Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

Officer Guest could hardly contain her excitement. The description given to her was a dead ringer for Lester Cummings and now she had a second witness that could also put Lester in the mix. It was interesting that he had chosen to use the name Rob when speaking with Blanche. The deputy made sure to write everything down this time around. She asked that Blanche send him in and she went through the same process with Marcus. The custodian issued a more vague description but generally the same as Blanche. He agreed to provide any further information that came to mind, signed the statement and left with the others.

Beverly was disappointed that she’d not heard from Felix after their morning romp the day before, but was sure she would get a chance to pull his chain again today. He’d said something about the property they had met over and the possibility of an offer, which would certainly be the icing on the cake for the realtor. She reviewed her calendar for the day, over her usual cup of coffee, picked up the house a bit before she dressed and headed to her office. The planner reminded her of the date she had with Blanche for the following night, she was so anxious to tell her about the new man that had swept into her life and bedroom.

In the late afternoon she finally heard from Felix. He apologized for not getting back to her sooner but had been on the phone non-stop with the developers. They had come to an agreement, at least from their side, in terms of an offer with a few ‘subject to’s’ still in place. Felix told her he had done his best to hammer out an agreement that he thought would be acceptable to all parties and was anxious to present it to her. He also indicated that he wanted to show her something else and would be by later to do just that. The con man was vague on the time he would do the presenting but asked her to be home from 6:00 p.m. and on, that way she wouldn’t miss him. Beverly was more than excited; perhaps she was turning the corner on a newfound and more fulfilling life.

Just that morning her lawyer had phoned saying that Mr. Jeremy Marshall, her stepson, had contacted their office, with one last lowball offer of ten million, which they flatly turned down given the prior direction they had received from Beverly herself. The lawyer suggested that with no further hang-ups there was a possibility that she’d be a millionaire by Christmas. He was careful not to give her too much hope as Jeremy had already filed a petition to reduce the amount arbitrarily assigned by the court as the final value of the estate. The Marshall lawyers were contesting the value assigned in a market that was in an undeniable downturn. Beverly was disappointed but not surprised, in any case, she knew the estate issue was winding down and she could soon get on with her life and maybe her new love.

Seymour was anxious to get his life back to normal as soon as possible. Taking advice from his mother and rejecting it outright, he returned to the one class he had in the afternoon, astonishing some of the students and drawing high fives from others. The few hours he was away from home passed without incident but he was excited to go to work that evening. He needed to be with Blanche in a way he’d never felt before with another woman. His heart yearned and craved her companionship, he could tell from the pull on his heartstrings that the infatuation had grown. He could not deny the feelings of love and concern he had for the fascinating Blanche D. Delaney.

Shortly before six, Seymour ate with his mother at the kitchen table and talked of the week’s past events. She tried to persuade him to stay home from work but knew it was a losing argument. Nothing would keep him away from Blanche or the library tonight. Their discussion went full circle and ended up at the jail earlier in the day.

“I was so glad to walk out of there today, mom. Probably next to dad dying, the worst few days of my life,” Seymour said.

“If it weren’t for Blanche you’d still be sitting there,” his mother informed him. Having said that she got up from the table and started clearing dishes away.

“What do you mean? What did she do?” he asked, anxious to hear the answer.

“She didn’t tell you?” his mom asked.

“Tell me what? She just told me you had arranged the bail and I’d be getting out today.”

“Seymour, she took the money she had set aside for a down payment on a place and gave it to us for your bail. The bank would only give me $150,000; she came up with the rest. I have to say, she’s a remarkable girl. I was wrong about her,” his mother said, moving to stand behind him and putting her hands on his sinewy shoulders.

“You’re kidding, I had no idea.” He could think of nothing else to say but sat in silence the last few minutes he had before needing to leave for work.

With his mom in the kitchen, Seymour went to her room and removed the rifle from the closet and filled his pocket with a handful of shells from a box that was nearby. He managed to get out the door and put the gun behind the seat of the truck without her being the wiser. Jasper had been unprepared in defending Blanche; he would not make the same mistake. Seymour had shot the old rifle a few times. He knew enough that his dad called it a.50 caliber Sharps, the bullets as big around as his index finger and almost as long. The weapon had been handed down over the generations from the days of the Civil War, and although old, his father had used it yearly to put venison on their table. Seymour had shot it a little bit in his youth, had one hell of a kick, but never had much interest in hunting but would go just to hang out with his dad. He tossed the shells in the glove box, hollered out the window to his mother that he’d see her later and headed for town and Blanche at the library.

Deputy Guest worked feverishly throughout the afternoon, with the help of Deputy Breland and Ricky, to put the finishing touches on the warrant request. The information provided by the old timer had proven just what they needed to put the final piece of the warrant together. She had driven out earlier in the afternoon and taken their statement. It seemed that the old guy got to thinking after they talked the other day and the more he drove the tractor around his field the more he remembered about a friend of his that passed away a good ten years before. Had a son that raced motorcycles on the MX Circuit when he was younger. The farmer’s friend would often brag about the trophies his son was stacking up. The Deputy had grown more excited with each passing minute, hoping the old timer could remember the name.

As he concluded his statement she asked, “And can you remember your friend’s name or his son’s?”

His wife had helped to translate some of the slur and slang but there was no missing his answer. “Well, shur I do, ain’t losin’ ma mind am I motha. Feller’s name was Cummings, Spencer Cummings, but I can’t say I mumber the bo’s.”

With Lester Cummings squarely in their sights and the paperwork in hand Guest had raced to the courthouse in hopes of catching the judge. The timing was close; she caught the judge climbing into his 4x4 as she pulled into the parking lot. She hit her lights and siren to get his attention causing Otis to bark and growl from his cage. The judge had been more than understanding, especially considering the impact the information could have on the Wood and Stalker cases. He informed the deputy that he would review the request at home and issue the warrant from there. He would notify the Sheriff’s Office once he had done his work and she could drop by his house to pick up the search warrant later.

Deputy Guest now found herself staring at the phone and talking with the dispatch staff as most of the officers had retired for the night. She could see a light on in 'The Wolf’s office, making plans for the raid in the morning no doubt. All officers had been told to report for duty at 4:30 a.m., they would need to gear up with vests and shotguns, in preparation for the raid which would go down at 5:30 the next morning. The office had been abuzz with excitement in hopes of bringing The Stalker to justice.