Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

“Sorry about all the commotion up there this afternoon,” he offered. “Those new shelving units they sent for the magazines didn’t quite go together with the ease that the instructions indicated. Never do for some reason, anyway, got them together and they look nice. You’ll have to mosey up there when you get time and take a look.”

She always looked forward to the random interactions she got to have with the personable, little man throughout her day. Kind of reminded her of her dad and brought back some fond memories of her childhood. He was always quick with a compliment and a smile and today was no different.

“That’s quite the outfit you’ve got on there today, really highlights your figure, you’ll have the boys in the back fighting over who gets to help you with the coding this afternoon.”

Blanche knew the remark was intended just as it was given, a sincere observation meant to compliment with no creepy overtones or insinuations.

“Why thank you Marcus, just a little something I haven’t worn since I started here and thought I’d give it a go.” Blanche blushed slightly, making her face glow with appreciation.

“Well, you did good, anybody in particular you ah, um, how do I put this tactfully? You got your sites on a particular target with this?” He gestured with his hands, indicating her figure in the tight, thin sweater stretching a little lower than her usual attire and the slacks a bit tighter in the seat than anything she’d worn to date.

“Now, now Marcus, you know you’re the only man around here that I’ve got an eye for,” she said, with a wink of her striking blue eyes and a pat on his shoulder.

They both laughed but Marcus had his suspicions. Blanche was like the daughter he never had and he enjoyed her personality and the fun banter they exchanged on a regular basis, but he strangely felt a certain obligation to watch out for her best interests as well.

“Marcus, Mr. Marcus, you got that shelving unit up yet? My heavens with all the noise going on up there one would have thought you were putting together a tank or something,” the words arrived almost before the director as she scurried up to the front desk.

“Yes ma'am, was just telling Blanche here how nice they look. You should get up there yourself and have a gander,” Marcus replied.

“Well I shall, once I get the new items for the museum cataloged and put into place. I just can’t seem to keep up with it all. Thank goodness we’ve got Blanche to look after the library for us. Heavens dear, you trying to attract every man within a ten mile radius?” Ester inquired sarcastically, eyeing the curvaceous, young librarian.

“I hope it’s not too much,” Blanche squeaked out, crossing her arms over her bosom.

“Perhaps we should endeavor to keep your assets a bit more under wraps in the future or we’ll never get these high school students to stop talking about you,” the director smiled politely, turned on her heels to walk away but said over her shoulder. “On second thought maybe we need to put the donation sign on the desk right in front of you today, dear, might be the best day we’ve had in years. See what you can do with that, will you?” And with that she was gone, calling for Mr. Marcus to follow her without turning to address him directly.

* * *

Blanche sat on the bench immediately in front of the library under a large magnolia tree, its glossy leaves providing a haven of shade from the afternoon sun. It had rained for about 30 minutes an hour prior but now the sun was shining and the rainfall had given everything around her a brilliant, clean luster that accentuated the shrubbery and flowers. She did love it here, the city itself was beautiful, the people in general so genuine and caring, her job was a breeze and she loved the people she worked with but most of all she was content.

The poor night's sleep seemed less significant as she sat and looked around at the pretty little square and the laid back atmosphere that seemed to encompass the town and the South in general. The worry of finding a place to live, for whatever reason, seemed less important at this very moment. She was feeling something she hadn’t felt for quite some time, happiness.

“Yes, that was it!” she thought, reflecting on the past few weeks. She had not been able to quite put her finger on it this afternoon but she was sure that this is what true happiness must feel like. Being able to look beyond the events of the day it was interesting to her that such an epiphany was possible, but there it was right in the middle of her chest, that burning sensation that speaks to one’s soul that all is well and life is good.

As she was basking in her new found realization Blanche noted a gentleman approaching the steps of the library, cane in his right hand and a bit slumped over, but she thought he seemed awfully young to be walking with a cane and hunched over in that manner. She watched as he reached the steps, straightened up slightly, and looked around as if expecting to meet someone. Blanche noted that rather than looking through his glasses, he tended to tip his head so he could see over them.

It was what happened on the steps that struck her as odd. He seemed to be having a hard time judging the distance to each step. He would take a step, pull his glasses down his nose, look over them then take the next step. On the final step he failed to perform the same operation and tripped sending him falling. Rather than hitting the concrete as expected, he reacted with cat like reflexes, regained his balance without the use of the cane. Once secure that he was steady, he put his weight back on the cane, bent over and proceeded through the main doors.

The incident hung in her thoughts for only a minute or two chalking it up to her father’s favorite saying, ‘It takes all kinds’, before her thoughts returned to the beauty of the day and the happiness she was feeling. She wanted to remember the way she felt right at that moment, capture it, bottle it up along with the sunshine’s comforting rays before she had to return to her duties inside.

Earlier in the day the burglar had tossed numerous ideas around. Perhaps he should just use the Internet to help him hone his ideas and provide new ones, after all he’d been told to be creative, however, ‘creative’ was not on his resume. Breaking into a home without detection, yes it was on there, not getting caught was on there, but breaking into a home, not getting caught and making a statement for all to see, that was definitely not included in his skill set. He’d had second thoughts about using the Internet; it would be traceable. All they’d need was his list of searches in conjunction with his IP address and they’d be knocking on his door. He’d seen it happen before and didn’t want to be a part of that.

Most of the morning he wrote list after list of what he thought were good ideas only to come full circle with the understanding that most of the schemes sucked. After the press and the police had turned his first outing into a bit of a laughing matter, giving some phantom college student the credit for his well orchestrated crime, he needed something with some pizzazz. Something that says ‘Holy Shit’ to the unsuspecting public, something that will really get their attention without drawing undue attention to himself or the ultimate goal. He obviously needed some help and he knew the trip he’d planned for the library must take place, however, he didn’t want to go as himself just in case they had security cams scattered about. It had been years since he’d visited a public library and he had no idea what to expect, except for an old maid behind the counter and dusty books on the shelf.

Several options for a makeshift disguise presented themselves but he settled on a Gulf War vet with a back injury. His father’s old cane would suffice as a prop and an old baggy, green army issue jacket would complete the ruse. To enhance the look he filled his hands with hair gel and smoothed it through his straight black hair, pulling it back, exposing his forehead and uncovering his ears in the process. Perfect, he had thought, looking in the mirror, and to top it off he pulled a pinch of chewing tobacco from a tin his father had left behind and put it between his cheek and gum.