by Nick James
Bobby pointed to a half dozen empty parking spaces labeled Guest Parking. “You can take one of those.” He waited alongside his car while she took her time parking. She moved her car back and forth a couple of times until she was perfectly centered in the space then climbed out of the car and flashed a big smile of white teeth in Bobby’s direction. On the short walk to the elevator she brushed against him and whispered, “I’m so looking forward to this, it’s going to be very special.”
It looked like the gay couple who had boarded the elevator while Angie was aligning her car had stopped the elevator one floor above Bobby’s. It took another minute or two while the elevator slowly descended back to the garage. Angie squeezed his hand as they stepped onto the elevator, then once the doors closed she brushed firmly against him and tilted her head back so he could kiss her.
“Not too much to drink now, I want to remember everything we do tonight,” Angie giggled.
“So, you’re going to be a bad girl?”
“I’ll be the best naughty girl you’ve ever seen,” she said then ran her hand up Bobby’s thigh. “Mmm-mmm, feels like you’re all set to go.”
They left the elevator and walked hand in hand down the hallway, then stepped inside Bobby’s apartment where Angie forced him up against the wall and groped him with her hands while she kissed him for a long moment.
Bobby finally pushed her off and took a deep breath. “Maybe some champagne, just to slow you down. We’ve got all night.”
“Okay, but hurry back I’m not sure I can wait.” She set her purse on a chair and slipped her shoes off while Bobby hurried out to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator and pulled two chilled champagne flutes out of the freezer and set them on the counter.
“So this is the infamous couch where you discovered my naughty side,” Angie called from the living room.
Bobby popped the cork on the champagne, then filled the frosted glasses. “Yes, you were a veritable work of art that night,” he called and thought about adding something to Angie’s drink for just half a second. Then again, things were going so well just now, why screw it up?
He hurried down the hallway, careful not to spill. His eyes locked on Angie, down on all fours, positioned in the corner of the couch exactly as he’d posed her in a number of the pictures, only this time she was still dressed. She smiled at him, bit her lower lip seductively looking like a cat just ready to pounce. “Mmm-mmm, what kept you?”
“Champagne for the lady,” Bobby replied just before things went black.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“This bastard’s gotta have more than two phones,” a voice growled, and Bobby’s eye slowly opened.
He knew enough not to make a noise although he was having trouble breathing. In fact he couldn’t breathe, at least through his nose. He coughed a couple of times, groaned and drooled a mouthful of bloody phlegm onto his lap.
“Hey, look, the great lover is finally coming around,” another voice said and suddenly Bobby’s head was yanked up by his hair. He felt his stomach lurch and he swallowed to keep it down.
“You aren’t looking so good, piece of shit,” a voice said from somewhere off to the left.
Bobby slowly turned his head and suddenly alarm bells started to go off as his skull throbbed and pounded inside. He had been stripped down and now wore just a pair of boxers and one black sock. He was seated on one of the dining room chairs with his arms somehow cinched together behind his back. The chair was positioned in the archway between the living room and the hallway leading to the other rooms. He tried to move his arms and immediately felt a cutting sensation around his wrists. He couldn’t see out of his left eye and his jaw throbbed and ached. He attempted to exhale through his nose but the pressure made his head feel like it was about to explode.
“Glad you could join us, Billy,” a male voice said close to the left side of his face.
“I told you, his name’s Bobby,” Angie said.
Bobby raised his head in the direction of Angie’s voice. His stomach lurched again, but everything stayed down.
Angie was propped against the arm of the couch, smoking a cigarette. She raised her head and took a long drag then blew a cloud of smoke up into the air.
“Where are all the other phones, asshole?” a voice said from somewhere off to the left. “How many did he say he had?”
“Dozens,” Angie said and rubbed her cigarette out on the arm of the leather couch then let the butt fall to the floor. “The son of a bitch told me he had dozens,” she said and stared at Bobby.
“No, no,” Bobby attempted to say through swollen lips just before a fist slammed into his jaw.
“Don’t, Vince, we need to get all of them. After that I don’t care what you do to the bastard,” Angie said.
“Just three is all I had,” Bobby pleaded.
Someone grabbed a handful of Bobby’s hair and yanked his head over to one side, hard. This time his stomach rose up into his throat before it slowly settled back down. “You lying to us? You piece of shit, you listen to me. If you’re lying I will literally cut off that little dick of yours. I really will, so do-not-fuck-with-me. Now, you told her dozens, how many phones do you have and where in the hell are they?”
“I, I,” Bobby coughed and drooled blood and phlegm down his chin. “I had three, Angie threw one in my beer last night. I only had two others, pay-as-you-go ones, and then my iPhone.”
“I find out you were lying and you-are-dead.” The hand held onto Bobby’s hair and roughly shook his head in time to the words. “You hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Top drawer, in the bedroom,” Bobby said through swollen lips.
“The bathroom?”
Bobby shook his head then waited a moment for the pounding in his skull to stop, “No, the bedroom,” he said only it still sounded like bathroom through his swollen lips.
“Maybe check the bedroom, the one with the four poster bed,” Angie said. Once the man named Vince left the room and walked down the hallway she half whispered, “You know, Bobby, we could have had a lot of fun together. I would have liked that. I know for a fact you certainly would have enjoyed yourself. But then, you had to go and screw things up with your stupid little tough guy act. Now I get why they disbarred you, it all makes sense. See, you’re just an asshole and to make matters worse, you’re a really, really stupid asshole.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway and the one she’d called Vince came back into the living room holding a black cellphone in his hands. “Just like Mr. Cooperative said, top dresser drawer.” Then he walked over and handed the cellphone to Angie.
“We’re not kidding, Bobby.” She set the pay-as-you-go onto the coffee table, next to his iPhone and the other pay-as-you-go. “Any more? I want you to think very carefully, because if we find out you’re lying…”
“No, that’s all of them, all I’ve got.”
Footsteps coming down the hallway grew closer and another male figure set Bobby’s laptop on the coffee table next to the phones. “Nothing else I could find,” he said to Angie then he glanced over at Bobby. “What do you want to do?”
“I guess that’s more or less up to our host, here. What do you think Bobby, should we let you off or should we kill you?”
“No, no please don’t kill me, please don’t.” Bobby pleaded and began to cry as he looked at her through his one good eye.
“I really don’t know what to do, you sure weren’t very nice last night. Hell, you weren’t very nice this morning, either. See, you convinced me you weren’t going to be nice, ever again and you really left me with no other choice.” She glanced at the two men. The one Bobby could see was large, muscular and in a way resembled Angie. A brother?
“Please let me go, just let me go,” Bobby pleaded and felt a tear run down the right side of his face.
“I say we kill the bastard,” a voice said from behind Bobby.
Bobby’s head was throbbing and every bit of his face hurt. “P
lease,” he pleaded through swollen lips.
“I don’t care,” the other voice said. “You’re not so tough now, are you pal. You play rough with our sister, guess what, we’ll play even rougher with you, see how you like it.”
“You know what? I think we’re gonna let you go, Bobby. Yeah, but things are gonna be a little different. From now on I ask you for something, I need some sort of favor done, you better damn well jump on it. You don’t and well, I probably won’t be able to stop whatever they have in mind to do to you. Pick those up, Tommy,” Angie said and nodded at the cellphones and the laptop sitting on the coffee table. Then she walked over to the apartment door and began to slip her shoes on.
The one she’d called Tommy half coughed then spit a glob of something awful onto the wall.
“Been nice meeting ya,” the voice she’d called Vince said. Then he stepped in front of Bobby, drew back and sent a fist crashing into the side of Bobby’s head. The chair with Bobby attached to it fell over on its side and his head bounced off the oak floor.
“Just a little warning, Bobby dear,” Angie said as she walked over to where Bobby was lying on the floor. “You fucking better start playing nice,” she yelled then kicked the toe of her shoe into his solar plexus hard a couple of times, knocking the wind out of him.
“Cut him loose, Vince. I don’t want some do-gooder finding him tied to that damn chair.”
Bobby’s head was throbbing too much to hear the knife click open behind him and he was only vaguely aware of his wrists suddenly unbound. Someone picked the chair up off the floor and placed it back in the dining room although Bobby was unaware of it at the time.
Footsteps headed toward the door and then the door closed and all was quiet. Bobby coughed off and on, vomited once or twice in the middle of the night, and lay on the floor until just before sunrise.
Chapter Thirty-Three
He didn’t know how or when he’d made it into his bed. He lay there for a very long time silently taking stock of the various throbbing pains and aches of his body. He had no idea what time it was and didn’t really care.
After quite a long while he groaned as he rose from the blood-stained sheets. He carefully staggered down the hallway and into the bathroom. What was left of the face staring back at him in the mirror was unrecognizable. One eye, his left, was red and purple and completely swollen shut. His blood-encrusted nose appeared to have what looked like a noticeable curve to the bridge although it was so swollen and bruised it was difficult to tell. His lips were split, swollen and purple although not as dark a color nor quite as swollen as his left eye.
Dried blood covered his chin and had dripped down his chest. A large purple and black bruise, actually two of them sort of running together identified the area where Angie had kicked him in the chest.
He gingerly pulled his blood soaked-boxers off, letting them drop to the floor, then turned on the shower and ever so cautiously stepped under the warm spray. The water running off his shoulders and chest turned pink as it made its way toward the drain.
He didn’t dare place his face under the shower spray so after a few minutes he carefully cupped his hands together and gently splashed some water on his face. It stung and created a fresh pink cast flowing down toward the drain. His jaw didn’t seem to quite line up properly. Using his tongue he checked for missing teeth and couldn’t find any although four or five were definitely loose on the left side of his mouth.
He carefully stepped out of the shower and dried himself off in front of the mirror then wet a washcloth and dabbed at the bits of blood on his face. His nose began to bleed again, drops of blood splattering into the white porcelain sink. He rolled up a couple of sheets of toilet paper and carefully inserted them into his nostrils. He opened the medicine cabinet, took out a tube of antibiotic ointment and applied it to the bridge of his nose and the left side of his face. Then he walked down the hallway, running one hand along the wall to keep from falling.
He made it to the living room where blood was splattered across one of the walls. There was a puddle of bloody dried vomit on the oak floor and the oriental rug. Over in the corner the remnants of two shattered champagne flutes he’d been carrying when he was first hit were scattered across the floor. A black plastic band of some sort lay on the floor and he figured that was what had bound his wrists together while he was on the chair.
There was a burn mark the size of a quarter on the arm of the leather couch where Angie had put her cigarette out and the butt was still lying on the floor.
He turned round and slowly returned to his bedroom, keeping one hand against the wall for balance. He carefully crawled onto the far side of the bed, avoiding the bloodied pillow and section of sheet where he’d landed earlier. He groaned as he lay down and closed his eyes.
It looked like sunset when he woke. He’d missed an entire day, not that he cared. His jaw still ached and he could still move a few of the teeth using his tongue. He warmed a can of soup, sipped a couple of spoonfuls and then promptly returned to bed.
Three days later Bobby drove over to Target and purchased a new iPhone. He called the office and asked for Bennett Hinz.
“I’m sorry Mr. Hinz is out at the moment, would you like his voice mail?”
“Yes, that would…”
“Mr. Custer,” Marci asked. “Is that you, we’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“Yes, Marci. I’m just now able to call. I was involved in a car accident, a hit and run, out of town.”
“Are you all right?”
“Pretty banged up, I guess I was unconscious for a day or two. I’ve got a few more days of tests they’re going to run, but I should be in by Monday.”
“Where are you now?”
“Could I get Mr. Hinz’s voice mail? It looks like they’re getting ready to do some more tests here.”
“One moment, we look forward to seeing you next week, I’ll alert everyone.”
In other words spread the gossip. He wondered what Angie would think, she really couldn’t say anything and her hoodlum brothers had taken all the images so he had nothing to hold over her, not that he ever would after meeting her two brothers. He’d have to come up with some sort of thank-you at the appropriate time.
“This is Bennett Hinz, I’m unable to take your call at the moment. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call just as soon as possible. If you need to speak with someone immediately please dial extension 117 after the tone.”
Bobby waited then left a brief message, “Hi Bennett, Bobby Custer. I was the victim of a hit and run accident the other night, just now able to call. I plan to be in the office Monday morning, they’re still running tests on me, but so far everything is okay. I’ll see you Monday, thanks.”
He thought about leaving his new iPhone number in the message but decided against it. The last thing he needed was Benny Hinz calling and causing headaches. He dialed Morris Montcreff next.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Montcreff, Bobby Custer.”
“I’ve missed our little chats, Bobby.”
“Sorry sir, bit of a family emergency. A death, and I was called away for a few days.”
“Really, who?’
Bobby peered at the obituary section of the St. Paul paper. Read the name Garland Doyle out loud to Morris Montcreff, mentioned that the service had been out in Beaver Creek, Montana and added the fact that Garland had been his mother’s step-brother. “I’ll be back in the office on Saturday and I’ll phone you Saturday evening, sir.”
“I look forward to it. Condolences to your mother,” Montcreff said then hung up.
Bobby took the elevator down to the parking level, threw his suitcase in the back seat of his car and drove two and a half hours north to a Best Western in the city of Duluth. He figured there was a good chance Montcreff would send Hippo or some other thug over just to check and see if he was hiding in his apartment. Besides, a few more days to heal up before he went into the office on Saturday couldn’t do any harm.
Chapter Thirty-Four
He pulled back into the underground parking area late Friday night. As was now his habit, he’d driven through the parking area looking for anyone lurking in the shadows, then once he pulled into his spot he glanced around again before he turned the car off and unlocked the doors. He hurried to the elevator and rode up to his floor, then glanced up and down the empty hallway before stepping off the elevator and hustling into his apartment.
Once inside, everything looked right, but he had the sense someone had been through the unit, checking it out. He’d applied a piece of clear tape before he’d left to the lower half of the bedroom door, just as he’d done in his previous apartment when he suspected Prez was casing the place. Now the door was still closed, but the tape had been pulled loose from the frame when someone opened the door, most likely checking to see if Bobby was in there hiding.
His face was still bruised, but the purple had morphed to black-and-blue with a slight greenish tint around the edges and the swelling had more or less subsided. The white of his left eye was a bloody red, but at least the eye was open and he could see out of it. His nose seemed to be taking its own sweet time healing, but he could finally sort of breathe through it again.
There would be only a handful of people in the office tomorrow and Bobby had rehearsed his hit and run story enough times that he was comfortable with his lines.
He poured himself a bourbon and settled onto the living room couch. The very same couch Angie had positioned herself on, acting sexy just before her two reactionary brothers beat the shit out of him.
He’d get them, all three of them, he just didn’t quite know how yet. He’d draped a fleece blanket over the arm Angie had damaged with her cigarette and began to fanaticize about various ways to pay them back.
* * *
He was back in his office before ten on Saturday morning. The place seemed unusually quiet even for a Saturday. There was always someone playing a radio, invariably a couple of people chatting in a hallway, maybe one or two individuals in front of the coffee machine. The place not only seemed empty, it was, in fact, completely empty.