Date: Mon, 5 Nov 2007 16:51:58 -0800 (PST) From: Matt Wess Subject: Triple E: Part One *Note to readers: if you haven't read Double E yet, it would be to your advantage to do so.* Triple E: Part One Nothing ever ends where we think it does. So of course my Double E story, which received public success throughout my hometown, did not end with the capture of a murderer. I only thought that it did. My mistake and a really big one. In the early morning hours - I stood in the darkened foyer of my home, holding the phone up to my ear. The chilling words: "You're Elijah Temime, the amateur sleuth and I'm the murderer" rung through my mind like a dull bell. I peeked around the wall. In the large game room, Eliot and his friends, my friends, my sister Genevieve and her friends, were all lumped around the room. Some were snoring. Some were tossing and turning under blankets. Eliot was the only one with his head raised half an inch, staring in my general direction. He had heard the phone ring, too. Carrying the phone out of earshot, I said in a low whisper, "How do you know who I am?" I heard a machine-filtered voice and it cut right through me. I shuddered against my will. "I know everything about you Elijah and I even know where you are. Do you feel a little bit like a puppet on a string, Elijah? You should," the killer said. "Because that's what you are. You're my favorite puppet, in fact." My mind was racing out of control. "You said there was a murder. Where is it? You didn't have to do it." He laughed mechanically and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. "You ought to be able to figure it out, no? You're the famous amateur sleuth. Few months ago you caught two high-profiled killers, bravo." I spoke in a low voice. "Why don't you come after me right now? How about tonight? As you say, you know where I am." The killer laughed again, quietly, almost under his breath. "How about I kill your brother and sister in the room next to you? Tell your brother to move a little to the right and I'll have a better shot at him." The phone base fell to the floor with a loud clatter, as I whipped around the corner, still clutching the receiver to my ear. More people had woken up to the sound. They were blinking blearily up at me. My eyes scanned the large bay window to my right, and then the French, sliding glass doors to my left. The killer was laughing manically. "You can relax, Elijah. I saw you bursting into the room with that panicked look on your face. See any dead bodies?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Of course not. I was just fucking with you. Having some fun at your expense. It's you I want. You're next, Elijah." It was a clear, lazy, May morning, the day the worst week of my life began. I was jogging down by the creak, along a path that intertwines through the forest not too far from my house. During the early stages of spring, the path was quite beautiful to jog along. It's mine and Eliot's Sunday thing - get up early and try to huff out three miles. Just enough to convince myself that I'm bordering on something called in shape. Eliot never needed to worry about getting in shape. At the age of eighteen, almost nineteen, his body was toned and lean. His running garb consisted of gym shorts and a white beater that showed his chiseled chest and was a complete turn on for me. "So, how did it go the other night?" he asked, shuffling sideways beside me, referring to the Prom after party. "I think it went over fine," I said, focusing on the heights ahead of us. He looked over at me. "Just fine?" All run long my head had been filled with annoying recollection of the phone call. I never bothered to tell anyone - yet. The murderer had been bluffing about there being another murder. I watched the news constantly to make sure and nothing stood out. Still, every waking moment I felt like a moving target. "No, I think it went really, really, well," I said, mid-stride. We pulled up at the end of the path, a lung-clearing bray for me while Lance Armstrong over there bobbed on his toes as if he could go another loop. "I don't know how you do it," I said, hands on hips, trying to catch my breath. "Practice," he said simply, shrugging, and stretching out a hamstring. It was nice to have Eliot on my side. We now have the typical love/hate relationship all brothers condone, which is progress for us. It used to be just hate. Ever since I got him off of the charge for murder - he was suddenly a lot nicer to me. "Race you back home?" he said suddenly. I frowned. "Speed walking, right?" He shook his head and pulled off his white beater, revealing his shiny chest, which wasn't overly muscular but it did have a nice forming six pack. A white Calvin Klein waistband was peeking above his shorts. "Last one home has to do the dishes after dinner!" "It's Genevieve's turn anyway!" I called after his bare back, as he tore down the street. Sighing, I followed in a lazy run, huffing and puffing, arriving back at the house five minutes later. Certainly a barrier which usually stands fast between Eliot and I had fallen, and it was possible to speak of matters which are generally only considered to be personal. While following him up the steps (still out of breath from our excessive exercise) Eliot began telling the history of this one girl he was eyeing up. It was long, for it was full of extremely elaborate incidents, which led on to a discussion of the principles on which morality is founded. "So what's her name?" I asked, as we stopped on the tiny third landing where Eliot's room was located. "Allison," Eliot answered, shouldering his bedroom door open with his bare shoulder. "I have made one attempt already to ask her out," he continued rummaging through his dresser. I became hot around the collar, while leaning against his doorframe. Even though Eliot knew the feelings I had for him - I still attempted to advert my eyes and not stare as he slid out of his gym shorts and stood in his white boxer briefs, fishing for another pair of underwear. "Let's just hope Allison isn't another Georgina," I said roughly, stealing a glance at his package that was held tightly together. Eliot pulled out black boxer briefs and said musingly, "You reckon girls would be afraid to date me after the incident with Georgina?" "No - not at all," I answered hurriedly. "I mean - they go for your looks. And the whole Double E story gives you a tough personality." Eliot began to smile. "You're right." He winked and walked by me, across the hall, and into the bathroom. Whether he did it intentionally or not, I'll never know, but before he shut the bathroom door, he pulled off his underwear allowing a perfect view of his backside. Carrie and I had long ago reached the particular tire swing nestled in a small valley not too far from our houses. Looking right, you might chance on seeing a magnificent sunset as it nestles down behind the horizon. Looking the other way, the vast expanse of land gave us a sensation which is given by no view, however extended, in Jamestown. The tire was just large enough to tightly fit the two of us, face to face. It became our new place to get a way from it all and just relax. Carrie's report of the Double E story had blossomed her career as a reporter, creating a hectic life for her, though she claims she would never change any of it. As for me, I was known around town as the amateur sleuth and, unfortunately, targeted by killers. The eerie phone call skittered into my mind for the umpteenth time that day. Making the tire swing more from the large oak tree Carrie said, "You look worried." I shook my head, staring up at the bundles of budding leaves, as the tire spun in circles. "Just thinking," I said slowly. "About?" Carrie removed a strand of red hair away from her face, and read my facial expressions. "Eliot is working on a new girl," I said, which was something I was truly thinking about - but I wasn't about to tell her that a killer called me. With our past, Carrie would likely freak out. She arched her eyebrows. "Should we be concerned?" "Nah - just glad that he's getting back on his feet...well, he was never really off of his feet. He's all cool now, but I feel that sooner or later he'll return to normal." "You think so?" "I do. That's why I'm enjoying it while it lasts." After a few minutes' pause, Carrie said, "Eliot and I graduate soon. In a few weeks time - then it will be summer. Hallelujah." I smiled. "At the beginning of the school year - you know when the first murder happened, and Eliot and my parents were always at each others throats, Eliot kept on saying 'this is the last year, then I'm out of this hell hole'. He would then ask me for advice about how to stay out of my mom's and dad's way." Carrie was smiling, too. "What did you tell him?" "Something like stop getting drunk - of course this was before Georgina's death - if it had been after I would have said stop murdering people." "Elijah!" Carrie exclaimed, giving me a small punch in the arm. "That's horrible. He would have then killed you!" I dragged my foot on the moving earth below, slowing down the pace of the swing. Sunset was upon us. The sun was casting long skinny fingers across the land and darkness was quickly invading our surroundings. "Perhaps we should go," I said casually, but thinking about the phone call. If some killer wanted to kill me - now would be the best time. It was just Carrie and I and no one else. Carrie didn't argue and suggested that we get ice cream to celebrate the warm weather that was now upon us after a long winter. While walking towards civilization down a nature trail, I could have sworn I heard a twig snap somewhere to my left. Then I thought I saw the flash of a camera go off directed in my general direction. I stopped walking. Carrie noticed about ten paces away from me that I had stopped. She looked back. "What's wrong, Elijah?" I didn't answer right away, for I thought I heard the clicking of the camera this time, instead of seeing a flash. As though the photographer noticed my awareness and turned off the flash... You're being paranoid; a voice in the back of my mind told me. Carrie was still watching me, perhaps a little bit concerned. I quickly caught up with her. Not convinced that I was being paranoid. Something or someone had been lurking around. Before we left the area, I was certain the figure had ducked out from behind the tree, ran lightly across the yard only feet behind Carrie and I - then hid behind a tree closer to us, but when I looked nothing was there. Now Carrie was gently holding my hand. "I think some ice cream can really do you some therapy," she said soothingly, pecking my cheek. Yet, the feeling that all will soon go to hell - the same feeling I felt around the time of Double E - was rising in the pits of my stomach. The horrid feeling was back.