Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  “Have you seen the array of pills the old boy takes? Enough to choke a horse, my God, he must take a good dozen a day. He keeps a couple of those sectioned plastic containers in his desk. You know the type? A little box for each day of the week, poor bastard has two of the damn things. Just imagine, one for the morning and one for the afternoon. Don’t know how the old boy does it,” Bennett said shaking his head then following up with another long sip.

  “Really? I didn’t realize his condition was that serious.”

  “I don’t know, I suspect his wife or maybe more likely the daughter fills them up for him. I don’t think he and the wife have exchanged a civil word since the Nixon years. Even at his age he still thinks he’s indestructible.” Bennett drained his glass and pushed it across the bar just as the junior bartender magically appeared.

  “Morris Montcreff, was Mr. Denton responsible for bringing his business in?”

  “Yes and no. He had attempted to get it for some time and never had any luck. Montcreff was with the Jorgensen firm over in Minneapolis. ‘Course, his business was nothing like it is today. Back then, Montcreff just had a couple of clubs as we used to call them,” Bennett sort of winked at Bobby, then gave a nod to the bartender as a way of saying thanks for his fresh drink.

  “Clubs?”

  “Oh, it was the hippie generation back then, all sorts of drugs were coming on the scene. Montcreff’s clubs were the place to be seen for the jet set in those days. Mind you, not that he was ever charged or in any way linked to something illegal, at least that I’m aware of. But you know there’ve always been rumors. Anyway, they were successful for a good while, the clubs, and just about the time that success began to wane old Morris Montcreff got into property development. The rest, as they say, is history,” Bennett chuckled then drained a third of his glass.

  “From what I’ve seen he seems quite successful,” Bobby said and took his first sip.

  “Yes, very. His account was a large part of what made the firm, his commercial properties. One of the reasons we’ve been so successful. That’s why I found it rather strange when he called Noah and specifically requested you.”

  Bobby suddenly became very guarded. “Oh, I don’t know. Like you said the day we ran into one another in the courthouse, my attributes, plus he knows I can’t practice law at the moment, yet I have a lot of experience and maybe that makes me perfect for the job of reviewing all his files. You know, just a little insurance policy,” Bobby said then held Bennett’s gaze for a long moment.

  “I have to tell you, Noah was rather upset, he doesn’t like to be second-guessed.”

  “I can maybe understand that, but then again I’m not second-guessing him. I’m just another pair of eyes making sure everything is all right for Mr. Montcreff and by extension for the firm as well.”

  “That change to the LLC with Zimmerman didn’t sit very well with Noah.”

  “And it certainly wasn’t originally drafted with the best of intentions for Mr. Montcreff, which is who I’m looking out for at the moment. I redrafted the document, Montcreff agreed, in the end so did Zimmerman. The firm’s client, Mr. Montcreff, saw that ultimately we were looking out for his best interests. He can’t ask for more than that. And by the way, Noah Denton signed the thing, which suggests to me he gave his approval.”

  “Well, like I said Noah Denton does not like to be second-guessed.”

  “What do you know about that car catching fire at Mr. Denton’s?”

  Bennett poured down another third of his drink. “The car fire. Not much, I don’t believe it was a mechanical failure if that’s what you’re asking. Local hoodlums, probably someone associated with Noah’s daughter. She’s, how should I say it, a handful.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Oh trouble may be too strong a word. They had her late in life, an only child. I think she’s somewhere in her early-to-mid-thirties. She’s probably dropped out of half a dozen colleges around the country. I think Noah spent close to thirty thousand a year just for her high school education. She and her mother seem to be constantly at odds, I’m not sure she interacts with Noah at all. She’s an artist by self-description.” He mockingly pronounced the word ‘ar-Tiste.’

  “She seems to run with a pretty fast crowd, always has. Still lives with her parents, which might be part of the problem. The car fire was probably just some jilted one-night stand. Still, all in all a rather frightening event for everyone.”

  “Was there something spray-painted on the driveway, a warning or a threat I thought I heard?”

  “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Bennett said and drained his glass. The bartender reappeared before the empty glass hit the bar.

  Bennett shook his head no, then said, “Oh goodness, look at the time, I’ve still got to choose a wine for dinner, we’ve guests coming.”

  Thought you said you had a meeting you jerk.

  “Bobby, can’t thank you enough for the time, and the beverages, but I had better skedaddle. Please, take your time here, but I’m running late.” Bennett grabbed Bobby’s hand, squeezed it in a vice-like grip and rubbed a couple of his chins back and forth across his starched collar. “Enjoy, see you bright and early.” Which for Bennett probably meant something around ten.

  Bobby sipped his bourbon and thought about what Bennett had told him regarding Noah Denton’s heart problems, his apparently estranged wife, the rebellious daughter, and he suddenly smelled opportunity.

  Chapter Seven

  When he arrived in the office the following morning there was a message from an outside line waiting for him on his phone. It struck him as somewhat strange since only a handful of people knew where he worked and he was pretty sure the message could not possibly be good news. He was right.

  “Hello Bobby, Stan Drake, your close, personal federal friend. Just wanted to let you know I care about you and would appreciate a call, before noon. You can reach me …,” he went on to leave a number Bobby guessed was a cell.

  It took a couple of minutes to calm down once he heard the message. Bobby couldn’t recall hearing the agent’s last name before, not that he needed to. Stan was one of two federal agents who had ensured he’d gotten the job at Denton, Allan, Sawyer and Hinz. as part of the agreement Bobby was going to inform. Although they’d never been very specific on just what he was supposed to inform about. He had almost begun to hope they’d forgotten about him, but that hope had just been dashed with the phone message.

  He wrote down the phone number then hurried out of the office and walked the better part of two blocks through the skyway system to one of the few remaining pay phones in the downtown area.

  “Yes?” the voice answered and Bobby gave an involuntary shudder.

  “Stan Drake, please.”

  “Bobby? Is that you? Is this the famous Bobby Custer?”

  “Yeah, I just got your phone message.”

  “Where are you calling from?”

  “A pay phone, I was worried about the possibility of leaving some sort of trail.”

  “Probably a good idea. Long time no chat, Bobby. What do they have you doing?”

  “I’ve been assigned to review the records of a major client. All the records, they go back a little over thirty years.”

  “Who’s the client?”

  “An individual by the name of Morris Montcreff, he’s a developer.”

  “Among other things. Are you working with Noah Denton?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I find anything, you know something questionable or possibly out of line I’m supposed to inform Mr. Montcreff and then he takes it up with Denton. To tell you the truth, Noah Denton’s been somewhat sporadic the last week or two. Some days he’s there, but I think in the past two weeks he’s missed maybe three days altogether, which I guess is rather unusual for him.”

  “He still working weekends?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t have to come in on the weekends.”

&n
bsp; “Start.”

  “What?”

  “Start going in on the weekends. We want to know about Denton, I want to know what he’s working on. Hinz, too, for that matter.”

  “Well, I can tell you Bennett Hinz doesn’t work on much. The few times I’ve seen him he’s just been staring out the window. Oftentimes, he’s gone altogether. I don’t know how much you know about him, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need the money.”

  “Just let us know what they’re working on - oh, and enjoy your weekend,” he laughed and then hung up.

  Chapter Eight

  There was a paper plate stacked high with chocolate chip cookies sitting on his desk when he arrived in the office the following morning. A one-word note from Angie that just read Thanks rested on top.

  Bobby picked up the phone and called her.

  “Angie.”

  “Hi Angie, Bobby. Can you bring me the same Montcreff files I reviewed yesterday, please?”

  She seemed to pause for a moment, maybe waiting before she finally said, “I’ll have them to you in the next ten minutes.”

  Bobby pulled open an empty drawer and set the paper plate inside. Angie arrived a few minutes later, carrying a two-foot stack of accordion files with both hands. She held the stack in place with her chin and pushed the door open with her hip. She hurried the last few steps to the desk as the stack began to slip. Bobby caught them with both hands just before the files began to slide across his desk.

  “Oh God, thanks.”

  “Not a problem, Angie. How’s your day going?”

  “Fine,’ she said sounding a little distracted as she glanced around.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “No, no I guess not,” she said looking slightly confused. “You, ahhh, didn’t see a note from me, did you?”

  “A note, no. You left me a note?”

  “Damn it, I left…”

  Bobby opened the desk drawer and pulled out the plate of cookies. “You mean this?”

  “You jerk,” she said and laughed.

  “Shame to eat these all by myself, can you sit for a minute and have one with me?”

  “I really shouldn’t,” she said, then took a couple quick steps to the door, pushed it closed and sat down.

  “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said taking a large bite. The cookie was delicious, something he hadn’t tasted in years and it brought back an instant flood of childhood memories.

  “I just wanted to say thanks, again. I was really frightened yesterday. I really need this job and well, thanks to you I still have it.”

  “I thought your husband was a doctor,” he said then put the second half of the cookie into his mouth and reached for another.

  “God, I wish. He’s getting there, just in his first year of a three-year internal med residency, then he’s got another two years for the gastroenterology fellowship. The little he’s home he studies his ass off until he falls asleep, then he’s out the door before I’m awake. Gee lucky me, just another four-plus years of basically no sex. Who knew?” she said and then just stared across the desk at Bobby.

  “I’m sure he’s doing his best.”

  “Yeah, maybe on the medical end of things, but I have needs, too,” she said and just let that statement hang out there in the suddenly very heavy air. “Sorry, I know you have your own problems. Hey, I better get back to work or they’ll fire my ass.”

  “Stay for another minute, I’m loving these cookies, thanks again.”

  She nodded, then said, “How’d things go with Big Ben last night?”

  “Fine, just had a drink. Actually, I had a drink, he had three, stuck me with the hundred-and-five dollar tab.”

  “What? Where did you say you were meeting?”

  “The Capitol City Club, I guess it’s his private haunt.”

  “Oh, yeah you mentioned that. God, the place is so old fashioned, and it could use a good cleaning. I went to a wedding there a couple of years ago, place reeked of mildew.”

  “I don’t think much has changed. No, he didn’t mention you or the receipt from the County, if that was going to be your question.”

  “I don’t even want to think about it. I just can’t thank you enough, really. I meant it when I said I owe you, big time,” she said then raised her eyebrows.

  “Maybe we can work something out.”

  “I think I’d like that, a lot. Well, I better get back to work, Bobby or I’ll be filing for unemployment. Enjoy those cookies, there can be a lot more treats where that came from,” she said and was suddenly up and out the door.

  Chapter Nine

  For the remainder of the day Bobby had a relatively tough time concentrating on the Montcreff files. At five he dialed the phone number he now knew by heart.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Bobby Custer, Mr. Montcreff.”

  “Yes, Bobby.”

  “Just touching base sir, still reviewing files. I spent most of the day going through your Plaza West development, thus far everything appears to be in order, sir.”

  “Good.”

  “I had a question for you, sir.”

  “Yes.”

  “Just for my general background information. Noah Denton, I was unaware he had a heart condition. Are you aware of any other health concerns he may have?”

  “You mean besides being a very large asshole?” Montcreff said and then laughed at his own joke. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

  Bobby chimed in with some forced laughter.

  “No, to answer your question. Bastard’s had two heart attacks, and in both instances was back at his desk within the week. Probably just to get away from the loving care of his wife. I think she’d just as soon push him down the stairs, but then who could really blame her? Anything else?”

  “No sir.”

  Montcreff hung up without another word.

  Bobby stopped for some groceries on the way home, grabbed a half dozen bottles of wine, a gift card and then settled in for the night doing some online research and getting used to the new Mac he’d purchased. He’d taken the laptop he’d stolen from Arundel’s house and smashed it into a half dozen little pieces then tossed it into the neighbor’s trash.

  Just now he was on line trying to find everything he could about Noah Denton, his wife and their daughter.

  In his day, Noah Denton was a force to be reckoned with. Even today, in his mid-seventies you’d have to be a fool not to take him seriously. Over the years he’d been involved in a number of high profile cases, appeared in front of the State Supreme Court on three separate occasions, served on a number of boards, was a past president of the local bar association and an elder in his church. He’d been appointed to a variety of posts by four governors, two from each party. Bobby guessed he probably voted Republican but found nothing online to confirm that suspicion.

  Denton’s wife, Cordelia Gravatto Denton, had served on the Regions Hospital board, a number of charitable organizations, been past president of the St. Paul Public Library Fund and the St. Paul Woman’s Club. She was also listed as a professional scrabble player and a Master Bridge player.

  Their only child was a daughter. Addison was a wanna-be artist who had been arrested for possession on three separate occasions, convicted at least once for driving under the influence and based on her online photo, had a penchant for tattoos. Bobby requested her as a friend on Facebook, then came up with an idea.

  He climbed in his car and cruised through the downtown area until he found what he was looking for. There were two of them on the corner, both wearing the uniform of the day, jeans sagging to their knees, the better part of their boxer shorts exposed and baseball caps with completely flat brims worn at an odd angle.

  Bobby pulled alongside and lowered the passenger window an inch.

  The black kid looked about seventeen and glanced around before he approached the car. His white partner remained ten feet behind and appeared to serve as a lookout.

  “Sweet ride man, wha
t you looking for?”

  “I’m thinking a little ecstasy.”

  The kid examined the Mercedes, looked up and down the street then turned and walked over to his partner to confer. While he talked the partner examined Bobby’s car, glanced up and down the street a few times, then finally nodded.

  “What you talking about?”

  “Ten or twelve, if you can do that?”

  “We might be able to help. Gonna take a phone call and a little time, you maybe come back in about thirty minutes.”

  Bobby held up a fistful of twenties, “I’ll make it worth your while if you can help me out.”

  The kid remained expressionless. “Like I said, be ‘bout thirty minutes.”

  Bobby gave them close to an hour before he drove past and parked on the opposite side of the street. He watched the two of them in an animated discussion, probably trying to figure out if they were being set up. Finally, the black kid stepped off the curb and quickly crossed the intersection. He gave another look around before he approached Bobby’s car.

  “Thought maybe you found someone else,” the kid said, then looked around again. “I got you a dozen, that’ll be,” the kid held up his right hand signaling five and made a zero with his left. Fifty.

  Bobby pulled out the twenties and held them out toward the kid. “Drop it in,” he said and lowered his window another inch. A small plastic bag dropped onto the passenger seat as Bobby shoved the cash out the window to the kid. “Little something extra for the good service, see you around,” he said then pulled away from the curb and turned right at the corner.

  He got back online once he returned home. Addison Denton had accepted his friend request and sent a brief message, “Thanx for friending, Addi.”

  He wrote back, “Thanks for accepting my friend request. Heard about your work from a friend.” Then he logged off and went to bed.

  He logged back online while having a breakfast coffee and noticed four messages from Addison Denton. “Really? What’s your favorite?” That message came through just a little after midnight. “Who told you about me?” arrived ten minutes later. “We should meet?” came across about 1:30. Finally, “You there?” just before three. Bobby guessed she was lonely, seemed to maybe have low self-esteem and could possibly be bipolar. He logged off, finished his coffee and headed into the office.