Free Corridor Man by Mick James

pleasure, be happy to help.”
    He handed Bobby the urn, then pulled his phone out, swiped his finger across the face, pushed the screen twice and asked, “What’s your number?”
    “To tell you the truth, I’m just switching cellphone carriers so I’m sort of between numbers,” Bobby lied.
    “You got an address?”
    Bobby told him.
    “Great, got it. I’ll be in touch, Bobby,” he said, then shut the phone off, nodded and crossed the street.
    Bobby placed Kate’s ashes on the floor of the passenger seat, then watched in his side mirror as her son stepped inside Harold’s, “Home of the all day happy hour”. Bobby climbed behind the wheel and drove Kate back to his place.
    He set her urn on the kitchen counter and put a pizza in the oven. He was a little curious and opened the lid on the urn, it looked like it had been filled with cat litter. Maybe it had and Capitol City just dumped folks in a large hole somewhere. He decided it might be better to just focus on the pizza.

Chapter Twenty-Five
     
     
    He’d been moved up a notch in the pecking order of Marci’s roster. Violet Oxley had been subpoenaed to testify in a court case. He was to drive her down to the Courthouse. Then sit with her in the hallway outside courtroom ‘2’ cooling his heels until she was called to testify. His guess was, at three-thirty-five in the afternoon that it had grown too late in the day for Violet to be called. Unless, of course, there happened to be a real jerk on the bench presiding, which there was as a matter of fact, her honor, Judge Susan Eckersbe, a decidedly unhappy individual. Back when he had been practicing he’d had the distinct displeasure of finding himself in her courtroom on a couple of occasions. Those appearances had never seemed to go his way.
    “Goodness, I almost hope they don’t call me, now,” Violet said at three-forty.
    “I’m pretty sure they won’t, this time of day they usually like to wind up around four. Gives the attorneys time to file motions, get things lined up for tomorrow. The judge will be able to beat the traffic home.” He raised his eyebrows to emphasize the joke which seemed to bring a smile to Violet’s face.
    “I hope you’re right.”
    “Trust me, I’ve been around this particular block more than a few times”
    At four-ten the bailiff stuck her head out the door and called, “Violet Oxley?”
    “Dreadful,” Violet said an hour and a half later and not for the first time. “Just positively dreadful. Where do I send my complaint? Because believe me I’m going to write one. That woman could do with a good thumping,” she said, then stared out the window of Bobby’s back seat.
    It was almost six and they were still inching along in rush hour traffic. They weren’t being helped by the construction lane closures that had this section of Snelling Ave. going from three lanes down to one. There wasn’t a construction crew within sight to save Bobby’s soul.
    “Yeah, that’s Judge Eckersbe. Not a very happy person.”
    “I should say not. She practically shouted at me while I sat in that chair out in front of everyone trying to gather my thoughts.”
    “The witness stand.”
    “It was worse than being on stage. For pity’s sake, I thought it just might be important to give correct information. She apparently couldn’t be bothered to grant me the second or two I needed to gather my thoughts before I began. Dreadful, absolutely dreadful.”
    “No argument from me, Ms Oxley,” Bobby said then turned off Snelling and headed West on Larpenteur. He turned right two blocks down and then pulled into a toney cul-de-sac a few moments later.
    “Just pull up in front if you would. I don’t want you dripping oil on my driveway.”
    “Yes ma’am,” he said and pulled up next to her mailbox.
    “Thank you, Bobby. You’ll be here at eight-thirty tomorrow morning?”
    “I will,” he said and climbed out to open the rear door for her.
    “Try not to be late. I’ll be