Corridor Man Volumes 1, 2, 3,4 5

by Nick James

  “Bobby Custer,” he said answering his phone. It was just after four.

  “Hi Robert, how the hell did it go?” Jonathan asked, his voice was just a little too loud and Bobby could hear what sounded an awful lot like ice cubes clinking across the phone line.

  “Hi Jonathan, they seemed very interested. The way they usually work is they discuss it for a few days, of course review the financials. Sooner I get those the better. Then they’ll make their…”

  “There isn’t that kind of time, Bobby.” More ice cubes clinking, maybe a slurp or two.

  “Jonathan, we’re not talking a couple of bucks for a lunch tab. They’re looking at something easily north of a quarter of a million dollars. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to be able to review your financials.” Then I’ll know how deep in the hole you really are, you jackass.

  “The Chinese are ready to go on this. I, ah, just got an email from them today wanting to know how soon we can start work on the software. This is a sure thing, Bobby. Hell, it’s money in the bank for your folks.”

  You mean money in your pocket. “I hear you, Jonathan. Tell you what, let me reach out to them, let them know the status of your Chinese clients. If you could send me a copy of that email, that will go a long way in helping to convince.”

  “The email?” More ice cubes clicking.

  “Yeah, from your Chinese client.”

  “Well, now that’s a bit of proprietary information, Bobby. Who’s to say that gets into the wrong hands and suddenly someone, somewhere is in there with a competitive bid?”

  God, you are so full of shit. “I totally see your point, Jonathan. I’ll let them know and get back to you. It may take a day or two, a couple of people are traveling.”

  “Don’t let it go too long, we’re almost out of time. I may have to go to the next group waiting in line,” Jonathan said then slurped what sounded like the last of his drink.

  No, you’re on borrowed time. “I appreciate your patience, give me a couple of days, maybe a week, Jonathan.” Bobby hung up the phone and wondered how in the hell Jonathan had gotten this far in life.

  * * *

  “You anywhere near a stopping point so you can escape for a beer?” Bobby asked, then placed the next card on his computer’s solitaire game.

  “Yeah, I’ve about reached my limit and could go for it. It’ll take me about fifteen minutes to lock things up,” Dorsey said.

  “Let me run these Montcreff files back to you. I’ve been going over them for so long all the words are starting to run together.”

  Bobby carried the files back to Dorsey. The file room was probably the neatest he’d seen it in a week. “Hey, Mike, looks like you’re making some real progress back here.”

  “Well, me and two paralegals. I told them this morning I needed help, the sheer volume had me falling further and further behind. Every time there’s a missing file, and there are a lot of them, I have to check all corresponding files to see if the thing inadvertently ended up in the wrong place. Then, I have to contact the appropriate attorney, see if they have the damn thing. I’ve just described a good hour. Multiply that by the amount of missing files thus far, I’m a week behind and barely halfway through.”

  “You think Angie’s involved?”

  “I’m still not sure. There doesn’t seem to be any specific pattern. I’m not convinced shit’s just misfiled or sitting in some idiot’s briefcase in the trunk of their car.”

  “Sounds like you could use a beer. The Lounge sound okay to you?”

  “Wherever, I just don’t want to really think about anything for an hour or two.”

  “I’ll see you there,” Bobby said.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  The décor of The Lounge came from somewhere back in the Eisenhower administration. Although smoking had been banned from public places for years, the once-white ceilings remained a toxic, nicotine-stained brown. Along the side and back walls the red plastic booths were held together with strips of gray duct tape. The walls were adorned with four framed, yellowed newspaper headlines: VE Day, VJ Day, the Kennedy Assassination, and the Moon Landing. Apparently not a lot had happened in the intervening fifty years.

  Bobby was seated in a side booth and waved as Dorsey stepped through the door and stopped to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. A waitress who looked like she had a beer for breakfast and lunch and then just kept on drinking set a frosted mug down in front of Dorsey before he’d settled into his side of the booth.

  “You said you didn’t want to do any thinking for an hour or two so I ordered for you,” Bobby said then raised his mug in a toast.

  “Fine by me,” Dorsey said, then took a long sip and rested his head against the back of the booth and groaned, “Jesus Christ.”

  “Tough day?”

  “Tough week. No, make that an absolute horseshit week.”

  “You going in tomorrow?”

  “Saturday? Yeah, I suppose. Maybe I can get a little more caught up. Man, there is a lot of shit missing. I always thought Angie was running a tight ship, but just between you and me, I’m not so sure now.”

  “You know, it’s funny you say that. Let me start by saying she could not have been nicer to me, but I don’t know, I always sort of felt there was just something there.”

  “Maybe she had the hots for you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m not kidding, man. I’ve been with the firm almost four years, she had a bit of a reputation.”

  “Deserved or just gossip?”

  “I’m sure as hell not telling,” Dorsey laughed then took a long sip from his mug.

  “What about the Saunders woman?”

  “Elizabeth? She pretty much kept to herself, she was batting for the other side,” Dorsey raised his eyebrows. “I have to say, too bad she was very nice to look at, and she was a dynamite paralegal. Her accident is almost a deal-breaker for those guys that left. She was sort of the ace in the hole. Tons of information just off the top of her head, and never wrong, at least that I know.”

  “Which brings up your friend, Angie.”

  “Right now I’m not sure how friendly I feel toward her. Like I said, I thought she ran a pretty tight ship, but there is a lot of stuff missing.”

  “Isn’t that normal?”

  “Not like this, misfiles, missing files that are registered as being returned. Something’s wrong.”

  Bobby decided to plant the seed. “You think maybe she took stuff, random, with the idea she’d, I don’t know, she could hold it for ransom or trade if the firm didn’t turn over the acquisition files?”

  “I’m not sure about that. It all sounds rather severe, not to mention just flat out illegal.”

  “Be a hell of a way to prove her worth at the new firm. I think if they got their files sooner rather than later, they’d be happy not to ask any questions. Plus, the Noah Denton situation and then the Saunders woman’s death as added pressure on the partners, you can’t make it up.”

  “I ‘spose anything’s possible, it just doesn’t seem right. I’m still not getting the picture.”

  I had some pictures you should have seen, Bobby thought. “Just wondering is all.”

  It was close to ten when they left, Dorsey said thanks for picking up the tab then gave Bobby a big hug out on the street and headed for his car. Bobby went the opposite way, climbed the stairs up to the fourth floor in the ramp and settled into the Mercedes.

  He pulled up to the auto pay machine just in front of the attendant’s booth at the ramp exit. He inserted his credit card, groaned at the eight-dollar figure then pressed the accept button. The wooden arm on the far side of the attendant booth rose up and just as he pulled ahead he casually glanced at the parking attendant with his head immersed in some book.

  Bobby recognized him instantly. It had been a while, a couple of weeks. The last time he’d seen the guy, Bobby had been seated on a chair, with his hands cinched behind his back. He’d gotten one hell of a beating at the hands
of that bastard. Bobby planned to get even with his sister, and now he’d found Vince. Funny how things seemed to work out.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The following morning Bobby made a point of parking in the ramp near The Lounge and walking the six blocks to the office. He took the stairs from the third floor down to ground level, bypassing the skyway connection on the second floor that everyone else seemed to be heading toward.

  The stairwell consisted of cinderblock walls and poured concrete stairs. Eight steps to a landing then another eight to the next landing. The walls were painted a glossy dark grey to a height of about five feet and then a lighter grey. The echo in the stairwell was almost deafening and the location had to be one of the worst places in town to hold any semblance of a private conversation.

  There was a square window of reinforced glass in the door at the base of the stairs. The door opened onto a sidewalk inside the parking ramp just opposite the attendant’s booth. Bobby noted a security camera focused on the staircase door and at least two focused on the booth.

  The booth had reinforced glass on three sides and a metal security door on the back side. Bobby crossed the lanes leading in and out of the parking ramp and walked to the security door at the back side of the booth. There was a keypad next to the doorknob to punch in an access code. He tried the knob but it was locked, and so he knocked on the door.

  The ramp attendant looked all of about nineteen when he casually opened the door and asked, “Yeah?”

  So much for security.

  “Sorry to bother you, I’m just in town for the day, doing a dinner this evening with customers. How late is the ramp open tonight?”

  “You got a credit card it’s open twenty-four/seven.”

  “Must make for some long hours for you.”

  “My shift’s over at three, then it’s Miller time.”

  “Feels like it’s air conditioned,” Bobby said.

  “Thankfully.”

  “Enjoy your day, stay safe,” Bobby smiled.

  The kid nodded and pulled the door shut. There was an audible click as the door locked. Bobby gave a quick look around for additional security cameras. He couldn’t see any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. His three-minute assessment had pretty much ruled out this location as a possibility. He’d have to find a better venue.

  * * *

  Dorsey rolled in a stack of Montcreff files about ten minutes after Bobby phoned him.

  “How’s it going, Mike?”

  “Bit of a headache,” he smiled. “Thanks for the beers last night, I had a good time.”

  “Me too, although the old head was making me pay the price this morning.”

  Dorsey took the stack of accordion files off the four-wheeled cart and set them on the edge of Bobby’s desk.

  “You pick up all those files in someone’s office?” Bobby asked, nodding at the stacks of files remaining on the cart.

  “Saturday morning partners meeting. I’ve laid out some plans for a new library system in the firm, get a little tighter control on some of this stuff than what was allowed before.”

  “Anything from the acquisition folks?”

  “No, but it’s early and it’s Saturday, who knows. I better get this stuff over to the partners or they’ll have my ass. Thanks again for last night, really appreciate it.”

  “Like I said, my pleasure. Take care of the head.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  * * *

  A little after one that afternoon Bobby phoned Emily.

  “Hi Emily, Bobby.”

  “Hey, I was just about to call you. We still on for tonight?”

  “I hope so, unless you made other plans.”

  “Yeah, right. No, I’m looking forward to it,” she said

  “Me too, I’ll see you around seven-thirty at the St. Paul Grill.”

  “See you tonight.”

  He phoned Noah Denton’s home next, Cori answered just as the message recording kicked in.

  “Hello.”

  “At the tone please leave your message. When you have finished you can…”

  “Oh, this damn thing. Hold on just a minute.” There were a couple of clicks and then she said, “Okay, sorry about that.”

  “Hi Cori, Bobby Custer, just checking in with you. How are you doing?”

  “Oh hi, have you talked with Noah?”

  “No, I haven’t, actually. I wanted to speak with you first. How’s it going?”

  “Well, he’s been discharged from Regions, unfortunately without any determination as to what the problem is. I hope I don’t sound too bitchy, but, well I don’t really care after that last incident. Anyway, we’ve moved him to a temporary care facility. He’ll be there for the time being, at least until we get some more definitive answers as to what’s been causing these incidents.”

  “Is he in good spirits?”

  “He hasn’t been in good spirits for over forty years, I don’t know why he’d change now.”

  “I was wondering if I might stop by. We’re looking for a client file and I’m hoping he may have brought it home and left it up in his office on your third floor.”

  “I’d be the last person to have any idea, believe me I could be looking at it right now and wouldn’t know the difference. But, you’re more than welcome to come over and see if it’s up there.”

  “Thank you, are you on any sort of schedule this afternoon?”

  “I should be here all afternoon.”

  “I’ll be there before three.”

  Bobby carried the Montcreff files back to the file room with the intention of liberating some more files. But Mike Dorsey was in there seated at a virtually clean desk with another paralegal filing things toward the back of the room.

  “Whoa, Mike you have really got this place squared away,” Bobby said admiring the obvious work and at the same time cursing his bad luck.

  “Thanks man, a work in progress. That Montcreff?” he said and nodded at the stack of files Bobby had just set on the corner of the desk.

  “Yeah, I’ve got some running around to do this afternoon, besides my eyes are beginning to cross I’ve been reading for so long.”

  Dorsey nodded as he filled out a 4x5 card and attached it to a small stack of files. “I’ll get those put away for you, thanks again for last night, man.”

  “My pleasure, we both needed to relax for a bit.”

  “Which explains my head this morning. See you Monday, man.”

  Bobby nodded and left.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Twenty minutes later he pulled into Noah Denton’s driveway and parked next to Addison’s pickup truck. The bed of the truck was still filled with the construction debris he’d seen a few days back. He spied the board with the nail he’d used. What looked like a completely new rear tire had replaced the one he’d flattened.

  He rang the doorbell and Cori answered. “Hi Bobby, pardon me for rushing, but I’ve got something about to come out of the oven. You know your way upstairs, so help yourself, hope you find what you’re looking for. Addi should be up there somewhere,” she said, perhaps more as a warning before she dashed back toward the kitchen.

  Bobby waited until he heard the kitchen door swing closed behind her then hurried over to the closet under the stairs, he grabbed the stack of files he’d placed there and shoved them into his computer bag. Then he climbed the stairs up to the third floor, keeping his ears cocked to pick up any telltale sound from Addison. Fortunately, he didn’t hear anything.

  Once on the third floor he closed the office door behind him and set his computer bag on Denton’s desk. He retrieved the files he’d hidden and placed them on the desk, then tried to open the file drawers in the desk. No surprise, they were both locked.

  He sat down in Denton’s desk chair and wondered, if he were Denton where would he hide a key? He then proceeded to come up empty-handed as he checked all the logical places that came to mind.

  He absently tugged at the middle desk drawer, and
amazingly it opened revealing pens, pencils, half a pack of Life Saver Mints, a staple remover, a ruler, a pair of scissors and then way in the back of the drawer, a small key rested next to a fat manila envelope. He pulled the key out, slipped it into the lock in one of the two file drawers and turned. The drawer opened.

  Bobby quickly rifled through the files, all of which seemed to be personal: taxes, banks statements, paid bills, insurance. The second drawer held more of the same and unfortunately, nothing of an incriminating nature.

  He opened the middle drawer again and tugged at the manila envelope. It was surprisingly heavy and he pulled it out and set it on the desk, aware of what the envelope contained the moment he picked it up.

  The envelope hadn’t been sealed and a quick glance confirmed his suspicions, a gun. A fairly large revolver as a matter of fact, blued steel and wooden handgrips. He didn’t touch it, deciding instead to quickly cram it into his computer bag. He continued to search the office, looking for anything of interest or value. He found seven dollars, all ones, in the credenza behind the desk and pocketed the cash. There was absolutely nothing else of any interest so he slung the computer bag over his shoulder, picked up the files from the bookshelf and headed downstairs.

  Cori was in the kitchen, in the process of placing another pan in the oven. Her kitchen counter had at least four dozen bright red cupcakes neatly arranged in rows on large cooling racks.

  “Find what you were looking for?” she asked, setting the timer on the oven before turning to face Bobby. She reached for what looked like a glass of ice tea, took a large sip then set the glass down and grabbed a large metal bowl and a knife.

  “Sort of, I think. It looks like Mr. Denton had these files he’d been reviewing up in his office.” Bobby indicated the stack of files under his arm. “I’ll get them back to the office, I’m sure at the time he meant to just hold them overnight. We’re installing a new filing system and things are a bit up in the air for the next few days, these will help account for some of the items currently listed as missing.”