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Russian Lolita

Posted on July 14 2012


Related article: Date: Sat, 22 Sep 2007 10:14:29 -0700 (PDT)From: Matt Wess Subject: Double E: Part Nine I had every intention to do a full search of Eliot's room.Desperate times call for desperate measures. I knew his secret, whichcaused my heart to beat rapidly with fear mingled with excitement.Somewhere in his room had to be the answer. The final piece of thepuzzle.Or so I thought.No sooner had I stepped inside the house than my mothercalled out that Carrie left me a message. "It sounded pretty urgent,"my mother said, drying her hands on a dish towel. "You better call herback immediately."Sighing, I looked longingly up the stairs where Eliot's roomwas located, knowing that I would have to postpone my excursion.I dialed Carrie's number. She picked up on the first ring."Eliot -- are you at home?" I could hear the sounds of traffic in thebackground.Feeling my mother's eyes on my back, I slipped out of theroom and responded. "I am, why? What's up?""I'll explain when I pick you up. Grab your businesscards, and wait outside for me. I'll be there in Russian Lolita two minutes." Theclick in my ear told me the conversation was over.I knew when Carrie said two minutes -- she meant it. Iquickly grabbed my cards out of my book bag, explained to my mom thatCarrie and I Russian Lolita were heading out for an hour or so. Or at least, Russian Lolita I hoped itwas no more than an hour. I really wanted to search Eliot's room.The moment I stepped out of my front door, Carrie's navyblue Sunfire came careening down the street. She tossed open thepassenger door, slowing to a crawl. I hoped in, quickly shut the door,and we were off. "This better be good," I said, buckling my seatbelt."Oh, it is," she said. I had to admit, Carrie was lookingpretty good. She was wearing a nice blouse, skirt, and a single strandof fake pearls. Her red hair was pulled tightly back in a bun.She dumped a manila envelope on my lap. "Georgina Clovesfile," she unnecessarily explained. "Found this in my mom's room.Have a look."I opened the file and begin flipping through the thick stackof papers and photos that were clipped to the top.One eye on the road, and the other observing my progress,Carrie said: "Remember how I thought Georgina's parents weren't asinnocent as they may appear." I nodded, Russian Lolita waiting for an explanation."According to those papers, Georgina's father claimed to have beenwakened up at the sound of the gun shot. So, being a worried father, hewakens his wife, and they both run down the stairs to see their daughterdead and the killer still standing in their living room."Chills shot through my mind as I pictured the scene.Carrie continued. "The wife faints right there on thesteps, hits her head and remains unconscious for some time. The father,on the other hand, is forced to watch the killer position his daughterand then leave his trademark."My mind was racing ahead. "Wait a second, if the father sawthe killer -- then he could testify that it wasn't Eliot!""My thoughts exactly," Carrie said, nodding. "But thefather refused to tell the police anything about the killer. He saidthat the killer made a threat. Said he would be constantly watchingtheir house, and he would know if the father told the police anythingabout the killer's identity. And if that happened, he would kill themboth."I shivered again. "Why didn't he just kill the parentsthen?""For one reason or another, he just wanted Georgina dead. Ibet the father even knows the color of the killer's eyes."My blood began to boil. "And that lousy bastard won't saya word? All he has to say is, `Eliot didn't do it'!" I stoppedshort. "Unless," I said slowly, feeling sick. "The identity of thekiller is Eliot..."Carrie remained silent.Seconds later, we strolled to a stop outside a two storyhome. I remembered passing this home after mass on Sunday and seeing allthe squad cars parked outside. Now only a tiny Jetta was parked in thedriveway. The house seemed lifeless and foreboding.Carrie and I stared at it for a few seconds, as if to doublecheck this was the right address. The place where Georgina was shot.Once again, I was feeling doubtful. If Georgina's father wouldn't eventell the police who the killer was, he sure as hell wouldn't tell twohigh school students who barely passed as phony reporters.While climbing up the flagstone path, a scary thoughtskittered into my mind. "Carrie," I said softly, casting a suspiciouseye around the eerily deserted yard. "Do you think the killer iswatching us now?"Carrie responded in an equally quiet tone. "No. When hetold Georgina's father that, I think he was bluffing. A killerwouldn't return to the scene of the crime..." Her tone was notconvincing.Swallowing over a nervous lump in her throat, she knockedthree short times on the door. "Let me do the talking," she muttered.We waited a minute or two, before knocking again and ringing the bell.Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I caught thesilhouette of a person pull away from an upstairs window. At a secondglance, the drapes were swaying slightly from the sudden disappearance ofthe person.My heart became incased in ice. "Carrie, let's go."Right now, I would have much rather been going through Eliot's underweardrawer, finding more pairs of briefs that he keeps hidden and seldomwears.Before I could stop her, Carrie nudged the front door open."Mrs. Cloves," she called out in a sweet tone. "It's CarrieFisher."Without thinking, I yanked her back from the door. "Are youcrazy!" I hissed. "You can't go barging in there!"She wiggled out of my grasp. "Relax, Elijah, they know me.I've done this before." Russian Lolita She gently opened the door the rest of the wayopen and stepped inside. "Mrs. Cloves, its Carrie Fisher!" she calledagain, her voice echoing in the empty house.The only other sound besides our rushed breathing was therhythmical beating of a grandfather clock.I followed hesitantly down the foyer. "Carrie, we shouldreally go..."Carrie bit her tongue pensively, placing her hands on herhips. "That's funny, Mrs. Cloves is almost always home. A house-wife,you see."We drifted to the kitchen, where Carrie continued to searcharound for a sign of life. Things to me just didn't feel right. Thefigure in the window...then the feeling that no one was around...I drew the line when Carrie began to ascend the steps."No," I said stubbornly. "We need to leave. This is the part wheneveryone shouts, `don't go up there!'"Carrie stopped halfway up and actually laughed. "Listen, doyou want answers or not?""I do! But Carrie, there are safer, not to mention sane,ways to go about this!""But those ways, aren't practical. I'll just take a peekupstairs, and if they're not around, I'll come back down and leave amessage on their phone to have them call me." She gave me awould-be-reassuring smile. "If you want, you can stay down here andwait."I decided to wait. I hung around in the kitchen, listeningto Carrie's footsteps move down the upper hallway. I was waiting for asign to spring into action.Within five seconds that sign came.Carrie let out a high-pitched shriek. Pulse racing, I dartedup the stairs and down the hallway where Carrie stood to the entrance ofthe bedroom, hands clasped over her mouth.I looked over her shoulder and into the bedroom, noticingimmediately that both Mr. and Mrs. Cloves had been shot to death.Mr. Cloves had been blasted against the wall, while his wifelay in bed, her royal red blood soaking the white comforters.My guts churned upon realization that this was the upstairswindow that I thought I saw someone standing in front of. I grabbedCarrie. "We really, really have to go," I said frantically, waitingfor the killer to round the corner. I could still feel his presence...asif he were watching our every move...Together we sprinted down the hallway, down the steps, andout into the fresh air. Neither one of us said a word on the way back tomy place.The moment I was inside, I ran to the bathroom, feeling sick. Ready tohurl. I gripped both sides Russian Lolita of the Russian Lolita sink, trying to control my nerves.But all I could see were the sad, lifeless bodies. My complexion in themirror showed that I was ghostly white.A knock came from the other side of the door. My mother."Lijh, are you okay?"No, I thought desperately. I didn't respond right away, Ireached over with a shaky hand and flushed the toilet, then made to soundlike I was washing my hands. "I'm fine," I replied, splashing icecold water on my face, not caring that it dripped onto my shirt."Okay...well, dinner will be in ten minutes. Do you knowwhere your brother is?"I went ghostly white again as images of Eliot and histhreesome crossed my mind, mixing with the visions of dead bodies. Mymind began to twirl, and scream from all the mind-blowing images."No," I lied. "Genevieve would know."I glanced back at my reflection. My brown hair was matteddown not by the water I just splashed, but by my sweat that developedfrom fear.I was so absorbed in regaining sanity that I jumped ten feetat the sound of the doorbell chiming through the house. I listened as mymother went down for the door.Only one thought went through my mind: the killer found me.I burst out of Russian Lolita the bathroom and dashed down the stairs,yelling, "Mom! No, don't open it!"But it was too late.She was bending forward and picking up a brown package,looking at it quizzically. My mom turned to face me. This time therewas no way I could conceal my true state of fear. She held out thepoorly wrapped package. "It's for you."With shaky hands I took the package and stared at it. Noreturn address. It just read "Elijah Temime" in poor handwriting. Russian Lolita Itlooked as if it were wrapped two seconds ago. I muttered thanks, andknew she was still watching me as I flew mindlessly to my room, securingthe door shut behind me.Once inside, I ripped open the top of the package and dumpedits contents onto my bed. My heart stopped at what I saw. My lungsclenched shut as if a fist were squeezing them. I slowly sunk down ontomy bed, staring at the Polaroid photos of Carrie and me entering theClove's home. There were even photos of us inside the home...Someone had been watching us...The killer was onto our secret...I grabbed the phone, it flopped around in my unsteady handslike a wet fish, and it took me awhile to dial Carrie's right number.She picked up on the last ring."Jesus Christ Carrie are you okay!" I blurted out."I'm fine Elijah...still shaken from the murder scene...areyou okay?"I wasn't going to lie. "No, Carrie, I'm not. Someonetook pictures of us entering the Cloves home. I have the pictures righthere on my bed. Someone fucking followed us through the house!" Mysentences were all jammed together I was shocked she could make out whatI was saying."Calm down, Elijah. We were the only ones in that house..."I cut across her. "No we fucking were not!" I beganpacing the length of my room frantically, unable to look at the photos."Some mysterious guy dropped the photos off at my house just fiveminutes ago!""Elijah, you need to take deep breaths."Ignoring her I said, "Is someone home with you?""Well...no...Elijah...you know my parents work late...""I want you to come over -- now. We'll talk to mygrandfather about the gun and..." I stopped abruptly at the sound of thedoorbell, but it wasn't my bell I was hearing.It was Carrie's."Someone is at Russian Lolita the door, Elijah..." she suddenly soundedconcern."Don't answer it!" I bellowed. "Did you see the personwho rung it?""He left a package, I can see it sitting on the frontsteps..."My heart slammed against my chest. "I'm coming over,Carrie. Get out of the house. Start heading towards my house. Don'tbother to drive. Just run -- don't protest, Damnit! GET OUT!"Carrie was silent."What's wrong!" I shouted. "Carrie!"This time her voice was incredibly soft. "He's back...""What?""Elijah, he's back...and I think he's coming in..."
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