Date: Wed, 3 Oct 2007 13:53:52 -0700 (PDT) From: Matt Wess 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.