over slightly and moved through the same door the gentleman had just used to exit the library.
The foyer was brightly lit, a number of people gathered around the main desk speaking with Blanche. He was pleased that she was distracted and would not pay much attention to him as he moved to the stairs. With the injury to his side it was much easier to use the cane, almost came natural this time around as he hobbled and ambled up the stairs, concentrating not to look at the librarian for fear she might recognize him. Half way up the stairs the sight of Seymour coming down startled him. He momentarily lost his balance and almost tumbled to the floor below, but the agile Seymour caught the crippled vet, helped him regain his balance and made sure he got to the second floor. Lester hoped his nemesis had not felt the gun hugging his spine.
“Looks like your friend is back,” Seymour said, as he passed Blanche at the front desk.
“Rob!” she said, looking up, a bit of panic on her face.
“No, the vet with the cane that you told me about a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, him, thought you meant the guy I told Deputy Guest about this morning,” a relieved Blanche commented.
Seymour continued looking after the books and magazines left scattered on the tables and chairs throughout the library and didn’t give the gentleman on the second floor much more thought.
From the upper floor balcony Lester watched the exchange between the two at the front desk. He had not factored Seymour into his plans for the evening but it may work out to his advantage to have Seymour help him lure Blanche to the second floor when ready. He knew the library would close at 10:00 and they would start ushering people out prior to that, 9:25 as he looked at his watch. A lone reader, her hair in a tightly wound bun and sunglasses on her head, sat in a comfortable chair near the new magazine section thumbing through a copy of People. Lester tried to think of how he might hurry the woman on her way but didn’t want to chance drawing attention to himself. He decided to take a seat close to her and strike up a conversation, maybe he could persuade her to vacate the second floor all together.
“Evenin’, do you mind if I join you?” he asked, taking a chair and sliding it close to hers, before she was able to answer.
She looked at the obviously unusual character and nodded but did not speak, but right away he noted that she shifted her behind in the chair, moving away from him.
“Good,” he thought, “it’s working already.”
He picked up another gossip magazine from the table in front of them, flipped to a page of starlets dressed in slinky gowns.
“What do you think about that big busted blonde that married that old man for his money? You think she really loved him or was she just banging the old guy for the cash? Personally, I think the old guy couldn’t even get it up. I mean he was 85 when they married, can’t tell me he’s scoring any points with his virility at that age. You got an opinion on it?”
The woman was annoyed but not dislodged. “I’ve really not given it any thought so I couldn’t say.” She continued to be polite and tried to ignore the rude stranger.
“Well, if it came down to it, I’d sure as hell take up with some shriveled up old granny for a few million dollars. My old lady would probably give me permission, long as I cut her in, if you know what I mean,” he pushed, trying to think what it would take to make her leave.
“I’m just trying to get through this article. Do you mind?” she said, showing the open magazine to him.
“Oh no, no problem, what you reading there?” he said, sliding even closer and looking over her shoulder.
She turned the magazine away so he couldn’t see the text and slumped as far from him as she could without actually getting up and moving the chair.
“So would you marry some old dude with a limp dick for a couple million dollars, or what?” he asked, grabbing his crotch to emphasize his point.
She had had enough, she tossed the magazine back on the table, stood and gave him a look of absolute disdain and turned for the stairs.
He called after her, “I was just asking.”
“Finally, didn’t think the bag was every going to leave,” he said to himself.
Now clear, he thought of what he might do to distract Seymour and get a jump on him. With no one to see him he removed the glasses, put them back in the case and into the jacket pocket and laid the cane on a large table that was visible from the area immediately at the top of the stairs. He then randomly removed two-dozen books from the nearby shelving units and scattered them on the table for Seymour to see and have to put away. That would give him all the advantage that he would need. He took up the cane, pulled a chair within striking distance of the table and waited.
At 9:45 p.m. Seymour stopped at the front desk and told Blanche that he was making the rounds and would inform people that the library would be closing in fifteen minutes. They were both surprised at the number of people still utilizing the library's facilities. He would start on the upper floor, check the bathrooms and make sure that everyone was notified and things straightened up, before he did the same on the main level. Blanche watched Seymour move up the stairs, so thankful that she had helped with the money and he was here with her tonight and not still in the county jail.
Lester saw him coming and pretended to be looking at a book but all the time paying attention to where Seymour went and waited patiently for him to move around to the table covered with books. The young assistant moved in and out of both bathrooms, put a few magazines back in their place and straightened the chairs Lester had previously moved, before he approached the table near the assailant.
“How you doing tonight?” Seymour asked, in a cheerful tone.
“Good thanks, looks like you’re getting ready to close up shop.”
“Yeah, but you still got another ten or fifteen minutes if you need it.”
Seymour surveyed the array of books on the table and frowned. “You looked at all these books? I would have sworn I cleaned this table just a short time ago.”
“Nah, some woman up here was pulling them off the shelf and tossing ‘em on the table. Don’t know what she was looking for but she sure left a mess for you.”
“Yes, she did,” Seymour said, starting to pick up the books and return them to the shelves.
The Stalker watched and waited; gripping the cane tightly in his right hand, ready to pounce. The young man continued to move between the table and the shelves working his way down the table toward Lester. With only a few books left, Seymour walked between the seated Gulf War Vet and the table, leaned over to reach the last three books and stood with them in his right hand when the disguised Lester struck.
He quietly moved to a standing position behind the unaware Seymour, lifted the cane with both hands well above his head and brought the object down with incredible force, striking Seymour fully on the crown of his head. Seymour did not go down but rather spun around, dazed and confused, his hand now pressed to the back of his head, blood spilling over his fingers.
“Ouch, what the ….,” he said, unable to finish his sentence before Lester brought the cane down again, cracking Seymour a second time across his head, sending him to the floor in a state of unconsciousness.
The sound of him bouncing off the chair on his way down made more noise than Lester would have liked but he was prepared if the commotion brought Blanche up the stairs. It did not. With Seymour on the ground but not in the location he wanted him, the wounded villain dragged his prize across the room leaving him in a heap near the emergency door. He noted that the alarm was still removed from the exit as he’d seen Marcus do earlier but he pushed the door open with his foot just to make sure it was disabled. Lester then doused the cloth with the ether he’d brought with him and returned the bottle to his left front pocket and the cloth to his right, along with the spectacle case.
Before summoning Blanche he checked for any sign that Seymour was about to come to. He was snoring lightly and bleeding minimally from the two wounds on his head, but breathing in a slow and steady fashion. Lester continued the veteran ruse long enough to call Blanche up from the lower level. He moved to the top of the stairs, cane in hand and called down to Blanche at the desk.
“Excuse me young lady, your assistant up here has fallen and could use some help. I think you better come and take a look!” he said excitedly.
Lester quickly moved back to Seymour dispensing with the limp and stood looking over him, the cane in his left hand now. A second or two later Blanche could be heard running up the steps. When she saw the two on the upper floor her first impulse was for Seymour's well-being and she neglected her own safety.
