could get some frontal pictures of his target, without anything obstructing his view. Lester had parked his van at the nearby farmer’s market, and with the bulky camera in hand, walked across the street and sat on a hill overlooking the youth’s game. He sat with his left knee raised, and the large lens resting on it, the viewfinder encapsulated the strawberry blonde in the bleachers across the field. He watched as she laughed and applauded the players, taking special notice of her mopping the sweat from between her breasts with a small towel she’d pulled from the pack around her waist. Those close ups would enhance his collection nicely. Watching the expression on Blanche’s face, her long distance photographer didn’t know who was enjoying the day more, the subject, or the professional.
By the time Lester had shot a few hundred pictures, the sun had climbed to its zenith, pushing the crowds into their air-conditioned homes or off to the many lakes and rivers that dotted the landscape. Sitting on the hillside, in the shade of a white-blossomed magnolia tree, the photographer watched Blanche leave the stands and walk the few blocks to her home. He considered staying and watching for her the rest of the day, but knew there were a few plans to conclude before his work was done. He was anxious to get his competitors out of the way and hoped that tonight would present itself to do just that. What he needed, whether tonight, or in the near future, was a viable location, a distraction, a gun, an opportunity, and the will to act. Lester knew he had three of the five, Jasper would provide one more, and God would do the rest.
Blanche spent the balance of the afternoon taking a leisurely long bath, with no one else in the house, except Mrs. Muir. She’d been fortunate enough not to run into Felix and by the time she dragged herself out of the tub and back to her room it was past lunchtime. The thought of leaving the comfort of the home didn’t sit well with her, however, a Hawaiian pizza with Canadian bacon sounded wonderful to the starving woman. She pushed the guilt aside, slipped on some loose fitting sweats and headed downstairs, where Mrs. Muir was lounging in the parlor just starting, ‘The Birds’, on the large screen television.
“Mrs. Muir, how would you like to indulge a guilty pleasure this afternoon and split a large cheesy pizza with me? I’m buying but I can’t eat one by myself.”
“That does sound rather tempting and I was wondering what I might have to eat while I watched this movie. Tell you what, you order the pizza and I’ll make up some homemade lemonade and we’ll have an afternoon at the movies right here.”
“I’m in. Is ham and pineapple okay with you?” Blanche confirmed.
Their lunch arrived and the two women ate pizza, sipped their homemade concoction and enjoyed the macabre from the mind of Alfred Hitchcock.
“They certainly don’t make movies like that anymore,” Mrs. Muir offered, polishing off the last piece of cold pizza.
“It’s a shame really.” Having never seen the movie, Blanche offered her own critique, “I loved the storyline and he did it with a sense of sexuality but no blatant sex scenes. The language was mild but still got the message across with terrifying results. Anymore all they want to show is sex and shock. Books and these old movies are what really do it for me,” Blanche explained.
“I couldn’t agree more, my dear. Thanks for spending the afternoon with a lonely old woman, you’ve made my day.”
“It was my pleasure, we’ll do it again real soon.”
Jasper picked Blanche up at 6:30, with no Rufus to be seen. The Datsun sat idling at the curb as the bodybuilder approached the doorway and knocked on the screen door, being able to see into the interior of the home. Blanche had been sitting visiting with Caroline, when she heard the knock, and greeted Jasper with a wave, saying goodbye to Caroline, who busied herself about, making sure to get a look at the extremely large fellow picking the librarian up.
“She’s suddenly very popular,” Ms. Carmichael said to the accountant sitting at the dinner table punching some numbers through his calculator. He looked up momentarily, ignored the comment and went back to his work.
“Jasper, how’s it going? Saw your picture in the paper this week. You’re a celebrity of sorts,” Blanche said, moving through the screen door and out onto the porch with her date.
“I don’t know about that Ms. Delaney, the guys at work been giving me a hard time since I won. They’s just jealous,” he said, flexing a bicep, expanding the fabric beyond its limits.
“So where are we off to? I’ve shot my healthy diet for the day so I’m thinking maybe I need a banana split.”
“Whoa, a little thing like you, where you gonna put it?”
“Oh, I’ll manage, just show me the way,” she said, taking his arm as they walked to the waiting miniature truck.
Jasper knew of a great, old-fashioned ice cream joint on the other side of the tracks that was only known to the locals. It wasn’t fancy but the portions were huge, the music loud and ice cream delicious. They drove and talked about their week, Blanche hoping that she’d get a chance to explain to Jasper where she’d like their friendship to stand. For now, she put it off, hoping for an opportunity as the evening wore on. Jasper drove quickly, zipping in and out of traffic, using the clutch and gearshift like a professional racecar driver, causing Blanche to believe that the forthcoming ice cream must really be good.
“What the hell is he doing driving like Mario Andretti up there?” Lester cussed, keeping pace with the yellow Datsun, trying desperately not to lose them. “Damn it, I’ve waited all day for this chance, slow down!” he said, through clenched teeth.
The last thing Lester needed tonight was to draw attention to himself or his van. The black man had to go, but it had to be slick, without witnesses, and Blanche couldn’t get hurt. Lester had spent the few hours prior to Blanche's date shooting pop cans off of fence posts near the river. He wanted to get a feel for the.38, it handled a bit differently than his own 9mm, but after knocking down can after can, with only the occasional miss, he was satisfied that given the chance he’d hit his target.
The small truck finally slowed to a crawl and pulled into a parking lot where a strip mall housed a Laundromat, a health food store, and The Dixie Diner. The couple exited the truck and walked into the diner, the big black guy leading the way, and holding the door for Blanche.
“This is going to work better than I could have ever imagined,” he whispered, looking for a place to park the van.
He looped the neighborhood, knowing exactly what he was looking for, and found it a block away from the diner, in a poorly lit location, with a dozen cars parked on the street. He left the van, being sure to lock it, pulled a dark hoodie over his head and placed the pistol in the right front pocket of the jacket, a string of firecrackers, and a lighter went into the left. A baseball cap was tucked under the hoodie, the brim protruding, shadowing his face. Sunglasses hid his shifting eyes and he walked, looking down at the ground, with both hands holding the concealed items. The walk to the diner took only a minute and he tried to estimate how long it would take to get back to the van after the hammer dropped.
He walked past the outside of the diner, looking in, to gauge the crowd and the location of the couple. A dozen tables were scattered about, with half surrounded by youth, young families and his obsession. The parking lot offered a fairly good vantage point to see into the brightly lit eatery, as he stood behind a cement barrier, which surrounded the fire hydrant on three sides. From his newly found perch he could see the events of the next 5 minutes unfold before him. He ran it through his mind, the entry, the firecrackers, the panic, and finally the shot.
Jasper carried two banana splits across the space from the counter, to the table, where his lovely date was anxiously awaiting her treat. She gave him two thumbs up as he approached and he laughed a deep, growling laugh that made heads turn to see where it was coming from. They sat at a small, round table with metal chairs, padded with red leather seats. A jukebox thumped out a rap tune that Blanche was not familiar with, but the kids in the diner were singing along, and shaking their behinds as they downed their ice cream sundaes. No one paid much attention to the stranger, hiding his face with a hoodie and sunglasses, that walked in the front door, moved through the small crowd, away from the counter, to the bathroom on the opposite side of the diner from the couple with the splits.
A moment later, the same cloaked character stepped from the bathroom, sliding a round, metallic garbage can out of the door with his foot, leaving it sitting in the short hallway against the wall. A wad of paper towel lay across the top of the can making it difficult to see into its contents. He moved quickly across the diner floor, between a couple of tables, and out the front door without making eye contact with anyone. As far as he could tell,
