With Cruel Intent (61 page)

woman, returned the camera and knife to

their places and slipped out the door,

carefully closing and latching it behind

him.

Lester made it back to his van in

the early morning hours and climbed

behind the wheel for the drive home. The

packet he was anticipating should be there

and he could make the final plans for his

departure the following day. He removed

the key from his front pocket and inserted

it into the ignition, starting the car with the

help of some pressure on the accelerator.

He grasped the wheel with both hands,

expecting to see both covered with a

glove, but only the right was thusly

encased. His mind dashed back through

the last few minutes and remembered that

he had stuck the glove in his front pocket

when he had felt Blanche’s breath. He

reached down to secure the glove and put

it with the other in the van. It was gone!

Lester scrambled from the idling van and

looked on the ground but it was nowhere

in sight. Again he ran his hands through his

pockets, front and back, it was definitely

gone.

Now sitting safely in his own

drive, he continued to berate himself for

being so careless, however, he would

soon be gone and the glove would provide

the authorities with only the smallest of

advantages. Exhausted and needing to get

to bed, he made the walk back to the

distressed mailbox one last time. His

steps were plodding, fatigue setting in, but

he wanted to see if the parcel was there.

He opened the latch as he had done now

for the third time in as many weeks and

saw the familiar manila envelope inside.

He withdrew it but it was heavier than he

had expected.

Inside the house, with the kitchen

light on, he opened the envelope and

inspected the contents. A woman’s picture

slid out first, followed by a newly cut key.

The woman was attractive, a bit heavy set

perhaps but pretty features. He tipped the

enclosure higher and a stack of worn

twenties landed on the table with a mild

thud.

“That’s nice!” he said.

Lastly a stack of documents with a

cover letter slid from the envelope, an

explanation given just as Jeremy had given

it to Iggy. The ‘outing’ must take place

tonight at 8:00 p.m., he would have the

house to himself for a few hours to tear it

apart. The remaining information was

similar to that previously provided,

address, general information about the

owner, the layout of the home and a few

odds and ends. Sounded easy enough, the

money was a bonus for a job well done.

“At

least

they

appreciate

excellence when they see it,” he again

said aloud.

Lester Cummings was about to

retire and he was tired but exhilarated

knowing that the end of one life was in

sight and the beginning of another within

his reach.

He spoke to the picture of the

woman, “Well, Ms. Beverly Davis, looks

like you’re my ticket to paradise.”

* * *

Thursday morning Sheriff Angelo

Lupo sat in his office, facing three of his

subordinates,

looking

for

answers.

Deputies Guest and Breland sat with their

hats in their hands, Ricky Dean held a

ream of documents on his lap using them

as a platform for his notebook computer,

which he had on and opened. The group

had been in conference for over an hour,

bringing the Sheriff up to date on the

progress with The Stalker case. The

Sheriff did not look happy.

“I get the feeling people, that once

Mr. Wood was taken into custody we let

our guard down. Granted there have been

no further break-ins since his arrest but my

gut tells me we’ve got the wrong guy

sitting back there,” he said, motioning to

the cell area.

Ricky Dean nodded his head in

agreement. He had been the hero last week

but lately his department had been under

the gun to provide something that would

break the case open. That lingering bit of

information had yet to be uncovered. For

the past hour he had gone over the reasons

why it was highly unlikely that Seymour

was The Stalker but could not rule him out

as the shooter in the Jackson shooting.

“Okay Ricky, let me run this back

and you tell me if I’ve got it,” the Sheriff

said. “The fibers collected at the Wood

residence do not match any of the fiber

evidence you’ve collected at any of the

crime scenes, and the castings made of

Seymour’s foot do not match the Nike’s

we’ve processed at the scenes either.

Have I got it right so far?”

“Yup, sure ‘nough Sheriff,” Ricky

agreed. “His feet are at least two shoe

sizes bigger.”

“So what you are saying, and

listen up you two,” he said, looking at his

deputies. “There’s no way, based on the

evidence alone, that Seymour Wood can

be The Stalker!” again Ricky expressed

his agreement.

“Then tell me you three, how did

Seymour wind up with a gun stolen from

our third crime scene and used in a

shooting of a black man on the other side

of town. I’m inclined to believe every

word that has come out of Mr. Woods’s

mouth. There doesn’t seem to me to be any

plausible explanation other than he’s

being set-up. I want to know who and why

and I want to know it yesterday! You got

me,” he said, his voice rising with each

syllable. “Where do we stand with our

other leads?”

Deputy Breland spoke up first.

“I’ve been able to get to 80% of the

witnesses at the diner and they have each

ruled out Seymour’s glasses and conclude

that it’s one of the two wire frames with

the tear drop style lenses. One of the

witnesses pegged the Ray Bans right

away, said she used to work in an optical

store and recognized the style. She was

apologetic that she didn’t bring that to our

attention before but didn’t think she

needed to be that specific. I’ll get to the

remaining witnesses this morning. The

Delaney woman also ruled out Seymour’s

before I let her speak to him.”

“Good Breland, I’m inclined to

believe our shooter is wearing the Ray

Ban sunglasses. I want you to get a hold of

the distributor and find out which shops

sell them and if they carry that specific

style. You’d also said that Mrs. Wood

was able to come up with the bail money,

is that right?”

“Yeah, Blanche Delaney told me

that last night when she dropped by,”

Breland confirmed.

“I can’t help but think that the

Delaney woman is involved in this

somehow.

Have

we

explored

old

boyfriends, jilted lovers, anybody that

may have a thing for her?”

It was Natalie’s turn to take a run

with the ball. “Sheriff, I went over her

past pretty carefully with her. She’s only

ever been in one serious relationship. He

turned out to be gay and she left him in

Arizona. I personally don’t think it’s

related. Since she’s been here she’s had

no flings or one night stands. A pretty

conservative woman that does her job and

stays to herself. Isn’t into the bar scene,

stays at Caroline’s Bed and Breakfast and

doesn’t get out much. She randomly met

Jasper and has a friendship but nothing

sexual, and with Seymour there is a

budding romance but they are not involved

sexually either. I tried to get her to identify

anyone that has struck her as strange but

she didn’t come up with anybody, at least

when I talked with her last.”

“How about the students from the

school, did you get over there this

morning?”

“I did, that’s where I was just

before we started this meeting. I found the

students from the racquetball class and

nobody remembered anything about a man

in sunglasses and baseball hat, except for

a couple of girls that said they spoke to a

man matching that description at the end of

their match on Monday morning. And get

this, he was asking where he could find

Seymour Wood.”

“Excellent. Were they able to

expand on the description we have to

date?” Ricky interjected.

“I think so, but they have agreed to

come in this afternoon and have a sketch

done with our artist,” Guest explained.

“Now

we’re

finally

getting

somewhere, those two girls have probably

got the best chance to identify him. Have

them go through the photo listing of known

burglars,” the Sheriff instructed.

The three wrote down notes

making sure that they didn’t miss anything

they

were

directed

to

do.

The

investigation was taking a sudden left turn,

just after they thought they had it solved

with the arrest of Mr. Wood. Apparently

he would be walking out on bail for now

but maybe for good based on the

discussion of the morning.

“You got anything else Guest?” the

Sheriff asked.

“I’ve got an appointment with that

couple from the farm community I spoke

with the other day that phoned back with

some information. It’s been difficult to

nail him down but his wife has promised

they will be home this afternoon and I can

go and get a statement. I’ll let you know

what I find out, it has something to do with

the motorcycle.”

“That sounds fine, what else have

you got to work on?” Lupo asked,

dropping his hand to scratch Otis behind

the ears.

“Remember the guy I talked with

you about before we all thought Seymour

was our man? His name is Lester

Cummings.”

“Yes, have you done any follow-

up?” Sheriff Lupo said leaning across his

desk to write down a note.

“I did but didn’t come up with

much. He has no priors, not even a parking

ticket. Clean as a whistle, almost too

clean. One thing of interest, the van is

registered in his name and is legit, but he

also has a motorcycle registered in his

name, color identified as yellow and I’m

sure, I could swear it, that I asked him

about a motorcycle and he denied having

one. But I can’t be sure, I didn’t write it

down. Was just before I got called back to

the station.”

“Okay, that’s a good start. I like

this guy as a possible suspect, let’s follow

your hunch and get a warrant. Get the ball

rolling before you head out for that

interview but I want you to present the

documentation we need to the judge

before the end of the day. I want to be able

to surprise him first thing tomorrow

morning with a raid. Is that understood?

Breland, Ricky, you two help her as she

needs ya.”

The three looked back and forth

between them and assured the others that

they would be on call to assist as needed

and able.

“If you can’t think of anything else,

I’m going to go home for a few minutes,

catch a few Z’s, shower, eat something

other than a Twinkie and then I’ll be back.

If you need me patch it through Arlene,”

the large man declared.

* * *

Just before noon a determined

Mrs. Lillian Wood, accompanied by Ms.

Blanche Delaney and their driver, Mr.

Marcus, entered the foyer area of the

Sheriff’s office. A notice and receipt in

hand from the Lowndes County Court

instructing the Sheriff’s Department to

release Seymour into the care of his

mother. The reunion was sweet, Seymour

more than happy to be out of the jail

issued coveralls and back in his jeans.

The foursome was on their way out the