Corridor Man

by Mick James

  “Leaving?” Marci attempted to sound pleasant from behind her receptionist desk.

  “Yeah. I’ve got to meet with Mr. Montcreff in a few minutes,” Bobby said knowing she couldn’t possibly question that. “I’m not sure how long it’s going to go, but I’m pretty sure I won’t be back today. I’ll see you in the morning, Marci,” he said attempting to sound as though he looked forward to the experience.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Bobby felt like celebrating. He drove to the grocery store, parked in the far corner of the parking lot and picked up a roast chicken and an ice cream sandwich for dinner. He went home, ate staring out the window and wondered if this might not be his last night in this dump.

  His phone rang a little before ten. He debated answering then picked it up and said, “Hi, Prez.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “What’s happening? I’m just about ready for bed. Were you able to deal with Arundel’s sister?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means if she gets wise to the fact I want her out of the house it will be a lot harder to get rid of her.”

  That actually made sense. “Do I want to know your plan?”

  “Probably not. I’m wondering where you’ve been. I was over there earlier today. I waited for you, but you never showed.”

  “You were in here? I thought we discussed this, Prez. I told you before, I don’t want some nosey neighbor seeing you coming in and out of here and maybe being able to put us together.”

  “That’s why I didn’t go in. Relax, I was just out on the street.”

  “Wonderful. Sitting in that car of yours, right? A black SUV, chrome spinners on the wheels. You were sitting there behind the wheel for what an hour? Two? Yeah, no one would pick up on that. That’s all we need, some old lady calling the cops.”

  “No one called the cops.”

  “Prez, it’s not that I don’t like you, but normal people do not sit in a car out on the street for an hour or two. It’s not…”

  “What was I hurting?”

  “You weren’t hurting a thing. I would even guess you probably weren’t doing anything illegal. However, you were quite possibly attracting attention. You may have made some elderly person, male or female, nervous. Maybe no one called the police, but maybe they made a note of your license plate number or mentioned it to another neighbor. What the hell did you want, anyway?”

  “Wondering if you got that power thing ready?”

  “Power thing? You mean the document giving you power of attorney for Arundel?” Now he kicked himself for even answering the phone.

  “That’s the one.”

  Between Morris Montcreff and looking for a new apartment, the power of attorney, the will and the trust documents had completely slipped his mind.

  “It’s taking some time, there’s an awful lot of paperwork. I have to be sure my contact can still file it for us. I’ll put another call in to her, but I have to go carefully. If I put too much pressure on her she’ll shut down, you know how they get.”

  “Tell me about it, but I want to get moving on this. Once I get Arundel’s sister out of there, I want to be done with her once and for all.”

  “Understood. I’ll give my contact a call again in the morning and I’ll let you know.”

  “Make sure you do,” Prez said and hung up.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  It was almost noon and he still hadn’t heard anything from Morris Montcreff. The redrawn Zimmerman contracts sat in an envelope on the corner of his desk. Marci had attached her yellow flags for signatures and the red one for initials. This time she had left the envelope unsealed.

  His cell rang, and his first thought was Montcreff wanted to meet him for lunch. Prez. Bobby knew why he was calling and it had completely slipped his mind until now. He answered anyway.

  “Hello.”

  “Did you talk to your contact about that power thing?”

  “Great to hear from you Prez. The power of attorney. Yeah, I phoned her but had to leave a message. Pretty standard, she’s always worried about someone overhearing her in the office. I think her desk is out in the open. Anyway, she’ll get back to me. Soon as I have something I’ll let you know. It just might be a day or two.” There was a pause and he wondered if Prez had bought his lie.

  “But you’ll call me?”

  “Soon as I have something. Okay?”

  “Just make sure you call, got it? Guess I don’t have much choice.”

  “Me neither, we’ll both have to hang in there.”

  Prez hung up without replying.

  Bobby phoned Christine Woodley, his old contact at County, to see if he could still slip in backdated paperwork and get it filed. He hadn’t spoken with her in almost five years. Mercifully, she was still with the same office although it took about five minutes on hold before she picked up.

  “This is Christine, how may I help you?”

  “Christine, long time no hear, this is Bobby Custer. Remember? How have you been?” he said, then just waited.

  “I’ve been fine, Bobby. You’re out?”

  “Yes, I am. Slowly getting back on my feet. More importantly, how have you been?”

  “I’m clean, Bobby. I’ve been clean for almost eleven months, now. I want to leave all of that behind me,” she whispered.

  “I think that makes a lot of sense, Christine. I was just checking in, thinking I might be able to help you.”

  “One of the steps in my ongoing recovery is to eliminate any contacts and temptations that brought me down in my previous life.” She suddenly sounded nervous, like a bit actor trying to remember her lines. “Don’t take it wrong, but I’m afraid you were one of those, Bobby. I don’t think it would be a good idea to get together if that’s the purpose of this phone call.”

  “I completely understand. In fact, I applaud your decision, Christine. Believe me, I know exactly where you’re coming from.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I’ve made a big life change, too. As part of my new direction I just wanted to apologize for any situation I may have exposed you to earlier.”

  “Whatever may have occurred, at the end of the day I made the decision, Bobby. I’m the one who is responsible for my own actions.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth, Christine. That’s why I wanted to congratulate you and see if there was anything I could do to support you.”

  “Um, no nothing, thank you.”

  “You’re sure. I mean if things were tight I could always send a little something your way. You know, take some of the pressure off. We all have too much pressure, and we all have needs.”

  She was suddenly breathing heavily on the other end of the line. “Thanks, I think I’m okay.”

  “You sound it Christine, just know if you ever need a little help, I’m just as close as the phone. Let me give you my number.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  “Probably not, but you know, just in case,” Bobby said.

  “In case?”

  “You never know, Christine. You ready, you got a pen there?”

  “I suppose, yeah go ahead, um go ahead and give it to me,” she said.

  Bobby gave her his cellphone number, then said, “Nice talking, Christine. You be sure to call if you need anything, you know me, I’ll keep it quiet. Just between the two of us.”

  “Okay,” she almost whispered and hung up.

  His phone rang a half minute later, so much for Christine not needing anything.

  “This is Bobby.”

  “Meet me in front of the building and bring that Zimmerman paperwork,” Montcreff said and hung up. Bobby grabbed the envelope with the redrawn contracts and headed toward the elevator. There was a black Escalade sitting in the no parking zone out in front of the building. As he walked out of the revolving door a man stepped out of the front passenger seat and watched him approach.

  The g
uy wore black slacks, a black golf shirt and his face was hidden behind a pair of expensive-looking sun glasses. As Bobby came closer he opened the rear passenger door. Bobby climbed in and looked at Morris Montcreff. Some thug sat behind the wheel but didn’t acknowledge him and continued to stare straight ahead.

  Montcreff held his hand out for the envelope, then pulled the contracts out before Bobby had even settled in.

  “Any problems?”

  “No, they’re basically the same as before, well except that Zimmerman is on the hook instead of you. The big change is on page three, paragraphs four A, B and C.”

  Montcreff pulled out a pair of glasses and slipped them on, then began to page through the contract. The thug behind the wheel checked his side view mirror from time to time, then returned to staring ahead and looking bored with the entire situation.

  “What the hell is this,” Montcreff growled and tore a yellow flag off the page in front of him.

  “The staff does that, yellow flags for signatures, three are required. They’ve got red flags in the half dozen places we need initials. I know it’s sort of touchy-feely, but it’s a small precaution to make sure everything is done up nice and proper. Zimmerman has the signatures notarized by someone out there, a woman.”

  “Humpf, that bitch Gina, I told him a long time ago to get rid of her.” Montcreff half laughed but didn’t comment further. “And you’ve contacted him, Zimmerman?”

  “No sir, not until you looked at this and gave your approval.”

  He nodded, flipped to the next page and continued reading. After a long ten minutes he produced a pen and began signing and then initialing, when he was finished he turned toward Bobby. “Have him sign these as soon as possible and get them filed. I want to begin this project. Everything is satisfactory with your other endeavor?”

  “You mean reviewing your files? I’ve only just…”

  “No, damn it, the apartment you chose.”

  “I’m just waiting for Noah Denton’s approval and I’ll…”

  “He hasn’t gotten to you, yet?”

  “I haven’t seen him today, well or yesterday for that matter.”

  Montcreff looked up and caught the eye of the driver in the rear view mirror. The man seemed to nod slightly and then flashed a smile for just a brief moment.

  “You’ve got my approval, that’s all that matters. Hold on, damn it,” Montcreff said. He pulled out a cell phone, pushed a button and waited. “Katherine, did you get that packet over to Noah Denton? Really?” he gave Bobby a brief glance, then said, “Get the key over there to Bobby Custer so he can get moving on this. What? No. I know you didn’t hold anything up. I’ll deal with it from this end. I expect that key down there within the hour,” he said and hung up.

  “You can sleep there tonight if you want. Get out of that little efficiency dump overlooking the trash you’ve been living in the past five or six weeks,” he said, then stuffed the contracts back into the envelope and handed it all back to Bobby.

  Bobby was half tempted to ask him how he knew where he had been living but thought better of it. “I’ll go back up to the office, call Zimmerman and head out there immediately.”

  Montcreff smiled, then pushed another button on his cell, looked over at Bobby and said, “Get going.”

  Chapter Sixty

  He turned in through Lowell Zimmerman’s front gate about ninety minutes later. The shards from the stemmed crystal glass Gina had thrown at him the other day had been cleaned up. Zimmerman hadn’t sounded all that happy on the phone when Bobby told him there had been a minor change on the contract and he needed to have him sign the documents again. Fortunately, he agreed to meet anyway. Bobby parked again just opposite the double front door and rang the doorbell. He waited a bit, busied himself pretending to examine the landscaping, then rang the doorbell a second time. There seemed to be some growling from somewhere deep inside the house and then a long moment later the door opened.

  She wore shorts, a sleeveless sort of top, clearly no bra and held a frosted glass that was filled almost to the rim. She half staggered as she opened the door sending a wave of contents over the rim of the glass splashing down onto the marble floor.

  “He’s busy having a hissy fit in his office,” she said, then sipped and made no effort to move.

  “I just need to have him sign these,” Bobby said holding up the envelope by way of explanation. She took another sip, still making no effort to move and forcing him to squeeze past, she giggled when he brushed against her lowering her hand and rubbing it against his crotch. He didn’t react but acted like it was just an everyday occurrence and walked across the large foyer toward Zimmerman’s office. He was halfway across the foyer before she slammed the front door closed.

  He knocked lightly on the office door, then pushed it open, “Mr. Zimmerman?”

  “In here, damn it,” Zimmerman half shouted. He stood behind his massive desk, hands on his hips glaring with a beet red face. He wore grey slacks and a navy blue blazer with brass buttons over an open collar white shirt. The collar looked heavily starched and made his face appear all the more red.

  There was nothing Bobby could say that would serve to smooth the situation over. So he just approached the desk and set the envelope down in front of Zimmerman. He continued to glare as if Bobby had just taken the last cookie off the plate.

  “These are the revised contracts from Mr. Montcreff. I’ll need your signature, and then a notary stamp so I can get them back just as soon…”

  “Let me tell you something. I’m thinking very hard about not signing these goddamned things. That’s what I’m thinking. These changes you’ve made, they leave me on the hook potentially for millions. What the hell sort of leverage do I have if things go wrong? Let me answer that for you, none, damn it. It would ruin me. I can’t do it, I’ve got too much at stake. Christ, I won’t do it, damn it. That son of a bitch Montcreff knew that all along and now he thinks he can play me for a sucker, for the fall guy. Well, it’s not my style. Not by a long shot. I’ve earned every last damn thing you can see around here.” He moved his head to indicate the expanse of the room. “I’m not about to grab my ankles on this one.”

  Bobby stretched his neck turning his head from side to side. He heard an audible cracking as he moved his head left to right a few times. Zimmerman stood in front of him, red-faced with his chest heaving. Bobby could hear him breathing through his nose sounding like he’d just run around the block. He stood there glowering, waiting for Bobby to say something that would fix his problem and make everything better.

  Bobby nodded in an understanding manner, then calmly picked up the envelope and tucked it under his arm.

  Zimmerman gave him a questioning sort of look. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “What am I doing? I’m not going to waste any more of your time, Mr. Zimmerman and I’m certainly not going to waste mine. You said you’re not going to sign these contracts, fair enough. That’s a decision only you can make, sir. But Mr. Montcreff is the sort of man who insists on hearing bad news immediately and I’m the guy who is going to have to tell him. Thank you for your time.” He said, then turned and looked at Gina standing against the doorway sipping from her glass.

  She stepped into the room and sat on the arm of the couch, her left arm was tucked beneath her breasts and her right hand held the glass to her lips. She stared at Bobby over the rim of the glass and looked amused.

  “Ma’am,” he nodded and then walked toward the door.

  “Wait a minute, goddamnit,” Zimmerman gave an exhausted exhale. “Jesus Christ, there must be something you can do here. You have to be able to see my point, don’t you?”

  “Mr. Zimmerman,” Bobby turned round and walked back to his desk. “These are the contracts Mr. Montcreff approved. I left him a little over an hour ago. I can deliver the message you’re unhappy. I can bring the unsigned contracts back to him. But I can’t change them, not without his approval, and I don’t have that appro
val. I’m sorry, sir but it’s as simple as that.”

  “But I’m gambling everything, everything I have on this. If something happens I’m ruined.”

  “And if things go according to plan, you’re quite wealthy. So the decision is yours. If you don’t sign life will still go on for Mr. Montcreff.”

  “Life will always go on for that bastard, but what about the rest of us?” he whined.

  Bobby wondered what he was missing. If it was such a bad deal why would Zimmerman be involved in the first place? He waited a long moment while Zimmerman stood there fuming and Gina noisily sipped the final remnants of her glass. Finally, Bobby said, “I really must be going.” He turned and nodded at Gina who ran her tongue seductively across her lips in response. Then Bobby walked out of the room.

  He was almost to the front door when Zimmerman yelled. “All right, just wait a damn minute, hold up there. Son of a bitch, I suppose it doesn’t matter at some point. Things don’t work out I’ll be dead anyway, goddamnit,” he said storming across the foyer toward Bobby. He grabbed the envelope from Bobby’s hands, placed the contract against the wall next to the front door and began to sign his name.

  “Get your ass out here,” he shouted, just as Gina appeared at his office door.

  Amazingly she wasn’t holding a glass. She walked toward them, grabbed the paperwork from Zimmerman and said. “Give me the damn pen, Lowell.”

  She ran her stamp back and forth on the page, smearing it, then wrote the date next to the stamp and drew a line that Bobby guessed was supposed to represent her signature today. Zimmerman tore off the red flags as he scanned the contract.

  “Those areas require…”

  “Stop interrupting me, goddamnit. I’m trying to concentrate here for Christ’s sake,” he yelled. They repeated the process in the other two spots, Zimmerman signing, Gina notarizing. “There, happy? Now get the hell out of here,” he said. He half crumpled the contract in his fist and thrust it toward Bobby.