Crooked Man: A Hard-Boiled but Humorous New Orleans Mystery (Tubby Dubonnet Series #1) (The Tubby Dubonnet Series) (19 page)

Tubby and Reggie stepped over the plastic fence and walked along the side of the dark ditch. Around them were cranes, bulldozers, and pile drivers, idle and caked with mud, waiting for the morning. People didn’t walk around the neighborhood here at night anymore. Tubby hoped for a watchman. The locals kept their doors and windows shut to try to block out the incessant roar of pumps and generators that labored day and night to move the sludge along. In the daytime this constant noise became background for pile drivers on tall cranes that slammed creosoted timbers, bigger than telephone poles, deep into the muck to support the concrete floor of the new expanded culvert. Construction pipes and steel reinforcement rods were stacked all over what used to be sidewalks.

There was an overgrown kids’ playground by the trench, and Reggie took Tubby there: He sat down as if to rest on a pile of pipe next to the open chasm of the unfinished canal, the pistol held loosely in his hand. A cat, almost invisible in the night, ran across the playground and nuzzled up against Reggie’s leg. He brushed it away with the barrel of the gun.

“Take your wallet out of your pocket very carefully, Tubby, and give me whatever money is in there.”

“What for?”

“You’re being mugged. I’m afraid you’re going to be another victim of urban crime.”

Tubby reached into his pants for his wallet and as he did so asked, “Is this really necessary, Reggie?”

“I’m afraid so. I know you very well, and for a crooked man you’re straight as an arrow. Darryl’s dead, and you won’t be able to let me get away with it. All of this would have been avoided if Darryl had just had the money with him when he went for the dope, like he was supposed to. The fact that he didn’t is still confusing to me, because if he planned to rip us off, Champs would have been put out of business, all legal, in about forty-eight hours. This should have been a win-win situation for me. I would have done all right if the deal had been consummated, and even better if we had snatched the payroll. I didn’t make any plans for ending up with no dope and no dough. Now I’ve got more dissatisfied partners than you’d ever believe. And I’ve got to break up my happy marriage with you.”

“Why didn’t you ask Darryl for a refund?”

“Darryl refused to give it back until he saw what we were going to do to take care of his case. He knew you weren’t in on the transaction, but he was unusually clever when he gave you the money to hold. He knew it wouldn’t occur to us right away that you had it. At least that’s what I think Darryl was thinking. He never told me. Then the fool got killed.”

Tubby handed over the few bills from his wallet. Reggie took them and said, “Toss your wallet on the ground and hand me the bag, homeboy. You’re staying here.”

“It’s all yours,” Tubby said and passed the bag like a basketball right at the gun. He stepped in with it and tried for a field goal at Reggie’s crotch. He connected at the same time Reggie fired. The muzzle was in the gym bag so some of the sound was trapped. Tubby felt a pain in his side but it did not stop him from catching Reggie on the chin with his right fist. It was a solid shot, making upward contact while Reggie was bending downward to deal with the pain in his groin, and it caused Reggie to stumble backward over the stack of pipe and into the hole behind him. He didn’t even yell. And he had the gym bag with him.

Was that it? Tubby’s adrenaline was pumping. He boxed the air, looking for an opponent. Come on, Reggie. Stand up and fight, he was thinking. You’re not going down that easy, are you? It’s all on the line now, partner. He pivoted, fists up, but nobody was sneaking up behind him. He faced off to the sides. Nothing. So he dropped his hands.

Tubby leaned over the grimy pipes and tried to see down in the ditch. There was a little light from the boarded-up convenience store on the corner, and he thought he could make out something floating around that could be Reggie. There was a rough wooden ladder leaning against the side of the excavation. Tubby was tempted to leave Reggie where he was, but the thought that he might need medical attention bothered Tubby. Also, he hated the idea of leaving all that cash down there for some Boh Brothers employee to find.

He got on the ladder and started down. It was like a cave. After his first step, he remembered that his right side was hurt. He felt the area around his belt, and it smarted, but it did not feel too serious. He went down a little farther. The bottom rungs were in gray soupy water, being sucked gently along by the pumps making the racket overhead. He tentatively put one foot into the water and connected with something solid about calf deep. It all smelled like ripe sewage, but it was cool down here. Tubby splashed along until he reached Reggie’s legs, which were sticking up out of the water. The rest of Reggie was submerged. The gym bag bobbed up and down by his feet.

“Looks like one for me,” Tubby muttered to Reggie’s feet. “You were a hell of a lawyer, but not much of a street fighter.”

Tubby picked up the wet bag and sloshed over to the ladder with it. He lodged it against the wall. Then he went back and got Reggie. He floated him over to the ladder and hoisted him onto his shoulders. Good thing he wasn’t a heavy guy. “Looks like my ol’ partner ain’t going to make it,” Tubby told himself out loud. Being around death was uncomfortable. Tubby’s hands were shaking. But he had been there before. He collected himself.

It took a struggle, but he got the body and the money back up the ladder. He lay beside the quiet form on the grass and panted. Nobody seemed to have taken any notice of anything that had happened. Cars still drove by on the other side of the construction, and the pumps droned on. What could he do with Reggie?

Tubby looked around while he caught his breath. The gray cat came over to investigate, then leaped away when Tubby blew at it. He started to pay attention to a pile driver at the far end of the playground. It was cordoned off by plastic fencing. What he was looking at was its massive cylindrical weight, taller than a man, suspended by cables in the air. He got to his feet and went over to get a closer look. Climbing over the fence, he saw that the weight was positioned over a hole bored in the ground. Tubby couldn’t see what was down there, but it must be one of the pilings. The hole was about eighteen inches in diameter. He scraped some gravel down it, but he heard no sounds of the rocks hitting. It looked like the crew had knocked off in the middle of the job.

Tubby went back and got Reggie. He dragged his partner to the fence, rolled him under it, and got him up to the hole. He placed Reggie’s legs in the shaft, and then slid the rest of Reggie in. Poor Reggie made no complaint. Tubby pushed some dirt into the hole after him. Then a lot more dirt. Then he crossed himself.

Tubby limped back to his car and drove home, trying to make the sick feeling go away. Wait until later. He left the muddy gym bag in the front hall, put his clothes and his shoes in the washing machine, then walked naked to the shower. He stayed under the hot water for a long time trying to get rid of the smell. When he got out, dawn was just beginning to break. He dressed and got back in the car. He picked up a large coffee at the McDonald’s drive-through on Claiborne, then cruised slowly back up Napoleon. Traffic was beginning to move downtown. A paper boy worked steadily up the street pitching the Times-Picayune at front doors. Tubby parked two blocks away from the detour.

To others it might have been a lovely morning. The air was clean, like it had just rained, but Tubby didn’t notice it. On the other side of the drainage excavation from the playground, along the one-lane roadway through which traffic was temporarily herded, was a bus stop bench. He sat down and opened his coffee. There was a sweet olive tree in bloom somewhere close by. Its floral perfume drifted past in the little gusts of a morning breeze.

Tubby watched a work crew assemble across the job site. They were also drinking coffee and talking to each other. One of the helmeted black guys started gesturing, and the group broke up. A worker wearing blue jeans and a khaki shirt climbed up into the cab of the pile driver. The machine awoke, letting out a loud pop of steam. It popped again. Then the hammer came down, the sound of another day of work beginning. Tubby took a swallow of coffee and swirled it around with his tongue. Each blow was punctuated by a loud explosion of compressed air. Tubby counted twenty blows before he got up and walked back to his car. Rest in peace, Reggie.

He drove back to the K&B drugstore. As soon as he parked, a pickup truck towing Monster Mudbug’s Rolling Boiler on a flatbed trailer pulled in beside him, taking up three spaces. The Monster himself leaned out the window.

“I saw your car, Mr. Tubby, and I wanted you to see my flatbed.”

“That’s great, Adrian. I’m glad to see you’re not driving the Boiler on the highway.”

“I’m just using the trailer for long trips. I didn’t think I should try to drive the Boiler all the way to Lafitte. I got an appearance at a seafood festival today. And you know I can’t afford another ticket right now.”

“If you’re going to be on the road, it’s much better to be legal,” Tubby said wearily.

“I know, but it’s not always practical.” Adrian laughed.

“Very philosophical, Adrian.”

“Well, see you later, Mr. Tubby. I just wanted you to see that I was taking your advice. And guess what? I got insurance, too.”

“Don’t kid me, Adrian.”

Adrian laughed again and pulled away slowly. Tubby fished a handful of change out of his pocket and went to use the pay phone at the side of the building. He didn’t like talking business on his car phone. He punched in Dr. Feingold’s home number.

“Jesus, Tubby, you’re up early this morning.”

“Sorry if I woke you up, Marty, but listen. I got a way to settle your lawsuit.”

“Why are you calling me about that at 7:30 in the morning?”

“Because it’s a very good way, but I have to do it quickly. It ends up costing you just five thousand dollars, plus you get to take a nine-hundred-thousand-dollar tax loss.”

“Tell me more, Santa Claus.”

“It’s like this. You put up five thousand dollars. Your insurance company puts up maybe fifty thousand, and an anonymous donor puts up nine hundred thousand in your name.”

“What’s this about an anonymous donor?”

“Let’s just say it’s someone with an interest in Sandy’s welfare.”

“Who would be that interested in his welfare?”

“Maybe his mother. What do you say?”

“I need to think this over, Tubby.”

“What’s to think over? Besides, you have to decide now. This offer won’t wait around.”

“All I would put up is five thousand dollars?”

“Correct.”

“Well, gee, Tubby, what am I missing here? How can I get hurt?”

“I don’t see how. Whether you take the tax write-off is up to you. I’m not saying yes or no. It might be better to forget that part. All I’m saying is the anonymous donor is never going to come forward and say it was his money. Five thousand dollars from you, and a yes right now, and this case is over as far as you’re concerned.”

“Well, if this donor is putting up that much, why do I have to put up the five thousand?”

“That’s for screwing up the operation, Marty. You have to pay something for that.”

“Hmmm. All right. What do I have to do?”

“Send me a check for five thousand dollars.”

“Okay. What else?”

“Nothing. I’ll see you later.”

“Call me for lunch.”

Tubby hung up and fed the box another quarter. “Do you know how I could reach Mr. Guyoz?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Tubby Dubonnet.”

“Just a second, I’ll see if he’s free.” Jesus, Tubby thought, this guy must always be at the office.

“Morning, Tubby. I’ve got a meeting. What can I do for you?”

“I spoke to Dr. Feingold, and I think we can work out a deal. The final number isn’t certain, but I need two hundred twenty-five thousand dollars from you.”

“The case isn’t worth that much. I talked to my people, and I’ve got authority to settle for seventy-five thousand dollars, and that’s all I can do.”

“Make it one hundred thousand and meet me at CDC in one hour, and we’ll read it into the record.”

“That’s a proposition I might consider. I’d have to make a call.”

“Make your call. It’s one hundred thousand. Everybody pays their own costs, how about that, but you’ve got to waive your subrogation rights back against Dr. Feingold. What he pays, he pays, but he doesn’t owe you anything for the deductible.”

“I’ve got to get back to you.”

“You need to do that right away. This needs to be done this morning, or I can’t put it together.”

“Don’t rush me.”

“I’m rushing you. Remember, we’ll eat our costs. Right away you’re making five or ten thousand dollars.”

“I’ll call you.”

“I’ll be at my office in ten minutes, and we need to be at court before ten o’clock.”

They both hung up, seeing who could be first.

Cherrylynn was already there, reading the word processor manual and sipping coffee at her desk. Tubby told her good morning and asked her to call Judge Maselli’s chambers to alert Mrs. Maselli that the parties to Shandell versus Feingold would be in early to read a settlement into the record.

Guyoz’s call came in before Tubby had a chance to pour a cup of coffee from the pot Cherrylynn had made. “Seems we have a deal at one hundred thousand dollars,” he said gruffly. “We’ll need a complete release of all claims, of course, and it may be thirty days before we can pay.”

Tubby silently snapped his fingers. “Thirty days is okay. You need to release your claims against Dr. Feingold for his deductible, and we need to read it into the record this morning.”

“What’s the hurry? I’ve got a deposition at ten-thirty.”

“The hurry is right now is when I can put the deal together. It has to be now. You’ll be long gone by ten-thirty. Just meet me in Maselli’s courtroom in half an hour.”

“We’ll need to read the release into the record.”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

Tubby flipped through the Rolodex for the number and called Sandy Shandell. The phone rang for a long time. There was a pause after it was picked up before Sandy’s voice came through. The hello was rough and not too pleasant.