With Cruel Intent

by Dennis Larsen

  Tomorrow morning would not come soon enough. It was time to get somebody else in the crosshairs and wrap up this little adventure, and then take the money and run.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  The parlor, now quiet following a rousing bit of discussion about the recent crime wave, still, except for Felix, who especially enjoyed the discussion, knew who and what he did. A large portrait above the ornate fireplace caught his attention as he thumbed through his Day-Timer looking for Ms. Beverly Davis’ phone number. Being Sunday, he had hoped to spend some quality time with the librarian, before having to put in his obligatory visit to the realtor. He found the slim and stacked, more appealing than the round and short, but a true soldier; he would do his duty and earn his pay, then rub it in the face of that weasel, Iggy.

  He dialed the number from the phone in the parlor; it rang only once before she picked up. The over-the-top approach usually worked well with single women, especially of the widowed variety, and he started there, explaining that he was an entrepreneur representing a small land developer that had heard through the real estate grapevine, that she had a property that they’d like to look at. He could tell through the line that she was more than excited about the prospects of showing the land in question. Ms. Davis explained that the parcel had all but been sold a few days ago, the seller was motivated and the price was right. She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know. The business woman took his name, Felix Unger, which drew a silent snicker, as it always did from the over 50 crowd, and some particulars about the client, what they were looking for, what they wanted to develop and on and on. Felix tried to stay engaged and interested, but work was work, even for a wise guy.

  They made an appointment for later that afternoon, she normally didn’t work or do showings on Sunday, but for the charming Felix, she was willing to make an exception. He would swing by and meet her at the office and they could drive together to the lot south of Moody Air Force Base. He wrote the time into his Day-Timer. Jeremy had stressed how important keeping accurate notes would be when the shit hit the fan. With the work of the morning done, he stretched out on the couch, crossed his legs at the ankles, his arms over his chest, and was asleep before the thought of prostituting himself for a few million dollars floated out of his mind.

  * * *

  Across town Otis was lying on his back, his tail still going, as Angelo rubbed the dog’s belly with his cowboy boot. Deputy Guest had just finished filling her boss in on her encounter with Lester Cummings, anticipating that they would call in the posse, mount up, and ride out to arrest the varmint. The Sheriff was interested, but had seen too many investigations to know that the first subject, regardless of how perfectly they fit the profile, was often the wrong guy. He wanted to proceed with caution and not scare the suspect off. Lester Cummings could very well be just a recluse who valued his privacy. She emphasized the vehicle, a van perfect for a burglar, a shooting range with lots of spent ammo, and a barn for hiding items like a motorcycle.

  “But Sheriff, you should have seen the look in his eyes when I made a move toward the barn. I thought Otis there was gonna take his leg off. It was a good thing I had a tight hold on him,” the deputy explained, trying to recreate the look Lester had given her.

  Lupo had a hard time not laughing at the antics of the junior officer, but kept it to a smile only. “Okay, bottom line is this, is there enough evidence that we could get the judge to issue a search warrant? Are there any witnesses that put him, or his vehicle, at the scene of any of the crimes? As far as we know, is he in possession of any stolen property? Does he have a motorcycle registered in his name or at that address? Is this Lester a perp with a prior record?

  To each of the questions, Natalie sadly had to answer, “no”, or at best, “I don’t know.”

  “It sounds to me like you’ve got a bunch of work to do then. Find out the answers to all of those questions and we can go from there, but hitting up the judge now for a warrant, will be a waste of time for us, and an embarrassment for the department.”

  “Yes sir, I get your point, I just thought... you know...I had this feeling that he was our guy. You’ve had it before, right in the pit of your stomach, that you just know,” she expressed with all the energy of her soul.

  “Don’t get me wrong deputy. I think you’ve done some damn fine work this morning, may break this whole investigation wide open, but there’s some homework that needs to be done before we can go any further. Got that?” he said, pulling at Otis’ collar and lifting his head to his lap so he could give him some attention.

  “Yeah, I better do some checking and I’ll keep you posted. Guess I’ll start with a background check on him and his vehicle.” She whistled and Otis begrudgingly left the Sheriff and joined her at the door. “Come on boy, we’ve got some work to do.”

  Angelo called after her, “Natalie, don’t get discouraged. Your instincts are good always listen to them. It could save your life someday.”

  “Thanks Sheriff, I will.”

  The balance of the young deputy’s Sunday was spent submitting data to the computer system, filling out activity reports of the morning, and trying to put some notes together for the unwanted, and unsolicited, presentation before Mrs. Wild’s class tomorrow. She tried to be detailed but succinct, nothing she hated more than filling out forms and sitting in front of the computer. She’d joined the Sheriff’s Office to be on the line, out with the public doing ‘real’ police work, at least she had Otis and did get out much more than the other officers. The voice message she’d received while speaking with Mr. Cummings was all but incoherent. She knew it was the old farmer she’d seen on the tractor earlier in the day but the message did not come through. She had tried a number of times to phone him back but was unsuccessful. Tomorrow after her presentation, she’d run out that way and see if she could track him down. She hoped by then maybe they’d have a better idea who Lester really was and if he was a viable suspect.

  * * *

  The day of rest for Blanche Delaney had been anything but that; the frantic ride to the hospital following the shooting had been harrowing. She now sat in the General Hospital’s waiting room, there had been no word on Jasper’s condition since they arrived. He was taken immediately to surgery and that’s the last she saw of him or the doctors. Police at the scene had already questioned her, but she knew another round would be coming her way, when she saw a runty sized officer walk through the doors, as if he were looking for something. He looked to be about sixteen but she knew that could not be the case, fair complexion, narrow eyes and face with a poor excuse of a mustache under his nose. His uniform fit well and looked like it had been pressed more than once to give it almost sheen at the creases. Blanche watched him, trying not to make eye contact, but she knew she’d been made when he walked through the sea of people and came to stand directly in front of her.

  “Ms. Delaney?” he said.

  “Yes, I’ve already given a statement and answered a number of questions,” she said, with a pre-emptive strike against the inquisitor.

  “I understand that, but we wanted to clarify a few things for our report before we can have you sign off on your statement. Would you mind coming with me? There’s an administrative office where we can have a few minutes of privacy,” the young officer said, pointing the way.

  Blanche stood, moved past the officer in the direction he had indicated and asked, “How did you know it was me you were looking for? There are a lot of people in this waiting room.”

  “Oh, the officer that you gave the statement to last night described you to me and said you had big...uh, big blue eyes. Knew it was you right away.”

  “My, you must have remarkable vision to have spotted my eye color from clear across the room. No wonder you're a police officer,” she said, giving him a knowing grin.

  They stepped through the door of the administrative conference room just behind the admittance desk and the officer closed the door behind them. The room itself was cold and uninvi
ting; the long, rectangular table that took up most of the space had nothing on it but fingerprints from a previous meeting. The walls were bare, save for a picture of the hospital taken from an aerial view, and an abstract painting occupying most of one wall at the head of the table. Blanche looked at it trying to identify what it was, and what it had to do with health care, nothing came to her mind.

  They sat in the two chairs closest to the door, the cherub of an officer laid the clipboard on the table between them and asked some questions, some new, some old.

  “It’s our understanding that you weren’t able to get a good look at the assailant, is that correct?”

  “Yes, I told the other officer, that was so interested in my eyes, that I noted a man with a hoodie go into the bathroom but that was about it. I don’t even remember seeing him come out or leave the diner.”

  “That’s fine; a few of the other customers were able to give us a bit more than that. Could you tell what nationality or race he was?”

  “I want to say Caucasian but I could be wrong. Pretty sure he wasn’t black, but from the angle I saw him the hoodie blocked most of his face, and he had the ball cap and the shades, so I just can’t be certain. It’s been a very long night.”

  “I understand, we appreciate your willingness to talk with us again. When the firecrackers starting going off do you remember seeing this guy again? Even as you exited the diner do you remember him being in the parking lot?” he said, trying to remain professional.

  “No, all I remember was Jasper practically carrying me out of the place, then him pushing me toward the truck. I turned just as the last bang sounded. I thought it was another blast coming from inside the diner, but thinking back, it was much louder than the others. I mean, it just wasn’t registering to me, the noise, the shouts, and all the confusion, everybody thought we were under attack and were being shot at.”

  “Yes, it must have been very traumatic for you and the others. When did you first notice that Jasper was down?”

  “I ran to the truck and looked back to see why he wasn’t with me and it seemed like it was almost in slow motion. I heard the final loud clap and I saw Jasper get knocked forward, and then went down on his knees, then onto his chest. I wasn’t sure what had happened to him, just didn’t seem real, you know. I’ve never seen anything like it, these things don’t just happen to normal people.”

  “Our point exactly, Ms. Delaney. Now, I hope that you’re not offended, but I need to address a line of questioning that may make you uncomfortable,” he said, not willing to make eye contact with the librarian.

  “What do you mean, ‘uncomfortable’?” she asked.

  “How long have you known Mr. Jackson?” the patrolman asked.

  “Who? Oh, you mean Jasper. I’d say about a month. Met him just after I moved here from Arizona.”

  “I see, and what is the nature of your relationship? Were you intimate?” he asked, lifting his eyes to meet hers.

  “And what do you mean by, ‘I see’? We were not sleeping together, if that’s what you’re after. He’s a nice guy that has helped me out of a couple of jams and we are friends. Are people not allowed to just be friends anymore?” she said, with indignation rising in her voice.

  “No. I mean yes. Certainly it’s okay to just be friends, believe me I don’t enjoy asking these questions, any more than you do answering them. It’s just my job.”

  “Okay, well let’s get through them then,” she said, backing off a bit.

  “Thank you. So are you aware of Mr. Jackson’s arrest record, and last night did you see him engage in any drug related sales or purchases?”

  “Okay, hold it right there! Where is this going? Did you not catch that we were at a family diner having banana splits? We weren’t on the corner of drug central trying to score a kilo.”

  “Believe me, I know, but could you just answer the question,” he said, apologetically.

  “Fine, no and no.”

  “What do you mean, no and no?”

  “No, I am not aware of his past. And no, I did not see him engage in any drug deals,” she said, as matter of fact.

  The young man couldn’t help himself, and felt bad that she was feeling so defensive, so he said more than he should have. “Listen, I probably shouldn’t say anything to you but I think you deserve to know a few things.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Jasper Jackson has several arrests for both possession and intent to distribute marijuana. Nothing recent mind you, but back about 4 years ago he had several scrapes with the law, so when something like this happens, we have to rule out that it was not drug related. Unfortunately, they usually are.”

  “Oh, my heavens, that had not even occurred to me. Jasper is such a nice guy. I suspected he smoked some weed but didn’t know he was selling or anything.”

  “Now don’t get me wrong, he’s never been busted actually selling, he just had enough in his possession that it looked like he was going to distribute. Charges never stuck and he pleaded down to a lesser charge. Has only ever spent a couple of days in jail with no felony charges.”

  “Well, that does make me feel a little bit better, but do you think this had something to do with drugs?”

  “Most likely; looks like Jasper was singled out by the shooter,” the cop said. “One final question, then you’ll be free to go. I’m sure you're anxious to see your friend.”

  “Yes, I am, let’s get this done with,” she agreed.

  The officer laid the pen he’d been using on the clipboard and sat back looking at Blanche. “Miss Delaney, are you currently seeing anybody, romantically that is?”

  The way the question was posed had Blanche a little confused, “Who’s asking? You or the police department?”

  “The police department, of course,” he said, clearing his voice and dropping it an octave in the process.

  “Oh, okay. Well yes. It’s not serious but I have just recently, mind you, started to see a college student that I work with. His name is Seymour Wood.”

  “Thank you,” he said, reaching for the pen and writing Seymour’s name on the pad. “Is there any possibility that he, either directly or indirectly, could have been involved with last night’s shooting?”

  “You think Seymour was involved?” the flabbergasted Blanche asked.

  “Remember, we’re just trying to get to the bottom of who hurt your friend. We have to explore every possible avenue.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Can you answer the question, and can you positively rule out that the man you saw walk through the diner, and into the bathroom, was not this Seymour Wood?” The young police officer stressed his question by leaning closer to Blanche, pen in hand.

  She thought for a long moment before she replied, “No, I don’t think there is any way on this earth that Seymour was involved, and I almost hate to answer the second part of your question,” she hesitated. “And no, I can’t 100% be sure that it was not him in the diner. If you’ll recall, I said I didn’t get a very good look at him, but I know Seymour wouldn’t do anything like that. I swear!”

  “That will be all. Thanks for your cooperation, we’ll contact you if we need anything further,” he finished.

  They concluded the interview by Blanche providing her current address, contact numbers, place of employment and a few other odds and ends, but then she was free to go after signing the notes that the officer had taken. When she returned to the waiting area she could see Rufus, aimlessly walking around, asking people where Jasper was. Most treated him like a worthless homeless person that was looking for a handout. Blanche quickly went to him and put her arm around his shoulders.

  “Where’s ma bo, where’s Jaspa? Cops jus cum n’ pic me up, jus say Jasper’s been shot,” Rufus said, eyes red from the tears and filled with confusion.

  “He’s either still in surgery or in recovery by now. Let’s talk to a nurse and see what we can find out,” she sympathetically reacted to the older man’s needs.

  They fo
und their way to the nurse’s station and asked about Jasper. The first nurse would not release any information but a young lady standing nearby and hearing what they were after, pulled Blanche aside and whispered to her, “Mr. Jackson is in the recovery room and in a couple of hours will be brought to room 322. Watch for him then, he’ll be able to have family visitors.”

  “Thank you so much, you’ve been very helpful,” Blanche said, squeezing the young ladies arm in appreciation.

  The old man and beauty spent the next couple of hours chatting in the cafeteria, talking and sometimes laughing. It helped to pass the time and ease the worry. Rufus was certainly a storyteller and Blanche enjoyed the time together. He was a good-hearted old soul and she appreciated the kindness he had extended to her, and she was happy to reciprocate in his hour of need.

  At the appointed hour they took the elevator to the third floor and followed the signs until they came to room 322. They could hear Jasper’s deep voice and a young lady giggling inside. The two stepped inside to see Jasper lying on his side, sheets pulled up to his waist, and a hospital gown covering his upper body. He was groggy but awake and had been having some fun with the candy striper, trying to convince her that he needed some assistance taking a leak, and could she hold it for him. Blanche suspected it wasn’t the first time she’d been given that offer.

  “There you two are,” he said, as they entered the room. “Was wondering if you had deserted me.”

  “Jaspa, me boy, how ya doin’? Ya hurt bad?” his father asked, going to his side and holding his large head against his chest.

  “No pops, mutha shot me in my thickest muscle, right in my gluteus maximus. Docs said didn’t hit anythin' but USDA 100% ass, no bone or vessels. Said surgery was a breeze, just had to remove the slug. I’m feelin' pertty lucky.”

  Blanche joined Rufus bedside, leaned over and kissed Jasper on the forehead, “I’m so glad to see that you’ll be okay, we were so worried about you. All that blood, and you were in so much pain, it was pretty scary.”

  “How long they be keepin’ ya here, son?” Rufus asked.