Corner Office (From the Tales of Dan Coast Book 12)

by Rodney Riesel

  “Okay,” she said, stepping further into the room, “this is the reception area. Bathroom over there, and through that door, your office.”

  Dan inspected the old wooden desk and chair as he made his way to the door behind it. He opened the door and looked inside. A wooden desk—a little larger than the one in front—and chair sat in front of a window, facing the door. To the right of the door was a dark brown leather sofa. Dan looked behind the door, on the other wall, hoping to see a bar. He was a little disappointed that there wasn't one, but at least now he and Red wouldn't have to lug in any furnishings.

  “Perfect,” he said. “I'll take it.”

  “I have four other places to show you tonight,” Emily informed him.

  “No need,” said Dan. “I want this one.”

  “I haven't told you how much.”

  “I don't care how much. I want this one.” Dan backed up and pulled the door shut. He turned to face Emily. “Yeah, this is perfect. Let's sign some papers.”

  “Okay,” said Emily. She turned and walked back out the door. “Can you come back to my office right now?”

  “Sure.” Dan stepped back out onto the second floor porch that wrapped around the right side of the building. “Where does that go?” he asked, pointing around the corner.

  “There's an apartment back there.”

  “Who lives there?”

  “I don't know. Is it important?'

  “I guess not.”

  Dan and Emily walked down the stairs to the sidewalk.

  “Where are you parked?” Dan asked.

  “I walked over from my office.”

  Dan sighed loudly. “I'll drive over.”

  “It's only four blocks.”

  “I didn't think it was even that far.”

  “I thought I saw you out running about a month or so ago.”

  “Yeah, that didn't last.”

  Together Dan and Emily strolled down Fleming Street toward Emily's office on Bahama Street. Dan slipped his hand into his front pocket and grabbed his cell phone. “What's the address?”

  “Of your office?”

  “Yeah.”

  “501 Whitehead Street.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I never asked, Dan,” Emily said. “What is it you needed an office for? Are you thinking of starting a business?”

  “Hold on. I have to make a call.” Dan searched through his recent calls and dialed.

  “Hello?” a woman answered.

  “Marilyn Valdosta?” Dan asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “Marilyn, this is Dan Coast.”

  “Oh, Mr. Coast, I wasn't expecting your call until tomorrow.”

  Dan stopped, and so did Emily. “I moved some things around in order to get back to you sooner.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” said Dan. “Can you come by my office tomorrow morning to discus your situation?”

  “Yes, I can. What time?”

  “Ten o'clock?”

  “That would be great.”

  “501 Whitehead Street.”

  “See you at ten, Mr. Coast.”

  Dan hung up his cell.

  Emily cocked her head. “What is it you're—”

  Dan put up his wait-a-minute finger and dialed again.

  “Hello?”

  “Lola Paragould?”

  “Yes.”

  “It's Dan Coast. Can you still swing by my office around noon tomorrow?”

  “Yes, but what's the—”

  “501 Whitehead Street.”

  “I'll be there at noon. Thank you.”

  Dan hung up his cell phone once again and slipped in back into his pocket.

  “You're not doing anything illegal, are you, Dan?” Emily asked.

  “No,” Dan replied. “What would make you think that?”

  Emily shrugged. “Then what is it you're doing?”

  “Let's just say, I help people with things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Things they need.”

  “Like a life coach, or something?”

  “Yeah,” Dan said, smiling and nodding his head. “Let's go with that. Life coach.”

  Emily was satisfied with Dan's answer. She turned and started on her way again.

  Dan wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked along. I should have driven, he thought.

  “Did I mention I'm divorced now?” asked Emily.

  “Uh, no.” Dan replied.

  “Yes, things just weren't working out.”

  “That's too bad.”

  “So, how are things goi—”

  “I'm engaged!”

  “Why did you yell?”

  “Did I yell?”

  “Yes.”

  “Um … I'm just really excited to be engaged, I guess.”

  “Well, that's great.”

  Chapter Five

  It was eight o'clock that same night by the time Dan climbed back aboard his favorite bar stool. “You think you need a license to be a life coach?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” Red answered, as he pulled a bottle of tequila from the well. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering.” Dan examined the label on the tequila bottle as Red prepared his drink. “What is that?”

  Red turned the bottle to read the name. “Pedro Morales,” said Red. “I got it for nine bucks a bottle.”

  “It better taste good,” Dan warned.

  “Oh, better it? I have Patron and Don Julio up there on the shelf. You're the one who asks for this shit in the well. Don't blame me if it tastes like shit. Ya get what you pay for, El Cheapo.”

  “Less chatter and more drink making, barkeep.”

  Red finished the drink and slid it across the bar to his friend. “Why were you asking about a life coach?”

  “Something Emily Dixon said.”

  “You thinking of hiring a life coach?”

  “No. Why would I need a life coach?'

  Red glanced down at Dan's drink, and then back up at him.

  “Really?” Dan said. “I don't need a life coach to help me with my drinking. That's why I go to AA.”

  “That seems to be working really well.”

  “You're a dick. Why do I come here?”

  “I'm just saying, if you were thinking about seeing a life coach, maybe I can get you in to see my guy.”

  “I'm afraid to ask.”

  “Don't be.”

  “You're talking to a life coach?”

  “Well, kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “Remember The Amazing Gary, over on Flagler Avenue?”

  “How could I forget.”

  “I've been talking to him once a week.”

  Dan shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “Why?”

  “He's helped me make a few important decisions.”

  “Like where to waste a hundred bucks once a week?”

  “It's not a hundred bucks. I get a discount for being a regular.”

  “So, how much?”

  “That's not important.”

  “How much?”

  “Seventy-five bucks.”

  “You're an idiot.”

  “The Amazing Gary said you would say that.”

  “Wow, The Amazing Gary is good.”

  “The Amazing Gary said th—”

  “Stop calling him The Amazing Gary!”

  “That's his name.”

  “I really doubt his mom and dad named him The Amazing Gary.”

  “Why do you gotta make fun of everything?”

  “He's just Gary.”

  “Fine. Gary said Jocko's replacement would be a tall, thin, blond guy in his twenties.”

  “Jocko's replacement is Skip?”

  “No. Gary said that the guy's name would start with a Z.”

  “That should narrow it down.”

  “That's what Gary said.”

  “So, that's why you've turned down everyone who has applied for the job?”
<
br />   Red nodded his head. “Yes.”

  “What else has Gary helped you with?”

  “Remember that woman I dated a couple times a few months back, the artist?”

  “Char Walker?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about her?”

  “She's out of town a lot, so I don't get to see her much.”

  “And?”

  “And Gary said I could do better.”

  “Better than Char?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Has he met you?”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Pal, you can't do better.”

  “That's hurtful.”

  “Saying you think you can do better than some woman is pretty hurtful.”

  “I didn't say it, Gary did.”

  “She was a really nice girl, and she seemed to really like you.”

  “I know.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I haven't told her anything yet. She's been out of town for over a month. Her mother is really sick. She's upstate taking care of her.”

  “I wonder if her mother could have done better.”

  “Shut up. Gary told me not to break up with her over the phone. He said I should wait and tell her face to face when she gets back into town.”

  “I think you should stop listening to Gary.”

  “He said you would say that too.”

  “Oh, did he? Crazy.”

  “Yeah. He said you would feel threatened if someone else was giving me advice. He said you like to be the one in control.”

  “I hate Gary.”

  “He said you would—”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “See how you boss me around?” Red turned and grabbed an empty coffee mug off the back bar and poured himself a cup of the black mud that had sat there since morning.

  “I'm through talking about The Amazing Gary,” Dan said.

  “I figured you would be.”

  “Maybe you're a psychic too.”

  “Maybe, but it doesn't take a psychic to know that you change a subject every time you start losing an argument.”

  “I didn't realize we were arguing.”

  “Jesus!” said Cindy, as she walked from the kitchen to the bar. She let the heavy door swing shut behind her. “I worked in a daycare center part-time when I was seventeen. Listening to you two go on and on really brings back the memories.”

  “Are you saying we sound like children?” Red asked.

  “Ask The Amazing Gary,” said Cindy. She reached under the bar for her apron. “I hear he's got all the answers.”

  Dan chuckled.

  “I get enough ribbing from this guy,” Red said, pointing across the bar. “I don't need it from you too.”

  “Sorry, boss, but you have to hire a new cook. I can't tend bar, cook, and waitress. I put in sixty-two hours last week.”

  “I have another interview tomorrow,” Red informed her.

  “Why are you bothering with interviews?” Dan asked. “If their name don't start with a Z, why bother?”

  “Wait,” Cindy said. “What's this about a Z? I didn't hear this one.”

  “Red said that The Amazing Gary said—”

  “Nothing!” Red shouted. He moved out of the way so Cindy could get behind the bar. “Let's just change the subject.”

  “I said that five minutes ago,” said Dan.

  “Did you rent an office?” Red asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I did. It's a nice second floor office over on Whitehead Street; used to be a lawyers office.”

  “When do I get to see it?”

  “Tomorrow morning around eight when you help me move the case board over.”

  “To the second floor?” Red groaned. “Can't you hire a mover?”

  “To move one dry erase board?”

  “Don't you need a desk and office furniture?”

  “The place is already furnished. Has everything but a bar.”

  “And a dry erase board.”

  “Right. So, be to my house at seven-thirty tomorrow morning?”

  “That's early.”

  “I'll buy you breakfast after the big move.”

  “You got yourself a deal, mister.”

  Chapter Six

  Dan and Maxine arrived home at exactly the same time. Maxine pulled into the driveway in her Mustang, and Dan was walking.

  “Where's your car?” Maxine asked.

  “Red's.”

  “You walked?”

  “Yut.”

  “See, that's why I didn't want you to pick me up after work.” Maxine opened her door and got out of the car. “You think I should put the roof up?”

  “That's up to you.”

  “It's not supposed to rain, is it?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Maxine decided to put up the roof and then the two of them walked up the sidewalk to the front door.

  “I'm not drunk,” said Dan.

  “I didn't say you were.”

  “If I was picking you up at work I could have driven.”

  “That's a risk I wasn't willing to take.” Maxine opened the door and went in. Buddy was waiting for her. “Who's a good boy? You're a good boy!”

  Dan cringed at her syrupy voice. “You ask him that every time you walk through the door. The answer is always the same: he's the good boy.”

  Maxine squatted down and scratched Buddy between the ears. “I know, but he likes hearing it anyway. Makes him feel good.”

  “I wouldn't know.” Dan walked past the two and to the bar to make himself a night cap.”

  Maxine walked up behind Dan and scratched his back with her long nails. “Who's a good boy?” she asked. “You're a good boy.”

  “That does feel good,” Dan admitted.

  “Make me a drink too, please.”

  “Comin' right up.”

  Maxine turned and headed for the hall, with Buddy following behind her. “I'm going to put on my pajamas.”

  Dan made himself a tequila, Seven, and lime, and a rum and Coke for Maxine. He carried the drinks into the living room, placing Maxine's drink on the end table next to the sofa. His own, he set on the table next to his recliner. He sat down, pulled the foot rest lever, and reached for the remote control. Turning on the television, Dan flipped through the stations until he came to MeTV. Perry Mason was on. Dan put the remote back on the end table and picked up his drink.

  It only took a second for Dan to realize it was “The Case of the Weary Watchdog,” the sixth season episode where Della had to ask Perry if she could borrow $25,000 for a friend of hers. A guy who worked for the woman's husband had taken nude photos of her in a motel, and was now blackmailing the woman. Dan knew what happened next, and he knew just how Mason would solve the case, but he kept watching anyway. Dan looked on as Mason walked to the wet bar in his office and poured himself a drink. I gotta get a bar in my office, he thought. Dan marveled at Mason's ritualistic drink preparation. Mason didn't grab the ice with his bare hands, the way Dan would do it. Mason picked up each cube with silver tongs. Dan didn't know if it was Della or Gertie who continuously restocked the ice bucket, but he was certain Maxine wouldn't do it for him. Maybe I do need a receptionist. Also, Mason's booze didn't come straight out of the bottle like Dan's—it was poured from a crystal decanter. I gotta get one of those booze decanters.

  What are you watching?” Maxine asked when she walked back into the room. She was wearing a pair of Dan's boxers and one of his old concert tees: Ozzy Osbourne: No More Tours.

  Dan wondered if Della ever tried on a big old pair of Perry Mason's boxers. If she did, she probably didn't look anywhere near as good as Maxine. Dan watched her ass as she crossed the room and turned to sit on the sofa. “Perry Mason,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Maxine said, recognizing Burr. “The Godzilla guy.” She picked up her rum and Coke and took a sip.

  “Yes, Maxine, the Godzilla guy. Only he moved from Japan to America and becam
e a lawyer.”

  “Huh.” Maxine took hold of the light blanket on the back of the couch, pulled her legs up beside her, and covered them with the blanket. “So, what did you do today?”

  “Went to Red's.”

  “What time did you head over there?”

  “A little bit after you left.”

  “Please don't tell me you sat on a stool at Red's for eight hours.”

  “Obviously not,” Dan replied. “I wouldn't have even been able to walk home if I did that.”

  “What else did you do?”

  “I had some business to take care of.”

  Maxine had taken a small sip of her drink, and choked a little as she snickered. “You had business.”

  “Yeah, I can have business if I want.”

  “I know you can, but … ” Maxine waited for something, but Dan continued to stare at the television.

  He finally looked over at her. “What?”

  “I'm waiting.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “What business did you take care of?”

  Dan breathed deep and loudly exhaled. “You're just gonna make fun of me.”

  “This is gonna be good,” Maxine said, mainly to herself. “What did you do?”

  “I rented myself an office.”

  Maxine stared blankly at her fiance. “For?” she prompted.

  “So I can work without disturbing you.”

  “Work?”

  Dan tightened his jaw. “You're as bad as Red.”

  “Well, I mean … you don't need an office to figure out who stole your propane. You left the grill on. Remember?”

  “Really, Maxine?” Dan began counting on his fingers, holding them up one at a time. “I found out Trey Bingum and Dusty Rob killed that college kid. There was the Tim Garvey insurance money thing. I proved Jimmy Pantucco killed his wife. Caught a couple cheating spouses. I caught the cops who wanted Mel and his sister dead. I proved Henry Davis didn't kill his boss. What about the guys who were passing themselves off as movers to steal people's belongings? I caught those murderer's. I rescued the little Cuban girl who was kidnapped. The list goes on, Maxine.”

  Dan pointed across the room at his citation from the mayor of Key West that hung on the wall above the wooden table that held Alex's photograph. “Remember my citation?”