by Nick James
“I’m not sure where to begin, Luis. A firm? I mean, this is all coming fast and furious. I’m sure Bennett Hinz and the other partners aren’t going to be very happy about this and I…”
“Let me worry about them. I think we can get them to see our point of view.”
“I just don’t know, if I…”
“Let me provide some modest incentive,” Luis smiled and took a cellphone out of his pocket. “I think if you take a moment to study this, virtually all your questions will be answered.” He pressed a button on the side of the phone then held it out to Bobby so he could see.
The image was of Morris Montcreff sitting in the chair. The bloody pillow case was over his head for moment, and then a hand reached down and pulled it off although it was impossible to tell just who pulled it off. Montcreff raised his head, the brutal damage done to him clearly evident…the missing eye, the smashed nose, what was left of his mouth. Suddenly, the image panned wider and there was Bobby with the revolver in his hand. No doubt about it, it was him, with no one else in the image but a brutalized Morris Montcreff. “Custer, Cus…” Montcreff said as Bobby’s hand quickly raised the revolver and pulled the trigger. Montcreff jerked backwards in the chair as the bloody mist with bits of bone and brain filled the air. Then his head slumped forward and the camera zoomed in on what was left of the back of his head.
Bobby felt like he was going to throw up. He swallowed hard to keep his stomach down, then let out a groan.
“Think of this as our contract,” Luis said. “Private, known only to you and me, provided you perform. I should add, I have the gun with your finger prints and DNA all over it. It need never, ever see the light of day, as long as things work out. Now, I’m sure you have a number of things to take care of, but please, finish your breakfast first and then I’ll have someone take you home. You’re free to go. I thank you in advance,” Luis said, then pushed his chair back, stood, and walked out of the room.
Chapter Three
Bobby’s cell phone was waiting in his bedroom when he went to collect his clothes. He was going to leave the new, tailored suit, but then thought it might also contain evidence that could be used against him, and so he stuffed it in the empty grocery bag that sat on the bed along with the clothes he had worn two days earlier.
He took the elevator down to the parking area with two other men who placed him in an SUV and drove him home. He wasn’t sure where they’d take him, and to tell the truth, at the moment he didn’t particularly care. As they exited the underground parking area and pulled onto the city street, his cellphone alerted him to another half-dozen messages. He ignored it and sat there silently, not really thinking of anything until they pulled up in front of his building.
“You go to your office next?” the man in the front passenger seat asked. He hadn’t bothered to turn and look at Bobby as he asked the question.
“My office? Yeah, I was going to shave, get cleaned up, and then head down there.”
“We’ll give you the ride,” he said, essentially ending the discussion.
Bobby opened the door, grabbed his grocery bag of clothes, and took the elevator up to his unit, pleased to see the thing back in operation. There was a note taped to his door from Detective Carrick dated yesterday. “Call the moment you get this.”
He pulled the note off the door as he entered his unit and closed the door behind him. He locked it, then looked around. Everything seemed to be in order. At least at first glance it was impossible to tell if anyone had been inside. He hurried to his bedroom, stripped his clothes off, shaved quickly, then hopped in the shower and rinsed off. It was already after three and he decided to just wear casual clothes. He dressed quickly, then hurried back down to the waiting SUV.
He let himself in the back seat. The moment he closed the door, they took off toward downtown. Bobby buckled up and plotted in his mind what he planned to say to Marci and Bennett Hinz. The car had barely stopped at the curb when he jumped out, grateful to be finished with them, at least for the moment.
Marci stared wide-eyed as he stepped off the elevator. “Mr. Custer. Oh thank God, we’ve been trying to reach you. Is everything all right?”
He didn’t know how much she knew, but he was pretty sure news of at least the car fire, if not the bomb itself, was public. Then there was the whole situation with Addison Denton. Marci handed him four pink message slips, three from Bennett Hinz and one from Detective Carrick.
“Is Mr. Hinz in?”
“You missed him by about twenty minutes,” she said, then sat there letting the phone ring hoping for a bit of gossip.
He hurried back to his office, aware that more than a couple of heads were turning as he passed. He closed his office door behind him and headed for his desk. Another note from Bennett was taped to his phone, “Call Me” followed by Bennett’s cellphone number. He dialed the number and waited. Bennett answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello.”
It dawned on Bobby that the number displayed on Bennett’s cell would be the firm’s, meaning it could be anyone from Marci to Sawyer or Allen calling.
“Hi, Bennett, it’s Bobby.”
“Oh, thank heavens. You’re in the office?”
“Yes.”
“What’s going on? The news reports said there was a fire and they seemed to allude to mysterious circumstances. I’ve been on the line with the police three separate times. They were worried and looking for you.”
Yeah, sure, worried. “Detectives Carrick and Woodley?”
“I only spoke with that Carrick fellow and then just briefly. What in God’s name is going on?”
Bobby decided to level with him, at least somewhat. “There was a fire in my building’s parking area. Apparently it began with my car. Nothing conclusive at this point. It could be anything from a careless smoker to fireworks, but like I said, nothing confirmed at this point. Well, except that my vehicle was totaled along with maybe one or two others, and an equal number damaged.”
You’re all right?”
“Yes, although more than a little shaken up. I think a good part of that could be due to the stress of Noah Denton’s funeral and providing support for his wife and daughter.”
“Yes, God bless him. Don’t know if you heard, but we received a number of unsavory comments and reactions from our employees. My God, where’s the civility?”
“I was afraid that might be the case,” Bobby said. He could have added, ‘I warned you’, but decided against it.
“I’m involved in a meeting that’s liable to be going late,” Bennett said. Bobby thought he could hear light chatter in the background, maybe the occasional glass clinking and figured Bennett was already finished for the day and probably seated at the bar in his club. “You’ll be in the office tomorrow?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Let’s talk then,” Bennett said and disconnected.
Next he dialed the number Carrick had left on his note. He answered part way through the second ring. “Carrick.”
“Detective Carrick, Bobby Custer. I just got the note you had taped to my door.”
“Where in the hell have you been?”
“Around. I gotta tell you, after that incident the other day I didn’t know what to do, so I hid.”
“We attempted to track your cell, but couldn’t locate it. You leave town? I thought we were pretty clear on that.”
“To be honest, I don’t recall. You may have been, but here’s the deal. That parking area is secure, or at least it’s supposed to be, just like the rest of the building. Based on what you guys told me, someone got in, planted a bomb in my car and then just casually walked out. Whoever did that wanted to kill me. I plan on keeping a very low profile until you guys get whoever it was.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Carrick said, “You hear anything from the Denton woman?”
No and no. I’ve left a phone message for both her and her mother but haven’t heard back. Just after the funeral, would it be
that far-fetched that they may have gone out of town just to relax?”
“The phones should still work,” Carrick said. “So should yours, by the way.”
“I told you, I’m keeping a very low profile.”
“You in touch with your client?”
“Which one?”
Carrick gave a sigh, “Montcreff, Morris Montcreff.”
“No, I haven’t seen or heard from him for a couple of days. “I talked with him very briefly at the Denton funeral,” Bobby lied.
“What did he have to say?”
“He’s a person of few words, and most of them are unpleasant.”
“Just like the man,” Carrick said. “I want you to stay in touch, every day, twice a day. You hear from either of the Denton women I want to know right away. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it. Any leads on who planted that bomb in my car?”
“I’ll expect you to call me tomorrow,” he said and hung up.
He couldn’t be sure, but Bobby suspected the police hadn’t identified Addison Denton’s remains yet. Even if they’d contacted her mother, it wouldn’t be unusual for Addison to be out of touch for a couple of days. She’d been living with a number of different friends and probably in her truck for a few weeks before her father’s death. It would most likely be another week or two at least before they had an ID.
So far so good. He took out his cell and phoned Addison’s number just to get it on record that he’d done so in case the cops checked. After two rings, he got a recording that said the number had been temporarily disconnected.
He phoned her mother next. Cori answered just after the third ring.
“Bobby? Are you all right?”
Based on her question, he was pretty sure she didn’t know about her daughter.
“Yes, thanks for asking. I…”
“The police were here asking questions. They said your car caught fire. Is everything okay?”
“No, actually my car was totaled. I hadn’t driven it for a couple of days so I don’t know what the problem was. It could have been something as simple as a careless smoker.”
“Well,” she said, changing the subject. “My friends just left. We had such a good time.” Then she went on to tell him all the things they’d done together. Noah Denton never came up once in the conversation.
Chapter Four
His final call was to Emily. She answered with, “Where in the hell have you been?”
“Hi, you made it home okay?”
“Did you hear what I just said? Where in the hell have you been? I’ve called too many times to remember, sent a number of text messages which you never bothered to answer. I had to drive by and then watch the news just to find out if you made it out alive. So, like I said, where in the hell have you been?”
“Let me back up for a minute. First of all, the fire was in the underground parking area.”
“Hey, I know that. Remember? I had to almost crawl through the smoke to get out of there. There were fire trucks and police cars all over, not to mention all the smoke. It was on the news that night. That’s how I had to get my information, since you couldn’t be bothered to call me.”
“Apparently the fire started in my car.”
“What?” she shrieked.
“Yeah. There’s this huge scorch mark up the side of the wall where it was parked. Two or three other cars were totaled and a number of vehicles damaged.”
“Your car? Is it okay?”
“No, it’s in pieces, burnt to a crisp.”
“What caused that?”
“No idea. The fire department and the police are still investigating. Probably won’t know for months.”
“So, where did you go?” she asked again.
“I just wanted to get out of there. I ended up staying with a client who has this penthouse and lots of room. It’s up on the thirty-seventh floor of…”
“And of course you couldn’t be bothered to call. That would take too much effort.”
“Actually, I did try to call you. A number of times, but the call wouldn’t go through. I figured you were out of town or had your phone off or something.”
“I had my phone off?” she said in a tone that left no doubt what she thought about that.
“Yeah. Turns out he has some sort of security system in his penthouse that blocks all calls except his. I didn’t find out until I left the place this afternoon and my phone had about a dozen messages from you, the police, the fire department, my office. No one could reach me.”
“You didn’t think it was strange that no one tried to phone you over the course of two days?”
“Actually, no, I didn’t. He’s a fairly new client, has a ton of businesses and so I was working the entire time. As a matter of fact, he wants me to put together some deals for him that could bode very well for the future.”
“Oh?” she said, clearly with a little more interest and positive tone.
“Yeah. I’ll be working on it. Well, actually I am already beginning to work on it. He wants me to set up my own firm and have him as my only client. It would be…”
“Can you do that?”
“…a really big move, but if I can get all my ducks in a row, I think I can pull it off.”
“Who is this guy?”
“His name is Luis. He’s putting together a number of different property developments, international stuff. I’d be working some pretty long hours to start, but it would be worth it in the end.”
“Huh, maybe that car fire was a blessing.”
“We’ll see.”
They finished the conversation with a dinner date for tomorrow evening. Bobby had asked her out for that night, but she’d begged off saying she was too tired and wouldn’t be much fun. He figured she might be working and decided to check things out once he got home.
Bobby phoned Montcreff’s number next. If Montcreff answered, he would have dropped dead on the spot. It was a long shot, but just in case law enforcement somehow got hold of his phone, he wanted to be on record as placing a call. After seven or eight rings, he was dumped into the message center. After all the times he’d phoned Montcreff he couldn’t remember ever leaving a message. Montcreff’s voice sent chills down his spine. “Leave a message,” his voice growled and Bobby flashed back to him lifting his beaten head and pleading, “Custer, Cus…”
“Hi, Mr. Montcreff. Bobby Custer just checking in. I’ll call you tomorrow or you can reach me…” He left his number, then hung up and made a mental note to phone again tomorrow.
He walked over to the file room. Mike Dorsey was just heading out with a stack of files on a four-wheeled cart. “Oh, hey, Mr. Custer. Last I heard you were missing in action,” he joked.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m back,” Bobby said. “Hey, I’ve got to go through a ton of Montcreff files. Would it be all right if I worked in here at that table against the wall?”
“If you know the files, I can just bring them to you, no problem.”
“Ahhhh, I’ll be going back and forth referencing things. It would probably be easier if I worked from here.”
“Fine with me. I could always use the company.”
“Thanks, I promise not to bug you. I’ll start tomorrow morning. If it’s okay, I’ll have Marci transfer any calls to the phone in here.”
“Sure, the only one who ever calls me is my girlfriend with a list of things I have to pick up on the way home.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Thanks, Mike.”
He went back to his office and drew up a rough list of the Montcreff properties they would begin to transfer to Luis. It would by no means be a simple enterprise. Bobby scribbled a note in the margin to begin thinking about competent real estate attorneys who knew how to keep their mouths shut. He only came up with two names.
He left the office at eight and was on his way down to the parking area when it dawned on him he didn’t have a car. He got off on the first floor and walked outside to hail a taxi. The problem was, this was St. Paul. Th
ere weren’t any taxis, at least not that many, and if you tried to hail one they would probably think you were just giving them the finger. He kept his eyes peeled and started to walk toward home. Thirty minutes later he was in sight of his building and never saw a taxi. The walk did accomplish one thing, he was ravenous. He stopped up the block at an Italian restaurant and got a dinner to go, then walked across the street to the Solo Vino wine store, chose a nice Cabernet, and went home.
Once in his kitchen, he poured himself a glass of wine, then phoned Luis and told him he’d be starting on the Montcreff files in the morning.
Chapter Five
Bobby had a pleasant dinner, sipped a second glass of wine, fired up his computer, then clicked on the monitor devices at Emily’s. The room was dim, just one light on, apparently the table lamp in the corner with a three-way bulb that was set on the dimmest setting.
As the monitor went live, he heard her laughing, and was immediately jealous, wishing it could be him in the room with her. He clicked on the record function.
She was curled into the corner of the couch, like she’d done on so many occasions with him, chatting away. She was facing the monitoring device and he recognized the outfit she was wearing. Sleek black slacks, an off-white silk blouse, a gold necklace and matching earrings. He‘d seen it all before. She’d worn the same outfit with him maybe a month ago and he remembered commenting on the blouse.
She’d worn heels, he remembered those too. Black stiletto heels with a little strap that wrapped around her ankle. The strap had a small jeweled buckle that he thought looked very sexy. Just now, both shoes were lying alongside the couch on the oriental rug and her legs were tucked up underneath her.
Her latest target sat in a chair alongside the couch. His back was to the monitor and his legs were stretched out, resting on the coffee table. Even from the back, he appeared heavy, multi-chinned. His tanned neck rolled over his starched collar. He held a crystal glass with a brown liquid in his left hand. Bobby doubted it was iced tea. He took a long drink, then gave a sort of gasp as he drained the glass and made a noise like he was smacking his lips.
