With Cruel Intent (65 page)

Seymour said, as he passed Blanche at the

front desk.

“Rob!” she said, looking up, a bit

of panic on her face.

“No, the vet with the cane that you

told me about a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, him, thought you meant the

guy I told Deputy Guest about this

morning,” a relieved Blanche commented.

Seymour continued looking after

the books and magazines left scattered on

the tables and chairs throughout the library

and didn’t give the gentleman on the

second floor much more thought.

From the upper floor balcony

Lester watched the exchange between the

two at the front desk. He had not factored

Seymour into his plans for the evening but

it may work out to his advantage to have

Seymour help him lure Blanche to the

second floor when ready. He knew the

library would close at 10:00 and they

would start ushering people out prior to

that, 9:25 as he looked at his watch. A

lone reader, her hair in a tightly wound

bun and sunglasses on her head, sat in a

comfortable chair near the new magazine

section thumbing through a copy of

People. Lester tried to think of how he

might hurry the woman on her way but

didn’t want to chance drawing attention to

himself. He decided to take a seat close to

her and strike up a conversation, maybe he

could persuade her to vacate the second

floor all together.

“Evenin’, do you mind if I join

you?” he asked, taking a chair and sliding

it close to hers, before she was able to

answer.

She looked at the obviously

unusual character and nodded but did not

speak, but right away he noted that she

shifted her behind in the chair, moving

away from him.

“Good,” he thought, “it’s working

already.”

He picked up another gossip

magazine from the table in front of them,

flipped to a page of starlets dressed in

slinky gowns.

“What do you think about that big

busted blonde that married that old man

for his money? You think she really loved

him or was she just banging the old guy

for the cash? Personally, I think the old

guy couldn’t even get it up. I mean he was

85 when they married, can’t tell me he’s

scoring any points with his virility at that

age. You got an opinion on it?”

The woman was annoyed but not

dislodged. “I’ve really not given it any

thought so I couldn’t say.” She continued

to be polite and tried to ignore the rude

stranger.

“Well, if it came down to it, I’d

sure as hell take up with some shriveled

up old granny for a few million dollars.

My old lady would probably give me

permission, long as I cut her in, if you

know what I mean,” he pushed, trying to

think what it would take to make her

leave.

“I’m just trying to get through this

article. Do you mind?” she said, showing

the open magazine to him.

“Oh no, no problem, what you

reading there?” he said, sliding even

closer and looking over her shoulder.

She turned the magazine away so

he couldn’t see the text and slumped as far

from him as she could without actually

getting up and moving the chair.

“So would you marry some old

dude with a limp dick for a couple million

dollars, or what?” he asked, grabbing his

crotch to emphasize his point.

She had had enough, she tossed the

magazine back on the table, stood and

gave him a look of absolute disdain and

turned for the stairs.

He called after her, “I was just

asking.”

“Finally, didn’t think the bag was

every going to leave,” he said to himself.

Now clear, he thought of what he

might do to distract Seymour and get a

jump on him. With no one to see him he

removed the glasses, put them back in the

case and into the jacket pocket and laid

the cane on a large table that was visible

from the area immediately at the top of the

stairs. He then randomly removed two-

dozen books from the nearby shelving

units and scattered them on the table for

Seymour to see and have to put away. That

would give him all the advantage that he

would need. He took up the cane, pulled a

chair within striking distance of the table

and waited.

At 9:45 p.m. Seymour stopped at

the front desk and told Blanche that he

was making the rounds and would inform

people that the library would be closing in

fifteen minutes. They were both surprised

at the number of people still utilizing the

library's facilities. He would start on the

upper floor, check the bathrooms and

make sure that everyone was notified and

things straightened up, before he did the

same on the main level. Blanche watched

Seymour move up the stairs, so thankful

that she had helped with the money and he

was here with her tonight and not still in

the county jail.

Lester saw him coming and

pretended to be looking at a book but all

the time paying attention to where

Seymour went and waited patiently for

him to move around to the table covered

with books. The young assistant moved in

and out of both bathrooms, put a few

magazines back in their place and

straightened

the

chairs

Lester

had

previously moved, before he approached

the table near the assailant.

“How

you

doing

tonight?”

Seymour asked, in a cheerful tone.

“Good thanks, looks like you’re

getting ready to close up shop.”

“Yeah, but you still got another ten

or fifteen minutes if you need it.”

Seymour surveyed the array of

books on the table and frowned. “You

looked at all these books? I would have

sworn I cleaned this table just a short time

ago.”

“Nah, some woman up here was

pulling them off the shelf and tossing ‘em

on the table. Don’t know what she was

looking for but she sure left a mess for

you.”

“Yes, she did,” Seymour said,

starting to pick up the books and return

them to the shelves.

The Stalker watched and waited;

gripping the cane tightly in his right hand,

ready to pounce. The young man continued

to move between the table and the shelves

working his way down the table toward

Lester. With only a few books left,

Seymour walked between the seated Gulf

War Vet and the table, leaned over to

reach the last three books and stood with

them in his right hand when the disguised

Lester struck.

He quietly moved to a standing

position behind the unaware Seymour,

lifted the cane with both hands well above

his head and brought the object down with

incredible force, striking Seymour fully on

the crown of his head. Seymour did not go

down but rather spun around, dazed and

confused, his hand now pressed to the

back of his head, blood spilling over his

fingers.

“Ouch, what the ….,” he said,

unable to finish his sentence before Lester

brought the cane down again, cracking

Seymour a second time across his head,

sending him to the floor in a state of

unconsciousness.

The sound of him bouncing off the

chair on his way down made more noise

than Lester would have liked but he was

prepared if the commotion brought

Blanche up the stairs. It did not. With

Seymour on the ground but not in the

location he wanted him, the wounded

villain dragged his prize across the room

leaving him in a heap near the emergency

door. He noted that the alarm was still

removed from the exit as he’d seen

Marcus do earlier but he pushed the door

open with his foot just to make sure it was

disabled. Lester then doused the cloth

with the ether he’d brought with him and

returned the bottle to his left front pocket

and the cloth to his right, along with the

spectacle case.

Before summoning Blanche he

checked for any sign that Seymour was

about to come to. He was snoring lightly

and bleeding minimally from the two

wounds on his head, but breathing in a

slow and steady fashion. Lester continued

the veteran ruse long enough to call

Blanche up from the lower level. He

moved to the top of the stairs, cane in hand

and called down to Blanche at the desk.

“Excuse me young lady, your

assistant up here has fallen and could use

some help. I think you better come and

take a look!” he said excitedly.

Lester quickly moved back to

Seymour dispensing with the limp and

stood looking over him, the cane in his left

hand now. A second or two later Blanche

could be heard running up the steps. When

she saw the two on the upper floor her

first impulse was for Seymour's well-

being and she neglected her own safety.

“What happened?” she said, in a

panicked tone.

Kneeling down next to Seymour

and inspecting his scalp for the source of

the blood, there was no answer to her

question. She repeated herself and as she

turned to look at the vet for an answer, he

grabbed her from behind with his left

hand, reaching around her waist pulling

her close to him, almost lifting her off the

ground. In his right, he held the cloth

saturated with chemical and covered her

mouth and nose with it. She tried to

scream but the muffled sounds could not

carry to the landing below. Blanche

kicked and fought but the drug took its

affect quickly and her limbs soon hung

limp.

Lester left the cane; he would have

no further use for it. He had both arms

wrapped around Blanche, under her arms

and over the top of her breasts, dragging

her backwards toward the emergency

door. The door opened with the applied

pressure from his back and he hefted the

woman out of the door, leaving Seymour

dripping blood from his head and unaware

of what had happened to the beautiful

librarian. A cane and a spectacle case lay

on the ground nearby, the only remnant of

the attacker and the harm he had caused.

Once on the landing outside the

library, Lester pushed the knocked out

woman into the chute and started her on

the journey to the ground below, he

followed quickly behind, landing on his

feet, just barely missing Blanche directly

under him. He looked around for possible

witnesses but saw none. It was dark and

the streets were quiet. The Stalker opened

the rear doors of the van and lifted his

conquest into the back, looping a quick tie

around her wrists, securing her hands

behind her back. He had no idea how long

the ether would be in effect but didn’t

want her attacking him from the back of

the van on the way home. He did the same

with her feet, immobilizing the librarian

for the time being.

The rush of adrenaline that had

propelled him through the last few minutes

began to subside and the pain in his

abdomen returned with a vengeance.

Before he climbed behind the wheel he

pulled his shirt aside and looked at the

blood soaked bandage again. Fresh blood

now ran down his skin and into the top of

his pants. The Stalker had not noticed the

trail of blood leading from the bottom of

the chute to the van. Events were

happening too quickly to stop and deal

with it now, by the time they were able to

identify him they would be out of the state

and on their way.

Seymour lay unconscious for

nearly two hours and when he finally

came to the lights of the library were

almost blinding. He squinted to make out

gross objects and could feel his eyes