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

her the man’s name.
    “Are you thinking he set you up?”
    “Maybe, but I don’t see how. He didn’t know the when or the where. I made the arrangements myself, with people I’ve done business with in the past. The guy you saw introduced me to the major player, the son of a bitch who financed this fucking disaster here. This guy’s very rich. He’s got a big house in the Garden District, with the slave quarters and everything. I’ve been down by it. I’ve never been inside, of course. He wouldn’t want the little lady to see me. He acts like a Greek god or something. He knows people who want to put up some money. High risk. High yield. All cash. Can I provide the product? Will I pick it up and distribute it? Of course I will. Then everybody makes lots of money. Their investment pays off well. He’s the guy I felt I could trust, ‘cause he’s so rich. But I don’t know. He’s just not my type. That may be where I got in trouble. Maybe I misread him.”
    Monique didn’t say anything.
    “That’s why I had you hold the money, Monique. Just because I wasn’t sure.”
    “What’s he going to do now?”
    “I know he wants to talk to me real bad, just like I want to talk to him. We need to straighten out what happened. I need to find out what he’s going to do for me. Right now I’d guess he’s pretty anxious to get his money back. I just haven’t thought of a safe way for us to get together yet.”
    “Do you think he can get you out of this?”
    “I think he can. He knows the right strings to pull. The question is will he pull them. I’ll say this. If he doesn’t get me out of this jam, he’s going to be short one big pile of money.”
    Darryl didn’t tell Monique what Tubby had said about the eight years. After he wound down a little bit, they made gentle love on the upholstered chair in the office, with the television blaring and the wall monitors flashing live scenes from the barroom below. Later, Darryl sat in front of the TV, flipping channels. Monique curled up on the chair for a little nap, and before she fell asleep she prayed that Darryl would never find out what she had done.
    On Mondays, Champs was closed until late in the afternoon to permit a crew to come in and clean the place and give it some air. They usually finished at around noon, and the doors opened to the public at four o’clock. Darryl was there all day. Monique did some laundry in the morning and then came over on her bicycle to keep him company.
    They were sitting at the empty bar, listening to a Neville Brothers tape on the sound system while they talked about this and that and watched the boats out on the lake. Darryl asked her to go upstairs and get the cash register keys. She was in the office when she heard a loud crash. Her eyes jumped to the console that monitored the downstairs area, and she saw two men, one tall and one short and broad, advancing through the front door they had just smashed open. They had some kind of guns in their hands. Her eyes went to the other monitor. Darryl had noticed something. He was standing up and reaching under the counter.
    Before the men had even located Darryl, she saw him grab for the Beretta 9 he kept beneath the register. The short man saw him move and opened fire, shattering glass all over the place and catching Darryl right in the chest. He coughed, coughed, and coughed and went down hard on his back. Both men ran over to the bar, and the short one kicked Darryl. The big guy was pissed off. He grabbed the short man and stuck a gun in his face. He said something, then pushed him away in disgust. He looked up at the camera, and Monique recognized Casey. The two men looked at each other, and then moved off camera in the direction of the stairs.
    She thought about barricading herself in the office and calling the police, but to her Casey was the police. She got out of there and ran down the hall. She could hear them coming at her up the stairs. She slipped through the lounge as