by Nick James
Camila looked like she was translating in her head. “Who? Why, we did it, we all worked. The girls cleaned, the men painted inside and out and installed the new doors. Tomas, the one in the black shirt, hung the kitchen cabinets.”
“I have to ask, what is that on the walls? Steel?”
“Yes,” Camila said and raised her eyebrows. “We spoke with some neighbors and they told us about a child being shot at the far end of the block earlier this summer. Can you imagine? A little girl watching cartoons and suddenly a bullet comes through the wall of her home. May God have mercy,” she said and took a long sip from her glass.
Bobby remembered the story, it was all the news for forty-eight hours before some other awful tragedy replaced it as the headline. To his knowledge no one had ever been arrested in the incident.
“That was just the sort of thing I was worried about,” Bobby said.
“We want to make sure that doesn’t happen again,” she said.
“Is she around, your little one, Valentina?”
“Not until the construction work is finished. She is with her grandmother, in Sinaloa.”
“Sinaloa? What is that near?” Bobby said, thinking it must be in the western part of Minnesota because he’d never heard of the town.
“It’s next to Sonora and Durango.”
Bobby sort of furrowed his eyebrows envisioning a map of Minnesota and coming up blank.
“In Mexico, Mr. Custer, along the Gulf of California.”
“Oh, that makes more sense, the names.”
She flashed a quick smile then said, “Come, let’s mingle.”
Bobby stood next to Camila and sipped his beer for ten minutes while everyone else laughed and joked in Spanish. He was in the midst of the crowd and yet completely alone. He slowly, casually gazed at the assembled group. The women were beautiful, more than one of the men appeared to be armed and for whatever reason Camila seemed to be in charge. He made note of two more security cameras on either corner of the house and in the far corner of the yard another stack of lumber that looked to be fence posts and boards for some sort of privacy fence. Who could blame them?
Chapter Fourteen
He sipped another bourbon later that evening while sitting in Angie’s corner of the living room couch. He’d lingered just long enough at the house to hopefully appear polite without becoming a pain and then left after the one beer.
“You know your way out?” Camila said and smiled, most likely happy he was leaving.
“I do, thank you for your hospitality, well, and for all your work, here,” he had said, moving his head around to encompass the house and the soon-to-be-built garage, hoping on the off chance he might suggest to everyone toting a gun that he still owned the place.
“It was very necessary,” Camila smiled, suggesting he’d been negligent, that in fact the place had been almost at the wrecking ball stage, and it now belonged to her.
He’d shown himself out at that point, taking a moment to peek into the bathroom and the bedroom. Again, the exterior walls were all sheeted with one-inch steel, painted to blend with the plaster walls. The bathroom was still undergoing a much needed complete redo, but the biggest surprise was the bedroom.
Bobby had expected to see some sort of king sized sex ring. Maybe a fourposter like Emily had so Camila could tie up Ignacio. Or some heart shaped thing on a raised platform that rocked gently like a boat. Instead, there were four sets of bunk beds, sleeping a total of eight. He didn’t think any of the bunks were for Camila.
It was clear he really didn’t know anything about Morris Montcreff’s friends Camila and Ignacio, and that got him thinking about his earlier visitors, Detective Woodley and Sergeant Sharkey. The question about getting a sample from him for their DNA test had been bogus, they already had it, or at least the feds did. They’d gotten all the DNA they’d ever need from him when he began serving his sentence. Woodley had to know that.
Bobby figured when Woodley asked if he’d mind coming down to give a sample he must have been searching, maybe to see if the idea frightened Bobby. No doubt the cops knew a lot more than they were letting on. It was maybe time for Bobby to play it safe, put on the mourning mask and play the part of the broken-hearted former spouse, at least until after the funeral. Might not be a bad idea to get Emily on his arm as well just to add an additional sense of stability.
He sipped his drink and pondered his next move, decided it would be a very good idea to stay as far away as possible from Bannon Dynamics. Let Camila and Ignacio continue to restore Bobby’s property while he tried to learn as much as possible about their relationship with Morris Montcreff. That reminded him, he had better check on Noah Denton and phone a report into Montcreff.
Chapter Fifteen
The early morning hallway at City View was quiet as Bobby approached Noah Denton’s room. The door was half open and he fully expected to see Denton in his chair reading the morning paper. It wouldn’t take more than a minute or two before Denton dismissed him.
The red card was still attached to the door frame and Bobby figured that by now everyone on staff had Denton’s number. He slowly pushed the door open a little further and stuck his head in. The lights were dimmed and a shade had been drawn down over the window. Denton was in bed and amazingly, still asleep. A row of monitors flashed blinking blue lights just behind him. Both side rails on the bed were up.
Even in the dim light Denton appeared pale and frail. He noticed the wheel chair pushed into the corner toward the back of the bed. Then he noticed the triangular pillow wedged between Denton’s legs and the gauze bandage wrapped around his head. Could he be lucky enough that Denton had experienced a set back? He pulled the door closed and walked back to the nurses station.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” he said once the nurse looked up from the computer screen. She flashed a quick smile, but didn’t reply.
“I’ve been out of town for the past few days. Noah Denton, can you give me an update?”
“And you are?”
“His son, ahh, adopted.”
She nodded, suggesting this fit, then reached for a file, opened it on the counter in front of her and sat back in her chair causing it to creak. “He’s recovering from the fall, but it’s taking time. The blow to the back of his head seems to have resulted in continued dizzy spells and right now the safest place for him frankly, is in bed. Not that he’s too happy about that,” she said.
“Tell me again about the fall,” Bobby said, hoping he sounded convincing enough to have her think he already knew.
“Well, as you know it was a bit of double jeopardy. He reinjured the hip, tore a plate, a pretty serious fracture. He caught the back of his head on the sink as he went down. That damn soap all over the floor, not sure where that came from, but he stepped in it, slipped and went down. Frankly, he’s lucky the injuries aren’t more severe. Or even, well best not to go there.”
Bobby smiled to himself, remembering the hand soap he’d squirted across the bathroom floor the other day.
“He was a bit of a clean freak when I was growing up. Maybe he was a little confused, you know just thinking soap, floor, clean.”
“We’re not sure how he got his hands on the soap. But, now that you put it that way maybe someone with the best of intentions thought they were helping and brought it to him.”
Bobby nodded in agreement and said, “Yeah, probably with the best of intentions. Prognosis?”
“Back in for some repair work on that hip, Monday. Even at your father’s age a good portion of surgery comes down to some basic carpentry then hopefully the body will be able to take over and do a pretty good job of repairing itself.”
“The blow to the head?”
“It certainly didn’t help, but it’s a lot better than we feared. We were very concerned about swelling and maybe having to go in and drain, mercifully that wasn’t necessary. He’s a tough old bird.”
Bobby smiled, nodded and thought, damn it. He spoke with her for another ten minute
s, their conversation quickly heading in the direction of the gorgeous weather and water skiing.
Bobby poked his head in the room on his way out, Denton appeared to still be asleep and he hurried out before the man awoke and he’d be forced to converse with him. He phoned Morris Montcreff from his car.
“Yes.”
“Bobby Custer, sir. How’s the world treating you this morning?”
“Like a baby treats a diaper,” Montcreff said, sounding like he wasn’t joking.
“Just finishing up my visit with Noah Denton.”
“And.”
“And things could be better. Apparently he had a fall.”
“A fall?”
“Yes sir,” Bobby went on to explain Denton getting hold of a container of hand soap and spilling it across the bathroom floor.
“Oh the poor bastard, but he’s okay, no residual effects?”
“I suppose you could say that. He’s back in surgery tomorrow for the hip and they’re worried about blood on the brain. Of course anytime someone his age goes in for surgery there’s a danger.”
“Could he get away with not doing it?”
“That didn’t seem to be an option, he tore some plates or something in the fall so they’re going in to repair that. With any luck they can leave the head injury alone. I guess he hit it pretty hard, but they didn’t have to go in, sort of a wait and see mode at this stage. The nurse seemed to suggest the danger has passed as far as the head.”
“Let’s hope. Anything else?”
“No, sir. Well wait, there is one other matter. Were…”
“What’s that?”
“…you ever able to connect with Jonathan Bannon? Bannon Dynamics was the company.”
“Bannon Dynamics, jackass was a little full of himself if I recall. Had dinner with the two of them, he and the wife.”
“Frances.”
“Piece of work.”
“That sounds about right. Are you going to invest?” Bobby asked, trying not to ruffle any feathers.
“We had a general conversation, he was going to think about it and get back to me. Haven’t heard anything since,” Montcreff said, sounding like he was reciting a rehearsed line.
“He has a suite of offices, but I always felt he was the only guy actually in the company. Supposedly had some sort of order pending from China,” Bobby said fishing for information.
“That was what he seemed to be hanging his hopes on, that order from China,” Montcreff said.
“So you never invested?”
“Funny thing, that. Like I said, I met with the two of them, husband and wife. We went out, had a nice dinner, some entertaining conversation, we parted ways and that was the last I heard about it. Maybe they found a better offer.”
Bobby waited for a moment, giving Montcreff plenty of time to mention that the two of them were so intoxicated he drove them home.
“Well, I’m not sure about a better offer, actually they were found dead, the two of them.”
“Really?” Montcreff said, sounding not at all surprised.
“Yeah, asphyxiated in their garage.”
“What a shame.”
“Yes sir, just wanted to bring you up to speed.”
“I appreciate that. I guess you can never be too careful. Right Custer? Always best to be careful in everything we say and do.”
Not to mention who you have dinner with, Bobby thought now convinced that Jonathan and Frances were victims, he just wasn’t sure why. “Yes sir, always on guard.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I’ll keep you posted on Mr. Denton.”
“Do that,” Montcreff said and then hung up.
Chapter Sixteen
Bobby got in touch with Emily the following morning, actually he sent her a text thinking nine might be too early on a weekend for her to actually get a call. She phoned him less than five minutes later.
“Hey what’s up? I was just thinking about you when I got your text.”
“Thanks for calling.”
“Please tell me you’re looking to misbehave.”
“I might be, but there’s a string attached.”
“Which is…”
“I have to attend to some family duty, sort of family, actually, kind of.”
“I’m not following.”
“My ex and her current husband were found asphyxiated a few days back and…”
“Is this that couple that’s been on the news. They were in their car, from what I saw on the news it looked like they were found in their garage, with the car running. Right?”
“More or less, the info I have said the car stopped running only because it ran out of gas. From the little I know they’re lucky they even got home, pretty high alcohol level in the blood.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Not to worry, I didn’t get on with her all that well when we were married, things didn’t necessarily improve with the divorce. Hadn’t seen her for years until just a while back. Anyway, I sort of feel an obligation of sorts, but it would sure help to have someone gorgeous on my arm.”
“Oh, so now I’m just like a new suit or a piece of Louis Vuitton luggage, is that it?”
“No, you’re a lot hotter than that.”
“Might there be a dinner somewhere in this request.”
“I think that would be a marvelous idea.”
“Followed by decadent sex?”
“That could be arranged and I might even throw in breakfast.”
“I’m you’re girl, when and where?”
“Actually, I’m not sure, let me check and I’ll get back to you, if that’s okay.”
“It is. I’ll be waiting by the phone.”
“Soon as I learn something I’ll let you know.”
“Looking forward to it, bye, bye.”
He went online, checked the obituary section and found nothing. He figured they’d run the ad on Sunday and wasn’t too concerned. He did wonder about Morris Montcreff and Jonathan. Everything seemed to point to cause of death being Morris Montcreff, not that Bobby really gave a damn. He looked at it more as a potential opportunity missed. He’d have to find out why, before he could determine how he might be able to work it to his advantage.
Chapter Seventeen
It was Saturday and he took his time heading into the office. For some unknown reason he decided to drive past Camila’s. He got as close as a block away before he ran into the police barricade, actually a squad car pulled across the entrance to her block. A lone cop was leaning against the front of the car with his arms crossed and looking very bored.
Bobby pulled alongside and rolled down his window. “What’s going on?” he said then looked down the block and saw an area, roughly in front of Camila’s that was cordoned off with yellow tape, the black letters on the tape read ‘Police Line Do Not Cross’.
The cop remained leaning against the car. “Not sure yet, they’re still checking things out.”
“I own a property down there, just about in front of that taped off area,” Bobby said then mentioned the address for extra effect.
“Hmmm,” the cop nodded, “give me a minute to call that in, they just might want to talk to you. Said you lived there?” he asked, suggesting a person like Bobby shouldn’t be down here.
“No, I own it, rent it to some folks who moved in recently, hope they’re okay,” he added as an afterthought.
The cop nodded, half turned and said something into the microphone attached to his shoulder.
Bobby waited for a good ten minutes. During that time more than one person walked by, but didn’t bother to venture down the street. They all gave the cop a quick glance then seemed to pick up their pace and move in a different direction. Eventually something came across on his radio and while still leaning against the squad car he gave Bobby a go-ahead wave.
“Yeah, sure, you can go on down there. Just stay clear of the taped off areas. You happen to see anything suspicious, a spent shell, maybe a body, don’t touch i
t.” He said then half smiled. “Just call one of the guys down there, let them deal with it, okay?”
Bobby nodded, put his car in gear and headed down the street.
“See you,” the cop called, then casually looked across the street and focused his attention on a young woman pushing a stroller with two little kids.
As he drove down the block Bobby actually counted three areas that were taped off. Two of the areas, each about twenty by twenty feet were empty. The third, right next door to Camila’s encompassed almost the entire front yard. Two individuals, male and female, dressed in light blue hazmat suits, were carefully walking back and forth across the taped off area.
A bald guy in a wrinkled grey suit and sporting a really bad comb-over watched Bobby park at the curb then climb out of his car. The guy held a Starbucks cup, took a sip and watched as Bobby crossed the street before he said, “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind, just make sure you stay on the sidewalk.”
About to cut across the grassless boulevard where Ignacio and his pals had roughed up the two guys a little more than a week ago Bobby stepped back into the street, walked the few feet to the sidewalk then followed it up onto the front porch and rang the doorbell. The wrinkled suit with the comb-over sipped and watched.
He heard footsteps and voices then waited a long moment before Camilla opened the door.
“Mr. Custer, what a nice surprise, here I thought it would be the police,” she said and nodded toward the taped off area next door.
“Not bad, you have a Bar-B-Que last night and the police are here this morning,” he smiled but didn’t get a response. “Everyone all right?”
“Here, with us? No problem. I’m not sure what it was, some sort of desperadoes, no one heard a thing, everyone slept through the trouble. Then they woke to this,” she said indicating the two hazmat suits slowly walking across the taped area. The guy with the comb-over was suddenly nowhere to be seen.
