Night Watchman (The Tubby Dubonnet Series Book 8) by Tony Dunbar Page B

taking root every day right here in the United States.”
    “But there are other threats today, my friend Pancera. Disease. Radical Islam. Overpopulation. Rising seas.”
    “You are starting to sound like a fucking socialist yourself. That could always lead to a sudden death. The future of freedom, capitalism, and family values is ours to shape, to take. You must come back to us and do your share.”
    “I am doing my share,” Jason protested, shaken by the reference to a sudden death. “I have given the benevolent society and the veterans of the Brigade almost a hundred thousand dollars over the years.”
    “
No puede haber paz sin justicia
. Do you remember what happened to ‘Second-in-Command’?”
    Jason was confused. “I remember hearing he drowned in Katrina.”
    “Yeah, but he had some help. Don’t you know that the Night Watchman got him?”
    “No!” Jason was shocked. “All that rough stuff was supposed to be over years ago.”
    Pancera stared at him with black eyes that didn’t blink.
    “What was his offense?” Jason asked.
    “He tried to destroy ‘the papers.’ ”
    Jason dimly recalled mentions of ‘the papers’ decades before, but he denied it now. “I don’t know anything about any papers,” he said. “I just want peace. What are you asking me to do?”
    “Get this lawyer Dubonnet off my case.
Dejar morir muertos en paz
.”
    “How can I let the dead lie in peace, tell me?”
    “You will find a way. You have always been a very smart fellow, Jason. There are many others involved in this, as you know. They do not want their lives to be disturbed by ancient events. They move very fast when they are threatened. Make this go away. You got it?” His fingers did little dances like snowflakes falling. “Just make it go away. Or else we will act as we must.”
    * * *
    “Mr. Boaz is on the phone,” Cherrylynn called from the other room.
    “Hi, Jason. What’s up?”
    “All the stuff we talked about, I can’t talk about, but I want to say, you know, we’re friends.”
    “Okay,” Tubby said encouragingly.
    “And I’ve finished my little decibel invention. I think it will suit your purposes admirably.”
    “Great. Great. You didn’t have to. Like you said, I can probably buy one at the store. But, of course, I’d like to have yours.”
    “You absolutely should. Mine’s better. You can field-test it for me and see how well it works.”
    “Gladly.”
    “I can drop it off at your home tonight.”
    “That works. I’m leaving here soon. I have to stop at the grocery store and pick up some stuff, but I should be home by six.”
    “No problem. I’ll see you then.”
    After hanging up Tubby stared for a minute at the life of his city beyond his office window. Far off in the east there was a plume of smoke, maybe a house on fire. He could see a traffic jam building up on the I-10. Sounds of a brass band rose up from Bourbon Street, forty-three stories below. There was a very large bird circling over the panorama, flying even higher than Tubby’s office. Likely it was a bald eagle whose nest was at Bayou Sauvage, coming back from its daily feast in the Gulf of Mexico. Burning buildings, snags on the Interstate, vast distances, meant nothing to that extraordinary creature.
    Maybe, he thought, when I solve the Parker murder, when Collette finishes school, when I find the right woman, I can be free like that.
    Nah! A fantasy. He collected his briefcase and headed out the door.
    * * *
    Tubby was steering his handsome Camaro uptown on Magazine Street when Raisin caught up with him on the mobile.
    “Want to go out tonight? Janie’s bar?”
    “That’s what you say every night, but I can’t. No point in it till I get my noise meter. Jason is bringing it over in an hour. Let’s go tomorrow.”
    “Does all of this noise pollution crap sound like nannyville to you?” Raisin wanted to know. “Didn’t we use to stand right next to the speakers at Grateful Dead, the Band, Aerosmith, Led