With Cruel Intent

by Dennis Larsen

  Officer Guest could hardly contain her excitement. The description given to her was a dead ringer for Lester Cummings and now she had a second witness that could also put Lester in the mix. It was interesting that he had chosen to use the name Rob when speaking with Blanche. The deputy made sure to write everything down this time around. She asked that Blanche send him in and she went through the same process with Marcus. The custodian issued a more vague description but generally the same as Blanche. He agreed to provide any further information that came to mind, signed the statement and left with the others.

  * * *

  Beverly was disappointed that she’d not heard from Felix after their morning romp the day before, but was sure she would get a chance to pull his chain again today. He’d said something about the property they had met over and the possibility of an offer, which would certainly be the icing on the cake for the realtor. She reviewed her calendar for the day, over her usual cup of coffee, picked up the house a bit before she dressed and headed to her office. The planner reminded her of the date she had with Blanche for the following night, she was so anxious to tell her about the new man that had swept into her life and bedroom.

  In the late afternoon she finally heard from Felix. He apologized for not getting back to her sooner but had been on the phone non-stop with the developers. They had come to an agreement, at least from their side, in terms of an offer with a few ‘subject to’s’ still in place. Felix told her he had done his best to hammer out an agreement that he thought would be acceptable to all parties and was anxious to present it to her. He also indicated that he wanted to show her something else and would be by later to do just that. The con man was vague on the time he would do the presenting but asked her to be home from 6:00 p.m. and on, that way she wouldn’t miss him. Beverly was more than excited; perhaps she was turning the corner on a newfound and more fulfilling life.

  Just that morning her lawyer had phoned saying that Mr. Jeremy Marshall, her stepson, had contacted their office, with one last lowball offer of ten million, which they flatly turned down given the prior direction they had received from Beverly herself. The lawyer suggested that with no further hang-ups there was a possibility that she’d be a millionaire by Christmas. He was careful not to give her too much hope as Jeremy had already filed a petition to reduce the amount arbitrarily assigned by the court as the final value of the estate. The Marshall lawyers were contesting the value assigned in a market that was in an undeniable downturn. Beverly was disappointed but not surprised, in any case, she knew the estate issue was winding down and she could soon get on with her life and maybe her new love.

  * * *

  Seymour was anxious to get his life back to normal as soon as possible. Taking advice from his mother and rejecting it outright, he returned to the one class he had in the afternoon, astonishing some of the students and drawing high fives from others. The few hours he was away from home passed without incident but he was excited to go to work that evening. He needed to be with Blanche in a way he’d never felt before with another woman. His heart yearned and craved her companionship, he could tell from the pull on his heartstrings that the infatuation had grown. He could not deny the feelings of love and concern he had for the fascinating Blanche D. Delaney.

  Shortly before six, Seymour ate with his mother at the kitchen table and talked of the week’s past events. She tried to persuade him to stay home from work but knew it was a losing argument. Nothing would keep him away from Blanche or the library tonight. Their discussion went full circle and ended up at the jail earlier in the day.

  “I was so glad to walk out of there today, mom. Probably next to dad dying, the worst few days of my life,” Seymour said.

  “If it weren’t for Blanche you’d still be sitting there,” his mother informed him. Having said that she got up from the table and started clearing dishes away.

  “What do you mean? What did she do?” he asked, anxious to hear the answer.

  “She didn’t tell you?” his mom asked.

  “Tell me what? She just told me you had arranged the bail and I’d be getting out today.”

  “Seymour, she took the money she had set aside for a down payment on a place and gave it to us for your bail. The bank would only give me $150,000; she came up with the rest. I have to say, she’s a remarkable girl. I was wrong about her,” his mother said, moving to stand behind him and putting her hands on his sinewy shoulders.

  “You’re kidding, I had no idea.” He could think of nothing else to say but sat in silence the last few minutes he had before needing to leave for work.

  With his mom in the kitchen, Seymour went to her room and removed the rifle from the closet and filled his pocket with a handful of shells from a box that was nearby. He managed to get out the door and put the gun behind the seat of the truck without her being the wiser. Jasper had been unprepared in defending Blanche; he would not make the same mistake. Seymour had shot the old rifle a few times. He knew enough that his dad called it a .50 caliber Sharps, the bullets as big around as his index finger and almost as long. The weapon had been handed down over the generations from the days of the Civil War, and although old, his father had used it yearly to put venison on their table. Seymour had shot it a little bit in his youth, had one hell of a kick, but never had much interest in hunting but would go just to hang out with his dad. He tossed the shells in the glove box, hollered out the window to his mother that he’d see her later and headed for town and Blanche at the library.

  * * *

  Deputy Guest worked feverishly throughout the afternoon, with the help of Deputy Breland and Ricky, to put the finishing touches on the warrant request. The information provided by the old timer had proven just what they needed to put the final piece of the warrant together. She had driven out earlier in the afternoon and taken their statement. It seemed that the old guy got to thinking after they talked the other day and the more he drove the tractor around his field the more he remembered about a friend of his that passed away a good ten years before. Had a son that raced motorcycles on the MX Circuit when he was younger. The farmer’s friend would often brag about the trophies his son was stacking up. The Deputy had grown more excited with each passing minute, hoping the old timer could remember the name.

  As he concluded his statement she asked, “And can you remember your friend’s name or his son’s?”

  His wife had helped to translate some of the slur and slang but there was no missing his answer. “Well, shur I do, ain’t losin’ ma mind am I motha. Feller’s name was Cummings, Spencer Cummings, but I can’t say I mumber the bo’s.”

  With Lester Cummings squarely in their sights and the paperwork in hand Guest had raced to the courthouse in hopes of catching the judge. The timing was close; she caught the judge climbing into his 4x4 as she pulled into the parking lot. She hit her lights and siren to get his attention causing Otis to bark and growl from his cage. The judge had been more than understanding, especially considering the impact the information could have on the Wood and Stalker cases. He informed the deputy that he would review the request at home and issue the warrant from there. He would notify the Sheriff’s Office once he had done his work and she could drop by his house to pick up the search warrant later.

  Deputy Guest now found herself staring at the phone and talking with the dispatch staff as most of the officers had retired for the night. She could see a light on in 'The Wolf’s office, making plans for the raid in the morning no doubt. All officers had been told to report for duty at 4:30 a.m., they would need to gear up with vests and shotguns, in preparation for the raid which would go down at 5:30 the next morning. The office had been abuzz with excitement in hopes of bringing The Stalker to justice.

  * * *

  At 5:30 p.m. the charming wise guy parked his car a mile from Bev’s location in the parking lot of a busy restaurant and began the walk to her house. Iggy would soon be on his way to the property near the base and then off for chicken to be enjoyed by the director and his
new acquaintance. A college football game was the lure that brought the two men back to Savard’s after looking over the property and discussing the legal description and the survey information. It was plausible and easy to remember for both men. As he walked, Felix tried to envision how the events of the night would go down. He felt for the silencer that Iggy had purchased online, making sure he had put it in his suit pocket. His own 9mm rested against the small of his back, a constant reminder that he was deadly if messed with.

  In his mind he would arrive at Bev’s the same way Lester would, over the back fence, but he would ring the bell and Lester would use the key. Bev’s house was on a cul-de-sac, her lot heavily treed, large, mature oaks and spruces that reached into the sky and hid her house from the neighbors. She had homes on both sides but the drives were 150 feet apart and the houses barely visible through the dense trees. He should have no trouble getting in and out without anyone seeing him. A rolled up document cover swung back and forth in his left hand as his arm swung with his strides. The valid offer would show that he was there earlier in the evening, presented the offer, and then been on his way after he’d serviced the realtor.

  Felix could see the back of the Davis home from the trees where he stood hidden from view. A small creek with only a trickle of water running down it was between him and the fence. Not yet dark, but it would be almost impossible to see him from the house, unless Bev happened to be looking into her backyard when he climbed the fence. The mud from the creek could pose a problem but he decided he would simply leave his shoes on her front step.

  While Felix contemplated his options, Lester prepared for his last ‘outing’ in Valdosta, GA. He didn’t know if it was the fact that it would be his last, or the small variations in the way tonight was to be carried out, that had him on edge. Something just didn’t feel right but he had taken some precautions just in case. Normally he would not take the 9mm with him but it felt appropriate slipped into the waist of his dark pants. After he had a chance to get a few hours sleep he again went over the information and layout of Beverly’s house. He checked the location on the map and noted that her house fell a good two blocks out of the area they had been working, without an explanation as to why the deviation. Could just be his paranoia or that somehow he felt a noose tightening around him, but then again it could be nothing at all. The employers had been right on target before with their information, except for Katie’s prosthetic leg.

  He would be cutting it close tonight. The work at Davis’ would have to be quick, the house torn apart in a matter of minutes, not hours, allowing him enough time to get to the library, pick up Blanche, and be on their way. He didn’t know how much persuading it would take to get her to see his vision of their future. Just in case he was prepared for that as well. Into the back of the van he put a box containing the Gulf War costume he had used before, including the jacket and cane, along with a canister of ether and wool cloth. He also put his backpack, with the essentials, on the floor of the passenger’s side but didn’t think he would even need it tonight. He wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible. No pictures, and was not even going to bother with paint on the walls, just a melee of destruction on the order of a small tornado.

  The burglar stood on the landing to his kitchen area and ran the list of items through his mind and was about to depart when he saw the spectacle case on the table. He’d almost forgotten the key to his disguise, his father’s glasses, with them in hand he climbed in the van, put the glasses on the seat next to him, and pulled out of the drive headed to Beverly Davis’ home. Lester left a few minutes earlier than he normally would, anticipating that he would need to find an appropriate place to ditch the van while he did the job.

  * * *

  Seymour felt uncomfortable with the gun behind the seat and was somewhat unsure if he knew how, or had the capability to use it, if needed, but he’d rather have it for insurance, just in case. It was heaven to be back in the library and doing something he enjoyed. The romantically inclined pair hugged when they were sure no one was watching, which was difficult considering that the library was fairly busy for a Thursday evening. The criminology student got to work dealing with his list of responsibilities, often taking the time to walk past the front desk for a quick smile or wink. It looked like it would be a normal night at the library with no surprises. How wrong he would be.

  * * *

  Felix managed to get across the little creek without slipping and covering himself in mud, but his shoes did get somewhat mucked up and he cussed as the bottom of his expensive suit was dirtied as well. Just wasn’t right climbing into someone’s backyard wearing an Armani suit. The things he did to keep his reputation and lifestyle even astonished him. Once over the fence and without Bev looking into the yard, shades were drawn and with no sign of the woman from the back of the house, he walked around the side and went to the front door.

  The sun was still in the sky but the trees gave a late dusk feel to the area. He knocked softly knowing she would be anxious to see him and near the door. A short moment later she opened the door dressed somewhat provocatively and ready for their rendezvous. Felix stepped inside pulling her close; kissing her but not allowing her to put her arms around him for fear that she would feel the pistol.

  He covered, by holding her arms and telling her, “Business before pleasure.”

  “Whatever you say sweetie, you’re driving this train tonight,” she said as she reached up and pulled a make believe lever while gyrating her hips -- “Whoo Whoo”.

  Her Southern accent and movements made him smile but tonight was a work night and he could not, would not, be distracted, at least not until he’d had his way with her. Felix dropped the rolled up document he held in his hand on the table and asked her to sit. She did so taking the document in her hands and pulling her reading glasses from her purse. She looked at the details of the offer, the amounts, the caveats (subject to's) and the other provisions that Felix had included in the final draft. She was acceptable to most and told him she would make arrangements to present the offer to the seller in the morning and get back to him and the development group. Felix was happy with that and informed the train that the engineer was ready to get things rolling.

  The pair retired to her bedroom, a room Unger was quite familiar with. The large king sized bed was already turned down, soft music played in the background and the lights were set to invite a romantic mood. Bev quickly stepped into the bathroom while Felix took off his suit jacket and folded the 9mm in the middle of it, laying the garment on a low lying dresser at the end of the room. By the time Bev appeared back at the bathroom door, Felix stood in his wife beater t-shirt, silky stretch underwear and socks held up with sock supports. Didn’t matter to Bev, she still found him sexy. She pressed herself up against the door jam and again let out -- “Whoo Whoo.”

  The two met at the bed, falling onto it as their passion consumed them. Each hungry for the other, both with different visions of what the future would hold.

  Lester drove the blocks surrounding the Davis home and was not satisfied with anything he had found until he came to a small dirt service road that led to a utility box with nothing else around. The walk would be further but it could not be helped. He would just have to work that much faster to allow time to get to the library. He arrived at the back of Beverly’s house at 7:30 p.m. and stood approximately where Felix had a short time before. He waited for the lights to go out before he ventured forward. Ten minutes later they did just that.

  * * *

  Shortly after 7:30 p.m. Deputy Guest got the phone call she had been waiting for, the judge indicated that the request was in order and a search warrant had been signed for execution the next morning, early. The Deputy stuck her head into her bosses office, gave him the good news before she left for the judges home. It would be a late night for Natalie, it was just 'The Wolf' and her holding down the fort till morning at which time she would be off, but she was not missing the raid on the Cummings home. No way in hell wou
ld she miss that opportunity!

  * * *

  At exactly 8:00 p.m. Lester used the key provided by Iggy and unlocked the back door stepping into Beverly’s kitchen. The entire house was dark, looked like the information was accurate again. He relaxed and turned on the handheld LED, scanned the kitchen, then proceeded into the hallway.

  “Hello Lester,” a calm voice, that he recognized, called from the darkness of the living room.

  Instinctively he knew running would mean certain death. “Felix, I’m guessing.”

  “Good call, I knew you’d be right on time. Ever the professional, huh?” Felix said, now bathed in light from Lester’s LED. “Go ahead and turn on the light switch there to your left but keep both of your hands where I can see them,” the mobster instructed. Bev’s small 32 automatic pointed at Lester’s center of mass, a silencer extended the length of the barrel. The room suddenly came into focus as Lester hit the switch. He tossed the portable to Felix who caught it in his left and placed it in the chair next to him.

  “Thought something seemed different about tonight, should have listened to my gut.”

  “Yes, you should have. Yes indeed,” Felix confirmed.

  “Let’s get rid of the pistol, shall we? Know you don’t normally like to carry one, goes against your principles or something but I get the feeling you must be packing tonight. Turn around slowly and let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Lester did as he was told, knowing the man seated before him would not hesitate to pump a few rounds through him if he disobeyed. When Felix could see his back, he told the thief to stop, he stood and removed the weapon from The Stalker’s waistline and put it into his own.

  “Nice gun, glad you brought your own so I don’t have to leave mine. I’ll even bet this one is registered in your name, isn’t it?” he accused the man of being stupid in a roundabout way. The look on Lester’s face gave away that Felix had been correct. “I knew it. Honest in a strange kind of way, aren’t you? The Sheriff will find your own gun in your cold, dead hand. Works far better for us in the overall scheme of things.”