“I’m so sorry, I thought you knew I was standing next to you,” she lied.
“Holy hell lady, you about gave me a heart attack. You work here or something?” the disheveled reader reasoned.
“Yeah, I’m in charge around here in the evenings. I saw you were looking up some non-fiction material. Is there anything I can help you find?”
“No, I uh, I think I’ve got what I came for but thanks for the offer.” He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander up and down the frame of the attractive librarian.
Blanche looked directly in his eyes through the thick glasses that made his iris's look like large, green saucers. It was somehow strange that he was looking at her but not engaging her eyes directly, however, she couldn’t help but notice when those over-sized saucers looked her up and down, then came to rest back on her face with an approving smile on his lips.
Her curiosity pushed her to say, “I couldn’t help but notice you having some trouble on the steps outside. Did you get hurt?”
“No, just a little stumble was all, ever since I got injured in the Gulf War I’ve had to put up with a bum leg and bent spine.” He hunched over a bit to make his point.
“Oh, I see, sorry to hear that. Is there anything more we can do to make your experience with us more pleasant or comfortable? We love to support our troops both past and present. Will you please let me know if there is anything we can do for you?” she said, in the most pleasing way possible.
His mind was trying to process a thousand things at once. "She's getting too good a look at me, have got to distract her and make an exit. Do I have everything I need to advance our agenda? Is my disguise still holding up? Can’t see very well but don’t remove the glasses. Don’t remove the glasses! Damn this librarian is hot, reminds me of Virginia May, filthy slut. Nothing like what I expected - no dusty shelves and a tasty treat as a librarian. Focus damn it, focus!"
He tried to get his thoughts sorted and his tongue under control before he said something stupid or telling.
“That’s really nice of you but I think I’m finished and I’ll be on my way shortly.” Is what he said but what he was thinking was, “Hell yes, there is something you can do for me, set yourself up here on this table and let’s have a go.” The wicked thought brought a smile to his face as he let that little fantasy play out in his mind, if only for a moment.
“Do you want to take these books with you?” Blanche said, pointing to the pile of books on the table.
“No, I just wanted to take a look through them for now and I don’t have a library card anyway,” he replied.
“We can take care of that if you like, come with me and we’ll get you a card,” she said reassuringly, as she scooped up the books in an effort to help him.
He suddenly thrust out his hand and slammed the books back to the tabletop. Blanche stepped back in shock at his reaction to her assistance and he could tell she was upset.
“Don’t mind me, just don’t like folks helping me if you know what I mean.” Motioning to the cane.
“I see, would you like me to take these and put them away for you?” she said, relaxing a bit but still on her guard.
“I can get it, don’t like to make work for anybody. I’ll just get my things and be on my way.”
He stood using the cane to steady himself and retrieved the notepad from the floor. Blanche, still trying to be helpful, plugged the mouse back in, then instructed the odd character to leave the books on the end of the table and she’d make sure someone put them away. He smiled but she could tell he was determined to clean up the items he’d used and be gone. She retreated to the main desk just as the students were leaving for the day and offered a cheerful goodbye to each as they waved on their way home or elsewhere for the evening. A moment later she could see the hunched over man descending the stairs leading to the foyer. One hand wrapped tightly around the notebook he seemed to prize and the other manipulating the cane as he worked his way down the steps.
She felt a certain degree of pity for him; the sacrifice of those in the service of their country had always held a soft spot in her heart. She had family members who had served and offered the greatest sacrifice of all to defend her freedoms and she respected those that were willing to serve. Her heart filled with appreciation for this crippled individual as she struggled to understand him, if only in a cursory way. He passed by the desk, tipping his eyes to look over the lenses at her, gave her a friendly nod and shuffled toward the exit. A tear came to her eye as she felt true compassion for his plight and that’s when something struck her as unusual, no, different.
Looking at him from this angle it looked like he was holding the cane in his left hand and limping with the right. Her mind flashed back to the image of him climbing the steps earlier. She was sure he had used the cane in the right hand and limped with the left. Watching him carefully now, he stopped at the exit door, tucked the notepad under his left arm and used the right to open the door, leaving the cane in the left. With the door open he returned the notepad to the right and limped his way out the door, dragging the right leg.
“What the hell?” she thought. “It’s not Halloween so what’s this dude’s game?” she mused.
The thought had not completely vanished from her mind before the door swung open and an excited Seymour hustled through it and approached the desk and Blanche.
“Hey Ms. Delaney, how ya doing?” he said, as he tried to catch his breath.
“I’m good Seymour, what’s the rush?” the librarian replied.
“The bus was late so I had to run from the drop off.”
The war vet was still in the back of Blanche’s mind and she asked, “Did you see the guy with the green army jacket before you came in?”
“Yeah, ‘bout ran him over at the bottom of the steps. Why - what’s up?”
“He was in here doing some research and just seemed really weird. I would swear one minute he was using the cane with the right and limping with the left, then when he exited just now, it switched and he was using the cane with the left and dragging the right. Just seems kind of out there to me. Didn’t appreciate me offering him any help either, almost acted like I was stepping on his toes,” she said.
“You offered to help him or something?” Seymour asked.
“Yes, thought I could be helpful seeing how he’s a bit crippled and a vet.”
“That was nice of you. Was he deaf, dumb and blind as well?” he questioned sarcastically.
She laughed, “Why do you think that?”
He continued, “That’s the only thing I can think of that would prevent him from accepting help from the best looking woman in Valdosta.”
“Well Seymour, you’re making me blush, but thanks anyway.”
The outfit Blanche was wearing had not gone unnoticed by Seymour. His pulse continued to be north of 100 beats per minute and not because he’d been running. On the few opportunities he had worked with Blanche he had learned a number of things about himself. Firstly, he had a hard time expressing what he really wanted to say without tripping over his tongue and twisting his thoughts into a jumbled mess before they came out. Blanche had picked up on this and found it somewhat sweet and endearing. Secondly, he found it increasingly difficult to focus when she was around.
He had no illusion that he was infatuated with the beautiful librarian and there was no doubt he loved being around her. She was so pleasant, with such a wonderful listening ear and people skills that were genuine and caring. He was impressed and enchanted with Blanche after watching her interact with the staff and public. Increasingly he found himself thinking about her during the day, at school, losing track of where he was and what he should be doing, but he just didn’t care because the thoughts of her smile and timid laugh made him feel good, right down to his toes.
“What’s the deal with the sign?” he asked, pointing at the donation sign still prominently displayed on the counter.
“Oh that, I almost forgot it was there,” she replied, leaning ove
r the desk to get a better view of the sign and in the process sending Seymour’s heart rate ten percent higher.
“Mrs. Anderson was giving me a hard time about my outfit and thought it would generate a few more bucks for the coffers if we had it on the desk.” She paused, and with a sly grin continued, “What do you think?”
Without saying a word, Seymour pulled his wallet from his back pocket, took a $20 bill and put it into the receptacle. His point made, he kicked himself mentally, “There’s my lunch money for the rest of the week but I think it was worth it.”
“Why thank you my good man,” Blanche said, “Lean over here.” She planted a tender kiss on his cheek, after he leaned in.
Two hours into the shift, Seymour basically had his responsibilities taken care of and was anxious to do some work on the assignment given to him earlier by his instructor, Pink. There had been no further news regarding the photo taken of Thelma or a follow up among the college students and no one had come forward to claim responsibility, but he was fascinated by the prospect that it wasn’t a joke and there perhaps was someone out there that was somewhat disturbed and doing these types of things.
Blanche was seated at the desk looking over a list of books that the local chapter of The Southern Ladies Society had put together and wanted to donate. Some of the titles evaded her recollection but the dates of many were impressive and would add some wonderful flavor to the historical section of the library.
“What’ve you got there?” Seymour asked, stepping around the desk and coming to stand next to Blanche.
“Oh, some ladies want to give us some books and I’m just looking to see which we want and if there are any duplicates we already have on the shelves.” She looked at her watch, “You finished very quickly tonight, is everything done?”
“Yup, hustled my buns so I could work on something, if that’s okay with you.”
“As long as you’ve got everything in order I don’t see any reason why you can’t have some time. What are you working on?”
Seymour took a breath to organize his thoughts so he didn’t sound like a moron and said, “You’re familiar with that weird thing in the paper a week or so ago? The guy in that woman’s house that took the picture of himself?”
She nodded in the affirmative.
“Well, I’m taking a course at the college about criminal deviant behavior and Mrs. Wild, the instructor, wants us to do some research about this type of aberrant behavior and how it can escalate into more troublesome crimes.”
“That sounds really quite interesting. Myself, I’ve never given it much thought, not really my cup of tea but there seems to be quite a bit published and those are some of the books that are checked out most often both here and where I’ve worked in the past.”
Seymour summoned his courage and almost shyly asked, “If you have a few minutes tonight would you mind helping me out? I’m not that great at researching and finding material and I suspect you’re a pro.”
“I don’t know if I’m a pro at anything Seymour, but I’d be happy to help. Why don’t you get started and see what you can come up with and bring what you find here to the front desk and we’ll work on it. Is there anyone else in the library right now?” she asked.
“There’s just some geezer in a lounge chair reading old Life magazines, but that’s it.”
“Good, I’ll be here getting some stuff taken care of while you’re collecting your sources,” she cheerily added.
Seymour thought to himself, “that was much easier than I expected, wish I could come up with something more exciting than looking at old books with me.” Then under his breath as he headed up the stairs he whispered, “at least it’s a start.”
The librarian thought she heard Seymour say something as he trudged up the stairs but couldn’t make it out. He really was cute and she found herself more attracted to him each time they worked together but she just couldn’t get past the age difference, even though it sure didn’t seem to matter to him. It was pretty obvious, to the more seasoned of the two, that he was flirty with her and she undoubtedly was flattered by it, but she just wasn’t sure if it was a big sister kind of caring or something deeper than that. For now, at least in her mind, she decided not to fight it and just take it as it comes, “can’t have too many friends” she thought.
Over the next thirty minutes Miss Delaney watched as Seymour scurried from one shelving unit to another and from one floor to the next, leaving magazines and books at the front desk, as he hurried by without disturbing Blanche with her responsibilities. Several customers entered while he was chasing about but they didn’t seem to care, the place was still very quiet and a little commotion helped to keep some of the patrons from falling asleep in the comfy chairs. Satisfied that he had enough to start with he returned to the main lobby and the pile he had created.
“What do you think?” he said, doing his best Vanna White impersonation and waving his hand in front of the books.
“Looks like you’re going to be spending the night. That’s a lot of material,” she said, scanning the books.
She picked up the top couple of books, looked them over, flipping to the inner front cover and reading the synopsis. She did the same with one of the magazines, noting that it was from the 60’s. Looking through the items Seymour had collected it dawned on her that she’d seen several of these already tonight.
“Seymour, is there a chance that the guy you ran into outside tonight is in your class at school, the deviant behavior class?”
“No, why? I know all the students by face if not by name and he’s definitely not in that course. Is something wrong?” he asked, with a hushed tone.
“No, I’m sure not, but it’s just kind of a strange coincidence that the books he had pulled and was researching are almost exactly the same ones you’ve got sitting before us,” she said, trying to wrap her head around a possible explanation.
“He probably saw the same thing in the paper and wanted to have a look just like your teacher suggested for you to do. No big deal, I just find it rather odd, especially considering his behavior.”
“Yeah, well, nothing we can really do about it, right?” Seymour indicated, pulling a chair up before the reading material and as close as he dared to Blanche.
They both jumped in looking for common behaviors and threads making their own lists to compare later on to see if they had any similarities. Blanche was intrigued by some of the names and crimes she was reading about and she found herself periodically looking up from the information, half expecting to see a madman run through the entryway with a chainsaw buzzing overhead. Feeling increasingly uneasy, the librarian inched a bit closer to Seymour as they did the research, finding comfort in the touch of his arm and thigh.
Seymour had heard about many of the figures he was finding in the readings but knew just bits and pieces about them. He had no idea there were so many crazed killers and nut jobs running around the streets of America, but here was proof before him that truth was absolutely more bizarre than fiction. As they both moved from one bit of information to the next their lists increased, looking for things that were common among serial rapists, killers and the like. What was it about their upbringing, their early crimes, the escalation in their patterns that were similar and their overall psyche?
The criminology student had noted as well that Blanche was much closer than when they started and he was not sure if it was flirtation or fear, as he was also feeling a bit on edge after reading some of the more detailed killing sprees. In either case, he was enjoying the moment and the wonderful smell that was permeating the space between and the light touch of her leg against his was almost more than he could take. He hoped she hadn’t noticed the goose bumps on his arms and the hair standing straight up, as she was certainly having an affect on him like no other woman had before.
Just before closing and after they searched the library for any couples making out in the bathroom or any old timers sleeping the night away, they compared notes and found some com
monalities which Seymour highlighted and condensed to the following list:
Bed-wetting
Animal Cruelty (Sadistic behavior in general)
Arson
(Triad above forms a triad of events that may be experienced as a child)
Sadistic daydreaming as a child with a violent twist.
“I’m just a little freaked out after looking at all that stuff tonight, how ‘bout you?” Blanche asked.
“Nah, but I’ll bet I have strange dreams, that’s if I can sleep. Hope I don’t wake up with some nut standing over me taking pictures of himself in my mom’s bra and panties. Eee Gad, just the thought of that makes me nauseous. Come on, I’ll walk you to the bus and ride with you to your stop and make sure you get home okay.”
“You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Listen Blanche, after the day you’ve had I’d be a jerk not to make sure you get home safe and sound.”
The pair left the library, walked toward the stop and talked of anything but serial killers and deviants. A short distance away and parked obscurely at the end of a service lane a grey van sat, engine idling, and the driver taking pictures of the strolling couple with an expensive high powered telephoto lens. The photographer was already imagining what the librarian’s pictures would look like added to his growing collection.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The trip to the library had proven more helpful than he had anticipated and he was anxious to try his latest ideas on the unsuspecting public. Sitting at his desk he ran the upcoming events through his mind, every detail, every possible outcome played as a macabre movie trailer, hitting all the highlights and entertaining the one-man audience. He felt satisfied that his plan would be successful and placate his ‘employers’, so he turned his attention to something meant to fulfill his own selfish pursuits.
With Cruel Intent Page 9