With Cruel Intent (15 page)

if he could use some direction.”

She left her hiding place and

stepped around the end of the shelving unit

to stand directly at the side of the stranger.

In

her

most

professional

librarian

whispered voice she said, “Is there

anything I can help you with?”

It became readily apparent that

he’d had no idea that the librarian was

even on the same floor as himself, let

alone right next to him. He bounced in the

chair as if it had been electrified, sending

his notepad skidding across the floor and

the mouse cord being yanked from the

back of the computer tower. Blanche

reacted with a slight giggle but maintained

her librarian demeanor in the process.

“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 over 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