With Cruel Intent (48 page)

Lester.

“Officer, I’ve got an appointment

in town and need to be on my way. Is there

anything else I can do for you before you

have to leave?” The pressure of the gun

made him feel powerful and able to

dominate the situation.

“I’d like to take a look in the

house, and barn as well, if that’s okay

with you.”

“Actually, it’s not. I do have to run

and I just don’t have time to show you

around everywhere, perhaps you could

make an appointment and we could do it

in the next day or two.”

She knew he was up to something

and had been lying from the minute she

met him, but was unsure of what to make

of his behavior. “So let me get this

straight. You are denying me access to

your house and barn, is that correct?”

“Don’t you have to have a warrant

or something? I mean this is private

property and you can’t just go around

searching people’s homes without some

kind of an affidavit. Isn’t that right?” he

said, once again moving his hand to his

waistline.

“You are right there, but if you

give me verbal permission we can avoid

the hassle of a warrant, so if you’ll just

consent to that I’ll take a look in the barn.”

She took a couple of steps towards the

barn.

Lester jumped from his position on

the porch and cut her off. Otis lurched at

him, growling and barking. Natalie

restrained him but did put her hand on her

service weapon.

“Whoa, whoa take it easy. I think

I’m within my rights to ask you to leave if

you don’t have a warrant. I’ve been

cooperative and let’s leave it at that. If

you want to come back later with a

warrant, I’d be happy to let you look in

every nook and cranny there is, but not

without that warrant. This is my private

stuff and you are violating my privacy, so

I’m going to ask you to leave one more

time.”

“Deputy Guest respond, over,” her

portable unit squawked.

She took her hand off the weapon

and keyed the mic, “Guest here, over.”

“Natalie, Sheriff Lupo wants you

to respond to a call from an old guy that

you spoke with earlier in the day. Says

he’s got some information you may need,

something about some questions you asked

him earlier. Could hardly make him out

when he called, but there’s a message on

your voicemail, can listen to it when

you’re back at your unit. You got that?”

“Roger, will see what it is and let

you know.”

“Alright, Mr. Cummings, we’ll be

leaving for now, but I don’t doubt we’ll

be back to take a closer look with a

warrant.”

“I’ll anxiously await your return,”

he said sarcastically, and watched the two

walk down the dirt driveway, taking a left,

heading back to the service road, his hand

caressing the cold grip of the Beretta.

Lester waited a few minutes

before he leisurely walked to the end of

his drive, stepped out beyond the mailbox

to get a better look down the range road,

and confirmed that the curious deputy was

gone. Her random visit sent a jolt of

reality through the thief, his mind active as

he ran to the barn. Evidence? What

evidence did he have that she may have

seen? He was careful the other day to fill

his pockets with the spent brass from the

.38, should have only been 9mm at the

range. He knew he had the paperwork on

the Beretta, so there was nothing they

could do with those shell casings. He

wondered if she’d taken the time to call in

the plate on his van, again legally owned,

but he didn’t know if it had been reported

as a suspicious vehicle. There was one

thing he did know, however, the

motorcycle had to go. He had plenty of

cash to replace it with a newer, bigger

one, but there was a degree of

sentimentality to the old bike that almost

brought him to tears as he wheeled it out

from the barn, pushed it up a plank, and

into the back of the van.

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