Dennis Larsen - With Cruel Intent

She turned the magazine away so he couldn’t see the text and slumped as far from him as she could without actually getting up and moving the chair.

“So would you marry some old dude with a limp dick for a couple million dollars, or what?” he asked, grabbing his crotch to emphasize his point.

She had had enough, she tossed the magazine back on the table, stood and gave him a look of absolute disdain and turned for the stairs.

He called after her, “I was just asking.”

“Finally, didn’t think the bag was every going to leave,” he said to himself.

Now clear, he thought of what he might do to distract Seymour and get a jump on him. With no one to see him he removed the glasses, put them back in the case and into the jacket pocket and laid the cane on a large table that was visible from the area immediately at the top of the stairs. He then randomly removed two-dozen books from the nearby shelving units and scattered them on the table for Seymour to see and have to put away. That would give him all the advantage that he would need. He took up the cane, pulled a chair within striking distance of the table and waited.

At 9:45 p.m. Seymour stopped at the front desk and told Blanche that he was making the rounds and would inform people that the library would be closing in fifteen minutes. They were both surprised at the number of people still utilizing the library's facilities. He would start on the upper floor, check the bathrooms and make sure that everyone was notified and things straightened up, before he did the same on the main level. Blanche watched Seymour move up the stairs, so thankful that she had helped with the money and he was here with her tonight and not still in the county jail.

Lester saw him coming and pretended to be looking at a book but all the time paying attention to where Seymour went and waited patiently for him to move around to the table covered with books. The young assistant moved in and out of both bathrooms, put a few magazines back in their place and straightened the chairs Lester had previously moved, before he approached the table near the assailant.

“How you doing tonight?” Seymour asked, in a cheerful tone.

“Good thanks, looks like you’re getting ready to close up shop.”

“Yeah, but you still got another ten or fifteen minutes if you need it.”

Seymour surveyed the array of books on the table and frowned. “You looked at all these books? I would have sworn I cleaned this table just a short time ago.”

“Nah, some woman up here was pulling them off the shelf and tossing ‘em on the table. Don’t know what she was looking for but she sure left a mess for you.”

“Yes, she did,” Seymour said, starting to pick up the books and return them to the shelves.

The Stalker watched and waited; gripping the cane tightly in his right hand, ready to pounce. The young man continued to move between the table and the shelves working his way down the table toward Lester. With only a few books left, Seymour walked between the seated Gulf War Vet and the table, leaned over to reach the last three books and stood with them in his right hand when the disguised Lester struck.

He quietly moved to a standing position behind the unaware Seymour, lifted the cane with both hands well above his head and brought the object down with incredible force, striking Seymour fully on the crown of his head. Seymour did not go down but rather spun around, dazed and confused, his hand now pressed to the back of his head, blood spilling over his fingers.

“Ouch, what the ….,” he said, unable to finish his sentence before Lester brought the cane down again, cracking Seymour a second time across his head, sending him to the floor in a state of unconsciousness.

The sound of him bouncing off the chair on his way down made more noise than Lester would have liked but he was prepared if the commotion brought Blanche up the stairs. It did not. With Seymour on the ground but not in the location he wanted him, the wounded villain dragged his prize across the room leaving him in a heap near the emergency door. He noted that the alarm was still removed from the exit as he’d seen Marcus do earlier but he pushed the door open with his foot just to make sure it was disabled. Lester then doused the cloth with the ether he’d brought with him and returned the bottle to his left front pocket and the cloth to his right, along with the spectacle case.

Before summoning Blanche he checked for any sign that Seymour was about to come to. He was snoring lightly and bleeding minimally from the two wounds on his head, but breathing in a slow and steady fashion. Lester continued the veteran ruse long enough to call Blanche up from the lower level. He moved to the top of the stairs, cane in hand and called down to Blanche at the desk.

“Excuse me young lady, your assistant up here has fallen and could use some help. I think you better come and take a look!” he said excitedly.

Lester quickly moved back to Seymour dispensing with the limp and stood looking over him, the cane in his left hand now. A second or two later Blanche could be heard running up the steps. When she saw the two on the upper floor her first impulse was for Seymour's well-being and she neglected her own safety.

“What happened?” she said, in a panicked tone.

Kneeling down next to Seymour and inspecting his scalp for the source of the blood, there was no answer to her question. She repeated herself and as she turned to look at the vet for an answer, he grabbed her from behind with his left hand, reaching around her waist pulling her close to him, almost lifting her off the ground. In his right, he held the cloth saturated with chemical and covered her mouth and nose with it. She tried to scream but the muffled sounds could not carry to the landing below. Blanche kicked and fought but the drug took its affect quickly and her limbs soon hung limp.

Lester left the cane; he would have no further use for it. He had both arms wrapped around Blanche, under her arms and over the top of her breasts, dragging her backwards toward the emergency door. The door opened with the applied pressure from his back and he hefted the woman out of the door, leaving Seymour dripping blood from his head and unaware of what had happened to the beautiful librarian. A cane and a spectacle case lay on the ground nearby, the only remnant of the attacker and the harm he had caused.

Once on the landing outside the library, Lester pushed the knocked out woman into the chute and started her on the journey to the ground below, he followed quickly behind, landing on his feet, just barely missing Blanche directly under him. He looked around for possible witnesses but saw none. It was dark and the streets were quiet. The Stalker opened the rear doors of the van and lifted his conquest into the back, looping a quick tie around her wrists, securing her hands behind her back. He had no idea how long the ether would be in effect but didn’t want her attacking him from the back of the van on the way home. He did the same with her feet, immobilizing the librarian for the time being.

The rush of adrenaline that had propelled him through the last few minutes began to subside and the pain in his abdomen returned with a vengeance. Before he climbed behind the wheel he pulled his shirt aside and looked at the blood soaked bandage again. Fresh blood now ran down his skin and into the top of his pants. The Stalker had not noticed the trail of blood leading from the bottom of the chute to the van. Events were happening too quickly to stop and deal with it now, by the time they were able to identify him they would be out of the state and on their way.

Seymour lay unconscious for nearly two hours and when he finally came to the lights of the library were almost blinding. He squinted to make out gross objects and could feel his eyes working to bring things back into perspective. His head ached and he could see dried blood on his hands and the area where his head had lain. He tried to recreate what had happened but could not remember the events, just the sudden incredible pain not once, but twice, and then nothing. He tried to stand up but wobbled, crashed into a bookshelf that gave way and almost tipped over before it supported his weight. He brought his hand to his head, he could feel his scalp matted with blood but his eyes were coming around and the fuzziness in his brain was clearing.