Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  The hallway traffic thinned out a couple of minutes later and the officers made their way toward the elevators. Prez stopped staring out into space and three stories down to the ground floor, pushed back from the railing and approached Bobby.

  “Morris?” he half shouted.

  “Montcreff,” Bobby replied.

  “How did he even find you?”

  “Do the names Dubuque and Mobile mean anything?” Bobby said.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh yeah, apparently he used their services from time to time.”

  “I thought they were freelance, at least they were supposed to be.”

  “Thus the term “from time to time”. Look, that maniac was planning to have me killed. I’m sure of it.”

  “That what happened to your hand?” He indicated Bobby’s hand with a quick glance and then looked back up and held his gaze.

  Bobby had wrapped some gauze around his hand. It looked halfway decent, and the swelling was more or less hidden, although right now it was throbbing like hell.

  “Well?”

  Bobby ignored his question and gave an abbreviated version of his experience, he left out the part where he hit the thug over the head with the wine bottle and thought about killing Montcreff. He didn’t mention a thing about the ensuing discussion he’d had with Morris Montcreff.

  “I still don’t get how he knew about you.”

  “Remember when you told me that you and Arundel had put the word out on me?”

  “He found out about that?”

  Bobby stared at him.

  “Yeah, that might not have been the best idea we had.”

  “You think?”

  Prez shrugged and didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, he wondered what I knew. That, plus the odd coincidence that I’m occasionally working for his attorney.”

  “You are?”

  “Nothing earth shattering, I just pick up documents and once in a while drive people around. I’m the delivery guy. I told you, it’s how I met your mom.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “By the way, she’s still on my kitchen counter.”

  “I know, I know. But Montcreff? Shit.”

  “Believe me, I had no idea he was involved until I came across his name on some paperwork.”

  “I got something just a little bigger on my plate right now, Arundel’s sister, Caprice.”

  Bobby didn’t respond to his description. “Caprice?”

  “Yeah, she’s making noise like she’s gonna move in there. She trashed the place in just under forty-eight hours. I was over there last night, you wouldn’t believe it. By the way, no luck on finding his computer and I couldn’t get anything out of Caprice.”

  “We got two problems. I’ll handle mine, Morris Montcreff. It’s your job to move Caprice somewhere before she destroys that place and ruins any hope you have of using that property as an investment.”

  “What are you going to do about Montcreff?”

  “I said I’ll handle it.”

  “You don’t handle Morris Montcreff. You stay away from him is what you do.”

  “Thanks for the advice. Any idea what you’re going to do with Caprice?”

  “I’m not sure, maybe invite her to an all-you-can-eat affair and hope she explodes.”

  “We don’t need an incident. We just need her out of there. Can you send her somewhere, maybe a relative’s, preferably out of town?”

  “I told you, I’ll take care of it. You just watch yourself with Morris Montcreff, don’t trust him Bobby, he’ll kill you. Maybe get that hand checked out, too,” Prez said, then turned and walked back to the elevators.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  “Bobby, thank you for calling,” Marci said. She couldn’t seem to hide the delight in her voice. Bobby wondered for a moment if he had misdialed, then waited for whatever she was planning on hitting him over the head with.

  “Just checking in, Marci. Will you have any need of my services, today?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. That is, if you can fit us in. I’d like to review some details with you. See if you’re happy with the way things have been working here.”

  He wondered what she was referring to. The way things had been working was he called in and Marci was a bitch. “So, you want me down there today?”

  “Why yes, certainly. That is, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “I can be down in the next hour.”

  “Whatever would work best for you,” Marci said.

  “I’ll see you in an hour,” he said and hung up.

  Marci was up from behind the receptionist counter before the elevator doors closed behind him. “Bobby, thank you for coming in. I hope we didn’t impose on your schedule.”

  “No,” he said, confused.

  “May I get some coffee for you?”

  “No, thanks, I’m okay,” he said, wondering what was up.

  “Come on, we’ve got a bit of a surprise for you. Let me just call Denise up front to cover for me.” Marci was all smiles, then half turned and spoke into her headset. “Yes, Denise. Need you up front, pronto. Yes. Just a few minutes. Thank you.”

  He guessed it was Denise who came around the corner about a minute later because smiling Marci turned over the headset to her and said, “This way, Bobby,” and took off down the hall.

  Bobby didn’t think he’d ever seen Marci’s figure, it wasn’t half bad. He was pretty sure he’d never seen her smiling anything but her shark grin. She was actually fairly attractive. Something was up, he just couldn’t figure out what it was.

  They walked along a hallway, past a series of blue and beige cubicles to a far wall with a number of small offices. She entered the third office and turned on the light. Bobby followed her in.

  The office consisted of a wood-grain Formica desk, a computer and a phone. No pictures, an empty wastebasket and two less-than-comfortable-looking chairs opposite the desk. There was a shelving unit attached to the wall covered with the same blue fabric as the cubicles they had just passed.

  “This will be your new office, Bobby,” Marci announced.

  “My office?”

  “Yes, indeed,” she said all smiles.

  It wasn’t making any sense. The same woman who acted like she wanted to push him down the elevator shaft on any other day was suddenly putting him in an office.

  “What do you think?” she said and flashed that stupid shark grin he had come to detest.

  “I think it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she said. But she said it in a way that made him think that might be her opinion, too.

  “Why are you giving me an office? On the days that you need me I just pick people up or drop them off. I’m a glorified deliveryman, Marci. Come on, most days you can’t stand the sight of me.” He looked past the two chairs and out the large glass window that bordered the hall, in the far corner he could just make out Noah Denton’s corner office.

  “Is Noah aware of this? He told me in no uncertain terms not to contact him. Now I suddenly have an office in sight of his? Why? I don’t think he’s going to be too happy about this.”

  “Well, I guess you’ll have to talk to Mr. Denton on that score.” She smiled, but for a change it wasn’t her fake smile. “By the way, he’d like to schedule a late lunch with you, if you’ve time.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The “sir” threw him for a moment, but he recovered. “Yes, that would be fine, I’d like that in fact.”

  “I’ll see to it. Well, I suppose you’d like to get settled in,” she said suggesting he had boxes or files to carry in. In truth, he didn’t have so much as a pencil.

  Bobby nodded quietly and she strutted off, placing her feet one in front of the other like a fashion model strutting down a runway.

  He stepped around to the far side of the desk and sat down in the office chair. He pulled open the center desk drawer. It was filled with paperclips, a stapler, a coupl
e of pens and two freshly-sharpened pencils. The drawers on the right-hand side of the desk were empty. He had the feeling someone had been forced to recently vacate the premises. He just didn’t have a clue why.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  They were seated in a private study after their late lunch at the University Club, just the two of them. They sat in wingback chairs positioned across from one another and in front of the fireplace, all sorts of leather-bound books lined the shelves of the compact room. Noah Denton still looked uncomfortable even after the wine with lunch and the couple of drinks he’d pounded down while making small talk. He took a deep breath, grabbed hold of his crystal glass for some added support and ploughed ahead.

  “It’s really quite simple, Bobby. When we brought you on board…”

  “I thought you hired me to pick up and deliver.”

  “Well, I’ll take that under advisement,” Noah winked and gulped a healthy mouthful of scotch. “It seems you neglected to mention during our interview process that you have a longstanding relationship with one of our anchor clients.”

  “Oh?” Bobby said, sensing he might be about to extract some flesh.

  Noah’s face flushed and he swallowed a little more scotch to boost his courage. “I think you know who I mean, Bobby,” he said, then stared into his glass and swirled the scotch in the hopes it would deliver some saving grace to his uncomfortable situation.

  “Morris Montcreff?” Bobby asked innocently.

  “Exactly. When he called me late last night and told me you had been looking over his paper work and caught that minor error I knew right then and there that we had to make some immediate changes.”

  Complete and utter bullshit, Bobby thought.

  Noah glanced out the only window in the room as if looking for an escape. Finding none he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Now, we both know you’re unable to practice at this time due to your disbarment. But I’ve got someone working on that as of first thing this morning.”

  “Working on it?” Bobby asked. He hadn’t touched his bourbon.

  Noah continued to nervously wax eloquent and gave a knowing nod. “Exactly. Getting your license back, your reinstatement to the bar, of course. There are ways,” he nodded deeply. “Suffice to say for the time being you shall be acting “Of Counsel” on behalf of Mr. Montcreff, technically not practicing, but certainly able to review. And Mr. Montcreff has requested that you review everything before it goes out the door.”

  “Everything?”

  “Contracts, partnerships, lawsuits whatever we do for him.” He took a big sip. “He’d like you to take a look at everything we have on file, too,” he said, then took another sip to wash the taste of that last sentence out of his mouth.

  “So will it be okay if I contact you, then, from time to time?” Bobby asked and then watched Noah Denton squirm.

  “Why yes, of course, always. You’re, you’re part of the firm, Bobby, part of the team, one of us now, a key player,” Noah half stuttered, then seemed to visibly shudder and took another healthy dose of scotch.

  “Oh, really? I’m just a bit confused. I thought I was a contract employee. As a matter of fact you made that pretty clear. Remember? It was the same conversation where you told me to call you Mr. Denton and suggested you wouldn’t dream of getting your hands dirty dealing with someone like me. In fact, I think you said something along the lines of you wished the firm wouldn’t associate with me.”

  “I’m sure you must have misunderstood my remarks, Bobby.” The color had drained from his face and he licked his lips nervously. “Let me just reiterate a few points…”

  It was all beginning to make sense. Not the lines Noah or idiot Marci had fed him. That was nothing but lies and a lot of cover-your-ass stuff. No, what made sense was between the lines.

  The little glitch he’d caught in Morris Montcreff’s contract with Lowell Zimmerman, had saved Montcreff a lot of money, potentially. He guessed his new best friend, Morris Montcreff, had called Noah, read him the riot act late last night and then threatened to do something subtle like throw him out the window of his corner office if he didn’t start to play nice with Bobby. Noah told Marci to put on a smile, start acting sweet and the rest was history, as they say.

  “…you’ll find this arrangement more than acceptable.” Noah said, then drained his glass in a further attempt to wash the taste out of his mouth. He set the glass down and plastered a smile on his face. His eyes looked a little glassy and Bobby thought he might be on the verge of slurring his speech. He’d give him this much, after a couple of scotches the man could eat shit with the best of them.

  They sat there quietly for a painfully long moment. Noah glanced longingly at his empty glass more than once. Bobby finally broke the heavy silence.

  “Well, thanks, Noah. I appreciate the time and your concern. As you can understand I’m looking at a number of different options. As attractive as your offer sounds, I’d like to hold off on any sort of agreement for the moment. May I get back to you in, oh, say forty-eight hours?”

  This seemed to visibly floor Noah. “But, forty-eight hours? I mean, I think we’ve presented you with a very reasonable offer.” He grabbed his empty glass and held it to his lips, coaxing a final drop as it ran slowly down the inside of the glass. He set the glass down, then faced Bobby and took a deep breath.

  “Certainly you can understand our position, Bobby. We’d like what’s in the best interests for both of us, but I think you’ll agree we’ve presented you with a more than fair offer, under the circumstances.”

  “Yeah, I get it. But I think that, under the circumstances,” Bobby held Noah’s glassy gaze for a long moment. “I’d like to look at all my options. And both the circumstances and my options have certainly changed from the time of our last discussion, when you told me you didn’t care to hear from me. Agreed?”

  “May I?” Noah asked not waiting for a response as he reached across for Bobby’s untouched bourbon.

  “Help yourself,” Bobby said and waited.

  Noah grabbed the glass and took a couple of audible gulps, then wrapped both hands around the crystal and hung on for support.

  “Now see here, Bobby, apparently I haven’t made myself very clear. I, that is, we’re offering…”

  “You’ve made yourself very clear, Noah. But under the circumstances, it’s only prudent that I examine all my options. I’m trying to get back on my feet after suffering a major setback. Right now I’m living in a desperate little efficiency apartment with paper-thin walls and thirty-year-old appliances. I’m sleeping in a single bed that probably cost ten dollars new and was given to me because that was easier than throwing the thing in the trash. I’ve still got my clothes stored in brown paper grocery bags. I’m eating off two sets of borrowed silverware and you’re paying me a dollar over minimum wage with no benefits or travel allowance. I’m not exactly living high on the hog here.”

  Noah took another large swallow from Bobby’s bourbon. “Maybe we could help get…”

  “Maybe. Like I said, I’ll consider your offer and let you know in a day or two.” He rose to his feet. “Thank you for lunch, I’ve enjoyed our conversation, Noah.” Then Bobby held his hand out for Noah to shake.

  Noah grasped it limply, but didn’t look up.

  Bobby said, “I’ll check in with Marci tomorrow.” Then he turned and walked out of the room. Noah was busy draining the remainder of the bourbon as Bobby pulled the door closed behind him.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Bobby sat in the creaking wooden chair at the wobbly card table and made the five o’clock phone call as instructed.

  “Hello.”

  “Morris Montcreff, please.”

  “Hello Bobby, and right on time. How was your day?”

  “Interesting, Mr. Montcreff.”

  “Do tell,” he said and then waited for exactly that.

  “Noah Denton asked me out to lunch.”

  “And?”

  “And he made me a
n offer to serve as Counsel with regard to your needs.”

  “Wonderful. When do you start?”

  “To be honest, I told him I’d think about it and get back to him.”

  “Is there something you don’t like about the offer?”

  “It’s not what I may or may not like. I want to review a number of options, that’s all. Well, and I wanted to make sure you understood my position and where I’m coming from. I want to do what’s best for you.”

  “What’s best for me?”

  “Yes sir, that way it will work out to be best for me, too.”

  Montcreff gave a hearty sort of chuckle. “In other words, you’re sweating that prick, Noah Denton. Right?”

  “I don’t know if those are the exact words I’d use.”

  “Maybe not, but that’s the bottom line. I like your style, Bobby. Would you like me to call Mr. Denton?”

  “Actually, no. I’m curious to see what forty-eight hours of reflection on his part might produce.”

  “Interesting. Okay, Bobby. You’ll phone me tomorrow, same time.” Montcreff’s tone was pleasant enough, but it wasn’t exactly a gentle request.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Montcreff hung up.

  Bobby roasted a couple of hot dogs on a stick over the stove and ate them in the dark. Taking a page from Prez’s book he watched out the window while he ate but didn’t notice anything. He turned the bathroom light on, closed the door and lay in the tub reading until a little after midnight, and then went to bed.

  His phone rang about a minute after eight the following morning.

  “Hello.”

  “Good morning, Bobby. Hope you’ve already had your first cup of coffee this morning.”

  It was Marci disguised as a cheery voice. He wasn’t sure which was worse, her bitch routine or the happy act first thing in the morning. Fortunately, he was on his third cup of coffee and felt fortified enough to deal with her.

  “Good morning, Marci. Will you be needing my services this morning?”