With Cruel Intent (11 page)

making her another one of those incredible

peanut butter sandwiches just to hold her

over until dinner.

The kitchen was littered with pots

and pans', taking up most of the counter

space and the marble topped island was

covered with flour and a large lump of

dough sat in the middle of it. Caroline

wore a vintage apron pulled over her head

and tied in a smart little bow in the back

with two large pockets in the front.

Ruffles trimmed the edges and pockets

giving the apron a very feminine, finished

look. The cook lifted her head and eyes

from the task at hand as Blanche entered

the room, a smear of flour across her

forehead, where she had attempted to

wipe her hair from her eyes with the back

of her wrist.

“Was just about to call the police

and have one of them cadaver dogs come

over here to see if you were still alive,”

she joked, with a wink of her eye.

“Very funny!” Blanche said. “Just

needed some time to myself and it was

wonderful. Sounds like my neighbors must

have moved out?”

“Nope, they’re still in the room

next to you but I ‘spect you and Mr. Unger

put the fear of God into ‘em yesterday

morning, so they’re being a bit more

discreet, if you know what I mean.”

Caroline couldn’t help but smile

as she filled Blanche in.

“You might have a chance to meet

them this afternoon, don’t think they’ve

left the house yet today.”

“No, that’s ok; I think I can manage

with the informal pleasantries that we

exchanged yesterday morning and the night

before. Do you know when they’ll be

checking out?” Blanche inquired.

“Not sure, they had said something

about staying on for a couple more days. I

think it has something to do with my fruit

salad and collard greens.”

Blanche was quite sure it had

more to do with the feather pillows and

foam top mattress.

Caroline returned to her rolls,

punching the middle of the dough ball with

the heel of her hand, and then pulling the

prolapsed dough back to the middle of the

lump only to be smacked down again.

Blanche watched this process for a few

minutes trying to determine what it was

about the punching that made the rolls turn

out so delicious, but she remembered

watching her mother and grandmother do

the same thing.

Not wanting to be a pest she

asked, “Um, Ms. Carmichael do you think

it would be okay if I made myself a

sandwich or something?”

The landlady shook a playful

finger at Blanche, “Now Ms. Delaney, you

know the rules of the house. I don’t do any

food preparation ‘cept for breakfast and

dinner but if’n you were to find some

bread and a smattering of peanut butter

and my jam laying about, guess there

wouldn’t be anything I could do to keep

you from fixing yourself something.” And

with that she returned to the dough and

slammed it down again against the hard

surface.

“Thanks, you’re too kind.”

Pulling up a chair at the small

kitchen nook Blanche watched Caroline

roll the dough up into a large, round ball

and drop it into a metal bowl which she

placed on the window sill to accept the

sun’s warming rays.

The sandwich was yummy and the

chocolate milk she’d scrounged from the

fridge went down with an audible, “Oh

yeah!” followed quickly with, “Now

that’s what I’m talking about.”

“What was that dear, what were

you talking about?” Ms. Carmichael

asked, not really paying attention to what

was going on at the nook.

“Oh nothing, just an expression.

This milk just tastes really good to me this

afternoon. Anything interesting happen at

breakfast earlier today or yesterday?”

Blanche questioned.

“Well, the talk at the table

yesterday was your crashing the bathtub

party with your buddy. Thankfully the

newlyweds hadn’t dared leave the

bathroom until everyone had left for the

day. Today? Wasn’t much to talk about.

Oh no, wait a minute. There was some

discussion about the weird thing that

happened to that unfortunate lady out by

the military base, Mrs. Kittle I think her

name was,” Caroline said, as she brushed

her hands off against the sides of her

apron and took a seat next to Blanche at

the little table.

“I think her name was Riddle,

Thelma Riddle, as I recall.”

Blanche was very good with

names, dates and events; just part of the

many skills that one acquires as a trained

librarian.

“What was said?” she asked.

“Well, you know how Mrs. Muir

likes to know all the gory little details

about everything. Apparently she has a

friend of a friend who works as a

dispatcher at the police station and they

didn’t find anything all that unusual about

the incident. Guess there was an article in

the paper said they weren’t going to

pursue it any further. No solid evidence or

leads, something to that effect.”

Caroline shrugged her shoulders

and ran her fingers through her graying

hair adding a streak of white, highlighting

the intermittent strands of diminished

black.

“Oh, and she indicated this friend

had also said that they think it was a

college student just doing a dare or

something foolish. That’s why Thelma

wasn’t hurt and nothing was missing.”

“Makes sense I guess,” Blanche

slowly uttered, running the scenario

through her head trying to make sense of

the police’s rational.

“What will you be doing for the

rest of your day today, dear?” Ms.

Carmichael asked, genuinely interested.

“I’d really like to finish my book,

then I’ll...”

Caroline cut her off, “Book, what

book are you reading? I just love a good

mystery or the like.”

Blanche had perhaps opened up a

can of worms that she had not wanted to.

“I’m reading strictly as a research

project

to

acquaint

myself

more

completely with the Southern culture...”

Again the inquisitor cut her off,

“But what’s the title?”

Blanche gave up, "
Mandingo
!"

“Oh My! Oh my, my, my,”

Caroline said, over and over, getting a bit

giddy and giggling to herself. “Haven’t

heard of anybody reading that book for

sometime. Heavens, just makes me blush

all over thinking that you’re reading that

book, sweetie.”

Blanche tried to put on her best

professional librarian face and voice,

“I’m finding it very informative, the

setting and time are riveting. I’d have to

say that I’m really enjoying it.”

With a knowing look and a hush in

her voice, Ms. Carmichael replied, “I’ll

bet you are.”

Blanche wasn’t quite sure how to

respond to that statement so she just

pressed on, “I guess I’ll spend some more

time looking through the paper and Internet

for some condo leads. I have an

appointment again tomorrow morning,

before work, with the realty agency so I

want to be prepared.”

“How’s that house hunting going

anyway?”

“Slow, at least for now. I’ve got a

couple I like but don’t like the

neighborhoods very much. Do you have

any suggestions?”

“Let me see, let me see,” the older

woman whispered to herself, walking

around the kitchen until she arrived at the

windows overlooking the sink. “Have you

looked at the new development just across

the highway and south of the Air Force

Base? I hear the condos are quite modern

and have all the fixtures and appliances

included. A fellow who stayed here last

month ended up buying one of them. Said

it was a good time to buy before the prices

start to go up.”

“I’ll have to remember that. I

know we haven’t looked anywhere

outside of town yet. How much of a drive

is it, do you know?”

Caroline rubbed her chin, dusting

it with flour residue, “I reckon it’s a good

10 or 15 minutes from where you work but

don’t know if they got bus service or not.”

Showing appreciation in her

voice, Blanche responded, “That’s very

helpful anyway and I’ll see what I can find

out about it. Looking forward to those

rolls tonight and thanks again for the

sandwich.”

Blanche nodded on her way out of

the kitchen and could hear the owner say

behind her.

“Sandwich, what sandwich?”

Reaching her room and opening

the door in anticipation of one more quiet

afternoon before having to return to work,

she was greeted with the tell tale sound of

the thump, thump, thump of the headboard

against the wall.

“Are you kidding me!” she said

aloud, in hopes that it would quiet the

rabbit like neighbors next door. Frustrated

and angry, Blanche grabbed her umbrella

and purse and stormed out her refuge,

leaving the empty room to echo the lover's

rhythm being played against the wall.

CHAPTER TEN

Deep, restful sleep was elusive for

Blanche prior to her meeting with

Beverly. She twisted in the sheets, trying

to get comfortable, thoughts passing in and

out of her fitful dreams making it

impossible to reach that peaceful state her

mind craved. She desperately needed just

a few hours of rest and a reprieve from the

never-ending stream of thoughts and ideas.

The clock on the end table, glaring at her,

was a constant reminder of the few hours

available to her for some sleep, it seemed

to mock her and gave her brain just one

more thing to think about.

When morning finally did come,

she felt more exhausted than she had the

night before. With her body yelling 'no'

she literally rolled from bed, first landing

on her knees, then placed her hands on the

bed for support, she pushed herself to a

standing position. If there was a joint or

muscle that was not stiff or sore she didn't

know where it was. She managed a quick,

very hot shower, which did little to wake

her up but did make her aching body less

obstinate.

"Been too long since I've run," she

thought as she toweled herself off, hoping

that she could find time in the near future

to get a workout routine going again.

Blanche wrapped the towel around

her head and returned to her room but

within minutes the humidity brought a fine

mist of moisture to the surface of her skin.

The towel was used one more time,

extended between her hands, she used it

like a shoeshine rag, buffing her skin and

bringing it to a pink hue. Once completed,

she dressed in something a bit less

conservative than usual and prepared for

the day.

The guests were already enjoying

their homemade biscuits and gravy by the

time Blanche made her appearance.

"Good morning," everyone said in

unison.

Blanche looked around and noted

that Mr. 'Wonder' was not among the

seated guests.

"What happened to 'Clueless'?”

she asked, more out of surprise than care.

Ms. Carmichael jumped in, "He

was suddenly called away to Washington

on some very important, hush-hush

business."

"Or so he said," included Mrs.

Muir, continuing to sop her toast in the

white gravy. "What's a guy like that doing

with connections in Washington?” pausing

only momentarily then continued, “I guess

it shouldn't come as any great surprise

though, I mean just look at the mentality of

most of our elected officials."

"Still kind of rubs me wrong, the

way he lit out of here with not so much as

a good day or thank you," said Caroline.

"What was it he said he did?" the

young librarian asked.

"Oh, he said he was in marketing