Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  “I’m going to have to go back to the city tomorrow,” he said as Emily turned off Highway 61 and onto the county road.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s about the tenth time you mentioned it. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess still a little stressed about last night, and now dumping the car. I got some major headaches on my desk when I get back.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “No, you’ve been great. The one bright spot.”

  “Thanks,” she said and gave his thigh a rub. “I needed to hear that. I was worried you were starting to have second thoughts.”

  “Second thoughts? About what?”

  “Mmm-mmm, my business plan for starters.”

  “Your business… I thought we’d already gone over this. I’m fine with it. Like I said, just be careful,” then he returned to worrying about Morris Montcreff.

  She pulled into the parking area next to Bobby’s Mercedes. They both gave a good look around the area as they walked toward the cabin. Once inside Emily immediately locked and bolted the door. “You want a glass of wine or something?”

  “You know, as nice as that sounds I’m going to take a pass. I’ve got a long drive tomorrow.”

  “We both do,” she said as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. “You mind sleeping in another room? I don’t know, I just don’t want to be in that bedroom again. At least not for a while.”

  “I’m fine with that.”

  They both got undressed. Bobby laid his pistol on the nightstand, climbed into bed and waited. Emily was in the bathroom for fifteen or twenty minutes before she walked out, naked, carrying her pink holster. She smiled as Bobby stared at her, watching as she walked around the bed. She placed her holster on the table in the corner, within easy reach, then climbed into the far side. She leaned over, kissed him on the forehead, turned out the light and said, “I just want to go to sleep tonight. Okay?”

  “Sweet dreams,” he said as she rolled over on her side. He woke in the middle of the night, ears perked. He heard a wolf howl outside and then another.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  They ate a quick breakfast with sparse conversation the following morning and were both on the road before nine. Bobby took off down the highway and watched as Emily’s car drifted further and further behind until she had completely disappeared from his rearview mirror. He was glad for the peace and quiet of his own car. He clicked on the news channel and headed south.

  The top of the hour news said nothing about Noah Denton, James Antonnini, or the two thugs he’d buried out in the woods. It did spend a good two minutes on some sort of drug related shooting in the city the night before, two dead, two wounded, thugs shooting up a low income neighborhood not far from where Camila’s house used to be.

  He headed straight to the office, arriving just after the noon hour wearing the same clothes he’d worn on the drive back to town. Marci handed him two messages, one from Morris Montcreff and another from Luis Morales. He phoned Luis first.

  “Si.”

  “Hello, Luis, it’s Bobby…”

  “You’re all right? Where exactly are you?” he asked, and Bobby was immediately on guard.

  “Yes, I’m fine, just fine. Here at the office working away. Wondering if we might get together. There are a few things I’d like to go over with you.”

  “Yes, that might be a very good idea. I’m sure you’re referring to this morning’s news.”

  “I heard about it,” Bobby said, wondering what in the hell he was talking about.

  “Perhaps enough said until we meet. Same time as before, in front?” Luis said, sounding purposely vague.

  “I’ll see you then,” Bobby said and Luis hung up. Next, he took a deep breath and dialed Morris Montcreff.

  “Yeah.”

  “Mr. Montcreff, Bobby Custer, I had a message to call you.”

  “Custer?” Montcreff asked sounding surprised, then caught himself which possibly told Bobby all he needed to know. “Yes, Custer, of course, of course. I just wanted to know if you’d heard anything yet regarding the timing on Noah Denton’s funeral?”

  “I haven’t yet, but I hope to have some information by the end of the day. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Out of town were you?”

  “My plan was to be up north for a day or two, but I ended up being called down to Chicago.”

  “Chicago?” Montcreff sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Yeah, not my choice, but I had to get down there.”

  “Interesting,” he said almost to himself and convincing Bobby he probably had something to do with the two early morning visitors at Emily’s cabin. “You’ll let me know on the Denton funeral.”

  “Soon as I hear something, I’ll call you.”

  Montcreff hung up leaving Bobby ninety percent sure he had sent the shooters up north. The bigger question was, now what?

  He phoned Cori Denton. She answered on the fourth or fifth ring, half laughing to herself, “Hello.” There was conversational noise in the background suggesting she had stepped out of the room as opposed to people growing quiet. “Hello?”

  “Hi Cori, it’s Bobby Custer. Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to see if there was any news on the funeral arrangements.”

  “Oh hi, Bobby, thanks for calling. As a matter of fact, there is. Noah was released last night. We’re planning on having the wake this Thursday evening and the funeral Friday morning. I know it’s a bit of a short notice, but I’ve got a bridge tournament on Saturday, and I don’t want to miss it.”

  “I don’t think that’s short notice at all, Cori, it should work out fine. Have you run an obituary notice?”

  “We’re working on it now. Lord, they want an arm and a leg for the thing. I’m afraid it’s going to be brief and to the point.”

  “That doesn’t sound like too bad an idea. Is there anything I can do to help? Anything you need?”

  “Oh, how nice. No, I don’t think so. The girls are still here; they’ve been a blessing. I feel like we’ve got everything under control.”

  He was curious about Addison, but wasn’t going to ask. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll see you Thursday night.”

  “Thank you. I have to say it will be nice to get all of this over with and begin to get my life back.”

  “Can’t say that I blame you, Cori. I’m sure you have a busy day ahead of you so I’ll let you return to the task at hand. I meant what I said, please give me a call if you need anything.”

  “Thank you,” she said and hung up.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Just like the last time, Bobby was waiting out in front of the building ten minutes early. He was standing on the sidewalk, close to the curb and he could still feel the heat bouncing off the front of the building. The S-class Mercedes pulled around the far corner at precisely five o’clock and stopped just opposite him.

  The rear door opened, but this time instead of Luis calling to him, a large figure stepped out of the back, closed the door and smiled. “I apologize, but I’m going to have to search you,” the man said.

  He was young, not quite thirty. He wore black jeans, a black t-shirt beneath a grey suit coat and sun glasses. He appeared to not have an ounce of fat on him. His black hair was parted close to the middle of his head. He had a two-day growth of a heavy beard which did a fairly good job of covering the puckered scar along the left side of his jaw.

  “You don’t have to search me. I’m a friend of Luis.”

  The smile vanished and the tone of his voice suddenly seemed very cold. “I search everyone.”

  “Okay, I’ll just tell you that I have a pistol in my waistband, in the back.”

  He gave a quick flick of his hand and the car suddenly sped away, leaving the two of them standing on the curb. Bobby half-turned to watched the car speed away. “And why are you armed? What do you fear?”

  “I had an
incident the other night. I have to protect myself.”

  “You’ll hand it to me, and then I’ll search you.”

  Bobby reached behind his back, beneath his shirt, pulled the pistol out of his waistband and handed it to the man who deftly slipped it into his coat pocket and proceeded to pat Bobby down, very thoroughly, very professionally. When he was satisfied he reached into a pants pocket, pulled out a cellphone and pushed some keys. Just a few minutes later the Mercedes came back around the corner and pulled alongside. The back door opened and this time Luis said, “Please, Bobby get in.”

  He hopped in the back seat, grateful for the cool air conditioning. His new friend with the sun glasses closed the door behind him and then climbed in the front seat. As the car pulled away from the curb he said something to Luis in Spanish, holding up Bobby’s .380 ACP pistol in his hand. The crosshatched rosewood grips and the chrome hammer stuck out from the end of the black leather holster.

  “Luis looked at Bobby for a moment then replied in Spanish. The guy in the front seat pulled the magazine out of the pistol, ejected the round in the chamber, then handed the pistol and holster back to Bobby.

  “So now you feel you need to be armed when we meet. Here I thought we were friends?”

  “It’s not like that,” Bobby said sliding the pistol back into the holster then setting it on his lap. “I had an incident, two nights ago.”

  “Incident?”

  “Yes,” he said and proceeded to tell Luis the story. He told him about being up at Emily’s cabin, the intruders and about shooting them. He didn’t mention Emily’s blackmail, but he did remind Luis about Antoninni’s murder down in Florida.

  “And what did you do with them, these men you shot.”

  “I got rid of them, they won’t be found,” Bobby said not wanting to go into any more detail.

  “And how do you know Montcreff sent them? After all, it was my understanding you were in his employ.”

  “That’s what I thought. It’s actually why I wanted to meet with you this afternoon. I have their names; I took the drivers’ licenses from their wallets. I have them here in my pocket if you’ll let me get them.”

  Luis studied him for a long moment, then said something in Spanish and the guy in front turned round in the passenger seat and faced Bobby. He was pretty sure there would be a gun pointed at him.

  “I’d like to see the license,” Luis said.

  Bobby carefully reached into his front pocket and took out his wallet. He opened it up, pulled out both licenses, handed them to Luis, then stuffed the wallet back in his pocket.

  Luis studied the photos and presumably the names, then said something in Spanish again as he handed them to the man in the passenger seat.

  “The dark haired kid, Michael something, he looked about like that photo on the license. The other guy, with the red hair, he had a beard, although it was pretty sparse. They drove a burgundy colored SUV. I left it in the city of Duluth with the keys in the ignition and their credit cards on the passenger seat.”

  Luis nodded like this last part made sense. The man in the front seat said something and handed the license back to Luis. They exchanged comments back and forth, then Luis sat back and looked at Bobby. “They didn’t work for Montcreff.”

  “What? Then who in the hell sent them?” Bobby half shouted, then realized the pistol he was clutching was empty and thought maybe things had just gone too far.

  Luis smiled. “Not to worry, they wanted to work for Montcreff. I expect a couple of street fools, wanting to come up in the world. My guess would be they were given what was thought to be a relatively simple task and told to report back once they had accomplished it. Apparently,” he said holding the two licenses, “it turned out not to be so simple.”

  “But, that means there will probably be a next time. And the person they send the next time is not the sort of individual who’ll make a mistake and be careless.”

  “I would say that’s correct.”

  “What the hell did I do?”

  “What did you do?” Luis said and thought for a long moment. “To start with you owned our base of operation. You saved the lives of both Camila and Valentina, killing at least two of their attackers in the process.”

  “But it was Montcreff who put me in touch with Camila. He was the one who told me, who insisted in no uncertain terms that I rent that home to her. Why would he do that?”

  “Possibly to keep an eye on the competition. Maybe to learn when and where the best time to strike was. You know our feeling. Were it not for you, I would not be here. My sister and my beloved daughter would be dead. You were, as they say, the wild card. The unexpected. You ruined the plans Montcreff had laid out. And now he wants you to pay for that.”

  “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” Bobby said, sounding resigned to his fate.

  “Please, have some faith. I couldn’t let that happen. You’re safe here.”

  “No offense, but I can’t ride around in the backseat of your car all day.”

  “Mr. Montcreff will not see the end of the week.”

  “I just spoke with him today, as a matter of fact right after we talked on the phone.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Say? Well he sounded surprised I was calling.” Luis smiled at this bit of information. “And, he told me to call him when I had more information on Noah Denton’s funeral.”

  “So he’ll be planning to attend?”

  “I think so.”

  “That would be perfect,” Luis said and smiled.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bobby sat alone in the kitchen, moving food around on his plate, not really eating. He wondered what he could do to diffuse the situation and get Montcreff to calm down. Save Camila, Christ. Maybe if he just explained to Montcreff that he’d pulled her in front of him so he wouldn’t get shot. I mean, it was only common sense. Maybe tell him he only killed the guy coming down the basement stairs because he was probably going to kill Bobby. Same with the guy at the top of the stairs. And then those two idiots at Emily’s cabin. What if he just denied ever seeing them. Tell Montcreff they must have ripped him off, after all he’d never find the bodies.

  Now he was supposed to pass on the funeral information. Didn’t that sound fun. A bunch of drug dealing, sociopathic, psychos armed to the teeth at Noah Denton’s funeral. He pushed the plate of food away, poured himself a bourbon, and walked out to the living room.

  “You guys want anything else?” he asked the thugs sitting on the couch. There were two of them, resting with their feet up on the coffee table watching a rerun of ‘The Voice’ on his television. Sent by Luis to essentially babysit him, if two muscular guys with .45’s sitting around his place could be called babysitters.

  One of them shook his head, while the other, the stockier of the pair, was too involved in the show and ignored him completely. Bobby set his drink on the bookshelf, stacked their plates, and carried them back to the kitchen. He loaded the dishwasher, went back out to the living room to fetch his drink and ask one more time if they wanted anything.

  He played solitaire for an hour or so, checked porn sites for another two hours and went to bed before eleven. He was up and showered before seven, listening to the snores coming from the guest room and the couch in the living room. The morning news led with two more shooting stories, three people killed over night. Two apparently waiting in a car just before midnight, not all that far from his place. The third was just standing on the street corner a little after two in the morning. At nine he went online and read the brief obituary to get the specifics for Noah Denton’s wake and funeral then phoned Montcreff with the information.

  “Custer?”

  “Good Morning, Mr. Montcreff.”

  There was a momentary pause, Montcreff sounding surprised to hear his voice. “You’re in your office?” he asked.

  “Yes sir, been here for a while. Couldn’t sleep so just came down early,” Bobby said, then took another sip of coffee and set
the mug back on his kitchen counter.

  “What can I help you with this morning?”

  “Nothing on this end, I just received the schedule of Mr. Denton’s funeral and wanted to pass that on to you.”

  “Wake Thursday night with a church service at eleven on Friday, visitation an hour before the funeral service and a luncheon afterward. The internment is going to be private. That sound about right?”

  “That’s it exactly, sir.”

  “I’ll look forward to seeing you there, Custer,” he said and then hung up. Bobby drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter. Montcreff was genuinely surprised he’d called, not like him to be caught off guard, even for a second. Something was up, but he didn’t know what.

  His bodyguards drove him down to the office, rode up with him in the elevator and were currently seated on the couch, scrolling through a number of websites on their iPads. Bobby picked up the phone and dialed Cori Denton.

  “Hello,” she answered. Conversational cackling in the background gradually disappeared, presumably as Cori stepped out of the room.

  “Hi Cori, Bobby Custer. Just checking in. Anything I can do for you?”

  “You really are sweet. I think we’re pretty well covered.” She paused for a moment, then said, “There is one thing. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “No, not a problem. Just let me know how I can help.” Then he held his breath hoping it wouldn’t be too big of a pain in the ass.

  “I’ve got a bridge tournament tomorrow. I’ll barely have enough time to finish before I have to get to that damn wake. Leave it to Noah to interject himself in my schedule one last time. Anyway, would you mind being a dear and picking up two flower arrangements for me? I loved the lilies you brought the other day and thought what could possibly be better? So, I ordered two of them. I’ll need them for the wake. Now, they should each have a card, one from me and one from Addison. If you’d be so kind as to pick them up and have them at the mortuary before the guests begin to arrive at four, that would be perfect.”