7th Heaven

by Kate Calloway

  "Don't you ever touch her!" Guy shouted, slamming his fist into Newt's gut.

  Newt doubled over, gasping for breath. "What the fuck! This isn't my fault!"

  "Sure it is," Cathwaite said, struggling to keep Ginny from rushing Newt again. "If it wasn't for you, Newt, we wouldn't be here."

  "Bullshit! She's the one who wanted to kill Buck. And me! You heard them," he said, trying a last-minute appeal on Booker, who still stood with his back to the door, his right hand hovering near his holster. Newt's usually sleepy eyes were frantic.

  "Yep. I sure did," Booker said. "Heard you attacked Tommy Green, too."

  Newt's eyes widened, like those of a cornered animal. Then he did something I had dreaded. He pulled his gun.

  "What? You're gonna shoot me, Newt?" Booker asked, blocking the door.

  "If I have to, Tom. These guys have framed me and I'm not takin' the fall for them. Now move aside."

  "You walk out that door with a drawn gun and there's gonna be bloodshed, Newt. A half-dozen of Kings Harbor's finest are waiting right outside the door."

  "Nice try, Tom. You should know that as a gambler, I don't bluff easy," he said, starting to pace.

  "He's telling the truth, Sheriff," Cathwaite said. "He'd just as soon kill you as not. I'm afraid your deputy's a good old-fashioned sociopath. We should've seen it sooner. None of us would be here if we had."

  "No way!" Newt said, swinging the gun around to point at Cathwaite. "You're not going to stand there and pin everything on me. You guys were pulling this shit before I ever came along! It wasn't me who started those fires. That was Hawk! And Stickwell's little bribery episodes, proving which men's wives would screw him for money! Tell me that wasn't crossing the line, Professor."

  "Shut up, Newt." The usual spark in Cathwaite's eyes had gone dead. By now, all seven members of the gaming club looked stricken. The others in the room had moved all the way to the front of the room, away from Newt's gun. Only the Bailey boys, Lizzie and Erica were trapped in the back, standing near Booker.

  Newt waved the gun in their direction, then turned his attention back to Cathwaite, his tone suddenly sarcastic. "And your lovely wife, Professor. I bet the file's still open on her dear old missing daddy! Bet her little brother could tell us where the parts are buried, couldn't you, Guy? But you don't mind living with a couple of murderers, huh, Professor? As long as you get to enjoy the inheritance?"

  "Get him!" Ginny screamed. I wasn't sure if this was directed at Guy or Cathwaite. Both of them stood stock-still, their faces mottled with anger as Newt's gun wavered between the gaming club members.

  Time to put down the gun, Newt," Booker said. Hancock looked around the room frantically. "Too many witnesses," Booker said, reading his mind. "You can't kill us all."

  Slowly, Newt's shoulders slumped and he turned the gun in his hand so that the butt faced outward, then held it out for Booker. Booker stepped forward to retrieve it, and as he did, Newt made a sound in the back of his throat, kicked out at Booker's gun hand, then wheeled around and pointed his gun right at Erica.

  "They're not gonna shoot me, long as I can shoot you first, right?" He pulled her against him and pressed the barrel to her temple.

  "Don't do this, Newt. You're in enough trouble as it is," Booker said. He clutched his right hand but managed to mask the pain from his voice.

  "That's kind of the point, ain't it, Sheriff? Come on, darlin'. You and me are going for a ride."

  He opened the door and looked straight into the face of my best friend, Martha Harper. Behind her stood half a dozen uniformed cops. Their guns were drawn, but when they saw the gun to Erica's head, nobody moved. Beyond the line of cops, several media vans were parked, their video cams and microphones pointed right at Newt.

  Newt blinked at the cameras, momentarily shaken before he regained his composure. "Put 'em away, boys. Uh, you too, ma'am. I know you don't want to make me have to shoot her."

  Slowly, one by one, the officers holstered their guns and my stomach lurched. I couldn't believe that things had gotten so out of hand. And now Erica was in the middle of it! Suddenly, there was a blur beside me and before I knew what was happening, Buck Bailey was hurtling across the room, his body slamming into Newt's with such force that the floor shook when they landed.

  "Let her go!" he shouted over and over, pummeling Newt with his fists, landing furious blows to the face and chest. Newt, whose gun had skittered across the floor, was no match for Buck's fury. He held his hands up to ward off the blows until Booker, Martha and another cop finally managed to pull Buck away. Erica, who'd been knocked down, got shakily to her feet.

  "You have the right to remain silent," Martha said, hooking the handcuffs onto Newt's wrists. The uniformed cops filed into the room and approached the other six players warily, their guns drawn. Behind them, the news crews crowded into the room.

  "It was just a game!" Hawk pleaded to no one in particular as the cops approached him. One of them stepped forward and showed him the metal handcuffs.

  "Yeah? Well, it looks like you lost, ass-bite."

  "What am I being charged with? I demand to know the charges!" the banker insisted, though his tone didn't hold much conviction.

  "How about conspiracy to commit murder, for starters?" Martha said. "We've got at least fifty people, not to mention eight police officers and two news stations that just heard you jokers conspire to murder Buck Bailey. And I've got a feeling we'll be able to add to those charges real soon."

  "Yeah!" one of the PTA ladies yelled from across the room. "How about conspiracy to ruin a person's life!"

  There was a shocked pause, then someone started to clap. It was a strange reaction, I thought, but the next thing I knew, everyone had joined in, applauding in a steadily increasing cadence until the room sounded like a football stadium. I looked back at them, and realized they were clapping for Buck.

  We watched the seven of them being led away, the camera crews getting it all on tape. Erica took my hand.

  "We did it!" she said.

  "Buck did it," Bart said, smiling at his brother who was still splattered with Newt's blood. He had an odd look on his face, almost peaceful, I thought.

  "That was kind of close," I said. "But thanks."

  "Hey. The dude's an asshole." He smiled at Erica and I recognized the look. It was the same one the seven-year-old in the picture had given his little sister.

  Booker came back inside wearing a strange expression. "Well, the bad news is we won't be able to get Newt on murder charges."

  "Why not?" Lizzie asked.

  " 'Cause," he said, breaking into a grin. "I just got a call from the hospital. Tommy's awake."

  Tommy was actually sitting up, sipping a cup full of ice chips and complaining about the fact that no one would bring him any real food. He looked pale, and the bandage around his head made him seem smaller somehow. But his grin was unchanged and his eyes crinkled with mischief.

  "Guess I had you all a little worried, huh?"

  "Nah, we knew you'd pull out of it," Booker said, feigning indifference.

  Tommy, disappointed, looked at me. "Bet you was worried."

  "Who me? Never doubted you for a minute."

  "Ah, come on now. They said I been out over a week. Coulda died, they said."

  Erica took Tommy's hand and gave it a squeeze. "They're lying, kiddo. We were all worried, okay?"

  "Oh." He looked around the room for confirmation, still a little confused. The doctor had said he might not remember things, that it might take a while before he regained all of his memory. But Tommy seemed to be doing pretty well, as far as I could tell. The nurse said that when he came to, the first thing out of his mouth was "Newt's in on it! Him and Buck!"

  It had taken a lot of talking to convince him that there never had been any gold, that the whole thing had been a game.

  "I don't get it, he said, scratching at the bandage on his head."

  "That's okay, Tommy," Booker said. "Neither do we."


  Tommy closed his eyes as if the effort of thinking it through were too much for him.

  "We should go," Rosie whispered. She took Booker's hand and started for the door.

  "Hey!" Tommy said, opening his eyes suddenly. "Who was the big winner in that chowder contest, anyway?"

  Rosie smiled, her dark eyes glowing with pride.

  "Well, Tommy," Booker said, putting his arm around Rosie. "My beautiful wife here got the blue ribbon. But I'd have to say the real winner was Cass." He winked at Erica.

  Tommy looked confused again, but Erica helped him out. She leaned over and kissed me tenderly on the cheek.

  "For once the sheriffs got it wrong, Tommy," Erica said. "I was the real winner."

  "Huh?" he said. And a minute later, "Oh." And then a smile, a truly radiant, Tommy Green smile. "I get it. Cool."

  Epilogue

  They were all at my place; the Bailey brothers, Booker and Rosie, Martha and Tina, Tommy, Lizzie and, of course, Erica. Bart had the barbecue going, promising a repeat performance of his carne asada and Rosie, after much begging on our part, had made her famed chili rellenos. Even Buck had insisted on springing for the beer and was doing his fair share of consuming it out on the deck.

  "I still say we got lucky," Booker said. "If they hadn't started ratting on each other, all we'd have is the tape."

  "Which, given the strings these guys can pull, a judge would probably rule inadmissible," Martha said.

  "How'd you know they'd turn on each other?" Booker asked. It was another beautiful day, one of the last of summer. We were lounging on the front deck, sipping Coronas with lime, watching the sailboats race around the tip of the island.

  "Something in the professor's book," I explained. "He said we're all predictable. That we are slaves to our weaknesses. Well, I figured out that the one weakness these guys had in common wasn't just their greed. It was their compulsion to win. And if they couldn't win, then they'd want to make sure no one else did either."

  "So they took each other down with them," Erica said, nodding.

  "Tanya Harding would've fit into their group real nicely," Martha said, laughing.

  "The whole thing seems so devious," Rosie said, shaking her head. "Betting on human beings."

  "Oh, I don't know. I can see how it could become addictive."

  They looked up at me and I laughed.

  "Okay, I confess. Just before I showed the film, I made a little bet with Erica. She said Newt would be the first one to lose it, and I said it would be Ginny Cathwaite."

  "So who won?" Tommy asked.

  "We both did," Erica said, smiling.

  "What did you bet?"

  Suddenly, Erica blushed and changed the subject.

  "So did Ginny Cathwaite really kill her father?" she asked Martha.

  "It sure looks like it. Once Newt knew we had him cold on Tommy, he was eager to take Guy and Ginny down, too. It seems Guy made the mistake of bragging about it to Newt. According to Newt, their old man was loaded and they didn't feel like waiting for their share of the inheritance. Anyway, the one person that surprises me in all this is the professor."

  "How so?" Rosie asked.

  "You'd think he'd do everything he could to protect them, but he actually seems eager to cooperate."

  "That doesn't surprise me," I said. "If Guy and Ginny go to jail, guess who's left with the money?"

  "So he just gets off scot-free?" Rosie asked. "What about his conspiring to kill Buck? And Newt?"

  Martha shrugged. "You know how hard it's going to be to get a conviction on conspiracy charges? A good lawyer will just say it was another game."

  "Exactly," I said. "They can claim the whole thing was an act, that they knew all along they were being taped. They can say they were betting on how we would react—just another round of Seventh Heaven."

  "Well, at least they won't be playing that game in our town anymore," Lizzie said. "Even if they do go free, they won't be welcome around here."

  "Which one of 'em was putting up them bandanas and notes?" Buck wanted to know. Without the perpetual scowl, he didn't look so scary, I thought. In fact, the nose rings were starting to grow on me.

  "Hawk and Guy took turns," Booker said. "Hawk couldn't wait to tell us all the details. You ever notice how some guys, once they're caught, just have to get it off their chest? Anyway, he says Guy put up the first two, then he put up the next two, then Guy did the last one. He says they made it like a treasure hunt. One of the bets they had going was how long you'd keep looking before you figured out it was all a joke."

  "Real funny," Buck said. "Wait a minute. That's five. Three for Guy and two for the Hawk dude. Are you sure that's what he said?"

  "I'm positive, Buck. I've got it written down somewhere. Plus it's on cassette tape. What's the matter?"

  Buck had stood up and started pacing the deck. Beads of sweat stood out on his shiny pate. Then he started to laugh.

  "What's up, bro?" Bart asked, looking worried.

  "Dude! Ah, man. I'm gonna kill myself!"

  "What?" Bart stood too.

  "I'm a fucking idiot, is all. Sorry, ma'am," he said to Rosie. "Jesus, what a fucking idiot!"

  "What?" Booker and I asked together.

  "Damn! When I found out the whole thing was nothing but a joke, I tore up those notes and trashed them."

  "So?" Bart prompted.

  "So! There were six notes, man, counting the one Tommy took. Six! Not five. Don't you see!"

  "You're saying you think one of them was real?" Tommy asked, his eyes lighting up.

  The whole group fell silent, thinking about it.

  "Wait a minute!" Bart said. "It's Saturday!" He started running down the ramp.

  "Where are you going?" Tommy yelled, right on his heels.

  "It's trash day. Come on. Maybe we can get there in time!"

  "Oh, boy, here we go again," I said, watching the three of them jump into Tommy's boat and roar across the water.

  "So much for the carne asada," Lizzie said, laughing.

  "You don't think for a second he found the real note?" Martha asked.

  "I don't even want to think about it. Anyone ready for a beer?" I walked inside to the kitchen and Martha followed me.

  "So what did you two bet anyway?" she asked, grinning.

  "Hmm?" I said, hiding my face in the refrigerator.

  Erica came in and caught Martha's question.

  "Whatever it was," she said, winking at Martha before taking me in her arms, "we plan on taking a long, long time to pay it off."