Corridor Man (13 page)

Chapter Forty-Two

He phoned Marci once
he put the coffee on.

“Hi Marci, Bobby here. Just calling to…”

“No need for you today. Everything is taken care of.”

It sounded as though there was more than just a hint of pleasure in her being able to tell him he wasn’t needed. Bobby, for one, could not have been happier. He was thinking breakfast and then bed. It had been a long couple of days.

“Any idea about tomorrow? I was thinking…”

“I really won’t know anything until tomorrow. With so many people and everyone
here
accomplishing things, well, I just never know. Best to phone tomorrow morning and I’ll be able to tell you at that time,” she said sounding contentedly smug.

“Okay, guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thank you for.…” But she’d already hung up.

He ate another piece of toast slathered with a half-inch of cherry jelly. Then he snuggled down into bed and brought the pillow over his head to hide from the daylight. He drifted off a moment later and began to replay in his mind Prez dragging Dubuque face-down across the gravel. Then he replayed Prez throwing Dubuque down the flight of stairs at the duplex. Next it was Prez crushing Mobile’s skull with a baseball bat, the blood dripping out his ears and pooling on the floor. That morphed into Prez calmly taking the pistol from the small of his back and shooting Dubuque. He drifted through a fitful sleep and heard the sound of the river current washing over Dubuque and Mobile while Prez gutted them like a couple of hogs at slaughter.

He woke in a sweat around two that afternoon, exhausted. He had a late lunch of corn flakes, then coaxed the Geo to life and drove back to the edge of downtown to see if the car was still there. It wasn’t.

Prez had been right, the thing was nowhere to be seen. He drove up and down the street twice just to be sure, but the car was definitely gone. He could only hope someone had stolen it and was driving to Alaska this very minute.

Against his better judgment he took the Wabasha Bridge across the river and drove up along the Lilydale flats. He held his speed at five miles below the posted limit so he wouldn’t have to slow and gawk when he came to the patch of gravel.

He half expected to see the two of them, Dubuque and Mobile washed up on shore and surrounded by detectives in grey suits wearing fedoras and carrying cameras with flash bulbs. But nothing like that happened.

In fact, he drove right past the turn missing it completely. He was tempted to drive back and check but thought better of it and just kept on going until he returned home.

He climbed the steps to his apartment and slipped the key in the lock.

“Door’s open, come on in,” a voice called.

He opened the door and there was Prez. He was sipping from a can of beer, one of four that had been in Bobby’s refrigerator, no doubt. His feet rested on the windowsill and he was tilted back in a chair. He looked completely relaxed.

Bobby stepped into his apartment and closed the door.

“Digging your choice of beer, man.” Prez grinned.

“What are you doing here? After the last two days don’t you think it might make sense if we weren’t seen together?”

“Is that anyway to treat a friend bearing gifts? What are you all of a sudden so worked up about?”

“Look Prez, just in case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you. Our activities over the past forty-eight hours haven’t really been all that legal. We could work backwards, starting with the murder of those two thugs.”

“Look man, ain’t no one’s going to be missing those…”

“To the illegal drugs you provided in vacated premises where you had no right to be in the first place. Don’t forget at least one of those females appeared to be underage.”

Prez took another healthy sip, continued to appear completely disinterested and glanced out the window.

“Oh what? God, don’t tell me you’re in here hiding again,” Bobby said.

“You finished with your downer lecture, man. Just thought you might like to see the little gift I got for you.” He indicated the street with a nod of his head.

“What?” Bobby looked out the window.

“Right there, on the street, just before that tree. See?”

Bobby didn’t know cars very well, but he could tell it was a Mercedes of some sort. He knew that because he could make out the logo on the trunk. The car was white, shiny and had fancy chrome wheel rims.

“Tell me you didn’t go out and buy that thing. Where did it…”

“Buy it? For you? You gotta be kidding me. Spend my hard-earned money and then I get to listen to you lecture about leaving a paper trail and the authorities and shit. I don’t think so. No, I didn’t buy it. It was Arundel’s.” He flashed a big grin.

“Arundel’s?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna be using it much, anymore.”

Bobby shook his head. “That’s not going to work. I can’t be associated with anything that was Arundel’s. Not his house, not his car. I thought I’d made that clear. I’ll be under investigation before dinnertime this evening. Absolutely not, so thanks, but no thanks.”

“Are you finished pissing on the parade?”

“Prez, I thought I made myself clear. Have you been listening? I can’t afford to be linked in any way to Arundel or anything else we were recently involved in. Hello.”

“That’s what’s so great about the ride, man. It ain’t linked to Arundel. Least not the way you’re thinking. No paperwork or any of that shit. It’s a service.”

“A service?”

“Look at it, see the plates on the thing? Come on, take a look, see?”

Bobby glanced out the window, the license plates definitely weren’t from Minnesota, but he couldn’t tell much else. “I can’t see from up here.”

“New Mexico, Bobby. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, cool, you’re still not making sense.”

“It’s so simple. A dude down in New Mexico, he owes me a favor. This car comes up here, along with a clean license plate. Cost me a grand and that’s it. You like it, she’s all yours to drive. Come next year, I think it’s April or May actually you pay the grand. See, my gift to you for helping me out, giving me the advice on Arundel’s house and all.”

“But it has to have a license and registration, Prez. I would have to get insurance.”

“It’s got all that shit. The papers are in the glove compartment. See, you’re just borrowing it for a bit. Even comes with a phone number someone can call. The man will answer it down there, New Mexico way. Tell whoever’s calling it’s the mayor’s or some damn thing and he’s letting you use it. It’s cool, man. I’m telling you.”

Bobby had to admit even from this distance and seeing just the rear of the vehicle it was a definite improvement over what he was currently driving. He was lucky he hadn’t been stopped driving around town with the damage to the windshield. He glanced over in the direction of the Geo Metro, alone and wheezing next to the dumpster. Someone had written Fix Me in the dust on the hood.

“I suppose I could take a look at it.”

Prez bolted upright and set his beer down. “First decent thought you’ve had all day, man. Come on, let’s go check it out,” he said and tossed Bobby a set of keys.

They walked downstairs and out the back door. As they passed by Bobby ignored the forlorn Geo Metro, faded blue and next to the dumpster still sporting the two distinct spider web patterns on the windshield from the errant rounds Dubuque had shot at him.

Bobby saw his reflection in the Mercedes from fifteen feet away. It seemed to glow along the side of the curb.

“Come on, man. Get in, take us for a spin,” Prez laughed.

“You think?”

“I know.”

Bobby clicked the button on the key ring. The lights flashed once and the horn made a discreet little beep at the same time the doors unlocked. He climbed in behind the wheel and felt like he was sinking into a plush leather chair.

“Nice, ain’t it?” Prez was all smiles.

“Yeah, I have to say it’s pretty nice.”

“Pretty nice? Shit this thing is royal, man. It was made for some brainy dude like you, Bobby. Just wait till you see what it does with the ladies.”

“I don’t think so,” Bobby said and glanced over at him.

“Suit yourself, you’ll see soon enough. Come on, take us for a spin, man.”

Bobby sat there staring at the dashboard for a minute. It looked like the cockpit on an airliner.

What’s the problem?” Prez finally asked.

“Where the hell is the ignition on this thing? Where do I put the key in?”

Prez shook his head like he couldn’t believe the question, then pointed to a button. “Push that little thing, there,” he said.

Bobby lightly touched the button labeled Start on the dash and the engine purred. “Little different from the Geo, I have to admit.”

“Shit, that thing even start?”

Bobby checked the mirrors and then cautiously pulled away from the curb. Every time the wheels turned he drifted just a little further from reality. It was a gorgeous, wonderfully smooth ride. There were so many controls and lights on the dash he didn’t know where to begin.

“It’s gonna take me a while to get used to this thing.” he said after a few minutes, then put the blinker on and started to head back to his place.

“Tell you what just drop me off at Moonies.”

Bobby shot a quick glance in his direction. “Moonies? What are you going into that dive for?”

“Just a little business meeting. Relax, nothing you have to worry about. Besides, knowing how you operate, you’ll want to pull all that paperwork out of the glove compartment and check it out. Which reminds me, I left a little surprise in there for you.”

“What is it?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?”

“Is it legal?”

“Yes, it’s legal. Will you relax on that shit. Besides I’m going to need a favor from you.”

“A favor?”

“What we talked about the other day.”

“The other day?”

“Yeah, Arundel’s house. What you told me you could set up. That attorney power and all that shit.”

“Power of attorney, along with a revocable trust and a will for both of you.”

“Yeah, all that shit. Get that rolling so I can have that place on the up-and-up. I’ll be following your advice, turn that baby into a money machine. All nice and legal, of course, just like you told me.”

“I didn’t think you were even listening. Good. Okay, let me get in touch with my contact. Hopefully, we’ll get the ball rolling with her and be good to go.”

They drove on in silence toward Moonies. Bobby had the sudden feeling that something had changed between them, something verging on the positive. He pulled up in front of Moonies and stopped. The place looked just as awful as he remembered.

“Enjoy the ride, man.” Prez smiled and opened the door.

“You sure you’re going to be all right in there?”

“Just a little chat with friends. Besides, if it ain’t safe what the hell were you planning on doing?”

Bobby didn’t have a response to that.

“Yeah, see you, man,” Prez said, then slid out, closed the door and walked inside.

He was right. There was nothing Bobby could do so he drove off.

Chapter Forty-Three

Bobby parked on the
street in exactly the same spot Prez had parked the Mercedes earlier. He stared at the dashboard for a good while, flicking switches and pushing buttons. Most of his actions only served to confuse him a little more. Although Prez had been beyond gracious he still wasn’t going to take any chances. He climbed out and checked beneath the front seats. He checked the back seat. He opened the trunk to make sure Prez didn’t have him hauling some sort of contraband. He lifted the carpet and checked beneath the spare tire. The vehicle appeared to be clean.

He opened the passenger door and then looked in the glove compartment. There was a black leather folder with a business card and papers, an owner’s manual and then resting beneath and sort of in the back of the glove compartment a small gift-wrapped package. He took everything out, locked the car and carried the items up to his apartment.

He set everything on the wobbly card table, then cautiously began to open the package. He recognized the logo on the box as he pulled off the gift wrap. A cellphone.

There was a handwritten note attached to the box that read simply, “Paid a year in advance,” which didn’t sound like any calling plan he was aware of.

Maybe it was the mark of having been incarcerated over four years. Maybe it was the result of practicing law. Maybe he was just a jerk. Regardless, he was beginning to grow even more suspicious. He stared at the phone for a long while, and then looked out the window at the shiny white Mercedes parked on the street. Why?

He turned the phone on and checked the contact list. There was one number. He pushed the button and waited.

“St. Paul Homicide,” a deep voice said, then paused before the laughter began.

Bobby’s heart was still in his throat.

“You still there, man? Got you on that one, didn’t I?”

“Goddamnit, Prez. Don’t do that, Jesus Christ you scared me half to death.”

“My pleasure.”

“Listen, I just wanted to say thanks. None of this was necessary, I mean I....”

“Hey, I already told you it was for helping me out and all. I think I know how you operate so look at the paperwork on that large white object, if it meets with your approval good, if not, no pressure.”

“I don’t know what to say?”

“Good, then maybe just shut up.”

“You still at Moonies?”

“No.”

Bobby waited a long moment for something else to follow. When nothing else came across he said, “Well, just wanted to say thanks.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Prez said and hung up.

Be in touch
.
Maybe that was what worried him.

He placed the phone on the card table and opened the black leather folder. There was a white business card with the name Joseph Morales, a phone number and an email address. He punched in the phone number and waited three rings.

“Morales,” a voice said. He didn’t sound sinister, suspicious or apprehensive. “Hello, hello. Who’s calling? May I help you.”

“Joseph Morales?”

“Yes, who’s calling please?”

“I’m calling regarding a vehicle.”

“Could you give me the license number and your name, please, sir”

He didn’t want to give his name and he couldn’t read the license number from the third floor so instead of explaining the situation, like any rational adult he simply hung up.

He reviewed the paperwork in the folder. There was a title, insurance papers and the yellow copy of an invoice for a second set of laser-cut keys. All the paperwork was in the name of Joseph Morales and it all appeared to be in order. So what was the problem?

He returned to the cell phone, got the manual out on that thing and went through it. Same story, everything appeared to be in order and it left him with the same question. So what was the problem?

In the end, he did what any sensible adult would do. He went to the grocery store to pick up some dinner. He was beginning to feel in a celebratory mood and the idea of a steak seemed promising. He decided not to walk.

Instead, he climbed behind the wheel of the white Mercedes and drove the few blocks to the store. Along the way he was aware of a couple heads turning. He parked at the far end of the small lot, as far away as possible from the other cars.

A young woman unstrapping two little kids from car seats appraised the Mercedes and then gave him a decent once-over from the side door of her late model van.

“You wouldn’t want two kids who like to color on walls would you?” She smiled.

“Gee, thanks, but no thanks,” he said.

Other than Karen Clarken, who was too drunk, Marci, who was too bitchy and the women he’d driven to the law office or Courthouse, she was the first woman he had spoken to in the past month. He decided to keep the Mercedes.