by Nick James
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I still don’t get why you won’t go to the police,” Bobby said. He’d left the lights off in the apartment and they had finished their dinner in the dark.
Bobby was leaning against the kitchen counter while Prez sat looking out the window. Although night had fallen outside he could still make his figure out in the chair silhouetted against the window.
“What part aren’t you picking up? Having the cops come in just opens me up to all sorts of problems. They’ll do a search of my place. Next, they’ll want to know everything from who I’m sleeping with to where do I get my money. I really don’t need any of their bullshit investigation coming down on top of me. Okay? God, they’ve already been through Arundel’s place, carried out bags of evidence including close to thirty grand in cash, thirty grand that by rights belongs to me.”
“You two were keeping that much on hand, just lying around, thirty grand? Planning to invest it somewhere?”
“Lying around? No, not really. How dumb do I look? We had it hidden. Arundel kept it in a shoe box in a space under the floor.”
“Gee, amazing they found it?”
“You’re being a wise ass, right?”
“I’m going to guess it was in his bedroom. Just for the record, most people hide their valuables in the bedroom. So a shoe box under the bedroom floor isn’t really rocket science.”
“So where would you hide it?”
“I wouldn’t, at least not in a shoe box under the floor.”
“What?”
“You start to lose money the moment you decide to hide it like that. You need to launder that stuff, get it invested and producing a revenue stream for you. It’s what you guys never understand. Cash in hand does not make you wealthy.”
“Invested, you mean like stocks and that sort of shit? Talk about stealing, Jesus Christ, talk about crime.”
“No, not stocks, at least not right now. But there are a lot of opportunities that can present themselves. A small investment in a business, a bar, certain types of real estate. Places where you can write off losses and gradually show a gain, maybe an increase in property value. A taxi business could be a great revenue stream for you or maybe even a bar.”
“Taxi. You think I want to drive a taxi around town? Just for starters, it’s dangerous,” he laughed.
“You don’t actually have to drive a taxi. Maybe a limo would be a better option. The key is it’s basically a cash business, same with a bar.”
“That how you got nailed?”
“Me? No, I got nailed just like everyone else. I was stupid, well, and impatient. I’ve maybe learned a thing or two since.”
Prez nodded, but Bobby couldn’t determine if he really understood.
“You stockpile cash, I don’t care how much, you’re just never really going to get ahead. If you do some research you’ll find there are tons of guys who are sitting on a pile of cash one day and the next day they’re broke again. Why? Cause they didn’t have a plan. Or they had half a plan. They got the cash, but then what? You have to plan carefully and keep a low profile, always.”
“That what you’re doing? Keeping a low profile by driving that piece of shit out there with the windshield all shot up. That’s your plan?”
“No. I’m just starting over, but this time I plan on doing it right.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bobby went to bed a little after midnight. He presumed Prez slept, but he didn’t know for sure. He did know Prez was staring out the window when Bobby fell asleep and he was staring out the same window when he woke up at six the following morning. Bobby had also come to a decision.
“How about some coffee?” he asked coming out of the bathroom.
“Yeah,” Prez grunted.
“You see anything last night?”
“Actually, I been doing some thinking, ‘bout what you said. Working smart and all.”
“Get your money working for you. It takes time, just like anything else, but it can be done. Just think what it would be like to wake up on the first of every month and you know all your bills are paid. That can start to make for a very happy life.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Maybe? Look, without giving me specifics I’m guessing your pal Arundel isn’t the first guy you know who checked out of here that way. Right?”
Prez just stared at Bobby.
“I’m also guessing, just by its nature, whatever business you’re in, there will always be some guy who is faster, more violent, has more people, better contacts or is just plain luckier. I don’t even know exactly what you do. But I can tell you there probably aren’t a lot of old guys who have been doing the same thing. Don’t you ever get tired of always looking over your shoulder? Looking out the window of a dumpy apartment waiting for a couple of guys to show up who want to kill you.”
“They’ll be showing up to kill you, not me.”
“We’re going to deal with that, too. But we’re going to do it with a plan in place, not some knee jerk reaction that ends up getting you thrown in jail for the next fifteen years or God forbid, ending up like Arundel. By the way, just to keep you interested, these two guys, what’s their name? Dubuque and Moline?”
“Mobile. Dubuque and Mobile, I guess it’s a town, Mobile.”
Bobby let that go. “Those two idiots most likely have a list. I might be at the top, but you better believe your name is probably number two, right behind me.”
“So then what’s your great idea?”
“We make some coffee, then pick your brain on those two and we go after them. Get to them before they get to me and then you.”
Over a breakfast of oatmeal with bananas and a second pot of coffee they formulated their plan…
To be continued…
Bobby Custer is just beginning to get warmed up. You can check him out in Corridor Man: 1. The series should be read in order, just click on the appropriate link.
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Mike Faricy
Foiled
Foiled
Chapter One
We were out on Angie’s deck sitting in the hot tub, just the two of us. She was a petite little thing of Korean ancestry with jet-black, shoulder length hair, flashing brown eyes, a delicious little figure, and weighed no more than a hundred and five pounds. That said, I’d met her at my karate class where she was the instructor. She’d proven on more than one occasion she’d have no problem using me to clean the floor.
We’d been in the hot tub long enough that I was almost through the six-pack of Finnegans Hoppy Shepherd. It’s a pretty good beer, so actually it hadn’t taken all that long. I opened the cooler to grab another and realized there was only one left. Then I noticed Angie was still on her first, and as a matter of fact, not even halfway through.
“You’re having another?” she asked.
I’d just opened the beer and the satisfied gasp from the bottle had apparently caught her attention.
“Yeah, I mean, with all the hot water and the jacuzzi, I have to stay hydrated,” I joked and took a sip.
She shook her head, she’d been doing that a lot lately. After a moment she gave a long sigh, like she’d suddenly come to some sort of momentous decision, and stood up. I immediately did a thorough scan of her gorgeous body and set my beer down, ready to welcome her with open arms.
“I’ll be back in just a minute,” she said and climbed out of the hot tub. She grabbed her towel off the chair and just threw it over her shoulder, not bothering to wrap it around her, a fact I appreciated. I stared as she walked into the house and disappeared from view. She was back two-thirds of a beer later. She stepped onto the deck, grabbed a lawn chair and dragged it over to the edge of the hot tub.
“You got any beer in the fridge?”
She gave another long sigh, then grabbed the
belt on her terrycloth robe and cinched it tighter. Just in case I missed that not-so-subtle hint, she turned off the jacuzzi and the heater. “We need to talk,” she said, then sat down in the lawn chair and tightly crossed her legs. Any sense of romance basically evaporated. Past experience warned me that any time a woman said, “We need to talk,” it was a safe bet the conversation wasn’t going to go my way.
“Dev, you can be really fun… sometimes. But I’m sort of looking for something a little more stable and a lot more permanent.”
“Two words not too often applied to me,” I joked.
“I’m aware of that,” she said, not seeing the humor. “I thought with a little encouragement, maybe some direction, God forbid a modicum of discipline, you might change. That now appears to be a distinct impossibility…” She went on from there, backing up her hypothesis by listing example after example for the next forty-five minutes. I was out of beer. My skin was all wrinkled and prune-like.The hot tub where I’d been relaxing was now just lukewarm. I wasn’t sure if I should hit myself over the head with an empty beer bottle or just slip beneath the water.
“…could be really sweet, but I don’t want to hang out in bars night after night. Your dog always eats my thongs. It would be nice sometime to go to bed and, I don’t know, maybe just talk about how the day went or something.”
“Talk about how the day went?” I didn’t get it.
“You know what I mean, Dev?”
Actually, I didn’t, or maybe I really did. “So, do I know him?”
“What?”
“I’m guessing you’ve met someone and you find him a better fit than me. Right?”
“No.” But she said it in a tone that made me think I’d hit a nerve.
I climbed out of the hot tub, grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my waist. “Give me a minute to get changed and I’ll get out of here.”
She just nodded and I slowly made my way to the door, waiting for her to offer an alternative, maybe continue the ‘discussion’ in the bedroom. She didn’t make the offer.
I made my way into her bedroom, pulled on my shorts and t-shirt, slipped my sandals on and turned off the bedroom light. I peeked out the corner of her bedroom window and watched while she sent a text to someone. At a quarter to twelve on a Wednesday night I guessed she was letting whoever it was know the deed had been done.
I turned on the kitchen light as I went back out to the deck, alerting her to my approach. Her phone was nowhere to be seen when I stepped onto the deck. “Angie, I’m going to take off, I…”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you had to go,” she said then stood up and hurried toward the front door.
I attempted to catch up. “Yeah, I suppose I could hang around and talk about how the day went. But if I hurry, I can get down to The Spot before close. You sure you don’t want to come?” I said, then gave her a kiss on the cheek. “See you around.”
She held the front door open, then said “Goodbye, Dev, it’s been…interesting,” as I went out the door. I hadn’t taken three steps before the lock snapped shut behind me. I hopped in my car and hurried down to The Spot.
Chapter Two
Morton was in his bed next to my desk, busy working over a new rawhide toy. I’d been studying the girls in the third-floor apartment across the street from my office for the past thirty minutes. Something was up, they had two sleepover guests, possibly sisters. All four of them were in thongs and curlers, sipping champagne, eating coffee cake and applying makeup at just a little after ten in the morning. There must have been music playing, because one of the girls was shaking everything she had while another was singing into her champagne flute and making moves like she was playing Madison Square Garden. At this rate they’d be lucky if they were still on their feet by noon. I bet none of them were interested in talking about how their day went. I thought about going over there and offering encouragement.
I turned at the sound of someone knocking on the door frame, Morton was too involved with his rawhide to notice. She looked familiar, maybe, but I was blanking on a name. Maybe an even five-four, blonde, blue eyes, nice figure and silver earrings that dangled a stone. Diamonds, I guessed.
“Hi, Dev, long time no see.”
I recognized the space between her front teeth. Bonnie Lowry, from Climax, Minnesota, if I recalled correctly, and given the name, who could forget? I always thought that space between her teeth was cute. She was right on the money with the ‘long time no see’ remark. I’d met her at a wedding a good ten years ago. A guy I knew had married her sister, Chrissy and Bonnie had been a bridesmaid. She’d first caught my attention standing up on the altar in her bridesmaid’s dress, light blue if I remembered. Although the dress wasn’t what had attracted my attention.
The butterfly tattoo on her back certainly wasn’t the only tattoo among the bridesmaids. They all had ink. It’s just that Bonnie’s butterfly happened to be a well-endowed, anatomically correct, naked woman, with butterfly wings. It shouldn’t have been surprising, after all, this was a theme wedding, Jack Daniels being the theme. It was one of the few weddings I’d been to where there was a fight. The only wedding I could recall where the fight had been between two bridesmaids, Bonnie and another girl.
The following morning she couldn’t remember what they’d fought about. Actually, she couldn’t remember the fight, but then again, she couldn’t remember my name, either. I gave her my business card when I drove her home, hoping she’d call. She never did.
“Bonnie Lowry,” I said and watched as she strutted toward one of my client chairs.
“Yeah, baby, told you I’d call.”
“I just didn’t think it would take you ten years.”
“You could have called me, phone works both ways,” she said.
“I’d need your number to do that. Remember, that was one of the things you were going to call me about, your phone number.”
“Oh, yeah, I s'pose. I guess I took a little detour. I got married to a guy for a while, divorced the deadbeat. Got three kids, now.”
“Really. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty good on most days.”
“So what brings you around?”
She glanced at the binoculars I’d set on the desk, then looked over my shoulder and out the window. “I see you’re still investigating.”
“I’m into bird watching.”
“Sure you are. Mind if I sit down?”
“Oh, please, please. You want some coffee?”
“Yeah, I guess I’d take a mug, black. I mean, if you’re having some.”
The coffee pot was on top of the file cabinet. Fortunately, my officemate, Louie had left his mug next to the pot. Maybe a half-inch of yesterday’s coffee sat in the mug. I stepped into the closet, poured the coffee into the sink and refilled Louie’s mug.
The entire process couldn’t have taken more than twenty seconds. By the time I set the mug in front of her, Bonnie was looking across the street through the binoculars. “I see you’re watching large-breasted chickadees,” she said, then shook her head and set the binoculars down. She gave me a look as if to say, ‘It figures’, then took a sip of coffee. She sort of grimaced and pushed the mug as far away from her as possible.
“So what can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure, and maybe there’s nothing you can do. But I have to try something. I’ve got a small business.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, started out on the kitchen table a couple of years back, actually one of the many reasons for my divorce. I should back up. I took a bunch of night classes on computers and the internet and then I started going freelance, you know building a website for one business, helping someone else market products, helping another company build a customer base. Anyway, I’m into online action.”
“Online action? You putting selfies out there?” I joked.
Suddenly a serious look spread across her face. “I only did that once. Well, okay, maybe a couple of times, but I’ll be the fir
st to admit it wasn’t my brightest idea. I think there were some beverages involved. How did you see them?”
“Actually, I was just joking, Bonnie.”
“Oh, yeah, I ahhh, I knew that. Anyway, here’s the deal. The people I work with, my clients, are all competing in one way or another with Amazon. So, I’ve been working to give them, my clients, a higher profile and then, theoretically, more business. It takes a lot of time, and at the end of the day I only have a finite amount of time. Whether it’s eight hours or sixteen hours a day, at some point I’m limited. See what I’m saying?”
“Sort of, I’m not sure how I would fit in. The last thing you want is me on your computer or marketing your customer’s products. I’d drive everyone out of business.”
“Actually that doesn’t really surprise me. For the past year I’ve been working nights and weekends developing a software product that would make it easy for my customers to do what I’m doing for them now.”
“But wait a minute, wouldn’t that put you out of business?”
“It would put me out of the business I’m currently in. But I could increase my client base by thousands, millions actually, if I can get people to buy this new software package.”
“Sounds great, I wouldn’t really have a use for it, but I wish you all success and…”
“Let me finish. I’ve got a partner, Ignatius Arnold. I want you to watch him.”
“Watch him? Are you afraid he’s going to rip you off or…?”
“No, no, nothing like that. He’s special. A very special person. What I’m trying to say is he doesn’t quite relate to the real world. He’s brilliant, a computer genius, as a matter of fact. But he has a lot of issues. He’s very vulnerable, and I think at least one of my competitors is trying to take advantage of him.”
“Is he some kind of nerd?”
