Authors: Mick James
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bobby went to bed
a little after midnight. He presumed Prez slept, but he didn’t know for sure. He did know Prez was staring out the window when Bobby fell asleep and he was staring out the same window when he woke up at six the following morning. Bobby had also come to a decision.
“How about some coffee?” he asked coming out of the bathroom.
“Yeah,” Prez grunted.
“You see anything last night?”
“Actually, I been doing some thinking, ‘bout what you said. Working smart and all.”
“Get your money working for you. It takes time, just like anything else, but it can be done. Just think what it would be like to wake up on the first of every month and you know all your bills are paid. That can start to make for a very happy life.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Maybe? Look, without giving me specifics I’m guessing your pal Arundel isn’t the first guy you know who checked out of here that way. Right?”
Prez just stared at Bobby.
“I’m also guessing, just by its nature, whatever business you’re in, there will always be some guy who is faster, more violent, has more people, better contacts or is just plain luckier. I don’t even know exactly what you do. But I can tell you there probably aren’t a lot of old guys who have been doing the same thing. Don’t you ever get tired of always looking over your shoulder? Looking out the window of a dumpy apartment waiting for a couple of guys to show up who want to kill you.”
“They’ll be showing up to kill you, not me.”
“We’re going to deal with that, too. But we’re going to do it with a plan in place, not some knee jerk reaction that ends up getting you thrown in jail for the next fifteen years or God forbid, ending up like Arundel. By the way, just to keep you interested, these two guys, what’s their name? Dubuque and Moline?”
“Mobile. Dubuque and Mobile, I guess it’s a town, Mobile.”
Bobby let that go. “Those two idiots most likely have a list. I might be at the top, but you better believe your name is probably number two, right behind me.”
“So then what’s your great idea?”
“We make some coffee, then pick your brain on those two and we go after them. Get to them before they get to me and then you.”
Over a breakfast of
oatmeal with bananas and a second pot of coffee they formulated their plan.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“This is it here,”
Prez said as they pulled up in front of Arundel’s residence. A little wood frame two-story house with peeling paint and what looked like a converted attic bedroom.
“And he owned this place?”
“Free and clear, man.”
“You sure? It wouldn’t be the first time someone lied to a friend about owning a home.”
“Yeah, it was his mom’s. She died four, maybe five years ago. Far as I know it’s the only place he ever lived. I got the keys, man.”
“Any other family?”
“Just a sister, not sure if she’s still alive or not. Most times she was too far gone to even know her own name. You shouldn’t have to worry ‘bout her.”
“Prez, I can’t move in here,” Bobby said.
“What? You gonna just let it go. It’s a house man, like I said, free and clear. The damn place is paid for.”
“I don’t know, just a wild guess, Arundel is murdered outside my building and then I, just out of prison and with no apparent history or connection move into his house. You think the authorities might have some questions about that?”
“So what? I’m ‘sposed to just walk away from it?”
“No. We use our heads. First thing we do is get a power of attorney filed.”
“A what?”
“Power of attorney. It’s a legal document that says should anything ever happen to Arundel, if he’s sick or injured in a car crash or he’s hit by lightning it allows you to sign legal documents on his behalf.”
“But he’s already dead.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll draw it up, backdate the thing, and get it filed. We’ll do up a will, too and now that I think of it maybe put everything in a trust for you. Get the same documents for you leaving everything to Arundel.”
“Why the hell would I do that, the poor bastard’s already dead?”
“It makes everything look legit, like the two of you did it as a favor to one another. It could eliminate some questions down the road and folks poking their nose in where you don’t want them.”
It was clear Prez was in unchartered territory. “Uh-huh.”
“I might still have a contact at County who can help us out. It’s gonna cost you a couple of grand, but look at it this way, you’re getting this house almost for free and it’ll be legal, more or less. God, I hope she’s still working there.”
“I don’t want to live here. I already got a place.”
Bobby looked at him for a long moment. “You aren’t going to live here, Prez. You’re going to do some modest repairs and then rent the place out. I’ll draw up a limited partnership listing you as the principle. Once we’ve established this as a business enterprise, and that’s going to take at least a year, we’ll move on to acquire other properties.”
“Huh. So why you doing this?” he asked, eyeing Bobby suspiciously.
“Well, just for starters I’ve still got your friends Dubuque and Mobile looking for me. Now let’s go inside and check this place out. Never know what we’ll find.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
What they found was
pretty much what Bobby had expected. Home decorating that screamed 1980, a Foosball table in the dining area and undergarments from at least a half-dozen different women. The place had clearly been searched, but it hadn’t been trashed.
They were standing in Arundel’s bedroom. Bobby guessed the bed hadn’t been made in weeks and the sheets probably hadn’t been changed in months. The closet door was wide open and crammed with close to a hundred T-shirts on hangers. A variety of running shoes, red, bright green, and glow-in-the-dark orange were scattered around the room.
A couple of drawers of an old wooden dresser were pulled halfway out. The two smaller top drawers had been dumped onto the bed, which accounted for the pile of gloves, loose change and cords to charge various devices. It was still impossible to tell if the mess was the result of an extensive search or if Arundel simply lived like a slob.
A corner of the bedroom carpet had been pulled back and a table lamp was set on top of the carpet to keep it from flopping down. They stared at the not-so-fantastic hiding place where the thirty thousand dollars in a shoe box had supposedly been so well concealed.
“I still don’t get how they knew ‘bout that,” Prez said shaking his head.
“After they looked under the bed the next thing they probably did was to see if the carpet came up. Pull the carpet back and you’re looking at floor boards, they’re seventy years old, but they’ve got fresh cuts. See here, this unstained area, where the wood has been freshly cut.” Bobby was down on his knees pointing at the end of the floor board.
Prez grunted.
“You might as well have had a light on down there advertising the fact. Cops probably checked under this carpet before they even pulled a dresser drawer open. That’s what happened to all your cash, you two hid it in the first place anyone with brains would look. And guess what? They found it.”
Bobby could see the wheels turning as Prez nodded.
“Yeah, better get it changed at your place, too, Prez.”
He shrugged in response.
They walked through the rest of the house, but nothing really jumped out that a good cleaning wouldn’t solve. At this point they were standing in the basement looking around like a couple of prospective buyers.
“That furnace is ancient and is going to need replacing. I’m guessing the hot water heater is on its last legs, too. Wiring could use some updating,” Bobby said looking up between the floor joists.
Prez was on the far side of the room crouched down going through boxes and things stored on the bottom shelf of the workbench, ignoring his comments. He pulled two large tool boxes off the bottom shelf and placed them on the basement floor.
“Hey, are you listening? You’re the guy who’s going to have to pick up the tab on all this.”
Prez was giggling, pulling lengths of cast iron pipe from the bottom shelf and piling them onto the top of the workbench.
“Prez, what the hell are you doing? You can recycle that stuff some other time.”
“Maybe Arundel and me aren’t as dumb as you thought,” he said as he placed another length of cast iron pipe on top of the workbench.
Bobby walked over to him. There were five lengths of silver pipe, each about a foot long. Both ends of the pipe were threaded and had heavy metal caps screwed on to seal them.
“Damn things look like pipe bombs. Please tell me I’m wrong,” Bobby said.
“Even better than that.”
“What?”
Prez smiled and began to unscrew one of the capped ends. Bobby half expected the thing to explode and take both of them out. Once Prez unscrewed the cap he tossed it onto the workbench.
“Check it out, man,” he said, then turned the pipe upside down and shook it hard a couple of times. Eventually a rolled up wad of bills stuck halfway out of the pipe.
“Holy shit,” Bobby said.
Prez chuckled and said, “That bastard Arundel just left a taste in that box under the floor in the bedroom. Let them think they were getting away with the haul. Most of it was just sitting down here, out in the open like.” He pulled the wad of cash loose from the open end of the pipe and tossed it onto the workbench, then began to unscrew the next length of pipe.
“You knew that shit was down here?”
“I had an idea, should be close to ten in each one of these.”
“Ten grand?”
“That’s what I just got done saying. Not too bad for a couple of dumb shits now, is it, Bobby?”
Bobby grabbed the first roll of cash just as Prez tossed another roll on the workbench, then began to unscrew the cap from another length of pipe. Bobby fanned the wad, all hundreds, and then started counting.
“What? You don’t believe me?” Prez asked shaking the pipe and forcing the next wad out.
“Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. Not that I don’t believe you, Prez. I’m just more than a little surprised. I’m not sure which is more amazing, that you two had the foresight to hide this in those pipes or that the cops completely missed them.” He said, then returned to counting the wad of bills in his hand.
“You know what they say, the best place to hide something is in plain sight.”
“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, Ten. Ten grand, cash.”
“I told you. There’s that much in each one of these. Here, make yourself useful and unscrew that last one.” Prez nodded at the final pipe lying on the workbench.
When they were finished there were five wads of cash, all hundreds, each ten grand strong. Just like Prez said there would be.
In short order they were back in the car and pulling away from Arundel’s house. “I’m guessing we could have one hell of a party with some of this,” Prez said and slapped his bulging pockets.
“You could, and then what? You’d still have those two guys looking to kill you, Dubuque and Mobile. That cash might be one of the reasons they’re after you, besides putting the word out about me, of course.”
“What’s the problem with having a little fun?”
“I don’t have any problem with having fun. But let me just lay out the scenario. You’ll load up on a bunch of booze and drugs, probably get in touch with some party sluts maybe call some good-time pals. Right?”
Prez shrugged, then put on his blinker to turn.
“You’ll end up either passed out or so drug-addled you won’t know which end is up. For about twenty bucks and an eight-ball one of the sluts or your good-time-Charlie pals will put the word out on you. The next thing you know your two buddies….”
“Dubuque and Mobile?”
“…will show up without an invitation and you won’t be able to stop them. So yeah, that’s kind of my problem with having a little fun.”
“None of the folks I was thinking about would do that, I don’t think.”
“You don’t think, or you know for absolute sure? Not going to be any second chance on this thing. But you go ahead, do it your way. I’m just suggesting that’s the way you would normally play it, and there’s a real good chance that you would end up dead. At least that’s how things would normally work out.”
“I suppose you got a better idea.”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The following morning Bobby
phoned Marci just to check in. She couldn’t get him off the line fast enough. He walked up to the retail area, picked up milk, two rolls of toilet paper, some coffee and an on-sale bag of small candy bars. He paid cash for the items and left the store.
“Bobby, hey Bobby,” a voice called.
He turned and looked at a nondescript car with an unsmiling face behind the steering wheel waving him over. The guy looked to be wearing the same grey suit as the last time Bobby had seen him back in the interrogation room in the Federal Prison Camp up in Duluth, the room with the steel-topped table and the chair bolted to the floor.
“Bobby, long time no see, buddy, relax it’s okay, come on over for a minute,” he called, then waved Bobby over again. Bobby glanced around, not that it would make a difference, he really had no other option, and so he crossed the street over to the car.
“Get in the back,” the suit said, then pushed a button and the locks popped up.
Bobby opened the rear door, set his grocery bag on the seat, then slid in next to it and pulled the door closed.
“How’s it going pal, you adjusting?” the suit said not bothering to turn around, he just eyed Bobby in the rear view mirror.
“I’m making progress.”
“You’re not working today?”
“I phone in every morning and they tell me if they need me.”
“Really? You talking with the main man, Noah Denton?”
“You kidding, Noah Denton told me he didn’t want to see or hear from me ever again. Said he wasn’t happy with me being associated with his firm and that if it were up to him he’d have locked me up forever.”
Grey suit studied Bobby in his rearview mirror for a moment, then asked, “When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“Denton? I just told you, the first and only time I spoke with him he said never to contact him, that I was a contract employee and that from then on I should deal with the receptionist, some witch named Marci.”
Grey suit glared in the rearview mirror. “The receptionist? That’s who you’re dealing with?”
“Yeah, Marci. In fact Denton told me to use the restrooms down in the lobby, and said he couldn’t foresee a reason I would ever have to go past the receptionist desk.”
“Okay, expect a change in venue pretty goddamned fast. Now get out.”
“Nice talking with you,” Bobby said, then opened the door, climbed out and pulled his groceries off the seat.
“What you got in the bag?”
“Toilet paper.”
“Let me see,” he said, then thrust his arm out the window and opened the bag Bobby was holding. He reached in, rummaged around, then pulled the bag of candy bars out and looked at Bobby. “These any good?”
“They’re okay.”
“I’m think I’m gonna need some sweetening later today,” he said as he tore the bag open. He dumped a number of the small bars on the passenger seat, then tossed the bag back into Bobby’s grocery bag. He smiled, raised the window, and gave a quick look over his shoulder before he drove off down the street.
Bobby had learned not to react, but he filed the experience away for future reference.