Corridor Man: Auditor

by Nick James

  “Bobby. Hey, Bobby, get your ass up here.”

  Kate Clarken’s son was standing in his apartment, yelling out the window waving from behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Bobby still wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t think of any other option so he went inside. He knew he’d locked the door before he left, but it was half open as he climbed the final flight of stairs to the third floor.

  Kate’s son smiled as Bobby stepped inside. He was sipping what Bobby presumed was one of the two cans of coke he’d had in the refrigerator. What looked like the other can rested on the window sill, half crushed and apparently empty.

  “Been looking for you, Bobby.”

  “Just walked to the grocery store to get some air freshener and cleaning supplies. I had the windows open to air all this stuff out, it smelled like cigarette smoke and I was hoping to get rid of the smell. I think all it did was stink up the entire apartment. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where this stuff came from, would you?”

  He smiled and held out the palms of his hands in mock surrender. “Just a friendly little way of saying thanks and helping you out at the same time, man.”

  “Thanks? For what?”

  “For trying to help my mom, dumb shit. Not like she had a lot of friends. Tell you the truth she didn’t have any, unless you were buying. I mean she was my mom and all, but I’d be the first to tell you she could be awfully mean and she was pretty much totally worthless, and those were her good points,” he joked.

  “Where did you get all this?”

  “Like it,” again with the smile.

  Bobby dodged the direct answer. “Well, it’s certainly better than the stuff I didn’t have. But you must have brought it up here in the middle of the night. I mean, it was all piled up against the door first thing this morning.”

  “Arundel and me, it all belonged to my mom. Pretty obvious, she’s got no use for this shit now,” he laughed.

  “Did you get it from her apartment? That little third floor place over in Frog Town?”

  He pulled off the sunglasses and eyed Bobby suspiciously. “You been there?”

  “Never inside. I just knocked on the door once. Whoever answered told me to look for Kate, your mom, at Moonies or Foxies. That’s how I knew to go to those places. Otherwise I never would have found her. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t determine if it was a man or a woman who answered that door.”

  He nodded. “That would have been Cookie.”

  “Cookie?”

  “Yeah, hard to believe, but I guess she was something in her day, used to dance all over the state.”

  “Dance?”

  He nodded. “You know, among other things. Used to be able to name her price from what I hear.”

  Bobby shook his head. “You’re right, it is hard to believe.”

  “She crashes there sometimes. I guess she wasn’t there when we grabbed this stuff, at least I didn’t see here. Suppose she could have been passed out in a closet or out in the hallway.” He said it absently as if it was a logical possibility. “But this stuff is gonna work out for you, right? Like you said, better than what you didn’t have.”

  “No, I mean, yeah, I appreciate it. I’m sorry things are kind of tight on my end. I really can’t pay you for all this right now.”

  “What the hell you talking about? You don’t have to pay me, man. I owed you. Course, now we’re even,” he said and fixed Bobby with a quick stare. “I hope you don’t mind, but I put the bed together for you. God the stories that thing could tell.” He took two steps over to the bed, placed his hand on the headboard and rocked it back and forth causing the frame to squeak. “Yeah, that brings back memories.”

  “God, I wish I had something else to offer you. I got a half eaten bag of Doritos?”

  “No thanks.”

  Bobby sort of half laughed and thought, since we’re pals now it might be nice to know your name. “One thing, I don’t think you ever told me your name?”

  “You’re right, I didn’t,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Despite the tales the bed could tell it was a lot better than sleeping on the floor and Bobby slept wonderfully. An uneventful day followed, most of which was spent in the hallway on the fifth floor of the courthouse, waiting while individuals gave their testimony. The case was some sort of class action suit brought against a company theoretically providing flood insurance.

  Like so many cases the devil was in the details. He was delivering people to and from the courthouse who lived along sections of the Mississippi river. Judging from the homes, all very nice, he would guess the places used to flood or were in danger of flooding maybe once every fifty years. Beginning in 2008 they’d flooded six out of the last eight years and the term “flood of the century” had been relegated to the dust bin. This past spring’s flooding had been particularly bad.

  It was a no-win deal for everyone involved, home owners, municipalities, even the insurance companies who Bobby usually had no patience with. He was glad to get home and spray another heavy dose of air freshener and rub furniture polish on his recent acquisitions.

  He parked the Geo in the back of the building and then, as had become his routine, he walked the four blocks up to the retail corner and did some shopping. He had written a grocery list, consisting of six basic items on the back of a Courthouse tourist brochure.

  He was almost home, squeezing between his Geo and the dumpster when he caught sight of an SUV with forty-inch chrome wheel rims and dark tinted windows parked across the street and down maybe half a block. He was not in the mood for company tonight.

  Resigned to his fate he climbed the stairs, unlocked the apartment door and walked in. No one was there to welcome him. Thank God. It’s not like there were a lot of places to hide, but just to be sure he checked the bathroom, the closet and looked under the bed. Nothing. Kate’s ashes still sat on a corner of the kitchen counter.

  It took him no more than half a minute to put the groceries away. He put the TV dinner in the oven and glanced out the window. Everything looked okay. He ate his dinner, read the grocery circular he’d found in the bag and then sat in the dark looking out the window and waiting for the expected visitor that never showed up.

  He went to bed about eleven, sleeping fitfully and waking a half dozen times to get up and look out the window. The SUV remained parked across the street with not so much as an inkling of activity. He heard someone walking down the outside hallway a little after four in the morning, but the footsteps were followed by a lock snapping open and an apartment door slamming closed. Most likely one of the neighbors he’d never met coming home after a late night.

  He stared out the window onto an empty street while he ate a bowl of oatmeal. Then he dressed and got ready for another day of watching the second hand on the clock take its own sweet time while he cooled his heels in the courthouse hallway.

  He was back home by four that afternoon and couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had the sense someone had been in his apartment. Not that there was anything worth stealing unless you counted one of the four beers on the bottom shelf of his refrigerator.

  He made his evening pilgrimage up to the retail area where he purchased a roll of scotch tape and for some unknown reason decided to pocket a Milky Way candy bar. He kept his eyes peeled but didn’t spot the black SUV anywhere on the street. He sat with the lights off in the apartment and ate a chicken sandwich looking out the window as night fell then finally turned in a little before midnight.

  He was up at two to use the bathroom. He left the lights off and walked to the window. There it was, the SUV, parked across the street, almost where it had been the night before. He was tempted to go out there and ask Kate Clarken’s son what he thought he was up to. Upon brief reflection he decided that wouldn’t be the best idea and went back to bed. When he checked an hour later the SUV still hadn’t moved.

  It dawned on Bobby that maybe the vehicle was just parked there and the occupant was either in one of the apart
ments in the building or one of the homes up the street. Between the tinted windows and the dark of night he couldn’t tell if the thing was occupied.

  He left to make his first pick-up at eight forty-five the following morning. Once he locked the door he attached a length of scotch tape to the frame and then to the door itself, just opposite the lower hinge. If someone opened the door in his absence they’d pull the tape off and he’d know he had been visited.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was the fourth day twiddling his thumbs in the same hallway of the courthouse. The retired school teacher he’d brought in for testimony in a reckless driving case was fascinated with the whole legal process and had reentered the courtroom, pen in hand, to observe and record.

  He was left to his own devices out in the hallway, slogging through the historical romance novel he’d pocketed in the basement coffee shop. Love’s Dark Fury had the same woman involved in an affair with Confederate and Union commanders on the eve of the Battle at Gettysburg. Just in case the previous days weren’t long enough this tale made the clock come to a complete stop. He made a mental note to get a library card and a decent book as he turned to the next page.

  “Mr. Custer, Bobby, is that really you?”

  He looked up and although it had been almost five years since the one time they’d met he recognized Everett Zeller. Of course it hadn’t been everyday he’d been arrested and hauled out of his office in handcuffs so, given the circumstances it had been difficult for Bobby to forget.

  “Sergeant Everett Zeller,” Bobby said, drawing out each word. For a moment he debated pushing the man over the railing, but there were too many potential witnesses to get away with it.

  “What are you doing here, Bobby? It’s gone that fast, six, or was it seven years?” Zeller seemed to be taking great joy in suggesting to anyone within earshot that Bobby should still be behind bars. Thankfully, they were the only two out in the hallway waiting for the world to pass them by.

  “Sorry to disappoint, Sergeant, but I was out in just four plus. Good behavior.”

  “Amazing,” Zeller said shaking his head like he really couldn’t believe it.

  Bobby wasn’t sure if the amazing part was just the four plus years of his life that had apparently passed so quickly for Zeller, or the idea that Bobby would have been released early due to good behavior.

  “Still keeping the world safe?” Bobby asked.

  “We try. Of course there’s always someone who thinks they’re a lot more clever than we are.” He nodded ever so slightly indicating Bobby. Then shook his head some more. “Humph, amazing, just four years. Simply amazing.”

  Bobby smiled.

  “You’re not thinking of practicing again, are you?”

  “Just helping out these days, Sergeant. Like you, I’m just doing my best to see that justice is served and trying to be a responsible citizen.”

  Zeller nodded and began to leave, then turned and said, “You know, I wonder if I did hear something. Your name wouldn’t have come up in connection with some gangland slaying, now would it?”

  “My name?” Bobby gave him a look suggesting he had lost his mind. “Sorry to disappoint, but not very likely.”

  “Hmmm-mmm, just wondering is all. You know the, how shall we say, liaisons one might make behind bars.”

  “Based on the sort of individuals I was with, I think about the only information I’d have would be a list of beaches in the Caribbean.”

  Zeller looked at Bobby like he wasn’t following.

  “Off-shore accounts, Sergeant.” Bobby said, then watched the light flash across Zeller’s face.

  “Ev, you ready? Let’s go.” A voice called from behind. A lean guy with coke-bottle glasses, a dark suit and matching briefcase walked up from the direction of the rest rooms. He slowed but didn’t stop as he gave Bobby a nod and continued making his way toward the elevator.

  “I’m sure we’ll be in touch. Enjoy that romance book,” Zeller chuckled and began to follow.

  “Thanks for the warning, Sergeant,” Bobby replied, then watched the two of them as they disappeared around the corner toward the elevators. Mercifully the retired school teacher emerged ten minutes later ready to go home.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The ride back to her building was quiet. She sat in the back seat oblivious to everything around her while she studied her notes from the day’s proceedings.

  “Here we are, back in the same day,” Bobby said and quickly pulled to the curb in front of the old Commodore Hotel. The place had been converted to exclusive condominiums a good thirty plus years ago, but the conversion construction still seemed to be on going.

  “What, here already?” she asked looking up.

  “Goes quickly, doesn’t it?” Bobby said, wishing she would make it that much faster by just getting out of his car.

  “Do you think I could go back down there tomorrow?”

  He half turned to face her in the backseat. “Tomorrow? Didn’t you finish your testimony today? I didn’t think they were planning to call you back on the stand tomorrow.”

  “Oh, no I’ve finished with my testimony. But, I was just so fascinated I thought it would be fun to go down and watch. Well, maybe not just tomorrow, but the entire process until it’s conclusion for that matter. Who knows where all this could lead,” she said, then waved her notebook in the air.

  “It’s open. I mean anyone can go in there and watch. Unfortunately, much as I would like, I wouldn’t be able to give you a ride downtown.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to,” she said, then seemed to give an involuntary shudder as she quickly glanced around the interior of the car. “I’ll just drive myself.”

  “Well, if you do that make sure you park in one of the ramps. They’ll ticket you on the street if you run a minute over and I think there’s a maximum two hour limit on parking with those new meters.” He waited a long moment for some sort of response, but didn’t get one.

  “Thank you, enjoy your evening,” she said eventually, then quickly got out and walked briskly toward the door.

  He drove back downtown to the main public library and got a library card. He took out a couple of books and left Love’s Dark Fury on a table in one of the reading rooms as a civic contribution before he drove home.

  He climbed the stairs to his apartment and had the key in the lock when he remembered the scotch tape. He glanced down and sure enough the tape had been pulled loose from the door. Someone had gone inside.

  He unlocked the door and stepped into his unit. It seemed quiet. He walked through the place checking the bathroom and the small closet. That took all of about fifteen seconds. No one was there and after a cursory glance nothing seemed to be out of place. Kate Clarken remained untouched on the kitchen counter.

  About an hour after nightfall he glanced out of the window and there was the SUV, parked out on the street. He was tempted to go knock on the window, but then what? He sat in the dark and stared at the SUV until close to midnight, then went to bed.

  He read his borrowed newspaper the following morning. On the way out he attached another piece of scotch tape to the door, then returned the newspaper to the front entry. The SUV was nowhere to be seen.

  His day was spent delivering almost a dozen subpoenas around town. He had to have a signed receipt on each one so in four instances he delivered the things to people at their work place. Fortunately none of it came as a surprise and there were no incidents. Two of the subpoenas went undelivered because the individuals weren’t home. He returned them to Marci at the end of the day. She looked up at him as he handed the undelivered notices to her across the receptionist counter.

  “On these two no one was home,” he said.

  “Did you even go back and try a second time?”

  “Actually, I went back twice for a total of three times,” he lied. She’d have no way of verifying.

  “And they didn’t answer the door?”

  “There didn’t seem to be anyone home. I
even went around to the backyard, you know in case they were gardening. That was at the Mendel place, the other one, who is it, Johnson?”

  “Johansson.” She read off the envelope.

  “That’s a security building, so all I could do was call them on the security phone from downstairs. No one ever answered. They could have just been out shopping or on a week-long jaunt out to Las Vegas.” He shrugged.

  “Unimpressive,” she mumbled.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Well, I suppose we’ll have to attempt to deliver these again. I’ll have someone reach these individuals by phone first. Plan on calling in first thing tomorrow instead of just showing up, no sense racking up your hours if it’s unnecessary.” She squinted and flashed a toothy grin that struck him as more like baring her teeth than a smile.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Marci.”

  She didn’t bother to look up, which meant he’d apparently been dismissed.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The piece of tape had been pulled from the door, again. He’d placed it in a slightly different spot this morning just in case there was something on the door that had caused it to release. He was convinced someone was going through his apartment every day but he couldn’t figure out why. There was nothing to see or find for that matter and once through the place you wouldn’t think of returning a second time. Was it whoever had murdered Kate? Kate’s son? The feds? It didn’t seem to make any sense.

  He walked up to the retail area and noticed on the way that he hadn’t seen anything hanging from that particular clothesline since the night he’d stolen the bath towels. He bought a four-pack of skinless chicken breasts listed as a manager’s special. On the way home he searched up and down the street and on the side streets. If the SUV was lurking somewhere he was unable to see it.

  He applied another coat of furniture polish and sprayed more air freshener while the chicken baked. He glanced out the window halfway through his chicken sandwich and saw the SUV parked up the block. It was dark outside and with the tinted windows it was impossible to tell if the thing was occupied. Once again he decided against walking up to the vehicle and knocking on the window. He kept the apartment light off, grabbed his book and read in the bathroom behind the closed door.