Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

“I think I can make that work. I’ve got a little something going on between now and then, hope it keeps me tied up, turned inside out and panting for more, if you know what I mean. By Friday I should be able to disclose all the naughty details, can’t wait to see you. Oh, and I’ll see if I can find you a place to live in the mean time.”

“You are horrible Bev Davis. Talk to you later,” Blanche said, her spirits lifted by the older woman’s enthusiasm.

As Blanche hung up at the library, Felix was picking up again from the B amp;B. A woman answered, “Lowndes County Land and Title, can I help you, this is Marge.”

“Good afternoon Marge, how’s your day going? My name is Felix Unger and I’m looking for some information about a piece of property that is for sale south of the base. Whom would I speak to about past titles and current information on the land?” he asked, continuing to play the role.

“I see Mr. Unger, we have a number of people that could help you with that, may I transfer you?”

“Now hold on there a minute Marge, I don’t want just anybody. This is a multi-million dollar deal so I need somebody with experience. We’d be happy to pay a consultation fee for any help, above and beyond, what your office generally provides, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I think I do, you’ll need to speak with our director then, Mr. Savard.”

“He’s the man?”

“Yes, he is,” Marge confirmed.

“Well then, get the man on the phone for me, will you Marge? Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome. I’m putting you through to his office now.”

Felix waited patiently for the little weasel to pick up. “Director Savard.”

“I’ll bet he loves hearing himself say that all day,” Felix thought. “Is this the world famous Iggy Savard, virgin slayer and man among men?”

“Is this some kind of joke, who is this?” the director asked.

“Who the hell do you think it is Iggy?” Felix said, kicked back on his bed using his cell phone.

“Felix, why are you calling me? Did you read the latest message I posted?”

“Yeah, I read it. I’ll follow through like we talked about, but I got to thinking, I may need an alibi if this goes sideways on us and I’ve decided that should be you.”

“Why me? Can’t be me! What are you talking about? We don’t know each other, remember?”

“I remember, but I’ve been thinking, maybe Jeremy’s more concerned about his own butt and not so much ours, so I thought up a solution that helps both of us. You ready to hear it?” Felix’s criminal mind was working in overdrive.

“Okay, let‘s hear it but make it quick, I’m at work.”

“I know! Why do you think I called your main line? Met Marge, she seems like a lovely woman, introduced myself and told her I was Felix Unger. Love doing that, mom and dad never would have appreciated the fun I’d have with my name over the years.”

“Did I just hear you correctly? Did you say you told her who you were? Are you friggin’ nuts?” The director was starting to wig out.

“Yea, she knows I’m interested in learning more about the land that Bev is flogging and I wanted to talk with somebody there that knows it all. That’s how I ended up with you. You’ve really got ‘em fooled over there, Iggy.”

“So what’s this grand scheme?”

“On Thursday night when our guys at work, you know at Bev’s, you’re going to be my alibi and I’m yours. Have your secretary put in your planner that you have a meeting with Felix Unger, representing Jenson Development, to discuss the land we’re looking at. Between now and then you get together some information about the land, and do whatever it is you do when you’re doing a consultation. We say we met out at the property, looked things over about six and then grabbed a bucket of chicken and ate it at your place. Of course you’ll do all that on your own, but I was with you the whole time. Got it? Most likely we aren't even going to need it but we need our stories to be straight. Any questions?” the mobster asked.

Ignatius could have spent the next ten minutes shooting holes in Felix’s brainchild but opted to just agree and be done with it. “Whatever. I think I got it, like you said, I don’t think we’re gonna need it. You contacted our thief yet? Tell him I’ll be putting the stuff in his box Wednesday night once all the neighbors are asleep.”

“Okay Iggy, now go and give Marge the appointment and don’t forget what we’ve said. Hell, who knows, maybe I’ll even drop by and introduce myself to you in the next day or two.”

“Oh, Jeremy’s not going to like that.”

“Oh, Jeremy’s not going to find out, is he?” he said in a very threatening tone. “Just do what you’re told Iggy,” concluding his message without a goodbye.

While the two conspirators discussed how they might save themselves if their plans crumbled into chaos, a very sad and lonely Seymour Wood sat in a holding cell of the Valdosta Police station. He had been fingerprinted, photographed and dumped in a cell by himself, charges were pending and a date was being scheduled for his arraignment before the judge. They had not allowed him contact with anyone but had offered to make arrangements for his attorney, which he declined, knowing that he didn’t need one. Innocent men don’t need attorneys.

“How can this be happening? Who would have wanted to frame me? I don’t have anything! I don’t know anything! What’s the point? I just don’t get it,” he ran it over and over again through his mind.

He noted the cute deputy still hanging around the police station and he wondered what she was waiting for. She walked by close enough that she could hear him if he spoke loudly.

“Hey, Deputy Guest, please can I ask you something.”

She hesitantly walked to the cell enclosure and asked him what he wanted.

“What’s going on, why won’t anybody talk to me? They haven’t even let me call anybody.”

“Can’t say much. The gun we found in your locker, technically in your possession, is having some tests run on it. Checking it for ballistics and serial number confirmation. That’s about all I can tell you but I’ll make sure you get your call, be right back.”

“Hold on a second, why are they running all the tests on the gun?”

“Seymour, don’t you get it? The gun you had is possibly the one taken by The Stalker last week, and the black dude shot at The Dixie Diner, was shot with a.38. We’re looking at charging you with a whole list of crimes if the information on the gun comes back as we think it will.”

“But deputy, I didn’t have anything to do with all that stuff! I’m just a student, you’ve got to believe me!” he pleaded with the young woman.

Again her intuition told her he was telling the truth but the facts were staring her in the face, even if she didn’t want to believe them. “I’ll get you that phone Seymour.”

A few minutes later she returned with a land line and a long cord plugged in across the room. He tried desperately to remember her phone number but could not. The library, he’d call the library, surely she would be the one to pick up. The phone rang a couple of times before a voice answered.

“Valdosta Public Library, Jared speaking, how can I help you?”

“Crap, Jared, what are you doing answering the phone?” a demoralized Seymour said.

“Well, howdy doody to you too, who is this?” the teenager asked.

“It’s Seymour; I have to talk to Blanche, right away!” an unmistakable degree of urgency in his voice.

“Well, hold your horses, I’ll get her.”

Five minutes later her sweet voice filled his earpiece. “Seymour, I was hoping I’d hear from you today. I’ve done nothing but think about our date the other night. I have a story to tell…..”