Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

“What are you talking about? You mean that thing with the guy that did those break-ins over the past couple weeks? He’s harmless, a prankster, hasn’t hurt anybody. The cops think it’s just a couple of kids playing games. You are seriously going to cancel a multimillion dollar deal because of that?” she incredulously asked.

“Ms. Davis,” he said, in a stern, attention getting voice, “Have you not seen the news this morning or read the paper? This guy is for real, no college prankster; the police are issuing warnings for people living in that entire region. It’s just more than we wish to engage at this time. Our lawyers will be in touch with your office later this morning. Again, we are truly sorry, but business is business. Good day.”

She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, another nail in her financial coffin. The sale of the property would have meant hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees she would have collected, the largest sale of her career, now squashed by some pervert getting his jollies. “Shit, shit, shit,” she hammered out with increasing volume, “Why now?” She circled the table talking to herself, “I can’t frickin’ believe this, not now, not when we were so close. Now what the hell am I going to do? I’ll never find another buyer like Okala.” Her mind going a hundred miles an hour, she tried to focus. What had he said about the news, what news? She switched on the local broadcast.

A strikingly beautiful blonde in a business suit, just cut low enough to entice the male audience, sat upright behind a large, expansive desk, computer monitor to her right and a stack of papers in her hands. She looked to be all business this morning, no sweet, sheepish grin, no funny banter with the co-anchor, just right to the facts. “Again, the Sheriff’s Department, by way of Sheriff Lupo himself, has issued a strict warning to the people living in the area south and west of the Air Force Base. There is a very real threat, as they’ve concluded a serial predator is working the aforementioned area and every caution should be taken to secure your safety and the safety of your home and family.”

“What has happened?” she thought. “Come on, tell us what the hell has happened since yesterday!” Bev screamed at the television.

As if the female anchor had heard her, she continued, “Let’s recap that story again for those just joining us. Last night a house on Lori Street was broken into while the owners were out. The home appeared to be ransacked in a search for valuables and the couple has identified numerous items missing from the premises. Based on evidence at the scene, the authorities believe the couple returned home while the perpetrator was still inside. Fortunately there was no confrontation, but significant damage was done to the home and the department was unable to release more details this morning. They will be holding a press conference later in the day to keep the public apprised of the investigation, however, they did specify that this latest break in is a significant escalation in the violent nature of the crimes to date. They are asking the public to report suspicious individuals or behavior, particularly in the area we’ve been talking about. The Sheriff’s Department has set up a hotline that you can call and we’ll put that on the screen for you momentarily.”

Beverly sat back in her chair staring blankly at the woman on the screen. She was lost for words. She had worked her ass off the past ten years, married a husband with a defective heart, inherited a jackass of a stepson, gained fifty pounds, given up every opportunity for another man in her life, and for what? To have it all pulled out from underneath her by a little prick breaking into people’s homes. “Damn it!” she yelled, sweeping her arm across the table sending the now empty coffee cup sailing through the air, shattering on the kitchen wall.

Blanche casually swung back and forth on the porch of Caroline’s B amp;B enjoying the light early morning breeze as it helped dry the droplets of perspiration that were still forming on her skin. She’d kept her promise to herself to get out and run this morning, had been more difficult than expected but still felt great to stretch out and feel the sun on her back as she maneuvered the sidewalks, for three miles, that felt like ten. She had only been enjoying the porch swing for a few minutes before Mrs. Muir joined her.

“Room for two?” she asked.

“Sure, if you don’t mind sitting next to me while I sweat like a pig,” Blanche said, with a smirk.

“Beautiful morning, just love it when there’s enough of a breeze to dampen this stifling humidity. Too bad the news this morning is such a downer,” Mrs. Muir said, trying to read Blanche to see if she’d heard the latest details.

“Yeah, it is beautiful this morning, but what news are you talking about?”

Happy that she got to be the bearer of the bad news, Mrs. Muir expounded, “Well, you know what’s been happening in those homes up by the base, right?” She didn’t wait for Blanche to reply. “There was another one last night and they almost caught him. Was in the house when the couple got home. The Sheriff isn’t saying much but I phoned that friend of mine, you know the one I was telling you about? Anyway, she said, and she has very good connections, don’t you know. Well, she said that the home of Mrs. Criddle, the lady with the fake leg and the mustang, she said, there was some warning written on her living room wall in pig blood. Can you imagine?” she said, excitedly.

“I hadn’t heard that, are you sure?” Blanche questioned.

“Oh, I’m sure, she’s very reliable. Then last night, and don’t tell anybody, cause this isn’t supposed to be out, but last night he killed something with a butcher knife and a carving fork, I think she said it was a pig, then wrote another warning on the wall. Is that creepy or what? Don’t know what this world is coming to.”

Blanche, at this point, had stopped the leisurely sway of the swing and listened intently to what the older woman was saying, knowing to take it for what it was, as she considered the source. “Was anybody hurt, do you know?” she said, staring into the street ahead of her.

“Sounds like the pig didn’t fair very well,” she replied

“Those poor people, must have been such a shock to them when they got home. What kind of a person does this kind of stuff? It sounds to me like he’s getting bolder with each outing.” She nailed it without knowing.

“Lots of f….ing punks out there, that’s for sure,” the older woman said, followed by, “Excuse me dear, don’t normally like to use that word but sometimes I just get so riled up.” They laughed as Blanche reached over and patted Mrs. Muir on the knee, assuring her it was understandable.

They started up the swing again, swaying back and forth in silence, each putting into perspective the information they had just shared. A few minutes later, Blanche noted a small truck motoring down the street in front of the B amp;B, the driver blasted out a recognizable greeting with the horn and Blanche stood and waved as Jasper sailed by.

“Alright people, hold it down, quiet down. Quiet down!” the Sheriff elevated his voice above the commotion in the main level conference room. “Let’s have it quiet so we can get started.” He waited for the chairs to fill and order to be restored to the adrenalin filled room. “Thank you, I know we’ve all been up long hours already,” he said, looking at his watch, 1:00 p.m. “I’d like to start with an overview of where we are with the first two cases before we jump into the one from this morning.”

“Arlene, I know you’ve been compiling and coordinating the information as it’s come in, where do we stand?” Sheriff Lupo directed his question to the woman seated directly to his right with laptop computer open, frantically taking notes. Not accustom to having to speak to such a large group of people, she tried to ignore that anyone else was present, and looked directly at her friend ‘The Wolf’ and spoke.