Crooked Man: A Hard-Boiled but Humorous New Orleans Mystery (Tubby Dubonnet Series #1) (The Tubby Dubonnet Series) by Tony Dunbar Page B
Authors: Tony Dunbar
Tags: Humor, Mystery, Hard-Boiled, cozy, funny, legal mystery, New Orleans, Noir, lawyer mystery, Tubby Dubonnet series
Ads: Link
marijuana, with an estimated street value of $3 million, into a truck. Mr. Alvarez has no known survivors.
Tubby sped downtown on Freret Street, going too fast past school children in uniforms jumping rope at the bus stops, and vegetable vendors setting up their stands by the curbs. The day was already hot, but he had not taken the time to put up the top on the convertible. He navigated the spiral-up ramp of the parking garage in dangerous time. While riding up in the elevator, he hummed and stroked the nonexistent beard on his face.
Cherrylynn had not yet arrived. Tubby went quickly into his office and went straight to the safe. He knelt down and opened it. Yes, the gym bag was there. He pulled it out and carried it to his desk. Fishing around in the top drawer, he found a staple remover and used it to grip the little lock. Then he stuck a letter opener through the hasp and twisted it hard. The lock bent and popped, and he unzipped the bag.
He wasn’t surprised that it contained money, but the eye-appealing fact was that it contained lots of money. Tubby forgot to breathe for a minute, then he moved fast.
The bills were already sorted and separated into stacks. Most were wrinkled $100s, but some were $20s or $50s. Tubby pulled them out and did a quick count on his desk. It was impossible to be completely accurate, but it looked like about a million dollars. He stuffed everything back into the bag and was zipping it back up when Cherrylynn walked in.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were in yet, Mr. Dubonnet. I thought I heard somebody back here.” She was obviously interested in the bag.
“I just got an early start today,” he said.
“Did you see Darryl Alvarez was murdered?” she asked from the doorway, then started to walk in.
“No, I didn’t. That’s terrible. How shocking.”
“It happened at his bar…”
“Could you please fix me a cup of coffee, black.” Except when he was schmoozing with clients, he had not asked her to fix him a cup of coffee in the last three years, so she looked surprised. It stopped her, though.
“Why sure, boss. Coming up.”
She went out and pulled the door behind her. She gave him a last looking-over before the door closed. Always curious.
Clutching the gym bag, Tubby went to the door. Cherrylynn was not in the front reception area but was in the kitchen, so the path to the outside door of the office was clear. Tubby reached it in two steps. As he went out he yelled, “Forget the coffee, Cherrylynn. I need to go out for a few minutes.”
The elevator came, and no one was inside. Tubby stripped off his suit jacket and draped it over the bag. It certainly did not conceal that he was holding something, but maybe it disguised what it was. He went back to his car the way he had come. He drove, considerably slower, with the bag beside him on the passenger seat, thinking deep thoughts.
He tried to concentrate enough to analyze his various duties. First, if this money was evidence, he was supposed to turn it over to the police. There was an ethical rule on point, he was sure. Something about not engaging in conduct prejudicial to the administration of justice. He didn’t recall the details, but he thought that was the gist of it. What an obscure and misty proposition that was! He was also sworn to maintain the confidences of his clients. In this case his client was dead, a complicating factor. But did he have no responsibility to his client’s memory? Was there a duty there? It was all complex.
Anyhow, maybe it was not dirty money, just some dough Darryl had squirreled away. Maybe Darryl had won it at the track, or making book on football. If the police got hold of it, it would be gone forever. They would protect and serve themselves. Darryl had no heirs that Tubby knew about. It was doubtful Darryl was safeguarding it for someone else, because who would trust him with that much money? The best thing, Tubby figured, was to hold on to it and see what happened. It would be
Tubby sped downtown on Freret Street, going too fast past school children in uniforms jumping rope at the bus stops, and vegetable vendors setting up their stands by the curbs. The day was already hot, but he had not taken the time to put up the top on the convertible. He navigated the spiral-up ramp of the parking garage in dangerous time. While riding up in the elevator, he hummed and stroked the nonexistent beard on his face.
Cherrylynn had not yet arrived. Tubby went quickly into his office and went straight to the safe. He knelt down and opened it. Yes, the gym bag was there. He pulled it out and carried it to his desk. Fishing around in the top drawer, he found a staple remover and used it to grip the little lock. Then he stuck a letter opener through the hasp and twisted it hard. The lock bent and popped, and he unzipped the bag.
He wasn’t surprised that it contained money, but the eye-appealing fact was that it contained lots of money. Tubby forgot to breathe for a minute, then he moved fast.
The bills were already sorted and separated into stacks. Most were wrinkled $100s, but some were $20s or $50s. Tubby pulled them out and did a quick count on his desk. It was impossible to be completely accurate, but it looked like about a million dollars. He stuffed everything back into the bag and was zipping it back up when Cherrylynn walked in.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were in yet, Mr. Dubonnet. I thought I heard somebody back here.” She was obviously interested in the bag.
“I just got an early start today,” he said.
“Did you see Darryl Alvarez was murdered?” she asked from the doorway, then started to walk in.
“No, I didn’t. That’s terrible. How shocking.”
“It happened at his bar…”
“Could you please fix me a cup of coffee, black.” Except when he was schmoozing with clients, he had not asked her to fix him a cup of coffee in the last three years, so she looked surprised. It stopped her, though.
“Why sure, boss. Coming up.”
She went out and pulled the door behind her. She gave him a last looking-over before the door closed. Always curious.
Clutching the gym bag, Tubby went to the door. Cherrylynn was not in the front reception area but was in the kitchen, so the path to the outside door of the office was clear. Tubby reached it in two steps. As he went out he yelled, “Forget the coffee, Cherrylynn. I need to go out for a few minutes.”
The elevator came, and no one was inside. Tubby stripped off his suit jacket and draped it over the bag. It certainly did not conceal that he was holding something, but maybe it disguised what it was. He went back to his car the way he had come. He drove, considerably slower, with the bag beside him on the passenger seat, thinking deep thoughts.
He tried to concentrate enough to analyze his various duties. First, if this money was evidence, he was supposed to turn it over to the police. There was an ethical rule on point, he was sure. Something about not engaging in conduct prejudicial to the administration of justice. He didn’t recall the details, but he thought that was the gist of it. What an obscure and misty proposition that was! He was also sworn to maintain the confidences of his clients. In this case his client was dead, a complicating factor. But did he have no responsibility to his client’s memory? Was there a duty there? It was all complex.
Anyhow, maybe it was not dirty money, just some dough Darryl had squirreled away. Maybe Darryl had won it at the track, or making book on football. If the police got hold of it, it would be gone forever. They would protect and serve themselves. Darryl had no heirs that Tubby knew about. It was doubtful Darryl was safeguarding it for someone else, because who would trust him with that much money? The best thing, Tubby figured, was to hold on to it and see what happened. It would be
Similar Books
