by Nick James
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 license 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.
“Yes, I am.”
“Looking at that Ford Ranger? I hate to let it go for that, but I’ve got to move it, make room for a delivery I’ve got coming in. I’m gonna be losing money on it for sure.”
Bobby thought maybe the only delivery Eddie had coming in was from Domino’s. “Actually, I’m interested in that Geo Metro you’ve got tucked away in the back corner there.”
“You’re kidding?” Fast Eddie said and appeared crest fallen.
“You’ve got nine hundred on it. I can give you seven fifty.”
“No can do. She’s got fairly recent tires and I had my team go over her, gave it a tune up, pretty new wiper blades. The radio works.” Then he added, “Sometimes,” just under his breath.
“Those tires look like the tread isn’t much more than a memory. I can give you seven fifty, cash.”
Fast Eddie gave him the once-over and said, “Eight hundred, no questions asked.”
“Seven fifty and you can ask all the questions you want. I got nothing to hide.”
He seemed to think about that, shrugged like he didn’t believe Bobby and said, “What the hell?”
Bobby paid him and then spent fifteen minutes filling out the rudimentary paper work. After some gentle coaxing the thing started and he drove off the lot. He drove back to the public library where he logged onto one of their computers to fabricate his car insurance information.
Chapter Eleven
“Thank you, Mr. Custer,” Marci said. He had just handed a clipboard back to her with the firm’s contractor form filled out and a copy of the insurance card he’d dummied up on the library computer.
“Please, call me Bobby.”
Marci smiled in a way that suggested she wouldn’t dream of it.
“Is Noah Denton available, I’d like to touch base with him if he has a couple of minutes.”
He sat in the lobby for another twenty minutes rereading the same Sports Illustrated from a week ago before she called him.
“Mr. Custer, Mr. Denton will see you now. I believe you know the way?” Marci said, then smiled as if to suggest she couldn’t wait to get him out of her lobby.
He walked into Denton’s office and greeted him with, “Hi Noah, thanks for taking me on. I appreciate the opportunity.”
Denton looked up from a file and motioned him forward. He laid his pen down, took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose as he collected his thoughts and waited for a long moment before he spoke.
“Please, don’t bother to sit down. Let’s get something straight. From here on in, I’m Mr. Denton. Not that you have to really remember that, because I can’t foresee the occasion where we would need to interact. You are a contract employee which means you are employed for a very finite amount of time. You’ll fulfill the terms of your specific contract and then vacate our premises. While under contract you’ll receive your marching orders from Marci, at the front desk. I have difficulty envisioning the need for you to venture anywhere beyond Marci’s desk. Should you need a restroom there is one down in the first floor lobby.”
“I just wanted to thank you for the opportunity, Noah. That’s all.”
“So noted, and it’s Mr. Denton.”
Bobby nodded.
“Anything else?”
“No, you’ve made it pretty clear.”
“Then get out of my office,” Denton said and motioned toward the door with his chin dismissing Bobby.
Chapter Twelve
The following morning Bobby was shuttling individuals to and from the firm’s office for depositions. Two geriatric men were his morning passengers. One of them had a cane he kept pounding on the floor of the back seat just as he reached the punch line in a long list of non-stop jokes.
Bobby was allowed forty-five minutes for lunch so he high-tailed it back to the McDonald’s across from Fast Eddie’s. The oil light came on just as he was leaving the drive-thru and he ended up eating his cheeseburger while he watched two quarts of oil pour into the engine.
He picked up a woman named Maxine at one-fifteen. She looked twenty years older than he suspected she actually was. Her skin seemed weathered, maybe too much time laying in the sun or working outdoors. Her hair had been dyed a sort of dishwater blonde sometime back and now sported a good inch of substantially darker roots. Her clothing, a pants suit even Bobby realized had been out of style for a few years, was tight, but not in an attractive way. He guessed she had possibly grown two or three sizes larger since she’d purchased the outfit.
She didn’t ask to smoke. She just lit up and then fired up another four successive cigarettes after that from the butt of the previous one as he made his way down to the law office. Along the way she barked a phlegmy smoker’s hack about every three blocks.
He pulled in front of the building, turned and peered at her through the cloud of smoke.
“Just inside, take any elevator up to the twelfth floor. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby when you’re finished.”
“You ain’t taking me up there? You telling me I have to find my own damn way?” she said, then sucked about a half inch off her current cigarette.
“You can see the elevators right there, through the lobby window. Just get on one and press twelve. The elevator opens right into the office. I’ve got to park this and then walk all the way back here.”
The threat of a possible walk seemed to halt any further discussion. “I suppose,” she groaned, then slowly slid across the back seat and climbed out onto the curb.
He found himself wishing he’d dropped her off at the wrong building. She fired up another cigarette on the curb, rubbed the old butt out against the side of his car and headed toward the building. He could only hope she’d be in with Noah Denton.
“Oh dear,” Marci said as he cooled his heels up in the twelfth floor lobby. “I’m afraid our last deposition of the day, this Kate Clarken may have forgotten. I’m not getting an answer when I call. I had a feeling she might be a problem from day one,” she said more to herself than anyone else.
Maxine suddenly came into view. Actually the phlegmy cough announced her approach before she came around the corner. She moved like a two-ton truck toward Marci seated behind the receptionist counter. You could hear her thighs swishing against one another with each step.
“When do I get paid?” she half shouted, then wheezed and coughed.
“We’ll be issuing checks on Tuesday, you should see your payment forty-eight hours after that,” Marci said leaning back as far as possible while still remaining in her chair.
“You’re shitting me, that’ll make it next Thursday before I can c
ash the check,” Maxine groaned, then reached in her purse and fired up a cigarette.
“That was the original agreement, ma’am. And, I’m sorry ma’am, this is a no smoking area. Actually, the entire building is smoke free.” Marci smiled and looked happy to suggest this might be good news to Maxine.
“Not now, it ain’t,” Maxine growled back and barked her cough a couple of times. “That damn check better not be any later than Thursday or I’m gonna come back here and kick your uptight ass, bitch. You,” she pointed her cigarette in Bobby’s direction. “Get me the hell out of here.”
She walked to the bank of elevators and pushed the down button. Just before the door opened she sucked her cigarette, exhaled a massive blue cloud back into the office lobby, then stepped onto the elevator barking her cough.
Bobby followed politely behind.
Chapter Thirteen
He parked across the street from the address on his list. Kate Clarken’s residence was in the four hundred block of Thomas Ave. in the middle of Frog Town. It had never been the best area in the city, but debatably was no longer the worst. That didn’t suggest things had begun to improve in Frog Town, it merely meant another part of town had fallen on even harder times.
Frog Town was an area Bobby had never had a reason to be in until now. Kate Clarken’s residence seemed to symbolize many of the reasons why. The building was a peeling white clapboard structure that had been unattractive since the day it was built over a century ago. It had originally been erected as a single family home although for the past fifty years it had sported a half-dozen cheap mail boxes haphazardly hung to the right of the front door.
Leaded glass panels on either side of the front door had long ago been replaced by sections of plywood clumsily nailed in place. The address was 411, although the middle “one” was missing so it read 4 1. Two large, unwashed picture windows were on either side of the front of the house with the front door positioned in the middle. The stained glass window that would normally rest above the picture windows had been removed or stolen at some point in the distant past.
