She watched the sunlight trickle into her bedroom, little by little raising a curtain of light along the wall until the room was fully illuminated. Lillian Wood spent the night in her own home but got little sleep. The image of her son, dressed in orange coveralls, hands cuffed behind his back, looped through her mind like an old movie reel. Yesterday had proven to be more trouble for the Wood family as the day progressed. The local media had finally gotten the word that an arrest was made in The Stalker case, but no charges had been specifically filed, yet her phone rang non-stop and an aggressive, wannabe reporter had shown up on her doorstep late the night before. This morning an assessor from the bank would be coming by to provide an evaluation on the farm. They wanted to help but didn’t know if $200,000 was a doable number based on current property values and the existing mortgage on the house and land. With all the stress and worries she remained surprisingly optimistic; the hand of the Sheriff had done much to calm the older woman’s fears.
Blanche had gotten up early, no sign of Mr. Unger but she still tried to stay within the agreed upon schedule and avoid him altogether, then dressed conservatively, grabbed a banana and left for work. She made a quick stop at the hospital to see how Jasper was doing. Rufus was sitting in the room, head tilted to one side, a rolled up jacket for a pillow. Both the men in the room were asleep. With each breath Jasper would expel a deep, vibrating concussion of sound that led Blanche to believe that his father must be deaf. Blanche had little time and felt bad doing so, but she gently shook the older Jackson, startling him until his eyes could adjust and make out it was his librarian friend. With outstretched arms he pulled her in for a tight good morning hug but did not speak. Blanche motioned for him to join her in the hallway.
“How is he doing?” she asked.
“Bout as good as we kin hope. Says he’s got a pain in da ass,” he laughed.
“I’ll bet he does. How much longer are they going to keep him?”
“Till tomorra, or was it taday? I can’t be sure, soon though,” Rufus scratched his head hoping it would improve his morning memory.
“I don’t want to wake him, sounds like he’s sleeping pretty good. How do you sleep with that snoring going on? I could hear him clear down the hall as I left the elevator.”
“It’s somethin’ turrible ain’t it. Slept in da same house wit him fer sa long, don’t think I kin sleep witout it,” again he chuckled, a twinkle in his eye.
“Would you let him know that I stopped by and I hope to see him soon? Could you also let him know that the young man they’ve arrested for possibly shooting him is the wrong man? I know him, and he could not have done it. I’ll explain to Jasper later, okay?” she explained.
“Sure will perty lady,” he replied to her requests and returned to his spot in the room, getting himself comfortable again amidst the cacophony of sound.
Blanche left for the library in enough time to be a few minutes early, everything had to appear normal today, the inspectors would be by at an undisclosed time and she wanted to be prepared. Mrs. Ester Anderson would be on high alert.
Felix laid awake looking at the ceiling, watching the small dots and lines drift across the white surface, organics originating in the back chamber of his eyes. His doctor had told him he had floaters due to his age and they were harmless, but in the early morning hours he often could make shapes and faces from the unusual bits of debris that circulated through his vision. The sound of Bev sleeping next to him calmed his own breathing and made him feel relaxed and assured. The night had been interesting; she had been hungry for his touch and he for hers. It had not taken long to conclude the meal and business at the bar before making a beeline for her house. He had to focus to even remember where he left his car; he hoped it was still there. She shifted, rolling over on her side and draped her arm and leg across the cool Felix.
“Wednesday,” he said, moving his lips but not uttering a sound.
He tried to run the coming day through his mind, the things he needed and wanted to do, a trip to the Land and Title Office at the top of his list. Iggy had secured a special item for him that he was anxious to get his hands on, and he thought a face to face would shake the little man up in the process. He would be glad when he could put Valdosta behind him. Up until last night it had almost been fun, the game had been afoot, but it would all come down to the events of tomorrow night and the woman that slept beside him. He felt her leg move up his thigh and her hand slide between the sheets and down his torso before he felt her soft lips on his shoulder. Tomorrow would be much more difficult than he had imagined.
Deputy Breland pushed a silver cart through the main door to the lockup, juices on the bottom level and oatmeal and toast on the top. He stopped at each cell, calling the cellmate forward and handing them the breakfast. Seymour was still exhausted but not for lack of trying to sleep. The cot was insanely uncomfortable and he stirred with every sound, which was many, as they bounced off the concrete walls. The showing of support the afternoon before had lifted his spirits and he was confident his mother would be able to make the necessary arrangements to get him out of this hellhole. He was anxious to do his own investigation. Throughout the night, as he drifted in and out of slumber, he saw faces and places but he kept coming back to the man in the locker room, how unusual it had been that he retained his sunglasses as he stood at the end of their aisle.
At the time he had not cared or paid much attention to it. Some students just wore their glasses all the time, perhaps his were the type that changed and he was waiting for them to clear. He wished that he had paid closer attention to him. In his mind he could see him observing the conversation he was having with his friend, he remembered movement and he sat behind him and opened a locker. Seymour had not turned and looked at the man, but he noted as he left for the showers that the man was reading, his backpack in the open locker and his shoes on the floor. It seemed odd to him now. Why had he not undressed and changed, what was he waiting for? Then it struck him; he was waiting for the locker to be unattended so he could plant the gun. Why had he not realized that a day before?
“Deputy, Deputy Breland, I need to speak with Sheriff Lupo right away. I’ve remembered something!” he said, both hands on the bars speaking excitedly.
Noon rolled around and still nobody arrived from the bank, Lillian’s patience was wearing thin and the anger she’d felt on Monday was making a repeat appearance. She picked up the phone and dialed the bank, asking to speak with the manager. As she waited, listening to the annoying audio commercial and then the elevator music for more than two minutes, a distinct rap brought her attention to the front door.
She hollered from the kitchen, “I’m on the phone, if you’re a reporter get lost! I’m not making any statements.”
“Mrs. Wood, it’s Marc from the bank. I think you are expecting me.”
Lillian dropped the phone onto the mount and hurriedly went to the door, greeting the young man and putting her best foot forward.
“Thank you for coming, I’ve been anxiously waiting for you this morning. It’s very important that I get this taken care of so I can get my son home.”
“I understand and I’ll work as fast as I’m able but be aware these kinds of things take time. After all it’s a lot of money we’re talking about,” the preppy young man said.
“Oh, I know, I’m just anxious. What do I need to do?”
“Nothing really, I’ll just take a look at the house and the property. I’ve already looked over the legal description; the title and I know the size of your farm. It’s going to be close.”
“Close? I can’t tell you how important it is that I get that money. You’ll get it all back and with interest, my boy’s not guilty and he’s not going to run.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Wood, but we at the bank need to be careful, you understand.”
She did not understand, she just wanted this pencil pusher to clear the way for her to get her son out of the county jail.
“Well, if you need anything I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find everything. I won’t bother you when I leave but you should get a call later this afternoon from our manager, thanks.”
Blanche had not seen Marcus all morning and wondered where he was keeping himself. Mrs. Anderson had cruised through the foyer multiple times, just checking up on things. She stopped by earlier and complimented Blanche on her attire and thanked her for keeping her ‘headlights’ under wraps. The young librarian had a difficult time focusing on her job, she’d not even looked in her organized boxes and she kept thinking back to the night on the hillside. The pleasant thoughts were always pushed aside by the vision of Jasper squirming about in his own blood, calling for help, then the sight of Seymour standing behind bars, dressed in orange and the tears in his eyes. She was so torn and confused, but her heart spoke to her, giving her hope and assurance that all would be well.
At 1:00 p.m. she sat at the main desk eating the banana she’d brought and finally saw Mr. Marcus waltz through the front doors. He carried a ladder and his tool belt slung low around his waist.
“What are you doing? I thought everything was fixed and ready for the inspection?” Blanche asked, looking to see if Ester was within earshot.
“I thought so too, but remember the emergency door upstairs?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“The part still hasn’t come and Mrs. Anderson wants me to take another look at it, see if there's something I can do to get us by the inspection. I already told her if there was something I could have done I would have already, but she’s insisting, so here I am,” he said shrugging his shoulders under the weight of the aluminum ladder.
“I see. What should we do if they show up while you’re up there?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, you’ll just have to come give me a heads up and I’ll get out of here.”
“Sounds good, I’ll just come pull the ladder out from underneath you and you can dangle there as the alarm. That should get us past the inspection, don’t you think?” she joked.
“Very funny. How’s our boy doing? You doing okay?” he genuinely asked.
“I’m okay, didn’t sleep much, but I can’t imagine what kind of a night Seymour must have had. His mom is working to get the bail money today so he can go home.”
“Wish there was more we could do,” he said.
“Me too,” she said, waving as he made his way up the stairs, being careful not to mar the handrails.
Fifteen minutes later the doors opened again and a mother with three small children entered, followed by a man that she recognized but could not place. He strode directly toward her, smiling as if they knew one another. She desperately tried to draw a name from her memory but could not.
“Hello Blanche, how are you today?” he said, extending his hand and shaking hers with vigor.
“I’m good and you?”
“I’m good, thanks for asking. Sorry I’ve not been able to get back here since we talked last week,” Lester said a bit annoyed. Looking into the woman’s eyes he could tell she was drawing a blank.
“Oh, that’s okay, I’ve been busy with my library stuff,” Blanche said, trying to give herself the time she needed to remember his name.
“Yeah, me too, been real busy getting ready for a big event tomorrow night. Looks like I’ll be moving away from Valdosta. Thinking maybe of relocating to California, got to convince my girl between now and then to come with me,” he said, teasing the woman in his own way.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to, seems like you’re the convincing type,” she said, still searching.
“That’s for sure; I suspect she’ll come around to my way of thinking.”
He was having fun watching her try to remember his previous visit but the fact that she could not was also causing a seething storm to grow inside him. He looked around to see who else was working. She appeared to be alone.
“You working on your own today? Must be hard to keep up when you’re the only one running the place,” he said, fishing for information.
“No, everybody is here just off doing other things.” Why could she not remember his name? She vaguely remembered talking to him and if she didn’t have Seymour at the forefront of her mind she probably could recall who he was.
“Do you remember the books you helped me find last week?” he prompted.
“Ah, was it travel related?” she said, hoping he would throw her a bone.
“Mmmm nope, I’m surprised you don’t recall, you said you didn’t remember the last time someone asked for that topic.”
Suddenly her mind was clear. “Voodoo, right?” she said, knowing she was correct.
He was pleased to see that her memory had been jogged and she remembered the visit.
“So Rob, what brings you back to the library this afternoon?” she said, so pleased that she had finally remembered.
“You mean other than you?” he said.
She could tell that he was dead serious and it concerned her. “Don’t tease me, what would your girl say? Really, what can I do for you today?”
“Okay, you called me on it. I just wanted to do a bit more reading and I was interested in looking up some stuff on violent crimes. This recent crime wave has got me curious and I had a few minutes today, so here I am,” he said, smiling and trying to put her at ease.
“Well, I can certainly help you with that. Very popular lately, can’t seem to keep them on the shelf. They’re up and ….”
He cut her off. “I know where they are, but thanks, I’ll find them just fine.”
“Okay Rob, it was good seeing you again. Let us know how we can help you further. Good luck convincing that girlfriend to go with you.”
“I really don’t think she’ll have a choice when it comes right down to it,” he said, trying to hide the malevolent intent in his voice.
She watched him walk up the stairs to the second floor. She thought of his words and the strange conversation she’d just had.
“Why was it that the weirdo’s always seem to come her way, glad this one’s moving to California,” she thought, and in her next brief moment she realized how fortunate she was to have a man like Seymour in her life.
Lester’s anger peaked as he reached the second floor. How could she not have remembered who he was! He thought there was a spark, a connection that she had seen as well as he. It was the influence of Jasper and Seymour but that wouldn’t last for long. After tomorrow, they’d be past history and she’d learn to love him the way Virginia May had, when they first united their souls. They’d be one and he knew it was only a matter of time.
An older guy stood on a ladder near the emergency door. He was afraid of that. Good thing he decided to make this impromptu visit. He watched the worker for a moment before he approached him.
“Do you need some help?” Lester asked.
Marcus looked down from his perch on the ladder, a small electronic device in his hand, “No thanks, think I’ve got it.”
“What you working on there?” the curious patron asked.
“Oh, the stupid alarm on this door is broken and we’ve got to have it fixed by today or my butts in a sling.”
“How so?”
“We have an inspection this afternoon and this door is supposed to set off an alarm when opened. Somebody messed with it last week and it won’t work, so here I am. Got one on order but won’t be here ‘til Friday.”
Lester was relieved to hear it, “Think you can fix it?”
“Nope, just trying to appease the director. Known my butt was going to be in trouble for a couple days but nothing I can do about it.”
“That’s too bad, wish I could help but don’t know anything about electronics,” he lied.
The stranger turned and walked to the shelves housing the true crime, took down a book and sat at a table and read waiting for the custodian to finish his work. A quarter of an hour passed before Marcus gave up, collapsed the ladder and headed for the stairs. Lester got up leaving the book, Helter Skelter, on the table and offered a hand with the ladder as they both maneuvered the stairs to the lower floor.
“Couldn’t get it huh?” The Stalker asked.
“No, knew I wouldn’t be able to, but I gave it a shot.”
“Too bad,” pleased that his work of last week could not be undone.
Blanche saw the pair coming and offered a quick wave, making her look busy so she didn’t need to speak with Rob again. He did not stop at the desk, thankfully but went to the door and spoke loud enough for her to hear.
“See you soon,” the unusual character said as he departed.
Felix walked through the door of the Land and Title Office after Bev dropped him off to retrieve his car from the bar. He stood just inside the doors and looked the place over, wondering what it must be like to eek out such a boring existence as the trolls behind the desks. The self-described charmer could not see the head troll but he was able to see a woman busy at a desk with a placard identifying her as Marge.
"Marge, afternoon, how ya doing?"
"I'm fine. Is there something I can do to help you?" Marge smiled, already enjoying the company of the stranger.
"You sure can, we talked on the phone a day or two ago. I'm Felix Unger; remember I have an appointment with your boss tomorrow night. I just wanted to drop by and confirm, as well as, meet Mr. Savard. Would that be possible?"
"I'll see what I can do," the receptionist said, smiling broadly at the handsome Felix.
"Much appreciated."
Marge stood, smoothed her paisley skirt and brown button down top to pull the fabric more tightly against her curves, making sure that she had Mr. Unger's attention, before she walked to the director's office. She knocked softly, knowing that she was likely waking him up.
"Mr. Savard, there is a Mr. Unger here to see you sir," she said through the door, not wanting to open it until she had permission.
A somewhat disoriented Ignatius answered from inside the dimly lit room. "Give me a second, then bring him in thanks."
She returned to her desk, again smiling and overdoing the wiggle but Felix was appreciative, nonetheless.
"Just a moment and he'll see you. Can I get you anything?" she put an unusual amount of emphasis on the word 'anything'.
"No thanks, I'm good. On second thought Marge, could you just check your planner and see if I'm booked tomorrow night with Mr. Savard?"
"Surely, no problem." She stepped behind the desk, pulled up the electronic schedule and after a minute of looking it over reported, "Yes, I have you meeting Mr. Savard tomorrow night at a property south of Moody Air Force Base. Is that correct?"
"Perfect, knew you'd get it right the first time. You worked for Mr. Savard long?"
"A few years, nice place to work," she said.
Within the time it took Felix to write down Marge's phone number, the door to the director's office opened and Mr. Savard stepped out waving his hand at Felix to join him inside. The two entered the smallish office and Iggy closed the door behind him, then one by one lowered the blinds, securing the location from prying eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you I’d probably drop by today. I wanted to confirm our make believe meeting tomorrow night with Marge. She’s put together Iggy. You doing her?”
“No, I most certainly am not,” the displeased director said.
“I had to come by anyway and get the little present you have for me. You got it online under a fake name?”
“Yeah, had it shipped to a generic postal box in Douglas, drove down on the weekend to pick it up, better be worth it.”
“From my perspective, it’ll make it much easier. Thanks for following through and getting it for me,” Felix replied.
“Should fit, says it’s for that exact make and model,” Iggy clarified.
“Good. You ready with the packet for our friend?”
“Yeah, took care of the key issue in Douglas as well, I’ll drop everything off tonight.”
“Any word from Jeremy? Wouldn’t surprise me if he backs out at the last minute,” the taller man inquired.
“Nothing, don’t expect we will either. Let’s walk out to my car and I’ll grab that for you,” The Director said, moving toward the door and ushering Felix through the reception area and out into the parking lot.
The pair went to the sedan parked in the spot reserved for the director. Iggy popped the trunk and removed a small 6x8x3 inch parcel and handed it to Felix after looking around to confirm that they were not being watched. They shook hands, both grateful that would likely be the last time either man saw the other and they went their separate ways.
At noon 'The Wolf' entered the jail portion of his facility and spoke with Seymour who had been trying to reconstruct Monday morning as best he could.
"Sheriff, thanks for coming. I've been thinking a lot about Monday and I remembered something that may help both of us," the accused said.
"I wish somebody would help us, we've done nothing but follow bad leads this week. What have you got?"
Seymour filled the Sheriff in on the items he remembered about the unknown stranger. He filled in as much detail as he could then included, "I remember exactly the type of sunglasses he had on and I was curious if the people that saw the shooter at the diner described the same type."
"That's certainly a thought but you could just as easily be telling me about yours."
"True enough but Sheriff you have my sunglasses. They're in my backpack that you took from me when I was arrested. They are not the same style or make, get them and you'll see, and I'll bet your boys didn't turn up any other at my house either because I only have the one pair."
Lupo left briefly, and then returned to further his discussion with Seymour.
"Has your office interviewed any of the students about Monday? Maybe somebody saw this guy. Start with the friend I was talking to in the gym or some of my racquetball classmates. It's likely that one of them could confirm my description."
The Sheriff knew the young man was correct but his resources were spread quite thin already. If he got a chance he would send Guest back over to the school and do some interviews.
"So Seymour, tell me about the sunglasses."
"I know what type they are because my dad had the exact same pair and they've come in and out of style a few times. They were Ray Ban Aviators with the gold rims and reflective surface, kind of like a mirror on the front. Check with the people that saw the shooter, show them a picture, maybe they'll recognize it if they see it again."
"I appreciate the help Seymour but you don't have to tell me how to do my job."
"Sorry Sheriff, I'm just reaching at straws, way harder being on the inside looking out, if you know what I mean."
"I understand, but believe me we're doing our darndest to prove your innocence," he paused. "Or guilt."
The doors at the end of the cellblock opened and Deputy Breland approached the two, carrying Seymour's backpack. The Sheriff took the pack and rummaged through the many zippered pockets until he found a pair of sunglasses. They were much different than Seymour had described. The frame was plastic, tortoise shell, a mix of black — brown — yellow, and the lenses were a dark brown, more dense at the top then lighter at the bottom. Angelo inspected them closely and found the Maui Waui stamped on the inside of the left temple.
"Seymour, describe the make and model again to Deputy Breland here. Breland take this down and find me a picture that we can show the witnesses at the diner. Start with the Delaney woman at the library and work your way to each of the people we have on file ‘til they've all seen it. On second thought, I want you to do it like a line up, get five different models, various brands, all similar and include both the Ray-Ban and Seymour’s." He handed the glasses to Breland. "Then have them tell you which one they saw, let's see if we can get a consensus."
The Sheriff looked back at Seymour, "You happy?"
Seymour responded in the affirmative and the officers left the block.
At 4:00 p.m. Lillian Wood finally got a call from the bank manager. There was both good and bad news. The bank was prepared to provide a line of credit on the property and home but the very best they could do was $150,000. Mrs. Wood's heart sunk, $50,000 short and really nowhere to get that kind of money quickly. She had nothing to sell, no close friend, at least not that would have that kind of money, and the hope of freeing her son, sooner than later, fleeting. The bank manager suggested that she approach the court to see if they would bring the bail down. He'd seen it done before, however, he assured her that the money would be ready Thursday by noon and she could drop by and pick it up at her convenience. She thanked him and phoned the library.
Blanche picked up the phone and delivered the usual spill but with much less cheer and enthusiasm.
"Sounds like you're having the same kind of day as me, Blanche," Seymour's mom said, also sounding a little down in the dumps.
"Well, could be better, but I'm sure it's nothing like what you've been going through. We just had our inspection and we failed because of one item which we'll have fixed Friday but it means they have to come back again and put us through another day of stress."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Well, I just got off the phone with the bank and they'll only give me $150,000 for Seymour's bail. I'm $50,000 short. The manager suggested I go to the judge and see if he'll extend some mercy and lower the amount. Guess that's really the only option I've got and who knows how long that will take. What do you think?"
There was an unusually long pause as Lillian waited to see what the librarian thought.
"Blanche dear, you still there? Did we get cut off?"
"No, I'm here Lillian, just doing some calculating."
"Whatever for? Do you think we should go to the judge or not?"
"Not. Listen Mrs. Wood, I've got the $50,000 you need. In fact I think I've got $54,340 to my name and I want to help. How do we pool our money and get Seymour out of there?"
The once discouraged and directionless librarian had never felt so compelled to do something in her whole life. The thought of reaching out to the Wood family, as she had, made her feel light and free. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that the money was not lost and would once again be hers, but the ability to help in their hour of need was liberating. She stopped by the Sheriff's Office to let Seymour know that the money was taken care of, but Officer Breland had seen her come in and he informed her that visiting hours were over, however, he'd let her see him if she'd do him a favor first.
"So what can I do for you deputy?" she said, somewhat puzzled.
"The Sheriff has asked me to speak with each of the witnesses from the diner to see if you can pick out the type of sunglasses the perp was wearing. Would you give it a try?"
"Sure, don't know if I'll be able to, hardly remember and it was such a poor angle."
"Try anyway, if you would. I'll show you five different styles, all you need to do is pick the one that most closely resembles the pair you saw the shooter wearing," he explained.
"K, let me see them."
He handed her five full size sheets of paper, each with a large picture of a pair of sunglasses of various styles and makes. Blanche carefully looked through the sheets, running through them once before making any decisions. The second time through she removed two of the sunglass pictures, explaining to Breland that she was sure it was neither of them. She returned her attention to the others, knowing that any help she could provide could assist Seymour's case. Again, scrutinizing each photo, she compared the color, the material and she was able to eliminate one more from the batch. Two remained. The Ray-Ban and another metal frame but she had already eliminated Seymour's from the queue without knowing it.
"I can't be sure but I know it wasn't any of these," she said, pointing to the three she removed from the stack.
"Thanks, I'll note your selections. You are free to go Miss."
Blanche was allowed a few minutes alone with Seymour, she explained that his mother was able to secure the money for the bail but that it had taken longer than she anticipated. They would be by sometime around noon to finish the matter and see to his release. Seymour had been almost overcome with appreciation and relief. The two hugged, as they were able, separated by one inch reinforced steel bars but the kiss was memorable.
"Thanks for letting me see him, we've arranged his bail for tomorrow morning," Blanche said.
"Good for you, he's a model prisoner but I know he'll be glad to go home, even if he still has to appear in court," Breland said.
"Thanks again and goodnight."
Blanche treated herself to a taxi ride home. Unbeknownst to her a silver van followed the taxi closely, a troubled man at the wheel.