SevenFold

Chapter 1 – Sealix

October 2012

I was working behind the bar my twin brother left for me after he was murdered.  It was a Thursday night.  Samantha and Chrissy were right there with me.  The place was packed, and we were having trouble keeping up.  I was anyway.  It never seemed to bother the guys when the ladies took their time getting them beers.  They’re both way better to look at than I am.

I was planning on scooting early so I could wake up and do a little bow hunting in the morning, but I wasn’t sure I had the heart to leave the girls alone. 

That’s when Jake Chambliss opened the back door and let his red-headed wife Ainsley Reed make her entrance.  As soon as Jake walked in, the bar got louder.  He didn’t tell me he was coming, and my initial reaction was, oh crap, something must be up.  I had a bad feeling I would not be going hunting. 

I was working as his apprentice and partner in our booming private investigation business.  His wife Ainsley was still working as an independent investigative reporter, and a lot of times, we all worked together.  She’d stumble onto some under-reported story and get us to join her crusade for justice.  Nonetheless, I didn’t expect they’d be in town.  While the business was booming after our repeated successes – and those were only the ones people knew about – it had been quiet for at least a week.  We’d been getting small cases since the summer.  Enough to pay the bills without risking our lives like we had to in the summer when the Dragon Devils motorcycle club crossed our path.  They were a vicious bunch of ne’er-do-wells, but that was the kind of case we didn’t get to talk about.

Jake and his new bride made their way through the crowd to the bar.  Chrissy had two beers ready.  Over Chrissy’s head, I asked him, “What’s up?”  He knew it wasn’t just a greeting.  He shook his head to blow off my question.

“That bad?” I responded.

He shook his head quicker and faster to say, not now.  It must be bad.

He set his hand on Sam Sealix’s shoulder.  Sam Sealix turned and shook Jake’s hand without a smile.  Jake asked me to follow them to my office.  It was in the kitchen next to the friers and grill.  Pacho was manning them a little later than normal because people were still ordering food. 

I said hi to Sealix earlier, but he didn’t seem to be in any mood to talk.  He was there alone and looked to be drinking away whatever was bothering him.  I know the type and know it’s best to leave them alone.  Sometimes a man needs to drink in peace.  He wasn’t a regular, but Jake and I played football with him when we were kids.  He was a defensive tackle, so we played against him in practice.  Jake and I were my brother Cash’s main receivers.  Cash was the golden arm.  But when he was murdered while he and I were playing our stupid annual life-switch game, I decided to take on his life.  I became Cash Cutler, and as far as anyone else knew, Curt Cutler was murdered, along with his wife Callie. 

There were several reasons I didn’t admit that I was Curt, but it was primarily because I’d be blamed for murdering my brother.  That and if the people trying to kill me knew they killed my brother instead, they’d be back for another helping of Cutler blood.  Since Jake and I were already the main suspects, we said what was needed to stay out of jail to solve the crime to stay out of jail, and that began our partnership in crime solving. 

It also changed my life.  I was no longer just the president of a bank with a cushy office and a daily plate load of other people’s headaches.  I became the owner of a bar who lived in the house my parent’s left for my brother and a man who was regularly thrust into life-or-death situations involving gunfire, explosives and an inevitable slew of dead bad guys.  I am no longer even able to count how many men I’ve killed.  It might not sound like a big thing, but it tends to keep a man up at night.  Delivering death, even when it’s a righteous gift, isn’t an easy thing to do.

I left the bar in Sam and Chrissy’s hands to follow Jake into the kitchen.  Pacho had burgers sizzling and fries crisping.  The smoke was rushing into the hood above the grill.  He and Jake exchanged pleasantries before we entered my office and closed the door.  Ainsley stayed at the bar.

Jake offered Sealix my office chair and took a seat on the couch.  I took the end closer to the door.  “Sealix gave me a call and asked for a meeting,” Jake announced as I was taking my seat.  His name was Sam, but everybody always called him Sealix.  It was a cool name, and it was appropriate.  Sealix was a tough dude on the field and off.  He was a good guy.  At least back when we were kids.

“How are you buddy?”

“Not good,” Sealix answered.

“That’s not what you said earlier.”  He said he was fine when I was behind the bar.

“Yeah, well…”

Jake broke in, “Jeez, Cash.  This isn’t an interrogation.  His brother just died.”

“Oh…  Really?  Sorry to hear that.  What happened?”

“That’s just it,” Sealix said, “I don’t know.”

Jake and I waited for him to continue.

“They say he committed suicide.”

“Oh, man,” I said, “I’m sorry.”  Suicide’s terrible for everyone.  Some consider it a one-way trip to hell – the committing of murder without the time to repent.  It was considered so blasphemous in the old days, they buried those who committed suicide and those who were executed for murder at the crossroads with a stake in their heart.  These days, most folks are soft and no longer able to contemplate the possibility.  Me, I don’t know the truth but would never even consider it out of the fear of going right to hell.  I don’t doubt that we as a people were much more intelligent before we started storing everything we believe we need to know on our smartphones – the original artificial intelligence.

“That’s just it.  I don’t believe he committed suicide.  He had no reason to do it.”

“Did he leave a note?” Jake asked.

Sealix nodded.  “It was even in his own writing.  I just don’t believe it.”

“What was your brother’s name?” I asked.  I didn’t know him.  He was a bunch of years younger than we were.

“Graham.”

“Graham Sealix,” I said, “Cool name.  Not as cool as yours though.”

“Same as mine.  They called him Sealix.  My brother was a good man.  Married with two great kids.  There’s no way he’d-a done it.  I want to hire you to figure this out.”

He was grabbing for his wallet when Jake said, “Hold on.  There may be nothing to figure out.  I know what you’re saying, but what if he did commit suicide?”

“Then I want to know why.”

“What did his note say?”

“Nothing,” Sam said.  “It just said, I’m sorry, and he signed his name.”

“Sometimes that’s all a man can say,” I suggested.

“Yeah, but he signed his full name.  Even his middle initial.”

“Why you think that’s weird?” I asked.

“Too impersonal.  Gotta figure the note was for his wife Glenda, right?  What man would sign his full name in a note to his wife?  Especially after printing the note.  It was like he was signing a contract, ya know?  Like I’m signing away my life in exchange for something else.”

“You know what that might be?” I asked.

“No.”  Sam shook his head and lowered his face in sadness.

“How’d he do it?” Jake asked in a somewhat boorish way – my opinion anyway.

Sealix lifted his head, “Do what?”

“How’d he kill himself?”

“Does it matter?” I asked. 

“Yes,” Jake said.

“He shot himself with a pistol.”  Sealix was admitting he did it, but I wasn’t about to point that out.  Jake had already accused me of interrogating him.

“M-hmm.  Did they check it for prints?”

“Only his.”

“Where’d he do it?”

“In his study.  He was sitting at his desk.  The note was right in front of him.”

“Was his wife home when he did it?”

He shook his head.  “At work.”

“Was he supposed to be at work?”

Sealix nodded his head.  “Glenda said he even went in that morning.  He must have come home after she left.  The kids were at school.”

“Did the kids discover the body?”

“No.  She did.  The kids had practice after school.”

“Thank God,” I said.

“It didn’t matter.  They came home to discover their mother crying next to Graham’s body.”

“That’s devastating,” I said, “I’m so sorry.”

“What did your brother do?”

“I just told you, but I don’t think he did it.”

“I mean as a job,” Jake clarified.

“He was a pharmacist.”

“Where?”

“Outside of Niagara Falls.  On Military.  It’s a small local pharmacy.”

“Uh-huh.  Where does he live?  Did he live?”  Jake corrected himself. 

“Up on 31, over by Niagara Wheatfield.”  He meant Niagara Wheatfield School.  It was another large central school district a little northwest of Starpoint, where the three of us went to school.  Route 31 went from Niagara Falls to at least Albany, mostly along the path of the Erie Canal just south of Lake Ontario.  Routes 104 and 31 skirt all the towns built up when they were digging the Erie Canal in the early 1800s – 104 to the north and 31 to the south.

“What did the police say?”

“Nothing.  To them, there’s no case.  They ruled it a suicide.  Aren’t even investigating.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah.  I begged them.  I told them there’s no way he committed suicide.”

“What did they say?”

“They said the coroner ruled it a suicide.  Nothing they can do, blah, blah, blah.”

“Why you so sure he didn’t do it?” Jake asked.

“I know my little brother.  He didn’t do it.  He loved his wife, and he loved his kids.  There’s no way he did it.”

“What does his wife believe?”

“She thinks I’m crazy, but she’s just emotional.  She thinks he did it and wants me to leave it alone.”

“Why you think that is?  How was their marriage?”

“Fine…  I think.  No, it was fine.  He’d’ve told me otherwise.”

“You that close with your brother?”

“Yeah.  Pretty close.”

“Why’s his wife think differently than you?” Jake asked.

“Don’t know that she does, really.  She’s just shook.  Doesn’t want complications, I imagine.”

“Maybe she knows something you don’t,” Jake suggested.

“Yeah, maybe, but…”  He quit speaking.

“But what?  Finish your thought,” Jake demanded.

“I gotta follow my gut.”

“That’s not what you were about to say.”  Jake was good at reading people.

“What do you mean?” Sealix asked.

Jake prodded further, “You sound like you’re holding back.  What is it?”

Sealix looked down and didn’t answer.

“You gotta tell us,” Jake persisted.  “You think someone else pulled that trigger?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I just don’t believe he’d do it.”

“What were you about to tell us?  He have a drug problem?”

Sealix’s eyes looked as if that were offensive, “No, nothing like that.  My brother never did drugs.  Never even smoked weed.”

“Ok, what aren’t you telling us?”

Sealix looked down again to avoid the question.  We waited until he finally lifted his chin.  “Three days after he died, I got a letter from him in the mail.”  He put his head back down.

“What did it say?” I asked because he was so cryptic.

“It said, ‘Take care of my family.’  It had a key in it.  Again, he signed his full name.  As if it was a message.  Why’d he sign his full name?  It was addressed to me.  He was trying to tell me something.  I know it.”

“A key to what?”

“A metal box he left for me under his tool bench in his garage.  That was in the note.  Nothing else.”

“What was in the box?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know.”

“The box missing?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t checked.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to tell Glenda her husband sent me a note before he died and that I have to check it out.  I don’t know why he didn’t bother to leave it for her.  It’s like a message that he was trying to tell me he didn’t do this but knew it was happening.  Or something like that.  I don’t know.  Honestly, I’m kind of afraid to look.”

“Cool it, man.  You aren’t afraid to look.  What’s this about?” Jake demanded.

“I don’t know.  I didn’t really want to tell you about it because I know I should check it.  I’ve been afraid of what I’m gonna find.  Didn’t want to admit it.”

“That’s more understandable.  You’re afraid you might discover he really did commit suicide.”

“Yeah, maybe.  But…”

“But nothing.  Let’s go check it out,” Jake said.

“Right now?”

“Can you get in there?”

“It’s late.  I don’t want to worry his wife and wake up the kids.”

“Ok.  Let’s do it tomorrow.  Is Glenda back at work yet?”

“I think so.  It’s been hard on her, but I don’t think she’s staying home anymore.  Not sure though.”

“Either way.  We should check it out.  We’ll go tomorrow.  You available, Cash?”

“Yeah.  I’m going hunting in the morning, but I’ll be good after ten or eleven.  I should probably get showered.”

“Yeah, you should,” Jake pointed out, “you’ll be ripe by seven.”

“I’ll call you if I have to harvest a deer though.”

“You ain’t getting a deer tomorrow.  Too freakin’ warm.”

“Don’t mean a thing.  They’ve been grazing on the north field every morning.”

“Why haven’t you gotten one then?” 

“Too far for a bow.”

“Heh.  Sure.  You haven’t even been out there.  Too early for you.  You probably won’t even get up tomorrow.”

“You want to join me?” I asked.

“Nah.  I’m going to sleep.  I’ll wait until it’s cooler.  The season’s just started.”

“At least you’re honest.  I’m getting up.”

“Yeah, whatever.  How’s noon then?  That’ll give Cash time to harvest the deer in his morning dreams.”

“That’s a lot of big talk.  Noon’s fine.  Meet at my house.  You remember where I live, right Sealix?”

“At your folks’ house?”

“That one.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there at noon then.  So, you’re taking the job?” Sealix asked.

“Don’t know there is a job yet, but we’ll see what’s in that box.  Might lead to something.  Let’s play it by ear.  I ain’t taking your money yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Fair enough.  Thanks for doing this.”

“Don’t thank me yet.  If all we’re doing is looking at a box, that’s no big deal.  You got a key to the house?”

“Nun-uh.  Figured you’d know how to get in there.”

“Yeah, maybe.  They have a security system?”

“No.  Just figured you’d know how to get through the lock.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem then.  As long as you’re alright with us breaking into her house.”

“I’m fine with it.  I don’t want Glenda to know about this box until I see what’s in it.  She’s not right yet.  You know?”

“I get it.  Let’s go have a drink.”

“Nah, I’m going to go home and call it a night,” Sealix said.  While he was happy we were with him, he was obviously depressed.

“I get it,” Jake said.  “Drive safe.  Tyler’s out there looking for drunk drivers.”  Tyler Graveline was the chief of police in Pendleton.  He also played football with us.

“I only had a few.  I’m fine.”

“Have a good night then.  See you tomorrow.”

“Knock ‘em down, Cash.”

“Plan on it,” I said.  I winked at Jake.

Sealix got up and left Jake and me in the office.  I reclaimed my desk chair and asked Jake what he thought.

“I think he committed suicide.  Don’t think there’s a job here, but Sealix isn’t ready to let his brother go.  We’ll check it out.  He’s our buddy.”

“Did you know he died?  I didn’t hear anything about it.”

“I didn’t either.  Not until he called me today.”

“When did it happen?”

“About two and a half weeks ago.”

“I had no idea.  That means he’s had that box waiting for him for about two weeks.  Jeez.”

“Yeah.  Let’s go get a drink.  My beer’s been empty for too long.”

“I’m working tonight.  The bar’s packed.”

“That your excuse for not getting up in the morning?  Already planning your excuse, huh?”

“I’m going hunting, man.  Come hell or high water, I’m hunting in the A-M.”

“Uh-huh,” he sighed dismissively as he left my office. 

“I am,” I protested and shut my office door.

“Bet you ten bucks you sleep in.”

“You’re on.”

The bar was still packed, but Sealix was gone by the time we were out of Pacho’s kitchen.  As much as Jake wanted someone to drink with him, other than his wife and everyone else, I took my place behind the bar.  That didn’t keep Jake from paying Chrissy and Sam to keep feeding me shots.  He spent way more than ten dollars on the drinks to get enough liquor in me to win the bet.  Knew I shouldn’t have taken the bet.  Jake’s a victory-at-all-costs kind of guy.  It didn’t matter though.  I was still getting up to go hunting.  I was going to be sitting in the north-field stand.  I built it out of wood years earlier.  I had a four-foot bench with a side rest upon which I could lean against and take a nap without worrying about falling out.  It was the only stand in the woods I felt comfortable sleeping in, and it just so happened to be next to a hay field where the deer like to graze at dawn and at dusk.  Unless there’s a ton of snow on the ground, it’s a great stand.

I finally got out of there by about midnight.  Ainsley drove Jake home about an hour earlier.  I left the bar to the girls for the last few hours.  I asked one of my buddies to take care of anyone that might get out of hand, but it wasn’t as if the girls didn’t have access to guns too. 

I probably should have gotten up at 5:30 or earlier, but I set the alarm for 6:00 to get an extra half hour.  I hit the snooze and was happy the headache Jake wanted me to have hadn’t quite set in.  The room was still spinning.  Not ideal.  As I rolled to the edge of the bed to sit up, A butt-naked Skylar freakin’ Meade stepped into my open doorway.

With her left leg crossed in front of her right, she was licking her smiling lips and holding the doorway up with her slender arms.  “I see you set the alarm for round two.  You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Curt.  I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, and tonight, you reminded me why.”  Her use of my real name brought back memories of the last several hours.  Memories I must have figured out how to repress while I slept – I can’t imagine there’d have been any sleep without some militant repression first.

The last time I saw Skylar Meade, she was handcuffed to her boyfriend Gino Esposito’s bar.  She’d just shot me on the edge of my abdomen.  She’d burned down my house, stolen a crapload of money from me and gone back to her coke-dealing borderline- mafioso-made-man boyfriend who’d just taken a bullet to the head after forcing me and Jake to deliver him the decapitated head of the leader of the Mexican cartel in exchange for the life of the son of the girlfriend of Ainsley’s dead brother, whom Gino had murdered.  We did a lot that day, trust me.  This was the last thing I told her.  I promised her that if I ever saw her again or she ever spoke my name again, I’d take her to the woods, tie her to a tree, gut her like a fish and let her watch the coyotes eat her alive.  Whether I believed it or not, I was sure she did.  Nevertheless, there she was, naked and ready for another romp.  I looked down to see if my boxers were there to protect me, but I was naked too.

That’s when I remembered the bet with Jake.  He was probably getting my ten bucks.  I had to take Skylar to a nice, secluded spot in the woods where she’d be able to die violently.  “Oh, hell, you ready?” I asked her.

“Hell yeah, stud.”  She immediately hopped at me to straddle my lap and knock me back on the bed where she proceeded to kiss me like she had no idea what I was talking about. 

Without kissing her back or even reacting to her lusty efforts, I gave her a moment to get a clue.  She finally did.  She lifted her head and asked me, “What’s wrong?  Don’t like being called Curt?”  That sent another chill through my body, as I remembered more of our conversation from earlier.

“That’s not it,” I admitted, “I told you what I was going to do if I ever saw you again.”

She looked at me as if she weren’t sure I was joking but hoped like heck I was.  When my serious look didn’t disappear, she said, “Quit it.  We talked about this.  I told you, I’m sorry.  I am.  I wasn’t myself.  Gino made me do all that coke.  It wasn’t me.  I’m sorry.  I’m still in love with you.  Like nothing else.  You loved me too.  Remember?  We talked about this.”

I did sort of remember, but I didn’t respond.

“Remember?”

“Yeah, well, I’m a man of my word.”

Chapter 2 – Want a Bite?

Two and a half weeks earlier

Drake was sick.  He was fifteen and needed the medicine, but he had no money.  Denton, the man who gave him a place to live and take care of, wanted him to pick the medicine up first.  He was such a prick, but Drake had no choice.  Denton would beat him if he didn’t do exactly what he was told to do.  The man even counted the pills to make sure Drake didn’t cheat.  Drake would have to wait until he delivered them to cure his sickness.  He hated the man but loved him at the same time.  Denton took care of him.  Much better than his own mother ever did.  Every once in a while, he thought about begging his mom for some of her pills, but he wanted nothing to do with her.  Last time he saw her, she knocked him out with a hammer to the head.  He preferred to live in Denton’s smelly little hellhole house.  Drake had no idea where Denton lived though.

He walked to the pharmacy counter at the back of the store.  Unfortunately, the boss was there.  Drake was too dope sick to come back later.  Even though he knew he should have turned around and left, he went to the counter.

“Can I help you?”

“Is Mr. Sealix in?”

“He no longer works here.  I can help you.”  Drake’s head began to sweat at that information.  He would have thrown up if he’d actually eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours, but his stomach was just as empty as every part of his body.  He was starving but couldn’t even eat if he wanted to.  The drug cravings were everything.

Drake stood there without a thing to say.  He didn’t even know what to say.  With sweat dripping to his brow, he realized he was kind of paralyzed.

“Wait a minute,” the boss said, “I recognize you from the tapes.  You’re the reason I had to fire Graham Sealix.”

Drake was no longer paralyzed.  His ripped Chuck Taylor sneakers with holes in the soles were slapping the tiles quicker than the boss could get out from behind the counter.  The man was yelling at him to stop, but he wouldn’t.  He barged through the front door and slammed into the little old lady trying to enter.  He didn’t have time to apologize.  He ran to the right and back behind the store.  There was a hole in the fence through which he escaped the parking lot to find himself in the trucking yard behind the store.  He saw many hiding spots but didn’t quit running.  He made his way through rows of empty trucking containers and to the hole in the fence on the other side of the yard.  That finally brought him into the neighborhoods.  He thought about doing something to score on the way back, but Denton was expecting him.  It didn’t matter how sick he was, he couldn’t let Denton down.  It wasn’t like there wouldn’t be something else to tide him over.  Denton was never fully dry.  He didn’t use himself.  He wanted it for his other hobbies. 

Drake finally made it to the back yard where Denton’s detached garage was located.  That garage smelled even worse than the house.  There were freezers, but that didn’t get rid of the putrid smell.  He went in through the back door.  It was covered in dirt.  Fat Denton probably hadn’t showered or shaved in days, but his stink didn’t even register compared to the real smell. 

“Did you get it?”

“No sir.  Mr. Sealix was fired.”

“Because of you?”  His voice was soft, like normal.

Drake nodded and lowered his head in shame.

“I told you this was going to happen.  You are always so careless.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Get in the chair.”

“Please no.  Please.  I’m so sick.  Please, sir.  No, please.”

“Now.”

Drake complied.  Denton proceeded to fasten the straps around Drake’s wrists, his ankles and then the one around his neck.  Drake hated these sessions.  One time, Denton forced him to sit there in his own poop for three days without food or water.  No medicine either.  It was the worst three days of Drake’s life, but when it was done, Denton was kind enough to give him medicine.  It could have ended so much worse.

This time though, things were different.  Denton didn’t berate him.  Instead, he put a tourniquet on his upper arm.  Not the kind you use before getting a shot.  It was the kind to cut off the blood flow entirely.  It hurt.

“What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing.  You messed up, boy.”

“Don’t do this, sir.  I will get you pills.”

“You had your chance.”  Denton put on his blood-stained apron and fired up his chainsaw.  At least the blood had already been cleaned off of it.

“Noooo,” Drake screamed as Denton sliced through his propped up left arm, right below the tourniquet.  The pain was excruciating, but so was his need for medicine.

Denton placed his arm on the chopping block next to the dirty sink.  Then he fixed a shot of medicine, which he put into the vein on Drake’s other arm.  “See, son.  I take care of you.  I love you boy, and pretty soon, you’ll be better than ever.  In the meantime, they’ll give you a prescription.”

The flush of divinity was all Drake craved.  His pain was relieved.  “Thank you, sir.”

“You hungry?”

“A little.”

Denton fileted the bicep out of the arm and sauteed it in butter, with onions and garlic.  He put it on a plate and took a bite.  “Mmm, you taste alright, boy.”  After a moment of chewing with his eyes closed, he swallowed.  “Want a bite?”

“Not really.”

“Here.”  Denton jammed a bite into Drake’s mouth and held it shut by pushing his chin higher.  Drake didn’t dare spit it out.  There’d be terrible repercussions if he did.  His bicep wasn’t that large, and Denton hated it when food was wasted.

Chapter 3 – Yeah, Maybe

Jake made me drink a lot that night.  I know I didn’t have to drink, and I wasn’t planning on it, but he was in rare form.  I don’t think it had anything to do with Sealix though.  After we came out of our meeting, Jake didn’t mention it again.  Instead, I think he wanted to make sure I was too hungover to get up and go hunting.  It was all about the bet.

Around midnight, the bar finally cleared out.  Jake and Ainsley had already left.  They lived south of our hometown in Erie County.  I got on my four-wheeler and drove the back trails to my home.  I let Samantha and Chrissy close the bar and left them my portion of the tips to thank them.  I was in rare form too, and it was all Jake’s fault.

I parked the four-wheeler in the barn and walked across the parking area in front of my three-car garage at the bottom of my U-shaped driveway.  I didn’t really see anything more than three feet in front of me until I hit the steps of the porch and looked up.  That’s when I saw the bowed head of a bleach blond woman in a miniskirt and a tight white shirt.  My lucky day, I thought, until she lifted her face the second my foot hit the first step.  It was Skylar Meade.  If I hadn’t left my gun at the bar, I might have shot her right there. 

“What the hell you doing here?”  I heard my larynx grinding rocks into gravel as I spoke.  I hawked a loogie and spit the gravel out.

“We’re in trouble, Cash.”

“There is no we, missy.  Get out of here while you still can.”  I looked back and saw her car parked near the barn.  It was closer to the road.  I missed it.

“I have no place to go, baby.”

“I ain’t your baby.”

“I know.  But you were once, and I need your help, Cash…  Please…  Just hear me out.”