Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  “Yes sir, on the third floor.”

  “For Christ’s sake these aren’t even his clients; Watson Group is Virgil’s bread and butter. Crestview, what in the hell…” he said sifting faster through the stack. “Simmons is my damn client,” he said looking up wide-eyed.

  “Maybe he was just double checking and…”

  “Then he can double check with me, damn it.”

  “I’m sure there must be some logical explanation, sir. After all, Mr. Denton wouldn’t have taken these files without some sort of legitimate reason, would he?”

  “Damned if I know, I honestly can’t imagine any logical thought process,” Bennett said. “All right, umm, yes well thank you for your due diligence, Custer. No telling what we might be missing. God, I’m just wondering if we shouldn’t go over there and do a thorough search of his home. Lord knows what we might find.” He bit his lower lip, weighing the pros and cons.

  Denton would love hearing about that, Bobby thought. “I suppose, if you think there might be more files there. To be honest, I just did a perfunctory look around. These files were on his desk, out in the open. Maybe I should have gone through his desk, but I felt somewhat uncomfortable just being there without Mr. Denton present. I suppose I could go back, maybe, I mean if it was all right with Mrs. Denton.”

  “No, no. Let me mull this over before we all jump into the deep end. I’ll get these back to the file room, but first let me talk with the powers that be,” he said and reached for his phone. “Thank you, Custer well done,” he said by way of dismissal then punched in a three-digit office extension, put the phone to his ear and looked at Bobby.

  “Glad I could be of service, sir,” Bobby said and headed for the door.

  “Yes, Virgil,” Bennett began just as Bobby opened the door. “Something’s come up. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind stepping into my office for a moment. What? Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  Bobby remained in his office until early evening, then walked past the parking ramp. This time Vince was sitting in the attendant’s booth with his head buried in a book. He guessed the man probably worked second shift, Monday through Friday. Bobby fantasized for a moment about setting the booth on fire and listening to the bastard scream when he realized he couldn’t get the door open. He circled the block then walked to his car and drove home for dinner.

  He drove back downtown a little after ten and sat on a bench at the bus stop across the street from the parking ramp, watching Vince with his head still buried in a book. A few minutes before eleven Vince began to show some signs of life and appeared to gather up some items in the booth. A moment later he stepped out of the booth carrying a cash drawer, walked across the exit lane and in through another door to the office. He came back out the same door maybe five minutes later and climbed the stairs in the parking ramp.

  Bobby checked his watch and waited, it was close to eight minutes before a black Toyota Corolla came down the exit ramp. Vince leaned out the driver’s window, punched in a code and a moment later the gate rose and he drove off.

  Bobby repeated the license number as he wrote it down on the back of an envelope then watched the taillights as Vince signaled a right-hand turn a couple of blocks away. He sighted in on a landmark at the distant corner, then walked the few blocks to get the street name before he returned to his car and drove home.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Bobby was in the office bright and early the following morning. He’d barely taken his first sip of coffee when his phone rang.

  “This is Bobby.”

  “Hey, Bobby, Mike Dorsey, you going to need any Montcreff files this morning?”

  “Yeah, of course, let’s see, the ahhh, last two from yesterday, Whitney plaza and I think the 506 Apartment and then maybe whatever the next three are should keep me pretty busy.”

  “I’ll have them to you in the next ten minutes,” Dorsey said and hung up. He knocked on Bobby’s office door and pushed the four-wheeled cart in just a couple of minutes later.

  “That was fast,” Bobby said and set down his coffee mug.

  “Trying to get a jump on the rush, I saw you coming in. Hey, Bennett dropped all those files off to me yesterday afternoon. I gotta tell you that cleaned up a good fifty percent of our problems, really appreciate you making the extra effort.”

  “Yeah, I just had this funny feeling when I saw Denton over the weekend. But to tell you the truth I thought I might just find a Montcreff file, or maybe Summer’s Bank. I actually wasn’t sure what all that was until Mr. Hinz started rifling through the stack and went ballistic.”

  “God yes, he delivered them to me yesterday afternoon along with Allan and Sawyer, not a happy bunch of guys. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah, I talked to the staff at the transitional care facility, as well as Mrs. Denton, no one seems to have any answers, they’ve eliminated a lot of options, but the big question still remains: what’s causing all this?”

  Dorsey just shook his head.

  Bobby decided to pile it on. “I told Mr. Hinz I just grabbed that stack because it was sitting on the edge of his desk. I figured he’d been reviewing them, you know the night before a trial or something. Of course then there was that last recent incident and suddenly it’s been the better part of two weeks down the road, you’ve got a laundry list of missing files on your hands and all the while the things were just sitting there in his home office collecting dust.”

  “Well thanks, like I said it cleared up a good half of the problems.”

  “Any ideas on the others?”

  Dorsey shook his head. “No, unfortunately. Kind of pulls Angie’s feet out of the fire, though. Suddenly she’s looking a lot better and well, there might be a good chance the rest of the missing files are somewhere in Denton’s house.”

  “You know, I don’t want them missing any more than you do, Mike but I really hope they’re not at Denton’s, just for his sake. Did anyone check his office here?”

  “You kidding, the partner’s ransacked the place yesterday afternoon, came up empty handed. I don’t know, maybe that was a good thing.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  * * *

  Bobby phoned Morris Montcreff at the end of the day. He told Montcreff about the files recovered from Denton’s office and embellished the story a little by adding details about scribbling and nonsensical notes he said Denton had made to a number of files.

  “The bastard’s gone off his rocker. What the hell was he thinking?”

  “That’s sort of the million dollar question, sir.”

  “It’s a hell of a lot more than a million. Keep me posted, maybe go and check on him tomorrow, I’d be interested in your perception.”

  “Well, like I said, I found him to be a bit aggressive and almost combative, sir.”

  “Maybe that was just on that particular day. Maybe he’d had to deal with that wife of his, she’s enough to drive you right up the wall. I want to hear your input tomorrow. In fact it might just be a good idea if you checked on him every other day.”

  Oh shit, Bobby thought. “That’s not a problem sir, I’d be happy to do it.”

  “Let me know tomorrow,” Montcreff said and hung up.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

  * * *

  Bobby strolled past the parking ramp at the end of the day. Vince was in the attendant’s booth handing change back to a waiting car. Bobby walked around the block, got in his car and drove home.

  He grilled a nice rib eye for dinner, sipped a couple glasses of wine and was seated back on the bench at the bus stop across from the parking ramp about a quarter to eleven. Just like the night before Vince more or less came alive ten minutes later. When he stepped out of the attendant’s booth and walked into the office Bobby hurried to his car and drove down to 6th Street where Vince had turned the night before. Bobby pulled over to the curb, turned his car off and waited.

  Sure enough, Vince drove past just a few minutes later. Tuesday night after eleven, there wasn’t
all that much traffic on the St. Paul streets. Bobby followed Vince down West 7th Street for a couple of miles dropping back almost a full block so Vince hopefully wouldn’t become suspicious.

  Vince took a right on Randolph and Bobby lingered on the corner for fifteen seconds before turning. He could see the taillights heading down the street, but just as he came around the corner Vince made a right-hand turn off the street. Bobby sped up, hoping to catch him and hurried to where Vince had turned.

  He almost hit him. Vince glanced at the headlights on the Mercedes as he crossed the street, gave no indication he recognized Bobby and stepped into Foxie’s bar. Bobby kept on driving then circled back and parked across the street from the bar, parking just far enough back so he could see the front door to the bar.

  Vince walked out almost an hour later. Bobby waited for a bit then cautiously pulled up to the corner and saw the taillights in the distance. He followed Vince up into the Groveland area, where he turned down an alley. Bobby turned off his lights then pulled to the curb opposite the alley and watched the taillights as they disappeared into a driveway.

  He pulled into the street, turned at the corner and drove midway down the block. After midnight on a Tuesday most of the houses were dark. Bobby slowed looking for the lights to hopefully flash on in one of the houses. Two doors down from where he was they did.

  A small, dingy, two-story stucco structure with a front porch and front steps leaning to one side. As he slowly drove past he looked through the darkened front window and there was Vince, standing in the bright kitchen light in the back of the house sipping from a can of beer. Bobby made note of the address and continued down the block.

  A car coming toward him suddenly flashed its lights a number of times and he realized he was driving with his lights off. He turned them on and drove home.

  Chapter Sixty

  The following day he was in the office bright and early reviewing files. He worked through the lunch hour then phoned the City View Transitional Care Unit and asked to be transferred to the third floor nurse’s station.

  “Third floor,” was how the phone was answered.

  “Oh hi, sorry to bother you. I’m going to be dropping my mother off to visit a friend later this afternoon. She’s concerned about interrupting dinner. When are the residents served?”

  “Dinner is served promptly at five.”

  “I’ll make sure to pick her up well before that, thank you so much,” Bobby said and hung up. He took the two ecstasy tablets out of his pocket and pulled the saran wrap open. Using his coffee mug he ground them into a fine powder then wrapped the powder back up in the saran wrap.

  A few minutes before five, he walked down the third floor hallway to Noah Denton’s room. He stood quietly in the doorway assessing the situation and weighing his options.

  Denton was sitting in his bathrobe staring out the window again. But today he looked freshly shaven and his hair was neatly combed. Bobby wondered if he’d done the work or if the staff had attended to him. A tray of food sat on the little wheeled table next to the bed. A covered plate, a small salad, some sort of pie, maybe cherry and a bottle of water were arranged on the tray.

  Denton seemed oblivious to both the meal and Bobby standing in the doorway until Bobby knocked on the doorframe. “Hi, Mr. Denton, how are things going today?”

  Denton slowly looked over then returned to staring out the window. “I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

  “That’s good news, sir.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes, sir we’re all pulling for you back at the firm, hoping you’ll be able to rejoin us shortly.”

  “Are you, now?”

  “Yes sir. The big news is I hear the partners have narrowed the field down to two potential candidates for the filing position. Everyone is hoping that spot will be filled sooner rather than later.” Bobby flashed a large smile.

  “Files, isn’t it interesting that’s the subject you would choose to bring up.”

  So someone told you, Bobby guessed. “You know yourself, sir, how important an area that is.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely, sir. I see your dinner has arrived, may I be of any assistance?”

  “Actually I would much prefer to dine alone. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just wash up and it would be nice if you were gone before I return.”

  Believe me I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. “Only too happy to oblige, sir it’s wonderful to see you again, Mr. Denton.”

  “Good day,” Denton said then stood from his chair in front of the window, slowly walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  A moment later Bobby heard the water running and hurried over to the food tray. He lifted the aluminum cover from the dinner plate and set it on the bed. He pulled the saran wrap out of his pocket, tore it in half and sprinkled the powered contents over the food. He used his finger to rub the powder into a skinless chicken breast and mix it in with the mashed potatoes. He sprinkled some more powder over the green beans then heard the faucet stop running and quickly replaced the aluminum cover over the plate. He heard the bathroom door unlock just as he exited the room and hurried down the hallway to the elevators.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  At a little before eleven that same night Bobby sent a text message to Emily asking if she was available for dinner the following evening. Then he placed his cellphone on the kitchen counter and took the stairs to the parking level in an effort to avoid the security camera in the elevator.

  He drove past the parking ramp not long after that. Vince was seated in the attendant’s booth, with his head buried in a book. Bobby drove down to Sixth Street, turned the corner then pulled to the curb and waited. Vince drove past a few minutes after eleven and Bobby followed him at a distance.

  Vince took the same route as the night before, but this time when he turned the corner at Foxie’s Bobby continued on. He drove up to the Groveland area and parked on the next street over from Vince’s house, at the far end of the block.

  He casually glanced around then reached into his glove compartment and pulled out the manila envelope he’d taken from Noah Denton’s desk. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, stuffed the revolver into his belt and climbed out of his car.

  He walked down two blocks in the opposite direction from Vince’s house, rounded the corner and walked up Vince’s street. When he came to the end of Vince’s block he walked up the alley and quietly opened the gate into the backyard.

  Vince’s yard was rather small and devoid of any greenery, other than a lawn that needed mowing. The yard was surrounded by a wooden fence that stood about six feet high and was badly in need of restaining. There was a side door from the garage that opened onto a concrete block patio, with grass and weeds growing between the blocks. The patio area was edged with some sort of wood, maybe two inches wide and more rotted than not. A homemade picnic table sat in the middle of the patio, and a charcoal grill off in the back corner leaned precariously to one side and looked like it had seen better days. A cheap aluminum lawn chair drifted at either end of the picnic table.

  Bobby quietly moved one of the lawn chairs closer to the darkened corner where the fence met the garage, sat down and waited.

  The house behind him was dark. The house on the far side of the yard had a dim light on in what was probably the kitchen and another light in the room directly above. He could tell that the shades were drawn upstairs and he guessed that was probably the bedroom. The kitchen light went out about a half hour later, the bedroom light about five minutes after that.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  That was the sum of the activity for the better part of three hours as Bobby sat there in the dark and listened to the night sounds. It was after two before the glow from a pair of headlights illuminated the far end of the alley. The glow grew stronger and then flickered through the overlapped boards in the fence as the garage door opened and a car pulled along the driveway and into the garage.

&n
bsp; A moment later Bobby heard a bump, as if the car had pulled just a little too far into the garage and hit the front wall. Shortly after that the overhead door began to close and then the side door on the garage swung open. Bobby was already out of the chair, crouched in the shadow behind the door.

  A figure stepped out of the garage and slammed the door closed behind him. Bobby stared from the shadows for a brief moment. Yeah, definitely Vince. Bobby watched as he staggered slightly on his way to the back door, overserved but not falling down. As he opened the screen door and began fumbling with his keys he hummed a little tune that Bobby didn’t recognize. He dropped the keys, looked down and mumbled a slurred “Goddamn,” then bent over to pick them up.

  Bobby quickly crossed the patio and brought the barrel of the revolver up against the back of Vince’s head just as he straightened up and opened the screen door. He shoved the barrel hard, pushing Vince forward and up against the storm door. “Unlock the door and step inside. You try anything stupid I’ll blow what little brains you have all over the side of this house.”

  “What the hell,” Vince growled, turning quickly. He grabbed Bobby in the same motion and effortlessly flung him onto the concrete patio.

  Bobby landed on his tailbone and made an “Uff” sort of sound as the wind was knocked out of him.

  Vince staggered for a step or two before he regained his balance then focused on Bobby sprawled on the ground and holding the revolver with two shaking hands as he desperately tried to back up.

  “You? You worthless piece of shit, I’m gonna tear your head off.”

  “Get back, you just keep away,” Bobby gasped trying to regain his breath.

  Vince flashed an evil grin and took a step toward Bobby. “This is gonna be fun.”