With Cruel Intent (59 page)

Marcus gave up, collapsed the ladder and

headed for the stairs. Lester got up leaving

the book,
Helter Skelter
, on the table and

offered a hand with the ladder as they both

maneuvered the stairs to the lower floor.

“Couldn’t get it huh?” The Stalker

asked.

“No, knew I wouldn’t be able to,

but I gave it a shot.”

“Too bad,” pleased that his work

of last week could not be undone.

Blanche saw the pair coming and

offered a quick wave, making her look

busy so she didn’t need to speak with Rob

again. He did not stop at the desk,

thankfully but went to the door and spoke

loud enough for her to hear.

“See you soon,” the unusual

character said as he departed.

* * *

Felix walked through the door of

the Land and Title Office after Bev

dropped him off to retrieve his car from

the bar. He stood just inside the doors and

looked the place over, wondering what it

must be like to eek out such a boring

existence as the trolls behind the desks.

The self-described charmer could not see

the head troll but he was able to see a

woman busy at a desk with a placard

identifying her as Marge.

"Marge, afternoon, how ya doing?"

"I'm fine. Is there something I can

do to help you?" Marge smiled, already

enjoying the company of the stranger.

"You sure can, we talked on the

phone a day or two ago. I'm Felix Unger;

remember I have an appointment with your

boss tomorrow night. I just wanted to drop

by and confirm, as well as, meet Mr.

Savard. Would that be possible?"

"I'll see what I can do," the

receptionist said, smiling broadly at the

handsome Felix.

"Much appreciated."

Marge stood, smoothed her paisley

skirt and brown button down top to pull

the fabric more tightly against her curves,

making sure that she had Mr. Unger's

attention, before she walked to the

director's office. She knocked softly,

knowing that she was likely waking him

up.

"Mr. Savard, there is a Mr. Unger

here to see you sir," she said through the

door, not wanting to open it until she had

permission.

A somewhat disoriented Ignatius

answered from inside the dimly lit room.

"Give me a second, then bring him in

thanks."

She returned to her desk, again

smiling and overdoing the wiggle but

Felix was appreciative, nonetheless.

"Just a moment and he'll see you.

Can I get you anything?" she put an

unusual amount of emphasis on the word

'anything'.

"No thanks, I'm good. On second

thought Marge, could you just check your

planner and see if I'm booked tomorrow

night with Mr. Savard?"

"Surely, no problem." She stepped

behind the desk, pulled up the electronic

schedule and after a minute of looking it

over reported, "Yes, I have you meeting

Mr. Savard tomorrow night at a property

south of Moody Air Force Base. Is that

correct?"

"Perfect, knew you'd get it right the

first time. You worked for Mr. Savard

long?"

"A few years, nice place to work,"

she said.

Within the time it took Felix to

write down Marge's phone number, the

door to the director's office opened and

Mr. Savard stepped out waving his hand

at Felix to join him inside. The two

entered the smallish office and Iggy closed

the door behind him, then one by one

lowered the blinds, securing the location

from prying eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d probably drop by

today. I wanted to confirm our make

believe meeting tomorrow night with

Marge. She’s put together Iggy. You doing

her?”

“No, I most certainly am not,” the

displeased director said.

“I had to come by anyway and get

the little present you have for me. You got

it online under a fake name?”

“Yeah, had it shipped to a generic

postal box in Douglas, drove down on the

weekend to pick it up, better be worth it.”

“From my perspective, it’ll make

it much easier. Thanks for following

through and getting it for me,” Felix

replied.

“Should fit, says it’s for that exact

make and model,” Iggy clarified.

“Good. You ready with the packet

for our friend?”

“Yeah, took care of the key issue

in Douglas as well, I’ll drop everything

off tonight.”

“Any

word

from

Jeremy?

Wouldn’t surprise me if he backs out at

the last minute,” the taller man inquired.

“Nothing, don’t expect we will

either. Let’s walk out to my car and I’ll

grab that for you,” The Director said,

moving toward the door and ushering

Felix through the reception area and out

into the parking lot.

The pair went to the sedan parked

in the spot reserved for the director. Iggy

popped the trunk and removed a small

6x8x3 inch parcel and handed it to Felix

after looking around to confirm that they

were not being watched. They shook

hands, both grateful that would likely be

the last time either man saw the other and

they went their separate ways.

* * *

At noon 'The Wolf' entered the jail

portion of his facility and spoke with

Seymour who had been trying to

reconstruct Monday morning as best he

could.

"Sheriff, thanks for coming. I've

been thinking a lot about Monday and I

remembered something that may help both

of us," the accused said.

"I wish somebody would help us,

we've done nothing but follow bad leads

this week. What have you got?"

Seymour filled the Sheriff in on the

items he remembered about the unknown

stranger. He filled in as much detail as he

could then included, "I remember exactly

the type of sunglasses he had on and I was

curious if the people that saw the shooter

at the diner described the same type."

"That's certainly a thought but you

could just as easily be telling me about

yours."

"True enough but Sheriff you have

my sunglasses. They're in my backpack

that you took from me when I was

arrested. They are not the same style or

make, get them and you'll see, and I'll bet

your boys didn't turn up any other at my

house either because I only have the one

pair."

Lupo left briefly, and then returned

to further his discussion with Seymour.

"Has your office interviewed any

of the students about Monday? Maybe

somebody saw this guy. Start with the

friend I was talking to in the gym or some

of my racquetball classmates. It's likely

that one of them could confirm my

description."

The Sheriff knew the young man

was correct but his resources were spread

quite thin already. If he got a chance he

would send Guest back over to the school

and do some interviews.

"So Seymour, tell me about the

sunglasses."

"I know what type they are

because my dad had the exact same pair

and they've come in and out of style a few

times. They were Ray Ban Aviators with

the gold rims and reflective surface, kind

of like a mirror on the front. Check with

the people that saw the shooter, show

them a picture, maybe they'll recognize it

if they see it again."

"I appreciate the help Seymour but

you don't have to tell me how to do my

job."

"Sorry Sheriff, I'm just reaching at

straws, way harder being on the inside

looking out, if you know what I mean."

"I understand, but believe me

we're doing our darndest to prove your

innocence," he paused. "Or guilt."

The doors at the end of the

cellblock opened and Deputy Breland

approached the two, carrying Seymour's

backpack. The Sheriff took the pack and

rummaged through the many zippered

pockets until he found a pair of

sunglasses. They were much different than

Seymour had described. The frame was

plastic, tortoise shell, a mix of black -

brown - yellow, and the lenses were a

dark brown, more dense at the top then

lighter at the bottom. Angelo inspected

them closely and found the Maui Waui

stamped on the inside of the left temple.

"Seymour, describe the make and

model again to Deputy Breland here.

Breland take this down and find me a

picture that we can show the witnesses at

the diner. Start with the Delaney woman at

the library and work your way to each of

the people we have on file ‘til they've all

seen it. On second thought, I want you to

do it like a line up, get five different

models, various brands, all similar and

include both the Ray-Ban and Seymour’s."

He handed the glasses to Breland. "Then

have them tell you which one they saw,

let's see if we can get a consensus."

The Sheriff looked back at

Seymour, "You happy?"

Seymour

responded

in

the

affirmative and the officers left the block.

* * *

At 4:00 p.m. Lillian Wood finally

got a call from the bank manager. There

was both good and bad news. The bank

was prepared to provide a line of credit

on the property and home but the very best

they could do was $150,000. Mrs. Wood's

heart sunk, $50,000 short and really

nowhere to get that kind of money quickly.

She had nothing to sell, no close friend, at

least not that would have that kind of

money, and the hope of freeing her son,

sooner than later, fleeting. The bank

manager suggested that she approach the

court to see if they would bring the bail

down. He'd seen it done before, however,

he assured her that the money would be

ready Thursday by noon and she could

drop by and pick it up at her convenience.

She thanked him and phoned the library.

Blanche picked up the phone and

delivered the usual spill but with much

less cheer and enthusiasm.

"Sounds like you're having the

same kind of day as me, Blanche,"

Seymour's mom said, also sounding a little

down in the dumps.

"Well, could be better, but I'm sure

it's nothing like what you've been going

through. We just had our inspection and

we failed because of one item which we'll

have fixed Friday but it means they have

to come back again and put us through

another day of stress."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well, I just

got off the phone with the bank and they'll

only give me $150,000 for Seymour's bail.

I'm $50,000 short. The manager suggested

I go to the judge and see if he'll extend

some mercy and lower the amount. Guess

that's really the only option I've got and

who knows how long that will take. What

do you think?"

There was an unusually long pause

as Lillian waited to see what the librarian

thought.

"Blanche dear, you still there? Did

we get cut off?"

"No, I'm here Lillian, just doing

some calculating."

"Whatever for? Do you think we

should go to the judge or not?"

"Not. Listen Mrs. Wood, I've got

the $50,000 you need. In fact I think I've

got $54,340 to my name and I want to

help. How do we pool our money and get

Seymour out of there?"

The

once

discouraged

and

directionless librarian had never felt so

compelled to do something in her whole

life. The thought of reaching out to the

Wood family, as she had, made her feel

light and free. She knew without a shadow

of a doubt that the money was not lost and

would once again be hers, but the ability

to help in their hour of need was

liberating. She stopped by the Sheriff's

Office to let Seymour know that the money

was taken care of, but Officer Breland had