All it took was a good aim, and the attaching of a blade to the end of what would normally be a simple walking stick. Then he lay in waiting. Watching the door from the dark, shadowed corner that he preferred. That was also where his private desk was. A small alcove, almost; all but separated from the other parts of the store. He spun the ebony cane in his hand, his naked fingers rolling the smooth cane in circles as he watched the door silently. Warily.
Eerily, he thought. This brought a frown and the thought was quickly murdered by hordes of imaginary demons running through his head. That voice of reason gave a single, tiny squeak before it was undone by his insanity.
He heard the door open and his attention was back to where it was supposed to be. He saw a teenager step through the tinted glass double doors and his lips peeled back in a sinister grin, "We're closed." he said, his voice smooth and calm. The kid froze, he must have been dared to step into Mr. L.'s dusty domain. Exactly as I presumed, Grace mused. Before the boy could move even a step further Grace reared back his arm and threw the cane - now spear - like a javelin. It hit the wall, inches from the teen, and stuck. The boy nearly wet himself, it seemed, as he scrambled to get out of the shop.
Mr. L. stood up slowly and smoothed his dark red turtleneck. He strode to the wall and yanked the cane free before returning to his desk. Returning the cane to its original form was simple enough. One needed only to unscrew the blade and replace it with the short, blunt, steel tip. These things he did, and he dropped the blade in a drawer before depositing his cane into a bucket beside his desk.
He simply loved frightening the youngsters.