by Nick James
The door was closed to the office where the acquisition team had been meeting over the weekend and Bobby took a detour over to that bank of offices. There was a discussion going on behind the door, although nothing like the heated exchange erupting from behind Bennett’s office. The flower vase holding the pink roses on Elizabeth Saunders’ desk was still there although a few of the rose petals had dropped onto her desktop.
Bobby entered his office and closed the door. He thought for a moment then dialed his office phone.
“This is Angie.”
“Hi Angie, Bobby.” He said and waited. This time she blinked first and finally came forth with a one word response. “Yes.”
“”Could I have the Montcreff files, the ones from yesterday plus whatever the next file is?”
“Anything else?”
You mean you’d like to see the images I have of you? “No, that should do it.”
She didn’t waste time saying goodbye. Mike Dorsey, the paralegal who’d delivered yesterday’s files knocked on his door ten minutes later.
“Files for you, Bobby. Have fun,” he said setting the files on the edge of the desk.
“Thanks, Mike how are things going?”
Dorsey was halfway to the door when he stopped. “Fine thanks, you know given the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?”
“Whatever is going on, I guess.”
“Yeah, I could feel the stress when I got out of the elevator. What do you think?”
“What do I think? I don’t know. Obviously something’s up, it’s been kinda crazy ever since Mr. Denton went nuts.”
“The partners say anything?”
“To me?”
“To anyone,” Bobby said.
“No, at least not that I’m aware of. Elizabeth Saunders still isn’t in. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t come back.”
“Who’s picking up her work load?”
“I don’t know, it’s awfully specialized and the powers that be in that area have been meeting behind closed doors for the last few days. I’d say it doesn’t look good. I don’t know if they’re trying to find a replacement for her, or what.”
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but they sent her out of town, out of the country actually. A trip to Paris, I think trying to get themselves back in her good graces.”
Dorsey shook his head. “They’re missing the point.”
“You aren’t kidding. What’s everyone else say?”
“You know how it goes, all sorts of bullshit, ninety-nine percent rumors and maybe one percent fact.”
“How’s Angie?”
“She’s okay, you’re not exactly on her good side at the moment, but if you’d take a little advice, give her another day or two and whatever the problem is she’ll forget and move on like nothing happened.”
It wasn’t exactly a problem. “I appreciate the advice. Let me know if you hear anything on this other stuff, will you?”
“Yeah sure.” Meaning Bobby was probably the last person he’d call.
Bobby’s phone rang later that afternoon.
“Bobby Custer.”
“Mr. Custer, Detective Woodley.” Daryl Woodley, Christine’s husband. Either Christine told him Bobby had been instrumental in lining her up with Prez and the drugs that caused her relapse, or he had questions on some other matter that didn’t bode well. Either way the call couldn’t be good.
“How’s Christine?” Bobby said trying to sound concerned.
“She’s doing well, thank you. She’ll be moving to a halfway house, Awakenings, actually the final step in her recovery program before we get her back home.”
“And how are you doing, Detective?”
“I’m coping. I have a question for you. We’re looking for Kate Clarken’s son, Prez.”
“Prez Clarken,” Bobby said and paused for a long moment. “The last time I saw him was, let me think, shortly after his mother’s funeral. To tell you the truth, you can maybe identify with this from Christine’s situation, but I really did not want anything to do with him. As I mentioned the last time we talked, I’m working very hard to get my life back on track and while I’m sorry his mother was killed, I really can’t afford to be involved with questionable characters. I’ve been given a second chance and I’m trying to make the most of it. But, that said, what’s he done?”
“Done? Oh, nothing of real interest, just trying to tie up some loose ends. You don’t know where he might be?”
A couple of places in Wisconsin come to mind. “No, I’ve no idea. Haven’t seen nor heard from him for the longest time. In fact if you do find him, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention my name.”
“Not to worry. Thanks, appreciate the time,” he said and hung up.
Christine had apparently talked, at least she’d mentioned Prez, probably as her initial supplier and that wasn’t good. It would just be a matter of time before she told her detective husband that Bobby had hooked her up with Prez and started her rapid descent to rock bottom. The last thing he needed was some detective going after him with a vengeance.
Awakenings. He was vaguely familiar with the halfway house, only because he’d had an acquaintance, Brad Carey end up there. Bobby was sentenced to seven years while Brad got treatment and a six-month vacation at Awakenings. Well, and he lost his wife, his license, was disbarred and the last time Bobby had checked Brad had dropped close to the bottom rung of society. It just might be worth a phone call provided the number still worked.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bobby dug through the few old files he had at home and pulled out a letter with a phone number penned in the upper right-hand corner, Brad Carey’s cellphone. He knew it was a long shot, but he dialed anyway.
Surprisingly Brad answered, on the sixth or seventh ring. The background noise was loud and sounded like he was in a bar. He shouted, “Yeah?”
“Brad Carey,” Bobby said.
“Who wants him?”
“A voice from the past, Brad, it’s Bobby Custer.”
There was a long pause and then the background noise retreated, like he’d suddenly stepped outside. “Who’d you say this was?”
“It’s Bobby, Bobby Custer.”
“Son of a bitch, what the hell you calling me for? And where in the hell are you calling from?”
“I’m out, been out for a bit actually, maybe looking for a little information, might have an opportunity for you to make a buck or two.”
“Yeah, like your opportunity worked so well the last time, I shouldn’t even be talking to your ass.”
“Brad, we’re just talking, that can’t hurt anything. Wonder if you’d want to meet for a beer sometime, I’ll buy. You don’t like what I’m saying, finish the beer and leave, or hell, don’t finish it, I don’t care. Just trying to make things a little right by you is all,” Bobby said.
“Yeah? I’ll maybe give it a shot. But I’m telling you, anything like the last time and I’m walking.”
“Fair enough, you tell me where and I’ll be there,” Bobby said.
“You know Eddie’s, it’s down on…”
“I know where Eddie’s is, Brad.”
“I’ll be there around ten, see you then,” Brad said and hung up.
Eddie’s was the sort of place nice people stayed away from. Bobby pulled on a pair of jeans and a dirty T-shirt and walked in the place fifteen minutes early. He needn’t have hurried, Brad Carey was a half hour late and drunk when he arrived.
Bobby sat in a corner booth and waved at Brad when he came in the door. Brad headed for the booth shaking his head.
“You don’t look so bad, seven years seemed to serve you well, you bastard.” He wore boots of some sort, heavy-looking things. He had on a pair of jeans with a torn knee and a shirt with the sleeves cut off at the shoulders to top off his ensemble. He was heavier than the last time Bobby had seen him and a little more flushed in the face.
They’d met by chance the first day in law school. Alphabetical se
ating in an orientation had placed them next to one another. Eleven years later Bobby’s suggestions and Brad Carey’s clumsy handling of the situation had eventually gotten him disbarred. Brad got off with time in a chemical recovery program as opposed to jail. The last Bobby knew he’d been working construction.
“So, has it already been seven years?” Brad said as he sat down across from Bobby and pushed the baseball cap back on his head.
“Out in a little over four, I always was an overachiever,” Bobby joked.
Brad didn’t laugh. “My family still won’t talk to me, bastards.” A heavyset woman wandered over to the booth. “Jack on the rocks and a beer back, Wanda,” Brad said. She glanced at Bobby’s beer mug and he shook his head no.
“So what are you doing now that you’re out? Who’s grabbing their ankles this time?”
“If you can believe it I actually got a gig with a firm, Denton, Allan, Sawyer and Hinz.”
“You’re kidding, DASH?” Brad said with a disbelieving look.
“Yeah, of course I’m not practicing, probably never will, I’m just an errand boy. I do what they tell me and shut the hell up. Just glad to have the job, actually.”
Brad nodded as Wanda brought his drinks over. She placed his beer on the table, then sloshed some of the bourbon over the edge of the well-filled glass when she set it down. Brad ran his index finger through the puddle of bourbon then licked his finger while Bobby tossed a ten dollar bill toward Wanda. She snatched the ten up, made quick change from a fist full of bills she’d pulled out of her waist apron and left.
“You still working construction?” Bobby asked.
“Had a fall last October, fucked my back up, they got me on disability,” he said then slurped down a third of his bourbon. “I do some side jobs, nothing big, but it keeps me in spending money.”
Bobby nodded and figured Brad was probably drunk seven nights a week when he wasn’t stoned or high or all of the above. Like Bobby, Brad’s wife had divorced him after his disbarment, he thought she might have moved back to Chicago with their two kids, but he wasn’t sure and wasn’t about to ask.
“So you called this meeting, what’d you want to talk about?” Brad asked and knocked back another third of his drink.
“When you got out of rehab didn’t you go to that halfway house, Awakenings?”
“Yeah,” Brad half laughed and drained his bourbon glass. “Wanda,” he called and waved the empty glass at her from across the barroom. “Yeah, I was there for six months, Christ it only felt like six years. Between all the preaching and what they referred to as baby steps I was ready to lose my mind. Bunch of spineless assholes if you ask me.”
“You know anyone there?”
“You mean a resident?”
“No, not exactly, see I got this friend in there, actually she’ll be there in a couple of days. Just wanted to maybe get her hooked up and…”
“Hello. What part aren’t you getting? It’s a halfway house, rehab, Bobby. They don’t let you do drugs there. Hell, you can’t even have a damn beer. Wanda,” he called and she suddenly appeared and set another glass of bourbon down in front of him, then took three dollar bills from Bobby’s dwindling pile of ones on the table.
“Well, this is sort of a wild chick. She asked me for a favor, I just wanted to help her out is all.”
“They’ll kick her ass out of there if they catch her, send her right back into the slammer if she was sent there as part of an alternative sentencing.”
“She’s not on some alternative sentencing plan, she put herself in treatment, well I mean her husband did, I think. She just wants to kick back for a little bit, you know, take the stress off, relax.”
“And her husband put her in there?”
“Like I said, she’s just looking for a night off.”
“What’s she look like?” Brad chuckled, then downed half his bourbon.
“Nice looking, not opposed to sharing that wealth in exchange for a little fun.”
Brad nodded, “Dark hair?”
Bobby shook his head, “No blonde, nice looking, eager to please.”
Brad seemed to think about that for a while. “Well, see they got this sort of pathway, it’s really just the sidewalk running around the block, kind of like your first taste of freedom. After about a week at Awakenings you can go for these walks a couple of times a day. Not a big deal, like I said it’s just around the block. But if she’s been locked up for weeks or months she’s gonna feel like she’s suddenly been let free. Anyway, at the far end of the block there’s six, maybe eight houses. She’ll be out of sight of the facility for a couple of minutes if she’s walking slow. You could have someone waiting there, hook her up. She’d be good to go.”
“You interested?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, ‘course I’ll pay you for your time. Give her just a little bit to get started, the first day or two. Along about day three she’ll be more than happy to do just about whatever you want.”
Brad nodded and looked like he was in deep thought. “What did she ever do to you?”
“Do to me? Nothing. I just know she could use it. Thought it might be something you’d enjoy, I remembered how you were kind of into that action. Plus, look she’s gonna slide right back down the drain as soon as they release her, what’s the difference if it’s now or a couple of weeks from now?”
“Let me think about it and I’ll maybe give you a call.”
“Don’t wait too long, she’s bound to hook up with someone sooner rather than later.”
“Wanda,” Brad called.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You hear the news?” Mike Dorsey asked as he set the stack of files down on the corner of Bobby’s desk.
“News?”
“The acquisitions team is leaving, five of them plus a couple of paralegals. I guess they moved everything out in the middle of the night, certified letters arrived this morning.”
“You’re kidding.” It wasn’t completely unexpected, but the timing was a lot faster than Bobby had anticipated. “What’s this mean for the firm?”
“Does the term cluster fuck have any connotation? Everyone’s scrambling trying to cover the bases, not that anyone has their expertise. The partners are meeting behind closed doors, they’ll try and put a halt to it or at least slow it down, but that’s not going to work, they’re clueless, God, the horse is already out of the barn.”
“Are they taking Elizabeth Saunders with?”
“I haven’t heard that specifically, but I don’t think they could do this without her. I’d guess it’s part of a larger master plan, next step will be her lawsuit landing on the doorstep and I wouldn’t be surprised if the acquisition guys leaving end up being part of some sort of settlement.”
Bobby shook his head, pulled an inch thick file off the top of the stack. “What a mess,” he said and then opened the file and looked up at Dorsey.
“Enjoy the read,” Dorsey smiled and left.
Bobby waited all of a second or two then left his office to hurry through the skyway system toward the bank of pay phones in the First National Bank building.
It sounded like a throat was cleared or maybe a mouthful of food was swallowed. “Yes.”
“Mr. Montcreff, sorry to call you so early sir, hope I’m not interrupting, but I just heard something I think you’ll want to know.”
Once Bobby had finished passing on the information Montcreff said, “And they’ve tied this all in with the harassment lawsuit for the Saunders woman?”
“That hasn’t happened yet, but it’s what everyone is expecting. Apparently they left, literally in the middle of the night. She’s been referred to as Mission Control for the acquisition aspect of the business. I can’t see how they’d be able to pull this off unless she was on board. My guess is she’ll come back from Paris all rested up and jump right into the new office.”
“Have they taken files?”
“Not that I’m aware of, I’ll check on that and get back
to you.”
“Only if they’ve taken files, otherwise don’t bother. It all sounds rather nice and neat, I guess we’ll just have to see how that’s going to work out, won’t we. Anything else?”
“No sir, just thought you’d want to know right away.”
“Thank you, Bobby,” Montcreff said and then hung up.
Bobby dialed the next number and ended up leaving a message. “Agent Drake, Bobby Custer touching base. I just learned a group of attorneys has left the firm. I’m guessing they’ll be taking some clients with them, along with a key paralegal.”
Bobby returned to his office and dialed Angie.
It was half a dozen rings before she answered. “Hi Angie, Bobby here.”
“Yes,” she said and once again he could feel the frost coming through the phone.
“I just received a call from Morris Montcreff, somehow he heard about the acquisition team leaving and he wanted to make sure all his files are secure and remain here.”
“I’m not aware of any files leaving the firm, at least from this area. It wouldn’t be uncommon for copies of the files to have been made. In fact, I’ve had a number of file requests over the past week and I’m sure that’s exactly what they did, make copies.”
“Were any of those files pertaining to Morris Montcreff?”
“I’d have to check.”
God, you bitch. “Could you check for me, please?”
“I’m not sure when I’ll have the time.”
Bobby waited for a very long moment before he said, “I’ll check back later this afternoon,” and hung up. At noon he left the office, walked two blocks and purchased three pay-as-you-go phones. He reviewed the Montcreff files until about four that afternoon. Then he left the office.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The hospital gift shop was barely ten feet square and inhabited by a thin, elderly man with two large hearing aids and a name tag that said Volunteer. He couldn’t have seemed less interested.