Corridor Man

by Mick James

  He parked in his usual spot next to the dumpster and quickly entered the building. He noticed the tape detached from the door before he took the key out of his pocket. He cautiously turned the knob and the door swung open.

  “Bobby, ‘bout time. What’d you bring us for dinner?”

  Kate’s son smiled as he sat in the chair he had pulled away from the window. The chair was angled in such a way that he could keep an eye on the street without really being seen. He watched as Bobby closed the door, then glanced back out onto the street.

  “How’d you get in here?”

  “What? Didn’t you miss me?”

  “I haven’t seen you around the last couple of days, ever since that excitement the other night.”

  “What excitement?” he asked, then stared back out the window. Bobby noticed the bulge against his back and assumed he was carrying a gun of some sort.

  “Yeah right. Who was it?” Bobby asked.

  “Why would you think I know anything about that?”

  “The act is getting pretty old. Either you’re a bad liar or you’re too dumb to know. I don’t happen to think you’re too dumb.”

  “Arundel.” He answered nonchalantly, like he was listing off which day of the week it was or what he’d eaten for breakfast. He returned to staring out the window.

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  He turned slowly and looked in Bobby’s direction, but he wasn’t focused, at least not on Bobby. The cockiness left him for a brief moment and he shook his head ever so slightly. “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “I think that’s what I just said. The man’s dead. Someone took him out, killed him.”

  “Who? I mean, why was he…”

  “You think I’d be sitting on my ass in this dump if I knew the answer to any of that shit?”

  “What was he doing here? In this building?”

  “He wasn’t in your building, Bobby.”

  “But he was here, in the middle of the night. Right?”

  He nodded and went back to looking out the window.

  “So what was he doing here? Does he know someone here? Have a girlfriend? What?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “What did I do? I’ve been gone for four-plus years. Except for my ex-wife, who would probably still like to kill me, I’m off everyone’s radar.”

  “’Cept those two fucks that murdered my mom.”

  “Kate?” Bobby nodded toward the urn on his kitchen counter. “This doesn’t make any sense. I can’t identify anyone. I don’t know who killed her. No one knows for sure if it was even the same two guys who chased us. I never talked to the police, never told anyone about any of that.”

  “Well, they came here looking for you,” he said almost in a whisper.

  “The killers? But, how would they even know who I was? How would they know anything about me, let alone where to find me? Like I said, I’m not on anyone’s radar.”

  “We might have put the word out, sort of, maybe.”

  “You what?”

  “Well, yeah. See we knew who it was soon as you described them, one’s got reddish hair, the other’s is dark and curly with that pig nose.”

  “Pug,” Bobby corrected.

  “Whatever. We let the word out, Arundel and me. Figured they might come looking for you. Guessed they wouldn’t expect to find us, well except they did. They caught Arundel out back in the parking lot. Spotted him standing by that piece of shit you’re driving. Just sort of came outta nowhere, like.”

  “But the cops, they knocked on my door the other morning. I told them I didn’t hear anything, no shots, nothing.”

  “They slit his throat, then left him by the back door. Make it look like he was maybe trying to get in here. ‘Course it don’t really make no difference now, does it?”

  “Did you tell the police? I got a number here you should call. They’ll want to talk to you. In fact, they’ll need to talk to you and find out what the hell you know. I’m sure they’ve got an ongoing investigation….”

  “Shut the hell up, will you? Not you, not me, no one is gonna be calling the cops, Bobby. That ain’t happening. Understand?”

  “This isn’t some game you’re playing, here. This is the real deal. Now a man’s lost his life. A man has been murdered and he was your friend. You’ve got information that….”

  “Shut up, damn it. Jesus Christ, I gotta tell you? For someone who’s supposed to have pulled four years you sure as hell didn’t learn much in there.”

  “Didn’t learn much? Listen here you swaggering little street thug. Let me tell you what I learned. I don’t know what exactly happened to your mother over there on my kitchen counter, but the bottom line is she was murdered. Based on what you just told me I’m guessing the same two guys who took her life murdered your pal Arundel the other night. They murdered him out there in the parking lot because you two dipshits were using me as bait. Weren’t you?”

  His look gave him away and suddenly Bobby knew all he needed to know.

  “Yeah, perfect. You two were going to surprise them, right? Extract your own warped little version of vengeance, like this is some sort of B-grade movie. Of course you happened to be parked out on the street in that one of a kind pimped-out ride of yours that can be spotted from a hundred yards off.”

  He stared back out the window and didn’t say anything.

  “Perfect, how very professional. I suppose the two of you planned to settle this in your own little tough guy hoodlum way. Sneak up behind them and shoot them a half-dozen times in the back. Let me take a wild guess, the dome light goes on inside the car when you open the door. Right? So you can announce to everyone when you’re going to begin sneaking around. God, other than shooting them and then doing your celebration dance, did you even have a plan? And thanks, by the way for using me as bait. You know maybe if you’d kept me informed, told me your name or some of the other secret shit that seems to not be going your way, maybe things could have worked out differently. At least they may have worked out differently for your hapless dead pal, Arundel.”

  “Precious.”

  “What?”

  “Precious. My name, you’re standing there bitching that you wanted to know, so I’m telling you. It’s Precious.”

  “Precious?”

  “You got a problem with that?”

  “No, no problem. That’s what everyone calls you? Precious?”

  He looked back out the window. “They call me Prez.”

  “Precious, Prez?”

  “It’s what they call me, man.”

  “Okay, I’m cool with that, I get it. So, what do you plan to do, Prez? I’m guessing what happened to Arundel just made whoever slit his throat that much bolder. And you think it might be the two guys who killed Kate?”

  “There’s no think about it.”

  “Well no offense, but I’d like to have a little stronger confirmation than your hunch that the same….”

  “Dubuque and Mobile,” he said staring out the window.

  “What?”

  “Dubuque and Mobile, that’s their names. They’re brothers. The ones that killed Kate and then they killed Arundel the other night.”

  “It sounds like something off a rightwing propaganda sheet. Dubuque and Mobile, like the towns? And you know this how?”

  “I know it. You described them. We knew who they were right away. They killed some guy a few weeks back, name of O’Brien. Contract sort of thing. Arundel was going to wait for them inside, except they jumped…”

  “You saw this happen, didn’t you? You actually saw them murder Arundel. Have you told any of this to the cops? Oh, God, why do I even bother to ask? Of course you haven’t. Because you have some master plan, right? A master plan which so far seems to be that first Kate and now Arundel get murdered by these two assholes.”

  Prez gave a small shrug and continued to stare out the window.

 
“So, I’m guessing you’re between a rock and a hard place here. You know who did this, but if you go to the police that opens the door to all sorts of other activity, correct?”

  He gave the slightest of shrugs in response.

  “And they’re going to be out there, somewhere, looking for me because you put the word out that I know who they are. Didn’t you?”

  He nodded slightly, but kept staring out the window.

  “Jesus Christ. Okay, look, you’re staying for dinner. I hope you like chicken thighs and roasted potatoes. You want some Doritos?”

  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.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “This is it here,” Prez said as they pulled up in front of Arundel’s residence. A little wood frame two-story house with peeling paint and what looked like a converted attic bedroom.

  “And he owned this place?”

  “Free and clear, man.”

  “You sure? It wouldn’t be the first time someone lied to a friend about owning a home.”

  “Yeah, it was his mom’s. She died four, maybe five years ago. Far as I know it’s the only place he ever lived. I got the keys, man.”

  “Any other family?”

  “Just a sister, not sure if she’s still alive or not. Most times she was too far gone to even know her own name. You shouldn’t have to worry ‘bout her.”

  “Prez, I can’t move in here,” Bobby said.

  “What? You gonna just let it go. It’s a house man, like I said, free and clear. The damn place is paid for.”

  “I don’t know, just a wild guess, Arundel is murdered outside my building and then I, just out of prison and with no apparent history or connection move into his house. You think the authorities might have some questions about that?”

  “So what? I’m ‘sposed to just walk away from it?”

  “No. We use our heads. First thing we do is get a power of attorney filed.”

  “A what?”

  “Power of attorney. It’s a legal document that says should anything ever happen to Arundel, if he’s sick or injured in a car crash or he’s hit by lightning it allows you to sign legal documents on his behalf.”

  “But he’s already dead.”

  “Yeah, well. I’ll draw it up, backdate the thing, and get it filed. We’ll do up a will, too a
nd now that I think of it maybe put everything in a trust for you. Get the same documents for you leaving everything to Arundel.”

  “Why the hell would I do that, the poor bastard’s already dead?”

  “It makes everything look legit, like the two of you did it as a favor to one another. It could eliminate some questions down the road and folks poking their nose in where you don’t want them.”

  It was clear Prez was in unchartered territory. “Uh-huh.”

  “I might still have a contact at County who can help us out. It’s gonna cost you a couple of grand, but look at it this way, you’re getting this house almost for free and it’ll be legal, more or less. God, I hope she’s still working there.”

  “I don’t want to live here. I already got a place.”

  Bobby looked at him for a long moment. “You aren’t going to live here, Prez. You’re going to do some modest repairs and then rent the place out. I’ll draw up a limited partnership listing you as the principle. Once we’ve established this as a business enterprise, and that’s going to take at least a year, we’ll move on to acquire other properties.”

  “Huh. So why you doing this?” he asked, eyeing Bobby suspiciously.

  “Well, just for starters I’ve still got your friends Dubuque and Mobile looking for me. Now let’s go inside and check this place out. Never know what we’ll find.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  What they found was pretty much what Bobby had expected. Home decorating that screamed 1980, a Foosball table in the dining area and undergarments from at least a half-dozen different women. The place had clearly been searched, but it hadn’t been trashed.

  They were standing in Arundel’s bedroom. Bobby guessed the bed hadn’t been made in weeks and the sheets probably hadn’t been changed in months. The closet door was wide open and crammed with close to a hundred T-shirts on hangers. A variety of running shoes, red, bright green, and glow-in-the-dark orange were scattered around the room.

  A couple of drawers of an old wooden dresser were pulled halfway out. The two smaller top drawers had been dumped onto the bed, which accounted for the pile of gloves, loose change and cords to charge various devices. It was still impossible to tell if the mess was the result of an extensive search or if Arundel simply lived like a slob.