With Cruel Intent (45 page)

more. I hope I’m not prying, but will you

be seeing him again?” Mrs. Muir said,

enjoying the pressure she was applying to

the librarian.

“Oh, I expect so, but tonight I’ve

got kind of a date with the big bodybuilder

that helped me out a couple of times. I

don’t really see that going anywhere but I

just can’t help but like him and his dad,

he’s quite a character, old Rufus.”

“I see,” she said, in a somewhat

disapproving tone. “You be sure to be

careful out there today, keep an eye on

where you are and who’s around. You just

can’t

be

too

careful,

especially

considering the problem you had with

those young punks.”

She offered a goodbye to Mrs.

Muir, pledging that she would look over

her shoulder often, stay close to crowds,

and avoid running in unfamiliar areas. She

certainly didn’t want another run-in with

Mikey and crew. She generally tried to

keep her run to about 30 minutes,

especially on workdays, but today she

wanted to take her time and enjoy the

warm weather and the sun beating down

on her.

* * *

Lester finally got what he was

waiting for. Blanche bounded down the

few steps of the home and stood near the

sidewalk, retrieving something from the

small pack she had tightly run around her

waist. He reached for the camera and

looked to either side of the van before

bringing it up and snapping off a few

pictures of the beauty across the street.

Man, she was striking, even in track gear,

her hair pulled back and no makeup. He

loved the look of the tight stretchy

material covering and caressing her

smooth skin, and he yearned to run his

hand over the fabric, reminding himself

that patience was a virtue. Lester watched

the jogger applying something, probably

sunscreen, to her nose, leaving it white

and reflective in the sunlight.

Blanche considered her options

before she crossed the street and began

moving the sidewalk underneath her at a

slow, steady pace, her strides putting one

foot in each cement slab. Children were

already out playing in the yards and a

soccer game was underway in a field not

far from the corner where she’d make her

first turn. A grayish, almost silver van

hugged the curb ahead and the warning

from Mrs. Muir rang in her ears when she

noted a man sitting behind the wheel, a

baseball cap pulled low over his eyes,

and a magazine held much too close to his

face to actually be reading it. She laughed

to herself, shaking her head, reading so

much into little things. Really, what were

the odds that The Stalker would be sitting

on her street, and for what reason, nothing

here that would interest him and it’s the

wrong area of the county.

“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.

“This is going to work better than I

could have ever imagined,” he whispered,

looking for a place to park the van.

He looped the neighborhood,

knowing exactly what he was looking for,

and found it a block away from the diner,

in a poorly lit location, with a dozen cars