Corridor Man

by Mick James

  “Yeah, I heard things got a little animated.”

  He gave her a questioning look as he picked up the rest of the files. “Animated?”

  She mouthed the word “Noah”.

  “Oh, that was nothing. No big deal.”

  She stared at him with a funny sort of look on her face, then took the files from him. “And you’re sure you’re not with the State, the feds or the IRS?”

  “No, honest. Why?”

  She took a thick file from off the top of the stack and hung it inside the file drawer, then glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said in a low voice. “It’s just that he can be such an asshole and well, I don’t know, he seems to be treading very carefully around you. I’ve just never seen it before, none of us have.” She gave a quick glance with raised eyebrows, then took two more files and hung them back in the drawer, one at a time.

  “Maybe he just really likes me,” Bobby joked.

  She half laughed. “Maybe, but that would be a first. Don’t take it personal, but I think the only person he has ever liked, ever been impressed with, is himself.”

  “I just asked him about his car catching fire and well, understandably it was an upsetting experience. I’m sure there was a logical reason…”

  “Yeah, hello. The logical reason was someone set the thing on fire, firebombed it. That’s why it was burning in his driveway.”

  She took the last three files.

  “Firebombed it? That’s probably a little extreme, don’t you think? I mean you hear about recalls all the time for faulty fuel pumps or starters, that sort of thing. I’m not a car guy, but I’m sure it was something mechanical and once they have a chance…”

  “Something mechanical? Are you kidding? Somebody spray painted some sort of threat on his driveway, then firebombed his car,” she said and grabbed another file.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, one of the girls drove past it. You can still see it, where the spray paint is and then where the car was on fire.”

  “What does it say?”

  “I guess it’s all blacked out. You know, painted over so no one can read it.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Pretty creepy if you ask me. I mean he didn’t come in the next day. Mr. Denton never misses work, he’s here like seven days a week. Always has been for like forty-five years. It’s almost as if he was hiding or something.”

  “Maybe he was filing a police report?”

  She shot him a disbelieving look. “Hardly. If that were the case, believe me, we’d be involved somehow. That sort of paperwork thingy, he leaves all that kind of shit for us worker bees.” She shrugged and smiled, then pushed the drawer closed and locked it using the key around her wrist.

  “Thanks for letting me go over those. I’ll probably be giving you a call on Monday to get them back.”

  “I’ll look forward to that,” she joked, then grew serious. “Take some advice from an underling?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, I’m not sure what your gig is here. You seem to have some clout, but Noah Denton, well, just be careful, okay?”

  “Thanks, I appreciate the tip. Listen, you have a great weekend, Angie,” he said and then headed for the door.

  “You do the same, Bobby. Thanks again for carrying the files.”

  He walked back to his office, cleared the yellow legal tablet and the pen from his desk top and locked up. On his way out he glanced over at Noah Denton’s corner office, the door was closed and the lights were off. Bobby headed out to the lobby and the bank of elevators.

  “Will you be back this afternoon?” Marci asked as he passed by. Her tone suggested he just might be running out early on a Friday afternoon.

  “Not until later, I’ve got a four-thirty meeting,” he said. He pushed the down button, then turned to look at her.

  She flashed the shark smile suggesting she didn’t believe him, but now there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Christine was waiting for Bobby outside the Aces High bar. She was pacing back and forth across the sidewalk out front and must have glanced at her watch three different times as he approached.

  “Christine,” he called and waved.

  She looked up and almost ran to him, then gave him a big hug and stepped back. “Hi Bobby.” Her eyes flashed in anticipation. She appeared to have pulled herself together somewhat from when he had seen her at noon. Her hair was brushed, she had some makeup on and even if the bags were still hanging under her eyes at least they were somewhat disguised. Her skirt was straightened and the cream colored top hung nicely around her waist.

  “Good to see you, Christine. Wow, hot date?” he joked giving her the once over, then said, “Everything go okay with the filing?”

  She nodded excitedly and gave a quick glance around. “Yeah, I did exactly like you wanted. I filed it on the twenty-sixth, and I put a receipt in the mail, it went out to Mr. Hinz this afternoon.”

  “What?” The look on his face must have said it all.

  “Well, you told me to send the receipt so I did. I sent it to Mr. Hinz, at the address listed. He was the person of record. You told me,” she squealed and sounded on the verge of making a scene.

  “Damn it, you were supposed to send that to me, to my attention. That’s what I told you to do.” He wanted to slap her, hard, but he couldn’t out here on the street. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry, you’re right, I’m just a bitch. A stupid, stupid bitch,” she said and looked like she was about to cry.

  Some heads turned on a couple of passers-by, but fortunately they kept moving. “Christine, it’s okay, calm down. Can you get the receipt? Is the mail still in your office?”

  “No,” she said and her eyes suddenly began to tear up. “God, why do I always fuck things up?” She shook her fists and looked like she was about ready to take someone’s head off, maybe her own.

  “It’s okay, Christine. I’ll get to Mr. Hinz and get the receipt. Relax, calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me that, you sound just like everyone else, they’re always telling me to calm down. Just don’t say that to me, okay, Bobby, don’t fucking say it,” she shouted.

  Now a number of people were looking at them. Two guys had slowed and were watching from a distance. A couple of women walking past gave them a wide berth, then slowed down and glanced over their shoulders once they’d walked past. Bobby didn’t need an incident.

  “Christine, I’ll take care of it. Here, shake hands with me.”

  “What?”

  He drew her closer. “Come here and shake hands with me, there might be a little something for you, a little reward for helping us out.”

  She was suddenly all smiles. She sniffled and wiped her nose, then grabbed his hand. He palmed the last two rocks into her hand along with two hundred dollar bills. “You don’t worry. I’ll deal with this. Have a nice weekend and thanks again for all your help,” he said, then sort of pulled her by the arm to send her on her way.

  She didn’t need much encouragement. She glanced at the two, small saran-wrapped packages in the palm of her hand and the hundred dollar bills. She closed her hand tightly, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and took off down the street. She dodged traffic crossing against the light, ignored a couple of blasts from a car horn, then hurried around the next corner and out of sight.

  The two guys who had slowed to watch them a moment earlier were now involved in a conversation. Bobby could only hope it didn’t concern him. He shook his head as he watched Christine disappear, playing the part of the concerned sane person who was just attempting to help, then he headed for his car.

  Chapter Seventy

  On the way home he took a detour a few miles out of his way and drove past Noah Denton’s home. It was a large home situated behind a black, sturdy-looking five-foot-high wrought iron fence. The ho
use was a three-story brick affair trimmed with a buff colored stone around the windows and the arched doorway. The gabled roof was made of multicolored slate shingles and sported copper flashing and gutters. An attached three-stall garage with what looked like a massive room on the second level sat at a right angle to the house.

  There was a large, freshly-painted area in the driveway that looked as though it had recently been rolled with paint almost the color of the concrete, probably hiding the black spray paint. The manicured lawn next to the driveway bore telltale signs of scorching, but nothing one might notice unless you knew it was there to begin with. A large, oily-looking stain was centered on the driveway and Noah’s car was nowhere in sight.

  Bobby continued on his way. He swung by the grocery store and grabbed a steak, then stepped across the street to the liquor store where he invested in a couple of bottles of halfway decent wine.

  He climbed back in his car, pulled out his phone and placed a call.

  “Yeah.”

  “Prez, Bobby.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Do you have the payment?”

  “Right in my pocket.”

  “I’m on my way to Arundel’s, now. You’ll be there?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “See you soon,” Bobby said and hung up. He thought he might be detecting an attitude and wondered if he had pushed the young man too hard. On the other hand, no one liked legal fees, but everyone had to pay them. Besides, as far as Prez knew the money was for Christine.

  That got Bobby thinking about Christine, she had clearly relapsed and was in a downward slide. The only question was how long before she hit bottom and who might she take with her. Bobby wanted to be sure it wasn’t him.

  He took a left off Dale and headed west on Thomas for a few blocks, then took another left into the heart of Frogtown. He spotted Prez’s vehicle on the corner. A young black woman was standing in the street alongside Prez’s door. She was bent at the waist with her head and arms resting on his open window.

  She displayed an inviting figure standing in sandals wrapped halfway up her shapely calves, shorts that looked like they had been sprayed on and a top that appeared to be failing wonderfully to conceal firm breasts. She glanced in the direction of Bobby’s Mercedes but made no effort to move as she appraised the approaching vehicle.

  Bobby drove past, pulled around the corner and stopped a couple of doors away, watching in his rear view mirror as Prez said something to the young woman. She stood, nodded excitedly, then crossed the street and walked away in the opposite direction. Bobby waited for the better part of a minute before Prez climbed out and walked toward the Mercedes.

  Bobby pressed the button to unlock his passenger door as Prez came alongside and climbed in.

  “Let me compliment you on your choice of friends,” Bobby said as he glanced over.

  Prez stared straight ahead and seemed to focus on something further down the street. Somewhere there was a lawn mower running. A block over a bus roared as it pulled away from its stop. Someone was yelling somewhere, it sounded like some kid no more than a few doors down and maybe coming from one of the backyards.

  Bobby waited for a long moment, then broke the heavy silence. “How’s it feel to own that house?” he said hoping to put things on a positive path.

  Prez slowly turned his head and stared, shifted his lower jaw from side to side for a moment before he spoke. “I don’t know, the last thing you told me was I had to wait another thirty days. By the way, how you liking these wheels?” he said, then glared.

  Bobby felt his attempt at heading down a positive path going right out the window. “Let me explain something to you, just in case you don’t get it. I’ve filed false documents that will land me back in goddamn prison if I’m caught. A woman has just put her career on the line to help you out and if she’s caught she will not only lose her job, she’ll go to jail as well. All this has been done to help you get a piece of property basically for free. Now you can barely even recall the name of the document and you sure as hell have no idea how or where to file the damn thing. If you do not pay the five grand she’s just liable to take about five minutes of her time on Monday morning and you will be screwed. It’s as simple as that. So, what I would suggest you do is get a happy smile on your face and give me the five grand. If you don’t, that’s your choice. But if I don’t pay her you’ll be fucked.”

  “You know, I’m thinking maybe I’ll just take that chance and not pay.”

  Bobby let out a long slow exhale. “You could do that, Prez. There’s an outside chance that might even work, but over the long haul, I don’t know, it’s awfully risky. It’s your choice.”

  “Risky? What ain’t in life?” The horn on Prez’s car suddenly honked three or four times. He glanced back over his shoulder, then faced Bobby and smiled.

  Bobby gave him a questioning look, then said, “Prez, it’s your choice, do what’s right.”

  “Yeah, it is my choice. But it might just be I know a few things.” Prez said, then opened the car door, stepped out and then leaned back into the Mercedes. “Could just be I might know a way that’ll get your girl Christine to drop her price altogether.”

  Oh shit. “Prez wait a minute, hold on, you can’t be serious. Don’t contact her that will only screw things up. You hear me?”

  But Prez was already walking back to his car.

  Bobby put the Mercedes in reverse and quickly backed up alongside Prez.

  There was a loud blast from a horn as a car swerved around Bobby. “Asshole,” the driver yelled, then gave Bobby the finger as he drove past and continued down the street.

  “Prez, Prez wait, don’t do this, don’t.”

  “Bobby, you think I just been sitting around like some stupid street punk you can screw whenever you feel like it. Fuck you, man, I got my own sources.”

  The horn honked on Prez’s car again. This time it was held down for a good five seconds.

  “Prez,” Bobby called.

  Prez stopped for a moment and glared.

  “You should probably pick up Kate, your mom. She’s still sitting on that kitchen counter,” Bobby said, then drove off. He was in deep thought as he drove home. Later that night he pushed his steak around the plate while he sat at the kitchen counter thinking and sipping. He was still thinking when he cleared his dinner plate, opened the second bottle of wine and went to sit in his living room.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  The cell phone ringing woke Bobby up a little after three in the morning.

  “Hello,” he groaned once he fished the phone out of his pocket. He sucked the wine residue off his teeth and waited what seemed an interminable amount of time. “Hello,” he said again as he glanced around the dark living room.

  “Bobby? It’s Christine, did I call too late?” She sounded distant and maybe even surprised he’d answered.

  “Christine, is everything all right?” he said coming to. At the sound of her name he was suddenly more cognizant.

  “I’m not sure. I can’t seem to find Prez, and…”

  “Prez?” Bobby jerked on full alert. “You don’t need to talk to Prez. Why are you calling him, Christine?”

  “We sort of had an argument. Now I can’t get hold of him, he’s not answering my calls and well you know I needed something. I mean I’m out and I was sort of wondering if you could…”

  “Where are you right now?”

  “I’m not sure it’s pretty dark.”

  “Are you in your car?”

  “My car, oh shit, I can’t remember where I left it.”

  Bobby figured if she hadn’t hit rock bottom she could probably reach out and feel it. “Christine, tell me where you are.”

  “I’m not exactly sure. I can see the river and a couple of bridges with real pretty lights. Hey, listen you know I’d do anything you want, right? If you could just see your way to maybe spotting me a little bit, just a rock. I would really make it worth your while, honest. You could do
anything you want, anything, I’d like that. We, we could share,” she pleaded.

  “Can you see any buildings, Christine?”

  “Buildings?”

  He had his car keys and was pulling on a pair of jeans as he headed out the door. “Yeah, are you downtown?”

  “Oh wow, there’s the damn Courthouse. Who knew?” she half laughed, but it sounded more insane than funny.

  “Okay, look you stay there. I’m coming to get you, okay?”

  “You’ll take care of me right, bring me a little something?”

  “Yeah, you get right by the courthouse door, Christine, will you? You stay by the door and wait for me. I’m on my way.”

  “I’m right here, hurry up and let’s party, baby, we can get nasty.”

  Bobby’s phone lost the connection the moment he stepped onto the elevator. He could almost see the courthouse out the living room window of his new unit. He ran to his car, raced out of his underground parking and sped toward downtown through empty streets. He waited at three separate stop lights without another car in sight for what felt like an hour. Finally he came within sight of the courthouse. He slowed down, but couldn’t see Christine anywhere.

  The Courthouse building took up an entire city block and he turned at the intersection and drove along the side of the building, turning again at the corner. He was almost at the next corner when he spotted her, sitting on the sidewalk with her back against the building. He quickly pulled over and got out.

  Her arms were wrapped around her legs and her head rested on her knees. As he approached her head lolled back and she opened her eyes, make that eye. Singular. Her left eye was blackened and swollen shut. The left side of her face and her lower lip were swollen and bruised. Coagulated blood crusted around her nostrils, across her upper lip and down her chin. Her chest was covered with blood splatters dotting her cream-colored top. The top was ripped open across her left shoulder.

  “Christine?” Bobby said. He made a mental calculation on where the closest hospital was located. Figured there was no point in asking if she was okay. He reached down and helped her to her feet.