THIRTY-TWO
Buck shoves the gun roughly into my back as he pushes me forwards, toward the Andrea Claire. I want to look back to see where Trevor is but when I try to turn around, Buck shoves me again.
I look around desperately as I walk onto the boat, Trevor at my side, but unfortunately, the guard is nowhere to be found. I slow down, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll reappear. But Buck, seeming to sense my desperation, shoves me forward even harder.
"Don't bother looking for Jose. He's off with his chick I hired to seduce him. He thinks he's pulling one over on the production, but I've been manipulating that whole situation from the beginning. I got him away from here when I wanted to. When I needed to come and search for that evidence on my own. "
"Great," I whisper. “Just great.”
We board the boat and he shoves me down the hall and into the master stateroom, where I left Phil a half an hour ago. He's no longer lying on the floor but is now sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.
When he hears us come in, he looks up.
"Sup?" he mumbles, blinking blearily in our general direction. Phil is clearly NOT picking up on the urgency of the situation. "Hey, is that a prop gun?" he asks.
Buck shakes his head and points the gun towards the bed. A signal for me to go join Phil on the other side of the room.
"Nope," is all Buck says in response.
I obediently go to take a seat near Phil. And Trevor curls up by my feet.
"What's going on?" Phil says quietly to me as I sit down beside him. He sounds slightly more concerned now.
"Buck is Hugh Baker," I answer in a surprisingly normal sounding voice. "He killed his whole family back when he was young. Your father, Duke, never hurt anyone. It turns out that Buck - or Hugh Baker - made the whole story up about your dad being the killer. Because no one ever appreciated him enough."
Buck picks up on my snarky tone and shoots me a look.
Phil, next to me on the bed sits silently, trying to take it all in.
"My father never hurt anyone?" he asks, his voice breaking.
I shake my head. “No. He was the hero.”
"But how could you know that?"
"I know it," I say. "I found the evidence."
"It's true," Buck adds waving his gun impatiently. "Now would both of you shut up while I figure out how to play this."
He looks around the room, squinting in thought. And even now - as he's about to kill me - I can't help but feel that this whole situation somehow fictional. I feel more like I'm in a movie, rather than about to be murdered. Or at least I do until Buck interrupts my train of the thought with words that make my blood run cold.
"I think a fire would be best. I'll tie you up and let you die in a fire," he says, pointing the gun at me. "And of course, I’ll blame it all…” He points the gun at Phil. “…On you."
Buck paces, thinking. "Yeah. Everyone'll think that you went crazy, just like your dear old dad. That you killed the girl who confronted you about your dark secret of being Duke's son. So you killed her then you killed yourself."
He smiles satisfied. "It's perfect. That tabloid guy will get the scoop on the whole story – since he already found out your big secret about Duke being your father. And of course you were also lurking around that the warehouse earlier, when I pushed that shelf down on him. So that’ll get blamed on you too..."
I gasp as I suddenly realize that Buck was the one who tried to kill Tony at the warehouse. Not Phil.
"Yeah," Buck smiles, seeing my reaction. "That was me too. I thought maybe that tabloid guy found out who I was. But I guess not. But better safe than sorry, y’know. Anyway, it worked out for me in the end. As usual. Here, lemme have your phones." He puts his hand out for me and Phil to give him our phones.
Phil reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone and hands it to Buck. Then I reach into my bag, ostensibly looking for my cell but quickly taking a peek inside for anything I could possibly use as a weapon.
Unfortunately, there's really nothing remotely dangerous in there. Unless you count a pack of gum, which is only deadly to bad breath germs.
Buck waves his gun impatiently and I hand him the phone. He looks at both of them deep in thought, then types a text message into Phil's phone, composing it aloud as he types: "Arden. I'd like to talk to you about the ghost on the boat. I have a new screenplay idea about the story. Meet me at the Andrea Claire tonight at 11PM. Phil."
When he's done with that, he hits, send, at which point my phone dings to alert me that I have a new message.
"Oh look!" Buck says in a high pitched girlie voice that's obviously supposed to be me. "I just got a new text!"
He presses a button on my phone to read the text he just sent me from Phil's phone, then he acts all girlie as he starts composing a response aloud.
"Sure thing, Phil!" he answers giddily. "I'll be there at 11PM! With bells on!"
"That sounds nothing like me," I say as he sends the message from my phone to Phil’s. "I would never say 'with bells on'.”
"Nevertheless," Buck says in his own, low voice. "These texts will explain why you were both on the boat when it caught fire. Phil lured you out here with promises of a script collaboration. And then, when you got here, he killed you. Then he killed himself. "
"But no one'll believe that!" I say, panicking. "Everyone knows I hate to collaborate!"
Which is true as far it goes - but it's pretty unlikely that anyone, especially Buck, would care.
"And yet, that's the scenario we're going with," Buck says with the authority of a seasoned actor/producer. Which of course, he is. He glances around the room, squinting at various items until his eyes come to rest on the curtains that are hanging over the window on the far wall. He goes over and rips them down, along with the curtain-pulls which are made of a thin rope.
Then, tossing the rope at Phil, he tells him to tie my wrists and feet, which Phil proceeds to do.
"And make it tight," Buck instructs him. "I'll be checking your work and if it's not nice and tight...you'll pay."
Phil gives me apologetic look as he winds the rope more tightly around my wrists.
Buck lights a cigarette and nods approvingly as he watches. "Yeah," he muses aloud. "It'll be a pretty sad story. But it'll probably bring a lot of publicity to our film. Though of course, after this tragedy we might just have to scrap the whole production. Indefinitely. But who knows? Maybe I'll make another movie about the haunted movie set." He smiles and shoots me a look. “Though I doubt it. I really prefer action adventure."
I shoot him a dirty look as Phil goes to work on my ankles. As Phil does, I notice that his eyes are moving in a strange and pointed fashion. So I look over to where he seems to be motioning. And just peeking out from the corner of the bed, is the broken, jagged bottle that Phil came into the room with earlier.
Phil keeps sneaking peeks at it as he works on my ankles and I wonder if there's some way I can distract Buck. Something that would allow Phil to grab it without being seen.
I'm frantically trying to think of something, when Buck motions with his gun. "That's good enough, Phil. Sit back down."
Phil hesitates, then he gives me a look and goes to sit next to me on the bed.
So much for our one way out.
Buck comes over and reaches into the pocket of his expensively distressed leather jacket and pulls out a vial of pills.
"Here," he says as he drops the container into Phil's hands. "You take these. Thanks to your recent rehab stint, no one'll doubt you got back on the pills and booze. Or that you took too many and OD'd on them."
Phil looks at the pills and hesitates.
Buck cocks his gun. "Look. If you don't take 'em, I'll just shoot you and make it look like suicide by gun. Your choice."
Phil frowns. He blinks away tears. Then with no other options, he nods and takes a pill and swallows it down.
"Faster!" Buck says motioning with his gun. "Just swallow all of 'em at once!"
My heart sinks as I come to the conclusion that there is really no way out of this horrible situation. This is all really happening.
Phil starts swallowing a few pills at a time but in his nervousness, he drops the vial. Buck curses as Phil reaches down and starts grabbing them up from the floor.
I'm frantic as I try to think of something, anything, to help us out of this predicament.
But I'm at a loss. I know it's useless to beg for our lives. After all - it wasn't that long ago that Buck covered his tracks by killing his entire family. So I'm pretty sure compassion isn’t one of his stronger suits.
"Will you at least let Trevor out of here," I say, looking at my little mutt who's now curled peacefully on the floor, completely unaware of what's about to happen.
Buck doesn’t answer. He’s ignoring me as he watches Phil swallow down the rest of the pills.
"Please. Buck, would you just let Trevor out. You like Trevor. Remember?"
Buck rolls his eyes and goes to the door. "Fine," he says. He stalks over to the door. "Out, Trevor!" He points out toward the hall.
Trevor looks at him and then puts his head back down.
"Go, Trevor!" I say. "Go. Now!"
Trevor, as usual, ignores me. But in an act of surprising kindness, Buck comes over and scoops up Trevor into his arms. Then he walks to the door and drops him out into the corridor.
As he does, he looks away for a moment and, seeing my chance, I bend down and try to grab the jagged bottle at my feet. But with my tied-up hands, I have trouble grasping it and keeping my balance.
I nearly fall off the bed, but I manage to sit back up, just as Buck closes the door and turns to face me.
"Really?" he says, coming over and grabbing the broken bottle out of my hands. "That's the thanks I get for saving your dog?" He throws the bottle against the wall and it shatters with a loud crash. I flinch at the sound.
"You know I could just open the door and let him right back inside, right. Right?” Buck looks at me as though I’m an idiot.
"Right, I know,” I say, chastened. “Buck, please don't. I'm sorry.”
Buck looks back towards the door where Trevor is now whimpering and scratching frantically, trying to get back inside.
"Please, Buck," I say again. “Don’t.” I'm on the verge of tears.
Buck rolls his eyes and pats his jacket pocket. Then he pulls out a cigarette and lights it and the danger appears to have passed. For Trevor anyway.
For Phil and me, things are looking more dangerous than ever.
Lucky Phil, he seems oblivious to it - he appears pretty woozy on the bed next to me. While I look around, stuck.
There really doesn't seem like there's any way out of this.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I consider screaming as I watch Buck look around as though deciding what to do next.
His eyes are narrowed as he studies the pile of stuff from the cubby hole: the sketchpad, the flare gun and the Polaroids.
He goes over to it and picks up the sketch pad and flips through it. Then he starts ripping the pages out of it and crumpling them up. He tosses them on the floor in a pile along with the old Polaroids. Then he takes the curtains and he adds that to the pile as well.
When he has a nice big flammable mass, he picks up the flare gun and studies it. Then he nods and looks over at me.
"Well, ciao," he says. "I wish this could've ended differently. But then again... " He gives me a cute movie star wink and smile. “That’s showbiz."
He heads to the cabin door and pulls it open. But before stepping outside, he takes the flare gun and aims it at the pile of flammable material.
He pulls the trigger.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
There's an immediate explosion of blue smoke and flames.
I scream.
My heart is racing and it sinks in that I’m really about to die. And that I never got to say goodbye to Gabriel.
I struggle to stand but I’m tied too tightly.
I look around frantically, as smoke fills the room but I can’t figure a way out.
Across the room, through the smoke, Buck is just about to step through the open door into the hallway. But the door, seemingly on its own, slams shut in his face.
He pulls at it, trying to get it open again. But it won't budge.
I start coughing madly and blinking away tears. My eyes are burning like crazy.
"Help!" I scream, even though I know there's no one to hear me. "Help!"
I look over to Phil who's blissfully unconscious on the bed.
"Phil! Wake up! Wake up!" I see a pitcher of water nearby, and try to reach it. I'm pulling as hard as I can, the ropes around my wrist and ankles are too tight. I'm stuck.
Everything is happening so fast and I'm so busy focusing on my own survival that it takes me a moment to realize that Buck is still stuck with us in the room.
"Buck! Put out the fire!" I scream, unable to loosen the ropes around my hands.
"Screw that!" he screams as he keeps pulling on the cabin door, trying to get out. "And screw you!"
"You'll never get it open!" I say. "It's the ghost! He's locking you in! He's going to kill you!"
Buck looks at me, startled. It seems to dawn on him that I might be telling the truth. He looks at the fire, then he curses under his breath and grabs the pitcher of water and dumps it onto the fast growing flames.
It tamps them down a little, causing, if anything, even more smoke. But the fire isn't completely out and my guess is it won't take too long to start raging again.
I tug at the ropes again, even harder this time...and strangely, after a moment, I feel them give way.
I look around, puzzled. "Thanks Duke," I call out.
I'm now able to loosen the bonds on my ankles and stand up and I quickly go over to Phil and try to wake him up. I slap his cheeks and turn his head. "Phil. Wake up! Wake up!"
He comes to, sort of. Enough to recognize me at least. "Arden?" he says blearily. Then he vomits onto the bed next to him.
"Phil! Get up,” I scream. “We have to get out of here now!"
I start pulling him up and though he stumbles, he is able to lean on me enough so that we can start walking across the floor.
We make our way through the smoke to the door, but Buck is still in front of it, trying to pull it open.
I look around for something to hit him over the head with. I could grab the drawer out of the nightstand and use that. But to do that, I'd have to let go of Phil who is hardly secure on his feet.
I still consider doing it, when just then, Buck gives the door an extra hard jerk and it flies open, sending him careening backwards across the room and right into the live fire.
I don't take time to look back and see how he is. Instead I pull and cajole Phil out of the room and out into the hall. The two of us, along with Trevor, race down the smoke-filled corridor and out onto solid ground.
We're all just catching our breath outside on the pavement - when I hear a rumbling sound. I look back to watch...as the entire boat explodes into flames.
CHAPTER FORTY
The fire trucks and ambulances arrive not long after. I’m fine but I let them take me (and Trevor) to the hospital anyway.
After a quick once over by an emergency doctor, I am deemed well enough to go visit Phil who is recovering well from the smoke inhalation and pills (Most of which he threw up on his own. Some of which were pumped out by the ER doctor.)
Phil tells me that his next script might be the true, true, true story of the Andrea Claire. Or on the other hand, it might not. He says he doesn’t need the world to know what really happened – he’s just happy to know that his dad wasn’t the monster he always thought he was.
“Well, he certainly saved us,” I say. “I think it was your dad’s ghost that helped untie me. So that I could save you, probably.”
Phil blinks back tears and nods. “Do you think that he can finally find some rest now?
I look out to see that the s
un is coming up on a new day. “I hope so.” I say. “I think so.”
I look at Phil through narrowed eyes. “Though actually, there might be one more thing we should do. Something I think your dad would like."
“Yeah?” Phil asks, sitting up. “What’s that?”.
“As soon as you’re out of here, I’ll show you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
It doesn’t take long for them to release Phil, and before long we’re on the road in my car, on our way to Santa Monica.
“The Chocolate Café?” he asks as we walk onto the outdoor patio. Trevor is tugging at the leash, eager to arrive first at his favorite spot in the whole world.
We take a seat and are waited on by Elizabeth, the daughter of Anabella Klee, who remembers me from last time. Or at least she remembers Trevor, who she welcomes warmly.
After Phil and I order, he looks around puzzled and says, “So why here? What deep dark truth are we going to discover at the Chocolate Café?”
“Hopefully it won’t be so dark,” I tell him, as I wave to Anabella inside. She waves back and comes outside to join us on the patio.
“Hi, Arden,” she says to me, but the whole time, her eyes are focused on Phil. In fact, she can’t seem to look away. “So you’re Phil?” she finally says.
He nods, then looks at me even more puzzled.
“I called Anabella while you were still in the hospital,” I tell him. “I explained to her that Duke, your father, wasn’t the bad man that everyone always believed him to be.”
Anabella nods, tears forming in her eyes.
“You’re Anabella Klee?” Phil says, finally understanding. He looks over at me. “So you brought me here to meet someone who actually knew my father?”
“It’s more than that,” Anabella says softly, answering the question herself. “Arden brought you here to meet your sister. Well…your half sister, I guess.”
She motions inside to her daughter who I now see is sitting at one of the tables on the side of the restaurant. “I finally told her all about her father,” Anabella says teary eyed. “I never understood how Duke could have gone from being so wonderful to being a killer. And now I understand…that he never did.”
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