      As it turned out, Ms. Fisher didn't live at the house she was
currently standing outside of.  If she did live there, then she was
polite enough to knock on her own front door.
      Seconds later, the mahogany door opened and a man standing in a
polo shirt and khakis stood in the door frame.  Within moments the pair
of them were intertwined.  He was frantically tugging at her clothes,
while peeling off his like they were on fire.
      With sweaty palms, I steadied the binoculars and watched as the
pair stumbled pass the bay window.  The guy stood in his briefs.  He had
a perfect chest; his thumbs were hooked around the inside of Ms. Fisher's
bra ready to snatch it off.
      But before either of the sex-craved people made another movement, a
car came strolling down the street.
      A P.T. Cruiser.
      My heart stopped.  The binoculars dropped to the floor, I hit my
head in a desperate attempt to pick them up, and when I sat up my own
brother was ringing the bell Ms. Fisher rung two seconds ago.
      I was worried.  Had Eliot recognized my car?  Surely if he did, he
would have stopped to beat the shit out of me.
      A little satisfied, I watched through the binoculars as they guy
answered the door in his white briefs.  Ms. Fisher stood only a few feet
behind him, beaming, and cupping her breasts.
      Before Eliot even stepped over the threshold his shirt was off.
      Again, the three of them stumbled into the adjacent room.  Eliot
slid out of his pants in front of the bay window and my heart absolutely
stopped.  I became perfectly erected in my jeans.
      I knew for a fact Eliot was wearing a pair of Joe Boxers at
school.  But as I zoomed in with my binoculars, I was now seeing him in a
pair Jockey briefs.  Small, white briefs.  Something I didn't even know
he owned.
      Right there in my car, I slowly unzipped my pants, as if afraid
someone might hear, and began to massage my erection.  Without so much as
stroking, by just the mere sight of both the man and Eliot standing
together in the briefs, about to go down on Ms. Fisher, made me explode
instantly.
      I would have stuck around, but I didn't want to get caught.  I saw
all I needed to see - for now.
      I started up the car, still feeling hot, and left.
      My mind was wheeling.  All I could see was Eliot and that man.
      At one point on my trip home, I pulled off to an isolated parking
lot, jacked once waited a minute or two then jacked again.
      I was beginning to uncover the truth about the one puzzle.
      When I finally pulled into my driveway I knew what I had to do - go
through Eliot's room while I had the chance.