by Nick James
Rather than touch the handle, just to be on the safe side Bobby used the house key to push the handle down. The toilet flushed, slowly, but efficient enough to suggest that it had been a forgetful user rather than failed plumbing.
He walked into what had at one time been Arundel’s bedroom. The broken bed frame he remembered from his last visit was gone. In its place were three soiled mattresses scattered across the floor. None of the mattresses had a sheet. Various articles of clothing covered most of the soiled carpet.
A shade had been ripped off one of the two windows and lay on the floor. The other window had a set of plastic Venetian blinds that hung at an odd angle.
There was a cheap chest of drawers that leaned to the left with a “What would Jesus Do?” bumper sticker stuck on the side. The top drawer had been reduced to a pile of kindling and was scattered across the floor. The bottom drawer sat halfway open. As Bobby approached to get a closer look a tabby cat suddenly screeched, leapt out of the drawer and dashed from the room. It took him a moment to get his heart rate back to normal.
A half-dozen wire hangers, a pillow and what looked like the remnants of a sleeping bag were the only items in the closet. On the way out of the room Bobby flicked the light switch, but nothing happened, convincing him that the power company had already turned the power off.
He was tempted to wash his hands, but the idea of doing so in this place only suggested further problems so he fled to the relative safety of the Mercedes. On the drive home he began to formulate a plan.
Chapter Six
He stopped at the grocery store, purchased some food and a small plastic container of hand soap.
That evening he went on Facebook and sent a friend request to Noah Denton’s daughter, Addison. She had made a show some time ago of deleting him from her account, but he didn’t think she would remember, or for that matter even care.
The following morning he stopped in to look at Noah Denton. And that was all he did, look at him. Denton was seated in a chair in front of the window, wearing a bathrobe and softly snoring. He appeared clean-shaven, his hair was combed and Bobby could see no benefit in waking him. He quietly stepped into the bathroom took the plastic container of hand soap from his pocket and squirted it across the tile floor in front of the sink and around the toilet area. Then he peeked out the door to make sure Denton was still dozing and quickly left the room.
He phoned Morris Montcreff once he was back in the car. “Bobby Custer, Mr. Montcreff.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve just come from visiting Noah Denton.”
“And?” Montcreff made a noise that suggested he was sipping either a martini or a cup of coffee. Bobby guessed, given the hour, that he was in the middle of his private breakfast at Meyers bar and it was most likely coffee.
“The usual, at first he seemed okay, we were just discussing general office matters. But once I began getting specific, I’d asked him a question regarding his client, Summer’s bank actually, he became very agitated. I changed the subject back to general office news, but he just didn’t seem to be tracking and that seemed to get him even more upset so I just got out as gracefully as possible. I wasn’t with him for more than twenty minutes.”
“Any mention of his wife or daughter?”
“I didn’t bring them up, it seems to be just another topic that upsets him. I did note that the only things in his room, cards and flowers, are from you and me.”
“From me, I haven’t sent him anything.”
“Oh, I know that, but I always add your name to the things I bring him,” Bobby lied.
That got a chuckle out of Montcreff, then he said, “Thanks, I’ll gladly take the credit.”
“They’re pretty aggressive in not letting things hang around the room for too long, can’t say as I blame them,” Bobby added just to cover himself should Montcreff ever get a wild hair and actually visit Denton.
“Anything else?” Montcreff asked, sounding like he had just shoveled a forkful of something into his mouth.
“There is one thing I’m hoping you could help me with. I have a friend with a property…”
“Property?” Montcreff said, suddenly sounding interested.
“Nothing on your level, sir. This is a little frame house in need of an awful lot of work. Actually I think it’s inhabited by squatters and druggies right now, it’s over in the Frogtown area.”
“Humph, tell him to make sure his insurance is current and then burn the place down.” Montcreff didn’t sound like he was joking.
“He was hoping to fix it up, maybe try and rent it out.”
“Jesus.”
“I wondered if you might know someone who could do that sort of work. Well, and deal with the current inhabitants.”
“Have him call the cops, they’ll get rid of that scum for free.”
This wasn’t helping. “Good idea, I’ll let him know that.”
“Anything else?” Montcreff asked through another mouthful of food.
“No, sir. Just wanted to keep you up to date on Mr. Denton and…” But Montcreff had already hung up.
Chapter Seven
Two days later Bobby was in his office. A stack of files he should have been reviewing were piled on the corner of his desk, but he had been engaged in a solitaire game on his computer for the past hour. When the phone rang it broke his concentration, startling him.
“Bobby Custer”
“Mr. Custer,” Marci at the front desk sounded nervous. “I have a couple to see you, I think a family, actually.”
“A family?”
“Yes, sir, a Miss Morales.” He pictured Marci smiling her shark smile, nodding her head at the couple in front of the reception counter and pretending everything was just fine.
“What do they want with me?”
“Apparently, Mr. Montcreff advised them to talk to you,” she said under her breath.
“Montcreff?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“I suppose you better send them back, then. I’ll meet them half-way.”
“Very good, sir.”
He quickly turned off the solitaire game, spread two of the files out across his desk then hurried out the door. He fully expected to find one of Montcreff’s thugs with a pregnant girlfriend or two. Instead, he saw an attractive, dark-haired woman wearing a pair of white jeans so tight they looked like they had been sprayed on. A white silk blouse displayed deep cleavage and the stiletto heels made her take small steps. Behind her followed a young man carrying a little girl who looked to be five or six.
Bobby noted that the man wore a pair of cowboy boots with silver toe tips and a silver strap running across the boot approximately at his ankle. His jeans were pressed, starched and held up by a black leather belt sporting a large silver buckle. He wore a white cowboy shirt with black piping around the breast pockets, the buttons on the shirt looked to be black onyx. The ensemble was completed with silver and onyx collar tips. The two of them looked like they were headed for a country western wedding.
“Mr. Custer?” The woman asked holding out her hand as Bobby hurried toward them. “I’m Camila Morales.” She flashed a pair of dark eyes, so dark it was difficult to distinguish the pupil, and they seemed to bore into Bobby.
“Bobby Custer,” he said taking her hand, smiling and wondering what the hell this was about.
“This is Ignacio,” she said then half turned to the cowboy and said something in Spanish ending with “Bobby Custer.” He nodded at Bobby, but didn’t bother to extend his hand then hoisted the child against his shoulder.
“Please, won’t you come into my office,” he said turning round and heading back the way he’d just come. “Take a seat and make yourself comfortable, can I get you some coffee? Something to drink?”
Camila shook her head no and didn’t bother to translate the offer. Bobby waited until they were both seated. The little girl settled in on Ignacio’s lap as Bobby stepped behind his desk and sat down. He made a show of closing the fil
es he’d opened just a moment ago and piling them back on top of the stack.
“So, how can I help?” He asked Camila then gave a brief glance toward Ignacio.
“I believe we can help one another. Ignacio is in need of a place to live and Mr. Montcreff informs me that you have a friend with just such a place.” She emphasized the word friend and smiled suggesting she knew more than she was letting on and, therefore by extension, so did Morris Montcreff.
Bobby nodded and chose his words carefully. “I do represent someone with a home, a small home, in need of a lot of repair and unfortunately not in the best area of town. I’m not sure it would be safe there for the child,” Bobby nodded at the little girl sitting quietly on Ignacio’s lap.
“I’m sure that won’t be a concern.”
Maybe you didn’t hear me, Bobby thought. “Right now there are people coming and going from the house, bad people, people using drugs, committing crimes. There is garbage and filth in the house. The electricity has been turned off because no one paid the bills. There’s no decent furniture in there, the place is infested with mice and God only knows what else.” He spoke slowly, deliberately to make sure she would understand and get the message.
“I don’t think any of that will be a problem.”
“But the child…”
“Her name is Valentina.” At the sound of her name the child sat up a little straighter and looked at Ignacio who gently stroked her hair.
“Yes, Valentina. Perhaps I’m not making myself clear. It simply is not a safe environment for Ignacio, let alone a child. There are not nice people living there, they are criminals, the entire area is very dangerous. I’m afraid she would be hurt, they both would be in danger.”
“I think they’ll be all right,” she said then smiled and said something to Ignacio in Spanish, he laughed, and replied in two or three words. “Yes,” she said, “it won’t be a problem.”
“Surely Morris Montcreff must have a better option, some place that would be safer, nicer, better suited…”
She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket, glanced at it for a moment and then looked up at Bobby. “This is the correct location, no? The house is at…” and she read the address off to Bobby.
“Well, yeah, ahem, yes that’s the address,” he said unable to hide his surprise and thinking she must have gotten it from Montcreff. Which God only knows how, but that meant Montcreff somehow knew about the wills Bobby had falsified, backdated and filed on behalf of Arundel and probably Prez as well.
Camila gave a quick smile that suggested she had made her point. “I think it would be best if you had the locks changed, brought the power bill current and made sure the taxes are up to date. We’ll be back in forty-eight hours and then we can all go over together for a little tour.”
“But I can’t possibly get someone in there to clean it up in that amount of time. You’ve got the address, by all means go over there and take a look. It will take weeks to get that place anywhere near a semblance of order. And there is nothing I can do about the surrounding neighborhood. I’m really sorry, but I don’t think…”
“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Custer. This will work out just fine, besides, Ignacio is quite handy and he needs a project.” She smiled then turned, said something to Ignacio again in Spanish and they were on their feet.
“An absolute pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Custer,” she said, smiled again and held out her hand. Ignacio and the little girl were already heading out of the office as Bobby took Camila’s hand, too stunned to do anything but nod and then watch as they walked out the door.
Chapter Eight
Bobby was still sitting at his desk in stunned silence two hours later. Not five minutes after Camila and Ignacio had left he’d phoned the power company and brought the account current with a debit from his personal account.
“We’ll post this after three o’clock this afternoon and the power will be back on within the next twenty-four hours. Is there anything else I can help you with today?” The all-too cheery customer service rep made it sound like having the power shut off was just an everyday occurrence for someone like Bobby.
Just now he was suffering from the knowledge that Morris Montcreff knew how Bobby had come to gain possession of the house. Obviously Montcreff was aware Bobby had lied to him. He was thinking things couldn’t possibly get any worse when his phone suddenly rang, jarring him back to reality.
“Bobby Custer.”
“Yes, Mr. Custer, I have a Mrs. Bannon to see you,” Marci said, confirming that indeed, things could get a lot worse. In fact, they just had.
Shit. “Please send her back,” he said thinking if only there was a window in his office he could just grab Fran by the neck, throw her out the window and watch as she sailed down sixteen stories.
“Fran,” he smiled stepping out of his office a moment later as she hurried toward him.
As she approached she forced a smile that somehow seemed to come across as condescending. “Hello, Bobby,” she said holding out her hand for a brief moment. She didn’t stop as Bobby grabbed her hand. Instead she seemed to pick up her pace and hurried into his office leaving Bobby to follow like an anxious puppy.
“What can I do for you, Fran?” he asked, knowing all too well what her response was going to be.
“I feel like I’m being ignored.”
“By me? Fran, need I remind you, we’re divorced, you divorced me, remember?”
“That doesn’t mean you can treat me like this. I know what you’re doing to Jonathan is just your way of getting back at me.”
“What I’m doing to Jonathan? Fran, I told him I can’t proceed without his financial reports. He has yet to get them to me,” Bobby said then reverted to his practiced line. “The investors I represent are nice enough guys, but at the end of the day they’re hard-nosed business people.”
“But they could come and see his business, he has an order…”
“His order from China? Yeah, he told me all about it. There’s only one problem, it’s just an email. No payment has been sent. There’s no promise of a payment. Even if the order does come across there isn’t anyone at Bannon Dynamics capable of producing the thing. As far as I can tell it’s just Jonathan. What the hell does he do all day?”
“He’s thinking about interviewing some people.”
“There’s a ringing endorsement. No offense, but this thing is dead in the water before it’s even started. Frankly, the last thing Jonathan needs is me bringing a group of investors over to his empty suite of offices. I know he’s got problems with the bank. Based on what I saw when I was there he’s about to have problems with his landlord and probably any vendors he has, too. There’s no revenue coming in Fran, no money.”
“Can’t you do something?”
“Fran, are you listening? There is no business. I’m guessing the two of you are broke.”
“But, we can’t be broke, my credit cards still work, I’ve still got checks.”
“I’d be willing to guess you’re probably running on fumes right now.”
“But the house?”
“What about it? Most likely you have a mortgage. How does he expect to pay that? I suppose you could have pledged your inheritance, but you’ve already gone through that, haven’t you?”
She bit her lower lip and shook her head. “Can’t you do something? I’m, or rather we’re getting a little desperate.”
A thought suddenly occurred to Bobby and he smiled. “There is someone else I could talk to, but he’d make this investment group look like grade school kids. He’s very tough.”
Fran suddenly looked hopeful and sat up on the edge of her chair. “You should have him talk to Jonathan, maybe today, if that would work. Time is of the essence.”
Her last statement suggested that the bank had already called the loans. They were finished. Jonathan and Fran had nothing to offer but the shell of a defunct company. “Where is Jonathan, by the way?”
“He’s
at work, but he’s been under a lot of stress.”
“Level with me, Fran. If you’re not going to be truthful I can’t help you.”
Tears began to run down her face and she had to clear her throat a few times before she could speak. “He’s been under an awful lot of stress, he’s maybe been drinking, a little.”
And I’m sure you’re adding to the stress, Bobby thought. “I’ll see if I can get in contact with one of the firm’s clients. He may be interested, but I can’t promise anything. Give me a call this evening.”
“Oh that would be wonderful, I just know this is going to work, I can feel it.”
You’ve no idea. “Like I said, give me a call this evening.”
She was on her feet and moving in to give Bobby a kiss. At the last moment he turned his head so her lips barely glanced off his cheek before he stepped back. “Call me tonight, Fran.”
Chapter Nine
Amazing how things seemed to work out for the best, Bobby thought as he dialed Morris Montcreff.
“Yes.”
“Bobby Custer, sir.”
Dead silence came from the other end.
“Mr. Montcreff?”
“I’m listening.”
Bobby felt like he was suddenly back in grammar school, standing in front of the principle. “I just wanted to thank you for sending Camila Morales over. We had a nice meeting.”
“Did you now?” Montcreff said in a way that suggested he’d already been informed.
“Cute little girl. I mean the child,” Bobby added. “I tried to be very clear, I don’t think that area is the best place for Ignacio and certainly not for that pretty little girl.”
“I doubt they’ll have any problems.”