Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

“Relax girl,” she told herself, offering a cheerful hello to the fellow in the van as she breezed by.

“That was close!” Lester said to himself, throwing the magazine into the passenger seat, watching Blanche’s behind shake its way down the sidewalk in his driver’s side mirror.

He was sure she hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but still he needed to be more careful. Easing the van into gear he quickly made a U-turn and tracked the jogging woman, being careful to keep his distance and his cool. He deliberately stalked his prey, periodically taking pictures. Looking at her sweat-covered neck he longed to know what she would taste like. The cat and unsuspecting mouse game carried on for close to an hour before Blanche made her way back around to the soccer field and took a seat in the stands.

Before long she found herself rooting for the underdogs, the team with the smallest players, and the most girls. Parents encouraged and cheered the players on from the stands, occasionally criticizing the skill of others, bringing some parents to their feet in defense of their children running about on the field. Blanche enjoyed this type of event, the feel of the sun’s rays restored her energy and the laughter and applause from the players, and spectators alike, reinvigorated her spirit.

As Blanche sat enjoying the game before her, a different type of spectator had finally found a spot where he could get some frontal pictures of his target, without anything obstructing his view. Lester had parked his van at the nearby farmer’s market, and with the bulky camera in hand, walked across the street and sat on a hill overlooking the youth’s game. He sat with his left knee raised, and the large lens resting on it, the viewfinder encapsulated the strawberry blonde in the bleachers across the field. He watched as she laughed and applauded the players, taking special notice of her mopping the sweat from between her breasts with a small towel she’d pulled from the pack around her waist. Those close ups would enhance his collection nicely. Watching the expression on Blanche’s face, her long distance photographer didn’t know who was enjoying the day more, the subject, or the professional.

By the time Lester had shot a few hundred pictures, the sun had climbed to its zenith, pushing the crowds into their air-conditioned homes or off to the many lakes and rivers that dotted the landscape. Sitting on the hillside, in the shade of a white-blossomed magnolia tree, the photographer watched Blanche leave the stands and walk the few blocks to her home. He considered staying and watching for her the rest of the day, but knew there were a few plans to conclude before his work was done. He was anxious to get his competitors out of the way and hoped that tonight would present itself to do just that. What he needed, whether tonight, or in the near future, was a viable location, a distraction, a gun, an opportunity, and the will to act. Lester knew he had three of the five, Jasper would provide one more, and God would do the rest.

Blanche spent the balance of the afternoon taking a leisurely long bath, with no one else in the house, except Mrs. Muir. She’d been fortunate enough not to run into Felix and by the time she dragged herself out of the tub and back to her room it was past lunchtime. The thought of leaving the comfort of the home didn’t sit well with her, however, a Hawaiian pizza with Canadian bacon sounded wonderful to the starving woman. She pushed the guilt aside, slipped on some loose fitting sweats and headed downstairs, where Mrs. Muir was lounging in the parlor just starting, ‘The Birds’, on the large screen television.

“Mrs. Muir, how would you like to indulge a guilty pleasure this afternoon and split a large cheesy pizza with me? I’m buying but I can’t eat one by myself.”

“That does sound rather tempting and I was wondering what I might have to eat while I watched this movie. Tell you what, you order the pizza and I’ll make up some homemade lemonade and we’ll have an afternoon at the movies right here.”

“I’m in. Is ham and pineapple okay with you?” Blanche confirmed.

Their lunch arrived and the two women ate pizza, sipped their homemade concoction and enjoyed the macabre from the mind of Alfred Hitchcock.

“They certainly don’t make movies like that anymore,” Mrs. Muir offered, polishing off the last piece of cold pizza.

“It’s a shame really.” Having never seen the movie, Blanche offered her own critique, “I loved the storyline and he did it with a sense of sexuality but no blatant sex scenes. The language was mild but still got the message across with terrifying results. Anymore all they want to show is sex and shock. Books and these old movies are what really do it for me,” Blanche explained.

“I couldn’t agree more, my dear. Thanks for spending the afternoon with a lonely old woman, you’ve made my day.”

“It was my pleasure, we’ll do it again real soon.”

Jasper picked Blanche up at 6:30, with no Rufus to be seen. The Datsun sat idling at the curb as the bodybuilder approached the doorway and knocked on the screen door, being able to see into the interior of the home. Blanche had been sitting visiting with Caroline, when she heard the knock, and greeted Jasper with a wave, saying goodbye to Caroline, who busied herself about, making sure to get a look at the extremely large fellow picking the librarian up.

“She’s suddenly very popular,” Ms. Carmichael said to the accountant sitting at the dinner table punching some numbers through his calculator. He looked up momentarily, ignored the comment and went back to his work.

“Jasper, how’s it going? Saw your picture in the paper this week. You’re a celebrity of sorts,” Blanche said, moving through the screen door and out onto the porch with her date.

“I don’t know about that Ms. Delaney, the guys at work been giving me a hard time since I won. They’s just jealous,” he said, flexing a bicep, expanding the fabric beyond its limits.

“So where are we off to? I’ve shot my healthy diet for the day so I’m thinking maybe I need a banana split.”

“Whoa, a little thing like you, where you gonna put it?”

“Oh, I’ll manage, just show me the way,” she said, taking his arm as they walked to the waiting miniature truck.

Jasper knew of a great, old-fashioned ice cream joint on the other side of the tracks that was only known to the locals. It wasn’t fancy but the portions were huge, the music loud and ice cream delicious. They drove and talked about their week, Blanche hoping that she’d get a chance to explain to Jasper where she’d like their friendship to stand. For now, she put it off, hoping for an opportunity as the evening wore on. Jasper drove quickly, zipping in and out of traffic, using the clutch and gearshift like a professional racecar driver, causing Blanche to believe that the forthcoming ice cream must really be good.

“What the hell is he doing driving like Mario Andretti up there?” Lester cussed, keeping pace with the yellow Datsun, trying desperately not to lose them. “Damn it, I’ve waited all day for this chance, slow down!” he said, through clenched teeth.

The last thing Lester needed tonight was to draw attention to himself or his van. The black man had to go, but it had to be slick, without witnesses, and Blanche couldn’t get hurt. Lester had spent the few hours prior to Blanche's date shooting pop cans off of fence posts near the river. He wanted to get a feel for the.38, it handled a bit differently than his own 9mm, but after knocking down can after can, with only the occasional miss, he was satisfied that given the chance he’d hit his target.

The small truck finally slowed to a crawl and pulled into a parking lot where a strip mall housed a Laundromat, a health food store, and The Dixie Diner. The couple exited the truck and walked into the diner, the big black guy leading the way, and holding the door for Blanche.