With Cruel Intent (49 page)

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 uninviting; 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 found 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