by Carey Lewis
“Is that my gun or the one you brought with you?” Carter asked.
“Not sure how much it matters, long as it’s able to put you down.”
“Just wondering how far down you’re going to drag Ben here. Filling his booze pool brain with bad ideas.”
Deacon looked across at Carter sitting on the stairs, surprised he was finally talking, wondering where he was going with this.
“You think fistfuls of cash is a bad idea huh?” Cesar asked.
Carter smiled. “Think the way you’re talking him into getting it is, yeah.” He looked to Ben. “You’ve got a Federal Deputy Marshal and a TV host as hostages. Now you’re getting yourself into a grow-op with a guy I’d bet has a longer rap sheet than my dick. Sober up for a second and ask yourself if there’s a good way this ends.”
Deacon looked over to Ben, saw his eyes trying to focus on something, anything. Saw his head sway from one side to the other.
“He gets to decide how it ends,” Cesar said. “We already know how it ends for the two of you.”
“And then?”
“Then we’re rich. Ben’s rich. Just by sitting on his ass, letting me do my thing.”
“Ben,” Carter said, about to stand when Cesar reached to his back for the other Glock, letting his hand rest on the grip stuck in his pants. Carter stopped. “Ben, you think no one’s going to come looking for a Marshal and a TV host?”
“Deputy Marshal,” Cesar reminded him.
“You got a lawyer coming to give you your house back. It sounds like shit I don’t want to be a part of, so I’m one to let that slide. Can’t say I was ever one to understand lawyers, paperwork, mortgages and the like. What I want to do is chalk this up to drunken confusion and maybe a moment of desperation. You understand Ben?”
Deacon looked from Carter to Ben, his face stoic - maybe absorbing nothing, but maybe everything.
Carter continued, “But let’s say you were to point that shotgun at the real criminal here, let me take him in, I can see how all this can be accounted for. Desperation and booze brain being what they are. You get your house and you’re not involved in something you can’t take back.”
“That’s not American,” Cesar said.
“I’d say it is,” Carter said, “I’d say recovering from a mistake is pretty damn American.”
“I’m offering him his house and money he’s going to get from just sitting on his ass and looking the other way. Look at all those guys from the banks ripped everyone off. They got rich from their mistakes and where are they now? What mistakes they recovering from?”
“You think you’re Gordon Gecko?” Deacon asked. “Gecko didn’t have a TV star and a Marshal he held hostage.”
“Gecko also didn’t have Little Pee Dee full of gators to take care of his problems,” Cesar said, taking a step toward Deacon. “That’s cute, thinking you’re a star, thinking you’re special. You ain’t the first I put in there hotshot.”
Deacon smiled, looking up to Cesar from the couch. “Gecko also got caught.”
Cesar returned the smile, leaned in. “Mr. TV star, you ain’t Charlie Sheen neither.”
The room was silent. Cesar stood upright and looked to Ben. “It’s only murder if there’s bodies. People come looking, we say we all had a beer and they left, we don’t know where.” He looked back to Deacon, smiling ear to ear. “Where they’re going, ain’t no one going to find a trace. Mr. Marshal went fishing like he wanted to, hotshot Deke here went to catch a plane.”
Ben started to laugh. “Sounds like I’m on one of those dating shows my wife watches, everyone telling me why I should give them a rose.”
“I have one last argument,” Deacon said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “You want your house, you got it.” Deacon looked up to Cesar, making sure he understood the next part, making sure Cesar wasn’t going to let his anger take hold of him. “As soon as my lawyer gets here with the paperwork.” He held the look on Cesar, making sure he understood his sales pitch would fall flat should something happen to Deacon before that.
He looked back to Ben. “What else you want? You want a haunted house like the guy up near Salem? You remember Rodney? Said he could’ve made this house look as haunted as anything we’ve done. Show hasn’t aired yet. I can get everyone back here, re-shoot it. You got yourself a haunted house as seen on Gray’s Ghosts you’re selling tickets to. I know Rodney would love to come back and do it up.”
“You mean the show ain’t real?” Cesar asked, genuinely surprised. “Shit man, I knew you were a fraud.”
They all turned to Ben, and to Deacon’s surprise, he seemed to be thinking it over. “Would anyone know you faked it?”
“It’s how we do every house on the show that’s haunted.” It surprised Deacon that it stung a bit to admit it out loud.
“Man, how much you think you going to pull in off that?” Cesar asked. “You got advertising, upkeep, overhead, insurance. I’m offering you hand over fist money. All you got to do is nothing.”
Ben still sat there, thinking everything over.
“Why don’t I give you the tour what I got set up, then you decide?”
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING on?” Brooke asked as Colton pulled the Honda down the drive toward the farmhouse. They were both looking out the windshield, watching the group of them come outside. Ben was holding a shotgun and a bottle of whiskey, guiding everyone out of his house. Cesar had a gun in his hand too, ahead of Ben, looking like a kid wanting to get in on the game.
Colton pulled the car in as they all turned to look at them. He put it in park and killed the engine, turned to Brooke and said, “I hope you got more to this plan.”
“My plan involved you still having a gun,” she said, not turning her gaze from the group in front of the house.
“Even here they don’t let you shoot someone then walk away with the murder weapon.”
“Tell that to Cesar when this is over.”
They were five minutes away from the house when Colton told her he handed the gun over to Whitmore. He asked her what her plan was at that point too. She told him he should get out of the car and sneak around the house, catch Cesar by surprise - he’d probably have to put Cesar down. She’d pull into the drive and get their attention while Colton got into position.
“Put him down with what?” Colton had asked her.
“Your gun stupid. The same one you used on Hector.”
“Whitmore took it.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“He has a badge.”
She wanted to say something about how Whitmore’s badge was real, take a shot at Colton for playing make-believe, but she couldn’t think of anything. She was starting to panic. The light faded on the outside of her vision, and she felt the breath escape her chest as her head got heavy. Then Colton asked her what her plan was again.
Five minutes away. No gun. Cesar would lose his shit soon, probably start panicking if he phoned Hector and found out what happened. There was no time to go back, and nowhere to go if there was.
“We have to keep going,” she said. Just hope something good would happen. She remembered another thing Deacon always told her. She felt like he was in the backseat whispering in her ear, ‘Everything will work itself out.’
So now they were sitting in the Honda, looking at two armed men. At the man she shared so much of her life with one of the hostages. It was at that point she realized, fully realized, just how much of herself she had given to that man, how much of her own life she had willingly and gladly handed over. She didn’t regret a single moment of it.
Brooke’s hand slid and unclasped the lock for the glove-box. Papers spilled out onto her lap.
“What’re you doing?” Colton asked.
“You’re a lawyer selling the house back to Ben. He’s the one with the shotgun.”
“But I’m not a lawyer.”
“You’re not a Marshal either,” she said and got out of the car, a fistful of papers in her hand.
&n
bsp; “The fuck is this? Where’s Hector?” Cesar asked as she walked toward them, trying to keep her cool, not show the panic she was feeling. It took everything in her power to keep her knees from buckling.
“That’s the lawyer.” Brooke looked over to Ben and saw him squinting behind her to the Honda. Then she heard the door close behind her, then the footsteps on the dirt and gravel - Colton approaching them.
“That’s not the same one,” Ben said, leaning forward, trying to focus.
“Harvey couldn’t make it,” Brooke said. “This is Colton, his assistant he sent over.”
“This is the fucking bondsman,” Cesar said. “What the fuck you guys planning? Where the fuck is Hector?”
“He wanted the paperwork, there’s the paperwork,” Deacon said. “It matter who delivers it?”
“Hector ran into a problem at the bank,” Brooke said.
“Give it here,” Ben said, wobbling on his feet with the effort of his outstretched arm. Brooke walked up to him, the papers in her hand, a smile on her face. Ben was still as stone as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gave him a hug.
“It’s nice to see you again,” she said. With her mouth next to his ear, she whispered, “He’s going to kill us all.” Then she took a step back, still smiling, said, “Just look that over, see what you think.”
She watched Ben study her face, then look down to the papers. She watched him flip through them, looking confused as he looked from them to her, then back down again.
“Don’t use the online statements huh?” Ben asked, looking to Colton. “I don’t trust them either.”
Colton didn’t say anything.
“The fuck is going on?” Cesar asked. He was ready to blow. Brooke saw the muscles in his arms flex, saw his jaw tighten, saw the sweat starting to form on his brow.
“Think I want you off my land,” Ben said, handing the papers back to Brooke.
She heard the gun cock and saw Cesar lifting his arm. She dove to the ground as Ben turned the shotgun toward him and was almost deafened from the blast. She watched the scatter-shot explode around Cesar’s feet, saw Cesar fall backward, the gun going off in his hand. Then she saw everyone dive to the ground as Cesar scrambled to his feet and ran toward the bunker.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CARTER HEARD THE DOOR SLAM shut, then heard footsteps on the gravel. He looked up to see Ben making his way toward the bunker, his shotgun lowered to his side. He rose to his feet and followed Ben, the others following behind him. Carter was confused, watching Ben go down the hatch, down the stairs, standing in front of the metal door. Then Ben started laughing.
“Ben?” Carter asked, getting his attention. “Ben, can I have my gun back?”
He chuckled to himself as he came up the stairs, reaching behind him, and handed the gun back. Carter looked it over, making sure it was his. The embarrassment he’d get for this situation was bad enough, losing his weapon too, they’d run him out of the Marshals Service.
“I was never going to shoot you,” Ben said. “Saw you guys outside, he had the gun on you. Was trying to think of a way to get this over with, not go violent.”
Carter looked at him, unsure if he was being lied to. He decided he didn’t care, just glad it was over.
“What were you laughing at?” Deacon asked, coming over to look down the hatch.
Ben laughed again. “There’s a keypad down there beside the door. You know the code to get out?”
“No.”
“Neither does he,” Ben said, then started laughing again.
“He locked himself in?” Brooke asked.
Carter looked at Ben wiping the tears from his eyes. He looked over to Deacon and Brooke who didn’t know if they should laugh or ask questions. Colton looked confused.
“Do you know the code to get inside?” Carter asked.
“You know,” Ben said, “I’m not sure it’s coming to me right now.”
Carter pictured Cesar down there, hiding behind something with his gun drawn, waiting to shoot whoever came down. Not knowing he’d be waiting a long time.
“What’s the difference between him being down there and being in prison?” Deacon asked Carter.
“This a joke?”
“Serious question.”
Carter thought about it, thinking he knew where Deacon was going. “You want to keep him down there?”
“He’s got food and water. He can make potty when he wants. Even got a kitchen.”
Carter looked at Ben. “It’s true,” he said. “I don’t use it anyway.”
“You got a funny way of getting me involved,” Carter said.
“I should call Walt,” Colton said.
“You can pretend like you weren’t. Go on your fishing trip,” Deacon said.
“I should call Walt,” Colton said again.
Carter walked away from the bunker and took a seat on the sofa in the barn. He looked at Deacon, then to Ben. “You want him stuck under your land?”
“Don’t have much use for what’s under it.”
“But you might,” Deacon said, smiling.
“Maybe you should tell me what you have in mind,” Carter said.
“Let’s talk this out,” Deacon said, coming over to the makeshift living room in the barn. Brooke and Ben followed. “The house was always yours, we never took it. The contract was fake.” Ben didn’t say anything, didn’t look like he even heard him.
“You want to haunt the house,” Brooke said. She seemed to get where Deacon was going before Carter did.
“I should call Walt,” Colton said again. It fell on deaf ears.
“Complete with a ghost in the basement,” Deacon said, smiling. He looked to Ben, said, “You got yourself a house ‘As seen on Gray’s Ghosts.’”
“You want to tell me what the guy did deserves to get locked up in a bunker?” Carter asked.
“Aside from going to kill us?” Deacon asked. He and Brooke then told Carter the story, how Cesar killed the skinheads, then he killed the Cubans. Deacon said he even killed some guy named Randy and threw him in the river - said that part for Colton. They filled Ben in on how Cesar and Hector were scamming them with the fake construction so they could setup the grow-op. That’s why he got the fake paperwork drawn up, thinking they could fool Cesar into leaving the house alone. He tried getting money out of Deacon and Brooke after that. Of course they left out the part where Deacon killed the skinheads, figuring Cesar wrapped that up nicely for them.
“What do you think that’s worth?” Deacon asked when he finished up the story.
“I should call Walt.”
“Let’s make sure we got the story straight first.”
Carter just wanted to go fishing.
THE STORY THEY CAME UP with was this:
Colton arrived in time to scare Cesar off. Before Cesar ran, he confessed to killing Randy and dumping his body in the Little Pee Dee River for the gators to take care of - the same way he threatened to kill them. That got a team of divers out there, and ironically enough, they found Randy’s foot, still in the shoe - just how Colton had lied to Huey. With that, Colton was off the hook for the ten thousand dollar bond.
Deacon and Brooke were at the farmhouse to discuss re-shoots with Ben when Cesar turned up, trying to blackmail them, saying he’d expose the show as a fraud. Deacon and Brooke didn’t go for the threats so Cesar got violent, tried to hold Deacon hostage while Hector was supposed to take Brooke to the bank for the money. She told Whitmore she had no idea what was going on with Hector and Huey, or why Hector took her to the house.
Whitmore had officers watch Cesar’s house for a couple weeks. It was soon evident they would have to do something about the dogs, so Ben stepped in to adopt them. He made sure to rub it in Cesar’s face through the glass anytime he could. Ben would even hold the dogs up to the reinforced glass on the door so Cesar could see. He’d laugh as the dogs licked his face as Cesar watched. Cesar tried to shoot him once, but the bullet bounced off the reinforced militar
y grade glass and almost lodged itself in his eye.
Ben decided to have a bit more fun with Cesar. He taunted him with the door code, telling Cesar if he entered the correct four digit code followed by the pound sign, he could go free. Ben knew the code. It was six digits followed by the star.
After having officers on the house for a month, Whitmore decided Cesar had fled, just had the occasional officer come by to see if anyone had been there. He was more than happy to let Cesar disappear and wasn’t too anxious to go out and find him.
Motley’s house was about as cut and dry as they came. A drug deal gone bad between skinheads and Floridan Cubans. Again, Whitmore wasn’t exactly willing to look at anything beyond the nice little bow of a crime scene he had. As far as he was concerned, it was people from Florida looking to get even with Cesar, and that’s why he needed the money from Deacon and Brooke - so he could run. That fell through, so Cesar ran, or the Cubans got him. Either way, he wasn’t Whitmore’s problem anymore. It was all theory of course, one Deacon and Brooke helped manufacture, but one that Whitmore was happy to live with.
Rodney was thrilled to come back to the farmhouse and ecstatic when Deacon told him he had free reign. “Make the joint as haunted as you can,” Deacon told him. Martina was less happy about it, having to push back the Upstate New York show by a week, and then canceling it altogether when Brooke told her the Miller house would be her last.
Knowing it was their last show, it was a different atmosphere for the crew. It was relaxed, everyone enjoying the moment and what they were doing, not having to worry about a grind anymore. Having Ben and his family involved in making the house haunted gave them an added sense of happiness. They watched how excited the Millers got with every idea, every gag, every setup. For once, they all felt good about making a house haunted.
A week after the show aired, Ben was selling tickets to the haunted house ‘As seen on Gray’s Ghosts.’ The final stop of the tour was the closed bunker, where a dirty, emaciated ghost would appear at the glass, begging and screaming to be let out. Rodney put a few layers of film over the glass to give Cesar an oily, apparition look. The tourists that didn’t believe it was a ghost thought it was an actor. When Cesar started shouting his name through the door, an urban legend grew that Cesar fled the Cubans and died in the bunker, his spirit forever trapped inside. No police believed it was the actual Cesar Riso, just an actor Ben hired as a marketing gimmick. They actually thought Ben started all the tales to get more attention on his attraction.
