Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  “Wow, looks like you really got some sun,” he said admiring her golden tan.

  “Oh, yeah I’m one of those people that immediately tan. Just an afternoon walk on the beach with two old ladies.”

  “Really, interesting, no tan lines.”

  Her eyes flared for the briefest of moments then she gently ran her fingers along his chest and slowly worked her way down.

  * * *

  “Well it was nice to know I was missed,” she said then smiled and took another bite of her pasta.

  “Here’s to you and your mom,” Bobby said and raised his glass in a toast.

  They were seated at the kitchen counter, Emily was wrapped in the terri-cloth robe she’d retrieved from the hallway and Bobby was in his t-shirt and trousers, barefoot.

  “So, what big news flash did I miss while I was out of town.”

  “News flash? Not much to report, well one thing. Sort of from the school of ‘it’s a small world.’ At the risk of bringing up an unpleasant incident in your distant past, what was the last name of that Denis guy you were going to marry?”

  “Kemper, Denis Kemper,” she said and set her fork down on her plate.

  “Yeah, pretty sure that was the guy, I couldn’t remember the last name. Apparently someone torched his pickup truck the other night. It was on the news,” Bobby lied.

  “Pickup truck? I don’t think he’s got a pickup, well unless he’s really changed since the last time I saw him.”

  “Doesn’t he live over on the west side, some dumpy little rambler? I think the news report mentioned Ohio Street.”

  “Denis? God no, at least I don’t think so, unless something’s changed drastically. Last I knew, he was in White Bear, on the lake, not that I check up on him regularly, that would have been a good two years ago. Hey, you know what, there was a guy with the same name, a distant cousin, very distant, something like ten times removed. Just an absolute loser. He, my Denis, had the city calling him on some sort of tax thing, a couple of insurance companies were after him, I think the teamsters were looking for him and one time we were in bed and someone’s irate husband called in the middle of the night and threatened to kill him. It was one of the reason’s he moved out to White Bear, well that and it was closer to that slut girlfriend of his.”

  Bobby couldn’t believe it, he’d risked everything and in the end it was the wrong guy?

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “Me? Yeah, just disappointed, I was all set to give you the good news that something bad had happened to him and it turns out to be someone else.”

  “That’s okay, that Denis is a real asshole, too,” she said then picked up her fork and dug back into her pasta.

  Bobby woke to an empty bed a little after six the following morning. He laid there alone for a good fifteen minutes then got up and started to get dressed. Emily walked into the room wearing her white robe as he was pulling on his shirt.

  “I didn’t expect you to adjust to the time change so quickly.”

  “Just two hours,” she said, “besides I had some computer work to do. Hey, I don’t know about you, but I really worked up an appetite last night, you have time for breakfast or do you have to run off to work?”

  “I probably should head home and change, but I’d join you for a cup or two of coffee?”

  “Coming right up,” she said then leaned over and gave him a big kiss.

  “I’ll see you down there,” he said then sat on the bed and listened to make sure she went downstairs.

  He hurried into the den, and placed a hand on her computer, it was warm. He turned it on and went right to her email account, attached her file and sent it to himself then deleted the email. He hurried back to the bedroom, finished dressing and headed down to the kitchen.

  “Black, just the way you like it,” she said and pushed a coffee mug across the kitchen counter toward him.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure I can’t talk you into something to eat, it’ll just take a couple of minutes.”

  “No, that’s very nice of you, but coffee is just fine.”

  She nodded then poured herself a mug of coffee and climbed onto a kitchen stool. “You know,” she sipped some coffee and set her mug down. “When I was online this morning I couldn’t find anything about that fire, you said someone firebombed his truck, the other Denis Kemper prick?”

  “I thought that was the name, of course it would be just like me to get it wrong. You know, now that you mention it I only heard the one newscast and then nothing else. Whoever it was, I’m sure it was on the west side and not out in White Bear.”

  “Too bad, couldn’t of happened to a more deserving jerk,” she said and sipped some more coffee.

  “So you back twisting client’s arms this morning?”

  She looked at him blankly for a moment then shook her head. “No, I should probably give my mom a call this morning.”

  “You didn’t see enough of her over the last couple of days.”

  She seemed to catch herself, then said, “I just want to make sure she’s all unpacked. You know, check to make sure she’s settled back in.”

  “Probably a good idea,” he said and then wondered what sort of excuse Gregory Lindgren was telling his wife.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  He took a round about way home and swung by Denton’s. Addison’s pickup was parked at an odd angle in the driveway. Unfortunately, there wasn’t the slightest hint of any new damage to the thing. He had this morning’s pharmaceutical delivery, a substantially smaller amount and already attached to a green bow. When he opened the door to her truck he noticed the previous bows, sky-blue and bright pink, were attached to her sun visor and took that as a positive sign. He tossed the delivery onto the driver’s seat then hurried home.

  He opened the email he’d sent himself and scrolled down to Gregory Lindgren’s name. Sure enough, now there were six new images. Two of the loving couple sitting around a swimming pool, Emily topless or maybe just completely nude, which explained her lack of tan lines and Lindgren smiling in a swimsuit and on his cellphone. Three images in bed left no question as to the activity occurring and then a final image of Lindgren, minus his cellphone, holding a long stemmed rose between his teeth and a beer in his hand. The beer was a bottle of Negra Modelo, a popular Mexican beer. The room Lindgren was standing in looked to be a large, two story affair with a fire place covering almost the entire wall behind him. It could have been in Mexico, it could have been in southern California, or Arizona, Texas or New Mexico for that matter. He’d have to do a little more checking.

  He was in the office well before nine. Oddly, Bennett Hinz was already in, and although his office door was closed Bobby caught a glimpse through partially closed blinds of both Sawyer and Hinz sitting on the couch. Neither one looked happy. Someone was sitting opposite them with his back to the window, but Bobby had no idea who it might be. The occasional raised voice drifted out of the office.

  He phoned Dorsey for more files then brought up the Lindgren images from Emily and reviewed them again while he waited. In three of the six shots Lindgren’s wedding ring was clearly visible and Bobby wondered how long Emily usually waited before she began to blackmail.

  Dorsey knocked on the door just as Bobby clicked to another screen. As he opened the door more raised voices from Bennett’s office drifted into the room. Dorsey sort of rolled his eyes as he wheeled the stack of files over to Bobby’s desk. “Doesn’t that just sound like too much fun for first thing in the morning?”

  “Or any time of day. You got any idea what the hell that’s all about?”

  “They’re in there meeting with Angie Benedict’s husband. The guy’s some sort of doctor or med student or something. Anyway, pretty safe bet it involves her, maybe back pay or a bonus or something.”

  “Angie? I thought she landed with the acquisition guys,” Bobby said hoping for new information.

  “Yeah, well she did. Kinda funny she’d send her old man in here and not come herself,
she could be hard nosed when she wanted to be,” he said then shrugged his shoulders and placed a sheet on Bobby’s desk. “Need you to sign your life away so you can go through those files. Thanks man,” he said picking up the signed sheet and heading out the door. “Just give a yell whenever you want them picked up.”

  Bobby walked over to the break room and poured himself a fresh mug of coffee then lingered as long as possible near Bennett’s door hoping to pick up some part of the conversation. He could only see the top of Angie’s husband’s head and never would have placed him as the same guy he saw the morning he was waiting outside their apartment. He heard voices coming down the hall a minute or two later and casually returned to his office leaving the door open.

  About twenty minutes later he heard more loud voices, only this time Bennett’s office door had opened up.

  “I’m sure as difficult as it may be, you can understand our position on this,” Bennett said. Bobby glanced up and saw him standing in his office doorway, in sort of a pleading kind of stance shaking his head, Sawyer was standing behind him.

  “The only thing I understand is that my wife is missing. I’ve come to you people for help, some sort of information, anything and you seem to be too busy to help. She worked her ass off for you for the last four years. It doesn’t add up, Jesus Christ they both worked here and now you can’t seem to be bothered.”

  Bobby looked at the man, this morning in a dark suit with a white shirt and tie and envisioned the frustrated individual he’d seen that early morning going back into his apartment and hurrying Angie out to the car. Yeah, it was definitely her husband.

  “If we knew anything believe me we’d share it, but there’s nothing. She may have worked here four years, but this, this development happened once she left. Believe me, we’re all just as shocked as you. If anything comes to light, I promise you’ll be the first person we contact.”

  “I think the only contact I intend to have with you from here on in will be through my attorney. Good day.”

  He walked past Bobby’s open door and shot a quick glance in as he passed by. Bobby was sitting behind his desk littered with files, listening to their exchange. If he recognized Bobby he gave no indication.

  He phoned Morris Montcreff late that afternoon, but ended up leaving a message. On the way home the top of the hour news break carried the story of another murder in Frogtown.

  Chapter Sixty

  He’d just poured himself a bourbon and was settling in to watch the recording he’d captured at Emily’s last night. He’d seen the thing a half-dozen times already, but couldn’t seem to get enough of it. He’d edited the thing down to about five seconds of her empty bedroom before she walked in, naked and then turned to undue his belt. The image was dim due to the candle light but still left nothing to the imagination. He smiled watching her drop to her knees, took a sip of his bourbon and then his cellphone rang.

  “Emily?” he said and clicked the pause button on his screen.

  “I’ve been fucking robbed,” she sobbed.

  “What? Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m at home. No, I’m not okay, I’m royally pissed off is what I am.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “Here, I mean, oh Jesus Christ.”

  “Did someone break in?”

  “Apparently.”

  “What did they take? Did you call the police? Do you want me to come over?”

  “Actually, would you mind if I came over to your place. I’m just too upset to be here, God damn it,” she screamed.

  “Yeah, sure come on over. You sure you don’t want me to come over there?”

  “No, oh shit, look I’ll be over in a little bit, thanks,” she said and hung up.

  It suddenly dawned on him that she was probably talking about her stash of cash. The envelope he’d helped himself to. In retrospect, he thought he should have just taken the entire envelope. Now she’d hide the thing someplace where it was going to be a hell of a lot harder to find than just digging beneath some sweaters. He went back to watching his costarring role then shut his computer down when she rang the security buzzer twenty minutes later.

  He watched through the peephole as she stepped off the elevator and hurried toward his door, based on the puffiness around her eyes she been crying. She knocked on his door then stepped back and ran her index finger back and forth on her nose. He continued to watch, letting her wait out in the hallway. She knocked again, this time quite a bit harder, then stepped back and seemed to whisper, “Fuck, come on.”

  Bobby stood back from the peephole, rolled his shoulders, and twisted his head from side to side cracking his neck. He checked his shirt, making sure it was straight, tugged on his sleeves and this time she pounded on the door. He took a deep breath, put on a smile and opened the door.

  She stormed in red faced, “I don’t fucking believe it. Some asshole stole close to three grand from me. God, if I find out who did this I will literally kill him, I’ll cut off his little…”

  “Hey, take it easy, calm down,” he said and tried to put his arms around her.

  “Shit, do you have any idea what I had to do to get that? God,” she said then put both her hands up to her face and started to cry.

  This time when he went to put his arms around her she sort of leaned into him and cried softly against his shoulder. He held her for a couple of minutes until she gradually began to calm down.

  She stepped away from him and brushed the tears from her face which only succeeded in smearing mascara across her cheeks. “God, look at me, what a stupid bitch. I’m sorry, you don’t need this right now. I shouldn’t have even called,” she said and took a step toward the door.

  “You’re not going anywhere. We’ll talk about this and figure something out.”

  “God!”

  “What did the police say?”

  “I, I didn’t call them, I can’t, really.”

  He nodded, then said, “Okay, give me your shoes.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, give me your shoes?”

  She gave him a strange look, but slid her shoes off anyway and handed them to him. He tucked them under his arm, then said, “Just a little insurance policy, so you don’t leave. Now, go into the bathroom and get that beautiful face of yours’ cleaned up. I’ll be in the kitchen, with your glass of wine.”

  “You got something a little stronger?” she sniffled. “Maybe a martini, Bombay Sapphire if you got it, two olives.”

  “Let me see what I can find,” he smiled then turned her toward the hallway and gave her a spank just like he’d seen Lindgren do yesterday evening.

  She turned and gave a quick frightened look, but quickly recovered with a smile. “You’re so sweet,” she said then hurried down the hall and into the bathroom. “Oh my God, look at me,” she groaned a moment later from behind the bathroom door.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  “I know exactly what you’re thinking, I’m a stupid bitch.” she said, then drained her glass.

  “I’m not thinking that at all. I’m just suggesting that you should deposit those funds in the bank, where they’re safe.”

  She held her glass out for a refill.

  “You sure?” he asked nodding at her empty glass.

  “Spare me the ‘Don’t over do’ lecture, okay, I’m already drunk and heading toward shit faced. I know what you’re saying, but this money isn’t income, exactly. I mean it’s sort of more like a tip for giving very good service.”

  He took her glass, placed it on the empty freezer shelf and set a fresh frosted glass on the counter along with the chilled bottle of gin. He’d cracked the seal on the bottle when he’d first opened it over an hour ago. He filled her glass then glanced at the bottle, nearly half gone and he’d been sipping wine.

  “I get that part, this is money you don’t plan on reporting, okay. What I’m suggesting is you find a safe place to keep it. Obviously hiding it under the bed or whatever you did, isn’t working.�
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  “Oh sure,” she said and her head sort of waved back and forth as she took a sip from the fresh glass. “I’ll just keep it in the glove compartment of my car.”

  “Probably not the best idea. I might suggest a safe, one that’s bolted to the floor or the wall.”

  “You mean like in hotel rooms?”

  “Yeah, exactly,” he said thinking you’d be the one who’d know about that. “I’d do a couple of other things, too.”

  “I’m not getting a gun, they scare the hell out of me and the first person I shot would probably be me.”

  “I think that’s a wise decision. No, what I was going to suggest is you take that spare key out of the fake rock in your garden. Leave a spare with someone just in case, you know a neighbor, but get rid of that one in your garden. Then get new locks. I just did the same thing.”

  “You had a spare key in a rock?” she said and took another hearty gulp. She suddenly looked like she was having trouble keeping her eyes open.

  “No, I meant I changed my locks, got all new ones.”

  “Charming,” she said then took another large gulp and in the process of setting her glass down spilled the rest of it across the kitchen counter, she seemed oblivious as her head wagged from side to side.

  “Come on, I think it’s bedtime,” he said and carefully guided her off the stool.

  She grinned like she was the only one in on some sort of private joke and then attempted to say something, but the words came out completely unintelligible. He helped her down the hall and into the bedroom where she sat for just a second before she flopped backwards, closed her eyes and raised her feet. He unbuttoned her slacks, and began to pull them off as she giggled and half raised her legs. Then she fumbled with the upper button on her blouse. He started at the bottom, working his was up, unbuttoning until only the top button was left and he gently pulled her hands away and undid it.

  “God,” she groaned then giggled again. He set her blouse on top of her jeans then placed them both on a chair, he reached round, unhooked her bra, tossed it on the back of the chair, then he pulled the covers back and helped her crawl into bed. “Do whatever you want, Greg,” she said then followed up with a snore.