by Nick James
The main lobby of the courthouse had floors of polished white marble. Black marble piers rose up three stories to a gold leaf ceiling. Bobby had spent a good part of his previous life in here groveling and working various angles and schemes on behalf of clients.
Back then, he’d known all the nooks and crannies, which restrooms were empty and when. He had developed an internal radar that apprised him of when and where court was in session. He knew which deputies were friendly and which ones to stay clear of. He knew who liked bourbon, who liked beer and who was a teetotaler. He knew a lot of the secrets and made up some of the lies. But that was then. Now, he was an outsider, just another tourist, or even worse, well, best not to go there.
He wandered past some old haunts before he’d taken the elevator up to the third floor, lost in distant vague memories, the hustle, the drama, the pressure, the…
“Bobby? Bobby, is that you?” As he inspected Bobby his flushed face moved up and down, audibly scraping his chins against the heavily starched collar.
“Well hello, Ben, yeah it’s me.”
Bennett Hinz, Esquire. A prick if there ever was one. He’d been ahead of Bobby in law school, light years ahead of him in the scheme of life. On one side a family fortune he had nothing to do with other than inherit, on the other a seemingly bottomless trust fund. The sun seemed to rise and set on Bennett, which probably accounted for the tan face contrasting with his white shirt and the mane of silver hair combed back like some retired rock star. Bennett was the Hinz in Denton, Allan, Sawyer and Hinz the law firm who was going to hire Bobby with the help of some federal persuasion. The firm was known as DASH in hallway parlance.
“When did you get back? It was seven years wasn’t it? God, has it really gone by that quickly?”
“I made it out in a little more than four,” Bobby said almost in a whisper.
“That-a-boy, can do. Fresh start, eh, Bobby,” Ben said, giving a go-for-it sort of nod. It was one of the many negatives with Benny. Always sounding like Mr. Positive although Bobby was pretty certain Ben Hinz never, ever had had to deal with anything remotely resembling adversity.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m doing, Ben starting fresh.”
Ben nodded as if he had some vague notion of what Bobby was talking about. Then he gave the proverbial, “Great chatting, Bobby. I’d better get a move on, things to do, places to be, you probably remember what it’s like.”
“Nice seeing you again, Ben.”
Bobby watched as Ben waddled a few steps toward the bank of elevators. He was just about to give Ben the finger when he turned round and in a booming voice bellowed, “Say, Bobby, momentito. You’re not actually thinking of reapplying after your disbarment, are you?”
Bobby quickly looked around as he thought, thanks for broadcasting that little fact, Ben.
“To the bar? No Ben, I don’t think that would be a wise career move, at least not at this time.”
“Career move,” Ben half laughed and nodded knowingly, he glanced left and right, stepped a little closer and in a conspiratorial tone said, “Just wondering, my friend. Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do? You know, employment, finances, how to get the old jingo?” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and raised his bushy eyebrows.
Bobby thought about hitting him in his fat, perfectly tanned face, pushing him over the brass railing and watching him drop down a couple of floors to bounce off the marble floor of the lobby.
“Working on it, but haven’t come up with anything definite yet, Ben. I’m exploring a number of opportunities.” He didn’t feel the need to mention that the feds had arranged a one o’clock appointment with Noah Denton at Ben’s firm.
“Reason I ask is my firm just may have a need for someone like you.”
“Gee thanks, Ben.”
“Now, Bobby, I wasn’t about to suggest you practice. Good Lord, we’re not crazy. They’re hardly about to reinstate you.” He must have seen the humor before Bobby did because he chuckled again and said, “I mean we’re not that stupid.”
Bobby nodded ever so slightly and thought, we’ll see about that.
“But, actually we might be able to use someone of your, oh, ahhh, talents, shall we say.” Ben chuckled again.
Bobby wasn’t sure what the joke was.
“What, exactly, do you have lined up, Bobby?”
“Lined up?”
“For employment.”
“Actually that’s my next stop, start looking. I’ve got a number of people who want me to contact them. I was just planning to sort of catch my breath for a day or two, before I jumped in.”
Ben nodded, but looked like he didn’t believe a word. “I see, I see, well look, when that falls through please consider us, might not hurt to stop by and just chat,” he said, then produced a business card out of thin air and handed it over.
Chapter Eight
Ben Hinz was famous for grabbing lunch, a sauna and a massage over at the Capitol City Club from noon until about three on most days. Bobby was standing tall in front of the receptionist counter at Denton, Allan, Sawyer and Hinz just before one, hoping Ben Hinz wouldn’t be returning in the next hour.
“I’m here to see Noah Denton. I have a one o’clock appointment,” he said. He could have been wearing an orange jumpsuit labeled Ramsey County and he didn’t think the receptionist would have blinked.
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
“My name is Bobby Custer,” he said and waited for alarm bells to start blaring throughout the offices.
“Let me just check for you,” she said not bothering to look at him. She had salt and pepper hair in a sort of bouffant hair style that looked like it wouldn’t move in a hurricane-force wind. She wore a headset with a thin white microphone that ran along the right side of her jaw. She quickly clicked a number of keys on her key board and then scanned the screen. “I see he’s got a motion hearing at three this afternoon. But, I can’t seem to find your name, anywhere sir. Are you sure your appointment was for today, this afternoon?”
“Yes, one o’clock,” Bobby said, then felt his face flush and the sweat begin to form on his brow.
“Let’s see what we can do,” she said and clicked a few more keys before she stared off into the distance.
“Yes sir, Mr. Denton, sorry to bother you, this is Marci at the front desk. I have a Mr. Custer out here,” she said as she looked up at Bobby and nodded. “He said he had a one o’clock appointment with you, sir, but I don’t seem to have him on your schedule.”
Whatever the response was she remained stoic. “Mmm-hmmm let me check, sir.” She looked up, “You said Bobby?”
“Yes, Custer,” he nodded.
“Yes, that’s correct. All right sir, very good,” she said, then disconnected. “Would you be able to wait a few minutes, Mr. Custer?”
He glanced at his watch pretending he had somewhere else to be that afternoon. “I think I can wait a few minutes,” he said knowing all he had for the rest of the afternoon was the hour-long walk back to his empty apartment.
Two Sports Illustrated later he heard a beep from the front desk and then the receptionist said, “Yes sir, I’ll send him right back.”
He stopped gazing out the window at the river traffic and looked over at her hopefully.
“Mr. Denton can see you now, sir. If you’ll just follow this hall all the way back he’s the large corner office on your right, his name is on the door.”
“Thank you,” Bobby said and headed back to the corner office.
Noah Denton was waiting, posed with an open file on his neatly arranged, massive mahogany desk, the very picture of professional dedication. Beneath his dyed brown hair he wore a navy blue suit with just the hint of a pin stripe and a flash of bright red silk lining from the inside of his coat. He casually looked up, then jumped to his feet as if Bobby’s appearance in the doorway was some sort of unexpected surprise.
“Robert, come in, come in. Sorry for the delay, I didn’t want to alert
our receptionist or anyone else for that matter about our meeting,” he said, charging around his desk with an outstretched hand. He clamped Bobby’s hand in one of those death-defying grips, and proceeded to yank Bobby’s arm off at the elbow, shaking, while all the while muttering, “Robert, yes Robert. Have a seat,” he commanded with a sweeping gesture, then quickly closed the office door and sat down placing his imperial desk between the two of them.
“Robert, Robert, Robert.”
“Nice to meet you, Noah. Please, call me Bobby,” Bobby said, then waited for a very long moment. “I ran into Ben Hinz at the courthouse just this morning.”
It suddenly dawned on Bobby that Ben Hinz was probably just cutting through the courthouse on the way to some social destination, a bookstore, a steam-room or maybe a bar.
Noah Denton nodded, and pretended that seeing Ben at the courthouse made sense. “Oh, so you really did see him? Here I thought you were just, well you know under the circumstances, maybe playing a little coy. Let me get right to the point, you seem to have some rather influential acquaintances,” Denton said, then cleared his throat and glared.
“Well, we’re still in the early stages of our relationship,” Bobby sort of half laughed.
“Just so we understand one another, Custer. Their involvement is really the only reason I ever agreed to talk with you. I find your past conduct nothing short of reprehensible. I’ve been promised there’s not a chance in hell you’ll ever be back practicing. I want to make myself very clear on that point?” he said.
“That’s my understanding, at least at this time.”
Denton ignored that last part and forged ahead. “Let me be completely honest here. I have to say I fought tooth and nail not to have you associated with this firm in any way, shape, or form. You sitting there in that chair, in my office, is not at all what I wanted. I’ve offered my protests and they have apparently fallen on deaf ears. I must say the authorities offered an unfortunately compelling argument or two that forced us into this situation” he said, but didn’t elaborate.
“I appreciate the opportunity.”
“Opportunity? For God’s sake you make it sound like we were given an option. Well, I’ve told you where I stand. The board, in its wisdom voted my suggestions down. What, exactly do you think you might accomplish here?” The implication being since you’re disbarred, can’t practice law and are wasting my time. “What the hell are you going to do?”
“Ben Hinz mentioned something about having a need for my talents.”
“Your talents?” Denton said sounding incredulous.
Bobby nodded.
“I’m not sure what in God’s name he would have meant by that, exactly. Of course you’re no stranger to Bennett Hinz and you know how he operates. I have to say, I’m still inclined to do the right thing and simply send you packing. I have to tell you, Custer I don’t care how long you were in Federal custody. To my mind it wasn’t long enough. You’re a stain on our profession and I, for one, am not the least bit happy with the idea of you having anything to do with this firm.”
Bobby slowly rose to his feet. He was broke, disbarred and sleeping on the floor of an unfurnished efficiency apartment, but the feds and by extension Bobby seemed, for some reason, to have Noah Denton by the short hairs. “If I can be of any help to you please keep me in mind, sir.” He extended his hand, looked Denton in the eye and braced himself for his death squeeze.
Denton remained seated behind his desk and didn’t bother to extend his hand. He fumed for a long moment and waited until Bobby was almost out the door before he said, “You know, there is one thing, possibly.”
Bobby paused at the door.
“We’re involved in the defense of a class action lawsuit. Our client is being sued on some trumped up charges. Anyway, there will be a series of subpoenaed testimonies we’re taking over the next few weeks, not the best class of individuals, in fact some undesirables. Which just might make you the right man for the job, make sure they get here on time, sober and able to respond to questions.” Noah Denton swallowed hard, then spat out the word. “Interested?”
“I just might be.”
“Good, why don’t you leave your phone number at the front desk. If and when this develops we just might call.”
“How about I check in with you instead? I’m having a bit of difficulty with my service provider.” Actually, Bobby didn’t have one, but then again he didn’t have a phone, either.
Noah nodded like he wasn’t fooled and continued on. “You’d have to drive, pick them up, and bring them back to wherever they came from, once they’ve been deposed.”
“I don’t see a problem.”
“You can check with Marci, out at the front desk. She’ll have the information. Of course under these circumstances you’ll only be a contract hire, I want to be very clear on that point. We wouldn’t want you on the firm’s payroll, for obvious reasons. And, it will look more credible if you don’t start immediately.”
“Marci,” Bobby nodded, “I’ll check with her.”
“Please do. In fact, I’d prefer if I didn’t have to see or hear from you, ever. Do I make myself clear?”
“I’ll check with Marci,” Bobby said and closed the door on his way out.
Chapter Nine
“They’ll begin in two days. I’ve a list of six individuals along with their addresses and phone numbers. It all seems pretty straight forward,” Marci said over the phone. Bobby had been checking in with her every day for the past week, twice a day. He wedged the receiver on the payphone between his ear and shoulder, then wrote “2 days” on the back of the envelope.
“All you have to do is pick them up. Once they’ve been deposed here you bring them back home. Really not much more to it than that. Each deposition shouldn’t last more than an hour or two. We’re hoping to have everything completed by the end of the day, Friday.”
There was the little matter of no driver’s license and no car, but he didn’t want to cloud the issue of his employment with petty details.
“We’ll need you to fill out our contractor form. Just the standard sort of thing, you know social security, valid insurance, driver’s license, shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
“Not a problem,” he said, wondering how he was going to pull that off?
“I could email this list to you?” she suggested.
“That’s okay, Marci. I’ll get it from you when I fill out that contractor form. I’m tied up for the rest of the day, I could be down there tomorrow morning if that works.”
“Yes, it will, Mr. Custer, tomorrow then,” her tone suggested she didn’t quite believe him.
“Tomorrow,” he said and hung up the pay phone. He’d have to get moving if he wanted to walk down to the licensing bureau before they closed.
He was posing for his driver’s license photo an hour later. He had passed the test by two points. A fact some might consider too close for comfort, but at this stage didn’t matter to Bobby in the least.
“Okay, and look this way, sir. That’s it, look into the red light. There, I’ll have an image for you in just a moment so you can make sure it’s okay.”
She was an attractive thing, he guessed maybe thirty-five and probably Hispanic from the dark eyes and hair, well and the nametag that read “L. Montez.”
“Would you please just look at the screen here, sir and let me know if this image is acceptable.”
It looked like someone much older staring back at him on the monitor, thinner, maybe a bit dubious-looking, but in the end still Bobby. “Yeah, that’s me, but can you make me look about ten years younger?” he joked.
“So it’s okay?” she asked not finding any humor in his comment.
“Yes, it is.”
“All right, sir, you’ll see your license in the mail in two to three weeks’ time. This temporary license is good for thirty days. Have it in your possession at all times when you’re driving,” she instructed, then handed him a yellow carbon copy of his licen
se application.
“Thank you.”
Chapter Ten
He still needed a set of wheels. He made three phone calls from the pay phone in the lower level of the downtown public library. He was calling former acquaintances, hoping they might help. He left messages on all three calls which was stupid because they couldn’t call him back. This wasn’t working.
He walked a mile and a half up West Seventh Street to a used car lot, of sorts. There were nine cars in the lot under a hand-painted sign advertising FAST EDDIE’S AUTO L. The tail end of the sign had been broken off, just after the letter L. Suggesting maybe there had been another word there at one time like, ‘LOT’ or ‘LAND’.
Eight of the vehicles were priced north of fourteen hundred dollars and out of his price range. There was a faded blue Geo Metro in the back corner with a sign on the dash that said ‘Runs Good’ along with a lot of bird droppings on the windshield.
He crossed the street to a McDonald’s and called the number on the ‘Runs Good’ sign from a pay phone. Fast Eddie answered on the third ring.
“Yeah.”
“I’m calling about a car I saw at Fast Eddie’s.
“You looking to buy?”
“Yeah.” Bobby said wondering why else he would be calling?
“You there now?” Fast Eddie sounded hopeful.
“Actually, I’m just across the street, grabbing a bite at McDonald’s.”
“I’ll be at the lot in just a couple of minutes.”
Fast Eddie looked a little larger than some of the cars on his lot. He appeared to weigh in at about three hundred and seventy five pounds and probably rarely got up off the couch. Sizing him up, Bobby had a tough time believing he had ever been fast.
Eddie eyed Bobby the moment he stepped out of the McDonald’s and watched while he crossed the street.
“You the guy that called?” Fast Eddie asked through a mouthful of chocolate doughnut as Bobby stepped up onto the curb. There was no one else in sight of the car lot.
