“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 you.”
“As long as you’ve got everything in order I don’t see any reason why you can’t have some time. What are you working on?”
Seymour took a breath to organize his thoughts so he didn’t sound like a moron and said, “You’re familiar with that weird thing in the paper a week or so ago? The guy in that woman’s house that took the picture of himself?”
She nodded in the affirmative.
“Well, I’m taking a course at the college about criminal deviant behavior and Mrs. Wild, the instructor, wants us to do some research about this type of aberrant behavior and how it can escalate into more troublesome crimes.”
“That sounds really quite interesting. Myself, I’ve never given it much thought, not really my cup of tea but there seems to be quite a bit published and those are some of the books that are checked out most often both here and where I’ve worked in the past.”
Seymour summoned his courage and almost shyly asked, “If you have a few minutes tonight would you mind helping me out? I’m not that great at researching and finding material and I suspect you’re a pro.”
“I don’t know if I’m a pro at anything Seymour, but I’d be happy to help. Why don’t you get started and see what you can come up with and bring what you find here to the front desk and we’ll work on it. Is there anyone else in the library right now?” she asked.
“There’s just some geezer in a lounge chair reading old Life magazines, but that’s it.”
“Good, I’ll be here getting some stuff taken care of while you’re collecting your sources,” she cheerily added.
Seymour thought to himself, “that was much easier than I expected, wish I could come up with something more exciting than looking at old books with me.” Then under his breath as he headed up the stairs he whispered, “at least it’s a start.”
The librarian thought she heard Seymour say something as he trudged up the stairs but couldn’t make it out. He really was cute and she found herself more attracted to him each time they worked together but she just couldn’t get past the age difference, even though it sure didn’t seem to matter to him. It was pretty obvious, to the more seasoned of the two, that he was flirty with her and she undoubtedly was flattered by it, but she just wasn’t sure if it was a big sister kind of caring or something deeper than that. For now, at least in her mind, she decided not to fight it and just take it as it comes, “can’t have too many friends” she thought.
Over the next thirty minutes Miss Delaney watched as Seymour scurried from one shelving unit to another and from one floor to the next, leaving magazines and books at the front desk, as he hurried by without disturbing Blanche with her responsibilities. Several customers entered while he was chasing about but they didn’t seem to care, the place was still very quiet and a little commotion helped to keep some of the patrons from falling asleep in the comfy chairs. Satisfied that he had enough to start with he returned to the main lobby and the pile he had created.
“What do you think?” he said, doing his best Vanna White impersonation and waving his hand in front of the books.
“Looks like you’re going to be spending the night. That’s a lot of material,” she said, scanning the books.
She picked up the top couple of books, looked them over, flipping to the inner front cover and reading the synopsis. She did the same with one of the magazines, noting that it was from the 60’s. Looking through the items Seymour had collected it dawned on her that she’d seen several of these already tonight.
“Seymour, is there a chance that the guy you ran into outside tonight is in your class at school, the deviant behavior class?”
“No, why? I know all the students by face if not by name and he’s definitely not in that course. Is something wrong?” he asked, with a hushed tone.
“No, I’m sure not, but it’s just kind of a strange coincidence that the books he had pulled and was researching are almost exactly the same ones you’ve got sitting before us,” she said, trying to wrap her head around a possible explanation.
“He probably saw the same thing in the paper and wanted to have a look just like your teacher suggested for you to do. No big deal, I just find it rather odd, especially considering his behavior.”
“Yeah, well, nothing we can really do about it, right?” Seymour indicated, pulling a chair up before the reading material and as close as he dared to Blanche.
They both jumped in looking for common behaviors and threads making their own lists to compare later on to see if they had any similarities. Blanche was intrigued by some of the names and crimes she was reading about and she found herself periodically looking up from the information, half expecting to see a madman run through the entryway with a chainsaw buzzing overhead. Feeling increasingly uneasy, the librarian inched a bit closer to Seymour as they did the research, finding comfort in the touch of his arm and thigh.
Seymour had heard about many of the figures he was finding in the readings but knew just bits and pieces about them. He had no idea there were so many crazed killers and nut jobs running around the streets of America, but here was proof before him that truth was absolutely more bizarre than fiction. As they both moved from one bit of information to the next their lists increased, looking for things that were common among serial rapists, killers and the like. What was it about their upbringing, their early crimes, the escalation in their patterns that were similar and their overall psyche?
The criminology student had noted as well that Blanche was much closer than when they started and he was not sure if it was flirtation or fear, as he was also feeling a bit on edge after reading some of the more detailed killing sprees. In either case, he was enjoying the moment and the wonderful smell that was permeating the space between and the light touch of her leg against his was almost more than he could take. He hoped she hadn’t noticed the goose bumps on his arms and the hair standing straight up, as she was certainly having an affect on him like no other woman had before.
Just before closing and after they searched the library for any couples making out in the bathroom or any old timers sleeping the night away, they compared notes and found some commonalities which Seymour highlighted and condensed to the following list:
Bed-wetting
Animal Cruelty (Sadistic behavior in general)
Arson
(Triad above forms a triad of events that may be experienced as a child)
Sadistic daydreaming as a child with a violent twist.
“I’m just a little freaked out after looking at all that stuff tonight, how ‘bout you?” Blanche asked.
“Nah, but I’ll bet I have strange dreams, that’s if I can sleep. Hope I don’t wake up with some nut standing over me taking pictures of himself in my mom’s bra and panties. Eee Gad, just the thought of that makes me nauseous. Come on, I’ll walk you to the bus and ride with you to your stop and make sure you get home okay.”
“You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Listen Blanche, after the day you’ve had I’d be a jerk not to make sure you get home safe and sound.”
The pair left the library, walked toward the stop and talked of anything but serial killers and deviants. A short distance away and parked obscurely at the end of a service lane a grey van sat, engine idling, and the driver taking pictures of the strolling couple with an expensive high powered telephoto lens. The photographer was already imagining what the librarian’s pictures would look like added to his growing collection.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
