Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  “Will you just relax? Besides, Angie doesn’t have to be home until Monday morning. I mean Dennis won’t be home til then, will he?”

  Angie sort of shook her head.

  “I don’t think you realize people will be looking for me, for both of us. I have no doubt that right about now my wife is on the phone calling the police. That’s right, getting the police involved. How’s that going to work? Now I give you my word, I promise we won’t…”

  “Nate, I’ve told you to shut up, but you just never seem to listen.”

  “And you seem to be dangerously close to finding yourself in some very serious trouble, Custer. Just in case you haven’t gotten it into your thick skull it happens to be a Federal offense to…”

  The shot rang out, a sharp sort of crack that echoed through the woods. Angie didn’t scream so much as she jumped and gave out a loud sort of gasp at the same time raising both hands to her face in shocked disbelief. Nate stood with a surprised sort of look on his face. He glanced down toward his bare feet, looked up at Bobby then suddenly crumpled to the ground and remained very still.

  “Bobby, no, no don’t, please don’t” Angie said, slowly backing up, retreating another step with every word. Just as she turned to run Bobby fired then shot her again as she fell to the ground. The shots were in quick succession echoing back and forth through the woods and then all was quiet.

  Bobby stood on the trail, just staring at the two bodies for a long time as the silence of the dark and almost impenetrable forest seemed to slowly close in on him. He cautiously approached Nate, reached down to feel for a pulse but was unable to find one. He rolled Angie over onto her back, placed his hand against her neck just at the end of her delicate jaw line but felt nothing.

  He stood, gave a long sigh, and shook his head as if to suggest that some things just couldn’t be helped then he bent down and grabbed hold of Nate’s ankles. Even in the dark woods he could see where the dirt had ground into Nate’s bare feet. He dragged him up and over the small rise, across the moss, through rotting leaves and dead ferns past the large pine. Then he walked back down the rise and dragged Angie’s body along the same route.

  He carried the grocery bag back to the car, pressed the button that unlocked the trunk and rolled Tommy Amato’s body halfway out then let it drop onto the ground. He pulled the shovel out of the trunk and leaned it against the car then went into an outbuilding and fired up one of the ATVs. He tied the rope around Tommy’s ankles, placed the shovel across the handlebars and dragged Tommy back along the trail.

  Between tree roots and rocks it took longer than he had expected to dig the grave. He wanted to be sure it was deep enough that some wild thing like a wolf or a bear wouldn’t be able to dig them up. When he was finished he rolled all three bodies into the hole. Nate went in first, then Tommy on top of him and Angie last. Bobby thought that in a way it was sort of nice she would spend eternity next to her brother.

  He filled the grave in, covering the bodies and periodically stomping the soil down to compact it. He dragged a fallen limb over the gravesite then scattered leaves and pine needles over the area as an added precaution. By the time he returned the ATV to the outbuilding there was a sliver of pink on the horizon signaling daybreak. He unlocked the cabin, settled in on a living room couch and slept soundly.

  Chapter Three

  It was almost eleven when he finally woke. He made some coffee, filled a travel mug from one of the cabinets, then cleaned the coffee pot and did a quick walk through the cabin and the outbuilding to make sure he hadn’t left any telltale signs of his brief stay. It was close to three in the afternoon before he arrived back in town.

  He parked Tommy’s car on a downtown side street with the doors unlocked, the keys in the ignition and Angie’s purse sitting on the passenger seat. He’d gone through her purse and scattered her credit cards on the seat, pocketed the twenty-one dollars cash he found in her wallet and left.

  He walked four blocks to the bus stop, took a bus back to Tommy’s neighborhood, walked two more blocks to his Mercedes, climbed behind the wheel and drove home.

  When he got home there were two messages on his phone that came through last night from Jonathan Bannon. He didn’t feel like listening to Jonathan at the moment so he just ignored them.

  He thought about calling Emily but quickly decided a quiet evening at home sounded like a much better idea. He settled in front of the flat screen, poured himself a bourbon and fifteen minutes later drifted off to sleep.

  He woke sometime after midnight to the sound of his cellphone ringing. He checked the screen, Jonathan Bannon, again. He ignored the call, let it dump into his message center and headed for bed.

  He woke the following morning feeling rested and refreshed.

  After breakfast he made his way to the City View Transitional Care Facility to peek in on Noah Denton. Denton was in the same room with the same red card still attached to his doorframe warning anyone about to enter that a cantankerous old fart lurked on the far side of the door.

  Bobby caught Denton just as he was making his way out of the bathroom and back to his bed. He still walked with the aid of a walker, but he had certainly picked up speed since the last time Bobby had seen him and actually looked like he didn’t really need the thing.

  “Mr. Denton,” Bobby yelled hoping the sudden noise might be just the thing to make the man twitch and possibly fall. No such luck as Denton turned, frowned and looked even more disappointed once he recognized who was standing in the doorway. “Custer, what in God’s name do you want?”

  “Just wanted to check in, sir and see how you were doing. See if there was anything you might need or want.”

  “Nothing, thank you,” Denton said then set his walker against the wall and took the few steps to his bed without any apparent difficulty.

  Damn it, Bobby thought. “I have to say, you seem to be making a remarkable recovery.”

  Denton flashed the briefest of smiles then climbed into bed, picked up the television remote and clicked it on.

  “Rather busy week at the firm,” Bobby began.

  “Sorry, but doctor’s orders,” Denton replied. “I’m to hear nothing of office goings on. The mere thought is apparently far too stressful for me.” Then he clicked a button on the remote and increased the volume.

  “Your physical therapy appears to be paying off,” Bobby shouted over the noise.

  Denton flashed another momentary smile and pointed to the flat screen mounted on the wall close to the ceiling.

  “Nice talking with you, sir. Keep up the good work,” Bobby said and left. He was still fuming on the way to his car when his cellphone rang. Jonathan.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Bobby afraid we’d lost you there for a bit. Did you happen to listen to any of the messages I left? I think it was three or four.”

  You only left three you jackass, Bobby thought. “I did Jonathan, sorry but I was in a very late night negotiation that went on until well after midnight.”

  “Did you finally talk her into it?” Jonathan joked.

  “I wish that was the discussion. No, unfortunately things turned out not to conclude too successfully, at least for the people on the other side of the table, but then that’s life, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly. Say listen, I guess I don’t have to tell you I’m in a bit of a time crunch. My Chinese counterpart is chomping at the bit to get moving and I wanted to find out exactly where things stand with your investors.”

  “My investors? Like I told you before, Jonathan they aren’t going to move until I show them some financials and to date, well I haven’t received anything from you. Which means I can’t…”

  “But I can show them an order, in hand, that has profit written all over it,” Jonathan said. His tone had ratcheted up a notch and now he sounded like he was pleading.

  “Like I told you at the get-go, Jonathan, these are hard-charging business people. All the promises in the world won’t make one bit of difference to
them if you don’t have hard facts.”

  “But I do, I…”

  “Jonathan, you’re looking to hire people to fill the need, should the contract eventually come through. But it hasn’t yet. Has it?”

  “But they’re ready to…”

  “What’s to stop them from going somewhere else? To a company that already has the staff and the capabilities? How do you know you aren’t one of a half-dozen companies they’re talking to?”

  “I certainly think they can be trusted.”

  “Jonathan, I’ve already explained this, they want to see a commitment, not only from your customer, but from you as well.”

  “Maybe if I just talked to them.”

  Bobby thought wouldn’t that be interesting, a real bunch of people ready to invest and Jonathan telling tales. “I think that just might be the worst thing you could do. Show them around your empty office suite and tell them about the people you intend to hire if only they’ll give you some money. They aren’t going to go for something like that.”

  “There has to be something you can think of, something you can do.”

  “I’ll go back and attempt to approach them again, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “I’d be grateful, we’re getting down to some desperate measures if you can’t pull this off.”

  “What about your bank, or any bank for that matter?”

  “They’ve threatened to call my loans.”

  “Threatened to call…you never mentioned anything about outstanding debt before. How much are we talking about?”

  “Not to worry, it won’t be an issue, you just worry about getting your investors on board.”

  “Jonathan, are you listening to yourself? You won’t provide me with financials and the bank is calling in your loans. Not exactly the best formula for a successful investment. You sound like you’re broke, for God’s sake.”

  “It’s more like a momentary shortage of funding.”

  “So, you’ve got additional funding coming in from someone else?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “In other words you don’t have an alternative plan. Or any plan for that matter. You’re just hoping someone bails you out.”

  “See that’s where you come in. What if we could maybe work out a percentage for you, something just you and I would be aware of, might that not sweeten the pot for you? You know, serve as a little added incentive to help you persuade your people.”

  “That sounds great, Jonathan there’s only one problem. Like I said before, these are hardheaded business people, they want facts, not happy thoughts. And one of the facts they want to look at is what your financial situation is. Cold hard facts.”

  Bobby heard ice cubes clinking on the other end of the line, then Jonathan gave a long sigh and said, “Let me see what I can do,” and hung up.

  A drowning man grasping for straws, Bobby thought and smiled.

  Chapter Four

  It was almost noon before Bobby made it into the office. He called Mike Dorsey for the next batch of Montcreff files. Dorsey brought them in on the four-wheeled cart not five minutes later.

  “That was fast,” Bobby said looking up from his solitaire game then hit a key on his keyboard to dim his computer screen.

  “Sort of in the hurry-up-and-wait mode all of a sudden. There was supposed to be a meeting of the minds first thing this morning between the partners and the acquisition guys to sort out the files. But they called at the last minute and asked to reschedule.”

  “Why?” Bobby asked and thought of Nate Anderson lying at the bottom of the pile beneath Angie and her brother up in the northern Minnesota woods.

  “Far as I know they didn’t give a reason. Whoever called just said something about an emergency, could they reschedule and left it at that.”

  “So did they, reschedule?”

  “No, that’s the funny part, they just left it hanging out there, told Bennett Hinz they’d get back to him. Anyway, hurry up and wait as they say. Christ, I spent the better part of my weekend pulling files, getting things organized and now they can’t seem to be bothered.”

  “Strange.”

  “You’re telling me,” Dorsey said then glanced around the office room as if to look for spies. “I sent an email to Angie Benedict earlier this morning asking her what was up, but she hasn’t replied yet.” He lifted a stack of files onto Bobby’s desk and placed a sheet in front of him.

  “Just sign on the dotted line.”

  “Something new?”

  “Yeah, after the headache we had with things disappearing or at least unaccounted for, we’re going to pull in the reins a little bit, maintain a little tighter control.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Bobby said as he signed the form and handed it back. “Thanks, Mike.”

  “My pleasure,” Dorsey said then pushed the four-wheeled cart out the door.

  Bobby kept his ears peeled for any mention of Angie, her brother Tommy or Nate Anderson on the news, but never heard so much as a word.

  * * *

  He phoned Morris Montcreff about four that afternoon.

  “Bobby Custer, Mr. Montcreff.”

  “Any news?”

  “I stopped in to see Mr. Denton this morning. He’s made a definite improvement. He was walking around his room with the help of a walker, but to tell you the truth he didn’t look like he really needed it. He seemed to walk easily to his bed and he climbed right in without using the thing.”

  “How was his attitude?”

  “A bit confrontational. We discussed a variety of office issues, although nothing relating to your files,” Bobby added hastily. “He asked some questions about individuals, and about a couple of pending cases, but he seemed a little short when it came time to listen and it seemed clear that more than once he was having difficulty following what I was saying.”

  “Probably some damn medication they have him on.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that about…”

  “Thank you,” Montcreff said and hung up.

  Chapter Five

  Bobby took a roundabout way home that evening, driving through the Frogtown neighborhood where Arundel’s house was located. Arundel had been gone for months, and Bobby had disposed of Prez’s dismembered body a good two months ago. That left Bobby inheriting both their homes, thanks to some backdating and his drug-addled accomplice at County Records, Christine Woodley.

  About the only good thing you could say about Arundel’s home was that it was no longer located in the worst part of town. Not that the area had improved, it really hadn’t, but other areas of town, particularly the city’s East side had sunk even further.

  The house was a dilapidated white frame structure with peeling paint. It had a kitchen, a bedroom, electricity and at least the last time Bobby had looked, plumbing that seemed to work.

  The place also came with Arundel’s druggie sister, all three hundred pounds of her. She had more or less taken up squatters rights after Arundel had been murdered. As far as Bobby knew she was unfortunately still there, although one could always hope.

  He pulled the Mercedes to the curb in front of the house. A woman who looked to be either an old twenty or a young thirty-five strutted past eyeing the car and stopped to tie her shoe.

  As Bobby stepped out of the car she looked up at him and said, “Nice set of wheels, you the police?” She pronounced the word ‘poh-lees’.

  “No,” he said, and headed for the front door.

  “You looking to party? I be a lot better than whatever you gonna find in that dump.”

  Bobby smiled and said, “No thanks,” then stepped onto the trash-littered porch and knocked on the door.

  “Suit yourself,” the woman said and continued on her way.

  Bobby watched her strut down the street then pulled the key from his pocket and inserted it in the front door. The door swung open without having to turn the key and Bobby stepped in, calli
ng, “Hello, hello, anybody home?”

  The placed looked somewhat the same as the last time he’d been in it, but a lot dirtier and with a noticeably stronger smell of garbage.

  The back cushions on the living room couch had long slits running across them with bits of foam padding hanging out and scattered across the floor as if someone had been looking for hidden contraband. The couch leaned at an angle and he noticed it was missing both legs on the right side. A bong rested on the floor next to the couch. The coffee table was still there, presumably, under a mound of grocery store circulars and a month’s worth of mail addressed to “Resident.” He spotted an envelope from the power company with the words Open Immediately in red letters across the front, a shut-off notice. He pocketed the envelope then quickly fanned through the pile for anything else of importance.

  The Foosball table that had been set up in the dining room only had three legs now and leaned at an odd angle against the wall. Of the three windows in the dining room, two were broken. The light fixture in the middle of the ceiling held the remains of a broken bulb.

  As Bobby stepped into the kitchen something squeaked and then skittered behind the stove. The kitchen counter was littered with empty liquor bottles, beer cans and ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts and roach clips. The ancient Formica counter sported a number of fresh wiggly brown cigarette burns.

  A variety of discarded bags from fast food establishments were scattered across the counter and the small kitchen table. A stack of a half-dozen empty Domino’s boxes was piled next to the backdoor. The last time Bobby was here there had been two kitchen chairs, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  He grabbed a paper napkin from a pile of fast food wrappers and used it to pull open the refrigerator. The light didn’t come on, but he could see it was empty except for an open beer bottle lying on its side and a shriveled apple that someone had taken a bite out of.

  The bathroom door had been torn off its hinges and now leaned against the hall wall. The shower curtain had been slashed and was half-torn from the pole. The bathroom sink was beyond filthy. The mirror on the medicine cabinet had a crack running down the center. Whoever had last used the toilet had neglected to flush it.