Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  “Did you use those creams?”

  “Yes, put them on right after you left. I’m just leaving the office now, sorry for the short notice, but I wondered if you could do dinner?”

  “Oh, thanks I’m actually out with the girls. It won’t be too late a night. I could maybe stop by for some dessert,” she said in a tone that implied a lot more than dessert. Bobby heard more giggling in the background.

  “How about this, I’ll come over to your place, say around eleven?”

  “Tell you what, I’ve got one of those fake rocks in the garden next to my front steps, there’s a key in there, just let yourself in and ah, make yourself comfortable.” More giggling in the background.

  He hung up after a long minute of good-byes, then drove over to City View to peek in on Noah Denton. He noticed the red card had been removed from the door and he stepped over to the nurses station to get an update. This evening there were two nurses, male and female, sitting at the station, both looking at computer screens and writing comments in files. They were each wearing dark blue scrubs, the woman had a stethoscope wrapped around her neck and a can of Coke alongside her keyboard. The guy had a neatly trimmed four-day growth of beard. Bobby recognized them from earlier visits although he couldn’t recall their names.

  “Hi, I wanted to check on Noah Denton, I’m family.”

  “Yeah, his son, right?” the guy said and reached for a file.

  “Yes.”

  The guy paged through the file, flipped over a half page pink sheet of paper stapled to the inside of the manila folder and read whatever had been handwritten on the back. Then he clicked a couple of keys on the keyboard and read some more from the screen. “Well, unfortunately it looks like there hasn’t been much of a change. He’s comfortable, but his recovery from this last surgery is taking way longer than expected. Did you get the email we sent?” He scrolled up on the screen using two fingers on the touchpad. “Looks like it was sent two days ago,” he said sounding like he already knew what Bobby’s answer would be.

  “I’ve been out of town. Business, it most likely went to Mrs. Denton, ahh, my stepmother,” Bobby said.

  “Sure,” he nodded. “Well, we need someone to sign so we can move him from this wing to an area with a little more round the clock care.”

  Bobby nodded and said, “His wife, ah, my stepmother would probably be the best at dealing with that. I’ll remind her later tonight.”

  “Good, baring some sort of major setback we really shouldn’t move him until that happens, and he really does need to be moved.”

  “What do you think the long term prognosis is?” Bobby asked.

  The woman seated next to him seemed to turn away, almost involuntarily, getting as much distance as she could from the conversation while still remaining at her computer.

  “Prognosis? It really depends on the next few days. We’ve had patients return to a pretty normal life and unfortunately, we’ve had some where this signaled the beginning of a long downward spiral. In your father’s situation, he seems to be in fairly decent health given his age and two prior heart attacks. I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t be up and around and back to normal. Unfortunately, he’s not. In fact he’s obviously nowhere near that point.”

  Bobby nodded, pretending to take it all in, trying to act like he actually cared. “Okay if I peek in and see him?”

  “Please, by all means.”

  “Thanks for the update, nice chatting.”

  “Sorry it wasn’t better news.”

  Bobby wanted to high-five the nurse, but settled for a polite nod then stepped over to Denton’s door. There was a dim light on behind Denton and of course the bank of monitors blinking and flashing. The rails on either side of the bed had been pulled up and Bobby noticed that he didn’t appear to be hooked up to any IV’s. He settled into the visitors chair and studied Denton for a long while.

  He looked pale and thin, appearing almost ashen as he lay there in the bed. Looking around the room he noticed there wasn’t so much as a card or a flower to wish the man well. So this is how it ends, thought Bobby. You work your entire life, bust your ass and in the end not only do folks try to distance themselves from you, they literally stay away. And then, the one guy who does show up is just here looking for a way to pull the plug. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a plug to pull.

  He sat there just thinking about everything and nothing for close to an hour, during that entire time Denton never moved. He quietly got up and walked over to the bed. Denton’s breathing was raspy and shallow. He appeared even more pale and frail close up. He was in need of a shave and the pair of hands clasped over his chest looked boney with nails that were yellowed and in need of a trim.

  Bobby gently, cautiously lowered the rail on the side of the bed, being careful not to wake him. Then ever so quietly he tiptoed to the other side of the bed and did the same. Halfway down the rail gave a little high pitched squeak and he stopped.

  Denton sort of twitched his nose then exhaled and resumed his raspy breathing.

  Bobby cautiously lowered the rail, slowly removed his hands and then tiptoed out of the room. He avoided saying thanks at the nurses station and hurried to the elevator.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  He pulled into the underground parking area in his building and took the elevator up to his floor. As he stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall toward his unit he was reminded of Camila’s warning, “If I were you I’d make sure my doors were locked.”

  His heart was pounding by the time he inserted his key in the lock. He turned the key and heard the lock click open, not that it meant anything, they could have relocked the door and for all Bobby knew Morris Montcreff was in there with a half-dozen deranged psychopaths eating his food and drinking his best wine. A quick walk through the place found that particular worry to be unfounded.

  He showered, shaved, then pulled on some clean jeans and a shirt. He applied the creams Emily had given him, then pulled two bottles of wine from the kitchen rack, shoved a rohypnol tablet, a roofie, into his pocket and made his way to the door. He peered through the peephole before he unlocked the door, checking the hallway to make sure it was empty. He stepped into the hall, locked the door and attached a length of clear tape to the bottom of the door and then the door frame just above the carpet. If anyone came in while he was gone, he’d know.

  He drove over to Emily’s and parked in front. She lived in an historic Victorian red-brick condo building. There were a total of eight units, all three stories tall with a heavy oak front door. He found her key hidden in the fake rock almost immediately and let himself in. He called her name a couple of times just to be sure he was alone and got no response. He set the wine bottles on the kitchen counter, pulled two crystal glasses from a kitchen cupboard and a cork screw from the silverware drawer and arranged them next to the bottles. Then he set about raiding her refrigerator.

  There was a plastic container filled with what he thought might be pulled pork, and half of a pepperoni pizza, he chose the pork. He grabbed a bottle of a micro-brewery IPA and opened it. He warmed two ‘take and bake’ ciabatta rolls in the oven, microwaved the pork, then sat down at the kitchen counter and thought about his day.

  Putting Agent Drake aside, what useful purpose did he serve for Morris Montcreff? With the limited exception of the LLC with Zimmerman, and Bobby had changed that within twenty-four hours, everything seemed to be in order. Noah Denton, somewhat understandably had not been exactly thrilled with Bobby’s arrival and truth be told, if Denton were conscious he probably liked Bobby even less now. Bennett Hinz and for that matter the other two partners, Sawyer and Allan, were incapable of maintaining Montcreff’s business. So, what did Camila mean when she said he was on borrowed time with Montcreff?

  It had been a bumpy ride, from the time of his first meeting when Montcreff had that idiot try to drill a hole in his hand, to Prez’s decapitated body stuffed in the trunk of his car. He thought he had kept his secrets from Montcr
eff; his involvement with the deaths of Dubuque and Mobile, Angie, her two brothers, Nate of course. It was certainly possible Montcreff knew more than he was letting on. If Camila somehow made a recording of him in that basement room, was Montcreff doing the same to Bobby in his condo? He’d never checked.

  He finished his sandwiches, washed the plate and the plastic container by hand and put them back in the cupboards. Emily would probably think she had eaten the pulled pork. He grabbed the beer bottle, headed upstairs and began to go through one of the two closets in Emily’s room, but didn’t find anything worth taking.

  There were two chests of drawers in her bedroom and what looked like two diamond rings in a jewelry case, maybe family heirlooms. He figured there was a good chance she would notice they were gone and so left them alone. Under a pile of four sweaters in a dresser drawer he found an envelope full of hundred dollar bills, forty-seven to be exact, he grabbed just two of the bills thinking now that he knew where her spare key was he could come back and get more whenever he felt like it.

  In the far back corner of the second closet he found a photo album, page after page of Emily with a guy, in a variety of situations, sometimes naked. The photos appeared to be printed from a cellphone. They all had a digital date and time posted in yellow numerals in the lower right hand corner. The album seemed to cover a period of about three years with the photos arranged more or less in chronological order, the most recent photo was from back in July of 2011.

  There were some jeans, two shirts, socks and a couple pair of boxers in the bottom drawer of the dresser and Bobby wondered if there might not be at least one other guy currently on deck. Based on the photo album she was no stranger to men. It occurred to him that she had never really mentioned any sort of employment, but then again, based on the family’s million dollar cabin up north maybe she just lived off a trust fund of some sort.

  Down the hallway and just past the bathroom there was a den with a large flat screen TV, a fireplace and two comfortable couches. A long, antique table sat against a wall. Three crystal decanters, six cut crystal glasses and six wineglasses where neatly arranged on the table. A desk sat in the far corner with a laptop computer centered on it. Bobby opened the computer and pressed the start button, it immediately gave off a tone and a moment later the screen displayed an image that indicated the computer was springing to life. It took a good couple of minutes for the screen to display an older version of windows, although he hadn’t been paying attention when the operating system flashed on for a second or two.

  He briefly scanned through a series of files then clicked on a file labeled ‘The Boys’. A laundry list of files appeared, all arranged in alphabetical order, they appeared to be names, men’s names. Bobby clicked on the first file, Adams, Tom. A half-dozen images immediately appeared, selfies of a sort, Emily with an older man on a beach somewhere. Emily was topless, the guy was bald, with a grey mustache and a flowered swim suit that went down almost to his knees. He sported a beer belly and they seemed to be toasting something or maybe just one another with champagne flutes.

  He clicked on another file, Antonnini, James. Similar images, four of them this time in a bedroom. Based on the phone on the night stand next to the bed Bobby guessed a hotel, high priced by the look of the carved headboard. The two of them were in bed and both appeared to be naked. James, kneeling behind Emily, had reached around and was holding her breasts. Emily, all smiles, apparently held the cellphone camera. James looked like a neatly groomed sixty year old. Time and date were on the right side of the image, this time in red, October of 2014. Bobby noted James also sported a wedding ring. He clicked on another name, and found five similar images, an exposed Emily with an older man who just happened to be wearing a wedding ring. This time she was holding her breasts.

  Bobby smiled, he wasn’t exactly sure just how, yet, but he could use this. He thought back to the images he’d taken of Angie. A shame, maybe if he’d been a little more patient it would have worked out better for everyone. He attached the entire file to an email and sent it to himself then deleted the email message on Emily’s computer. He shut the thing down and walked back downstairs.

  It was after ten and he figured she could be home at any moment. He placed the empty beer bottle in her recycling bin, then wandered out to her living room and scanned a bookshelf. He pulled a book of poetry off the bookshelf, one that would make him look sensitive and caring then settled into a comfortable looking chair in front of the fireplace and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  He woke at the sound of the front door being unlocked and then Emily calling a sing-song, “Hello.”

  Bobby opened his eyes, quickly turned the book sitting on his lap right-side up then opened it just as Emily closed the front door and stepped through the entry that led into her living room.

  “Any trouble getting in? Did you find something to eat?”

  “No, I wasn’t really hungry. Hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to a book,” he said and held up the book he’d just opened.

  “Oh, the poem collection from Minnesota writers, that one is from a couple years back, I get the new release every year. I just love it. So, you like poetry?”

  “Love it,” Bobby lied. “Never enough for my tastes. I especially liked this one,” he said then randomly opened the book, paged back a half-dozen pages pretending to look for a specific poem then showed her the page without really looking at.

  “Yeah, that guy, hmm-mmm, kind of grim for my tastes, I mean the whole depression thingy, I always felt he was sort of a downer.”

  Bobby looked at the title, ‘Mommy’s Dead’ and silently cursed himself. “I guess I can sort of understand that, but you know after reading it you sort of think, hey my life doesn’t look half bad.”

  “Never thought of it that way,” she smiled.

  “Did you have a nice time with your girlfriends?”

  “Girls night, yeah it was okay, although there’s always some sort of lady drama going on. There’s five of us and…”

  “Hold that thought,” Bobby said. “I brought over a couple of nice wines, let me get you a glass. I want to hear all about it.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet.”

  “It will just take me a minute.”

  “Tell you what, let me slip into something a little more comfortable and I’ll meet you upstairs in the den, it’s just on the other side of the bathroom. Past my bedroom,” she added then gave him a look that suggested a number of things.

  “I’ll bring the wine up, you go get comfortable,” he said then hurried out to the kitchen. He took the roofie out of his pocket and decided he wasn’t really a psychopath and so he cut the tablet in half, crushed half the tablet on the granite counter with a spoon and dumped it into her glass, then he hurried upstairs and into the den. He glanced at her computer sitting on the desk. Satisfied it looked untouched he walked over to the table with the crystal decanters sitting on it. He filled the two glasses he brought up from the kitchen with wine then quickly stirred Emily’s glass with his finger as he heard her walking down the hallway toward the den.

  She entered the den just as he finished sucking the red wine off his fingertip. She wore stiletto heels, fire engine red, with a little red bow attached to the back. The heels matched her red silk robe, which was short, barely down to her thighs, edged in gold and cinched around the middle with a red silk tie. As she entered the room a wonderful wave of perfume seemed to wash over him.

  Bobby held out her drugged glass and said, “A little something for the special lady.”

  “Oh you’re so sweet, you shouldn’t have.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” he smiled.

  “We’ll see about that. Here let me just build a fire,” she said then before he could offer an objection she flicked a switch and the gas fireplace burst into flame. “Nothing to it,” she smiled then took a sip of wine before settling onto the couch. She curled her legs up comfortably beneath her and took a second sip, “Mmm-mmm
, very good.”

  “So, you were going to tell me all about your night with friends and the lady drama,” Bobby said as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch and half-turned to face her.

  “Oh it’s just, you know there’s always someone who doesn’t bring a filter, says whatever pops into her stupid little head and then wonders why everyone leaves pissed off.” She took another sip of wine and shook her head. “Honest to God. I mean you just have to laugh. Everyone is out there just trying to have a nice time and someone always shows up in shitty mood.”

  “Always the same person?” Bobby asked.

  “No, thankfully, to be honest we all take turns at being bitches,” she laughed at that and took another sip. “So how did your day go? Get a lot of stares with that face? Did they attach a bunch of pillows to the edge of the granite counter in the little boy’s room?”

  “No, I think I’m the only one dumb enough to slip on the floor. How did the day go, more interesting than most,” Bobby said then studied Emily and thought of Camila’s cautionary note about locking the door. From there his mind jumped to Emily’s file of pictures on her computer. He smiled and wondered if there would be any benefit to finding out more about the guys in the images.

  “What? You’re smiling.”

  “It’s just nice to sit here at the end of the day and be with you, thanks for letting me come over.”

  “Are you kidding? Thanks for getting your ass over here, everyone’s jealous,” she said, then just about drained her glass. She fumbled with it and almost knocked it over as she set it down on the coffee table. When she looked up at him it was with a semi-glazed look on her face. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Here let me get you another glass,” Bobby said picking up her glass. He could see some sludge along one side and more settled in the bottom of her glass, residue from the roofie that had yet to dissolve. She didn’t voice an objection and he quickly refilled her glass with wine and then remained standing hoping the particles would hurry up and dissolve.