Free With Cruel Intent by Dennis Larsen Page B

stupid photo op is not
    going to cut it anymore but,” he was cut
    off with the terse interjection at the other
    end. He waggled his head back and forth
    and shook his finger in the air as if
    mocking the unseen caller.
    Rolling his eyes and running his
    fingers through his unwashed hair he
    finally replied, “Yeah, Yeah, I get it. You
    won’t be disappointed. Just watch the
    news.”
    Before he could say goodbye there
    was an audible click at the other end.
    “Well, that was rude,” he said aloud.
    Looking back at the notepad he
    read aloud, “412 Big Buck Circle,” and
    drew a dark line around it. Flipping back
    a page he found the list he had prepared
    earlier and across the bottom he added:
    Trip to library!!!
    Then he underlined it twice with
    bold, menacing strokes of the pencil,
    breaking the tip of the pencil off with the
    last exclamation point.
    CHAPTER NINE
    Having a couple of days off had
    done wonders for Blanche’s spirits. She
    had spent most of the time lost in the Deep
    South, fighting deference and finding
    passion in the arms of forbidden love.
    When
    not
    reading
    she
    napped
    periodically, enjoying the dreams that
    floated on the clouds of her imagination as
    her unconscious mind filled in the details
    of her dream lover. Not forgetting the
    events of the day before and the bathroom
    scramble, she had done her best to avoid
    the other guests and the awkward
    conversations that were likely to ensue.
    By noon on the second day, she
    could take it no longer and she made her
    way to the bathroom, showered and snuck
    back to her room without anyone being the
    wiser. She could hear Ms. Carmichael in
    the kitchen whipping up some of her ‘to
    die for’ rolls which would accompany
    some Southern delicacy that she was
    preparing for dinner. Blanche was well
    aware of the rule of the house, ‘There is
    no food except at breakfast and dinner
    prepared by the proprietor’, but she was
    hoping she could talk Caroline into
    making her another one of those incredible
    peanut butter sandwiches just to hold her
    over until dinner.
    The kitchen was littered with pots
    and pans', taking up most of the counter
    space and the marble topped island was
    covered with flour and a large lump of
    dough sat in the middle of it. Caroline
    wore a vintage apron pulled over her head
    and tied in a smart little bow in the back
    with two large pockets in the front.
    Ruffles trimmed the edges and pockets
    giving the apron a very feminine, finished
    look. The cook lifted her head and eyes
    from the task at hand as Blanche entered
    the room, a smear of flour across her
    forehead, where she had attempted to
    wipe her hair from her eyes with the back
    of her wrist.
    “Was just about to call the police
    and have one of them cadaver dogs come
    over here to see if you were still alive,”
    she joked, with a wink of her eye.
    “Very funny!” Blanche said. “Just
    needed some time to myself and it was
    wonderful. Sounds like my neighbors must
    have moved out?”
    “Nope, they’re still in the room
    next to you but I ‘spect you and Mr. Unger
    put the fear of God into ‘em yesterday
    morning, so they’re being a bit more
    discreet, if you know what I mean.”
    Caroline couldn’t help but smile
    as she filled Blanche in.
    “You might have a chance to meet
    them this afternoon, don’t think they’ve
    left the house yet today.”
    “No, that’s ok; I think I can manage
    with the informal pleasantries that we
    exchanged yesterday morning and the night
    before. Do you know when they’ll be
    checking out?” Blanche inquired.
    “Not sure, they had said something
    about staying on for a couple more days. I
    think it has something to do with my fruit
    salad and collard greens.”
    Blanche was quite sure it had
    more to do with the feather pillows and
    foam top mattress.
    Caroline returned to her rolls,
    punching the middle of the dough ball with
    the heel of her hand, and then pulling the
    prolapsed dough back to the middle of