Tony Dunbar - Tubby Dubonnet 06 - Lucky Man (17 page)

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to.”

“No way. I don’t have a car or anything.”

“I’ll give you some cab money.”

“Hell, I like excitement. I’ve been dumped by one date, and I don’t intend to be dumped by another. I’m not working tonight. So unless you’re as big a jerk as your buddy, I’ll just come along for the ride.”

Not many roads are blacker and lonelier after dark than Highway 90, traveling east out of New Orleans. It is long and straight with nothing for scenery but dense cypress swamps and jagged strands of pine, ebony against a gray sky. Where the water touches land, fishing camps with colorful names, owned by weekenders and old salts who keep to themselves, perch precariously on crooked pilings driven into the marsh or the flat black sea itself. When the weather is calm and warm, as it was this night, the only ripples on the water’s glassy surface are wakes from occasional small boats running far from the shore without lights, out for late-night sport or on errands of a private nature.

Tubby and Sapphire had discussed much as they raced through the uninhabited grassland— about what he did for a living and what she thought about the President— but he fell silent when they crossed the narrow Rigolets bridge, and she followed suit. At the sign that said, ENTERING ST. TAMMANY PARISH, LOUISIANA Tubby slowed down and began to clock the tenths of a mile, as Flowers had instructed. The car was barely crawling when, about where Tubby expected, he spied the detective’s blue Explorer nestled in some palmetto bushes beside the road. He eased his Chrysler onto the clamshell shoulder and parked beside the truck. He cut the lights.

“Wait here,” he told Sapphire and quietly opened his door. The smell of salt air and decaying marsh blew into the car. Somewhere tree toads without number sang, and far away a radio played a Beatles song.

A shadow stretched across the highway, and Flowers appeared from the bushes.

“We got some mosquitoes out here,” he complained. “Who’s that in the car?”

“Sapphire Serena. I was having dinner with her when you called.”

“She’s going to stay in the car?”

“I hope so. What’s going on?”

“There’s a camp down that little drive called the Red Saloon. Norella drove in about an hour and a half ago. Everybody seems to be in the building that’s up on stilts. At least they were there a few minutes ago. I don’t know who all is inside, but one of them is definitely Lucky LaFrene.”

“Really?”

“I got a good look at him when he came onto the porch to take a whiz off the rail.”

“You’d think he’d use the head inside.”

“Maybe he likes nature. I’ve been hearing loud voices, but I haven’t tried to get close enough to see what they’re talking about. The racing boat is tied up to the dock, and there’s another little motorboat down there somewhere too.”

Tubby swatted an insect on his wrist.

“Maybe we should just stay out here and see what they do,” he suggested.

He swatted another one on his neck.

“You’re the boss,” Flowers conceded.

“But since I came this far I guess we’ll just crash the party.”

Quietly the two men tiptoed through the saw grass and around the scrub brush that covered the land side of the camp. The moon rose gradually above the horizon, casting sharp shadows across their path.

The rustic house was raised up on pilings, and a wide deck wrapped around it. Hiding under the creosoted poles, the two men caught their breath.

Suddenly, a pistol shot crashed through the air, and Flowers grabbed Tubby in a suffocating bear hug and wrestled him to the ground. Tubby struggled free and, sputtering, brushed the sand off his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed at Flowers.

“Protecting the boss, boss.”

“You almost broke my back. I’m going up there and look in the window.”

Tubby crept to the wind-beaten wooden steps and started up, trying not to make a sound.

Flowers came behind him. A light shown through a window on the porch, and Tubby cautiously peeked inside.

There was a body on the floor, almost centered on an oval rug. He recognized Norella Finn.

He yelped involuntarily when a hand grabbed his elbow, and Sapphire whispered. “What happened?” in his ear.

“What are you doing here?” Tubby gasped, but she ignored him.

Flowers signaled that he was going around to the back of the house, and he followed the porch around the corner.

Right away a loud grunt came from his general direction, followed by a thump.

Tubby and Sapphire exchanged glances, then watched as Lucky LaFrene— cotton-candy hair in place— stepped around the corner. He had a large pistol in his hand, and he wasn’t smiling.

“Kind of scared me, sneaking up like that,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to ask you to come inside.” He pointed the gun at Tubby’s middle.

“No problem here,” Tubby said, and Sapphire followed his lead.

They had to step over Flowers, who was spread-eagle on the deck.

“I had to tap him with my fish knocker,” LaFrene said, indicating a bat lying beside the door. “Shouldn’t surprise a man in the dark.”

When they walked into the house they got another surprise. Norella was sitting up on the rug glaring at them.

“You aren’t shot,” Tubby said, stating the obvious. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

“I was practicing my own death,” Norella said crossly.

“I’m afraid you interrupted the ol’ gal’s suicide,” LaFrene said. “Why don’t you sit down where I can keep an eye on you. You, too, miss.”

Tubby and Sapphire squeezed together into a cheap plastic loveseat made for juvenile guests.

“Why are you committing suicide?” Sapphire was concerned.

“Who is she?” Norella asked.

“A friend of mine,” Tubby said. He was going to add, She’s a woman your husband hit on, but he didn’t know how that would go over. He listened hopefully for sounds that Flowers might be coming back to life.

“Because I want to disappear,” Norella said angrily.

“Already wrote the fare-thee-well note,” LaFrene added. He was the only one standing. “A note on the table, a gun with a bullet missing on the deck, and it looks like she fell into the water. The tide comes in and out, you know, and it’s hard to find a body out there. It’s the crème de la crime.”

“Why are you disappearing?” Tubby asked.

“We’re leaving here tonight on the speedboat,” LaFrene said thoughtfully. “It’s too hot to trot in this burg.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“The same man you are, pilgrim, Marcus Dementhe.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“That guy is the monster mash, I’m telling you. He’ll snap me in two like a fire pole. I know too much.”

“About what?” Tubby asked, watching the pistol droop in LaFrene’s palm.

“I’ll tell you a little something,” LaFrene said, “since we’re out here in the void of paradise. That crazy Dementhe killed Max Finn.”

Tubby forgot about escaping.

“How’s that?” He was all ears.

“I’ll tell it just like it was. I told him, it ain’t right. You owe me the money.”

***

“It ain’t right. You owe me the money!” Lucky LaFrene pleaded with Max Finn.

They were in the main room of the boathouse, half den and half kitchen, divided by a bar. Max Finn was sitting on his stool, building a teepee with plastic forks. Lucky LaFrene alternately paced around the kitchen and plunked down next to Finn, trying to get his attention.

“This shouldn’t be hard to understand,” Lucky said. He was trying to be reasonable. “I lend money to you. My pal, and my palomino pays me back.”

Finn knocked his plastic forks into a heap and for entertainment began slapping his knees like bongo drums.

“Be serious for Chrissake,” LaFrene begged. “This is not funny.”

“Wrong. It’s very funny,” Finn told him.

“I want the papers on the boat,” LaFrene said. “Even with that you’ll still owe me more than twenty-five thousand.”

“Man, the boat is worth way more than I owe you. It’s a collector’s item. And you can’t have it, anyway.”

“No, sir, Max. I want the boat. Give me the papers. Afterwards, we get it appraised and we can work something out for the difference. You owe me.

Max grinned at him. “I can’t find the papers,” he said smugly.

LaFrene was out of patience.

“Max, I know it was you who sent those guys to talk to me, but I need my moola. I want that boat!” He slammed his fist down on the bar.

Finn reacted by bouncing off his stool and crashing around his boathouse. He started tearing pictures off the wall and kicking the Mexican statues and ashtrays off the tables.

“You want this, Shylock?” he screamed, smashing a candlestick onto the floor. “How about this?” He kicked the television.

LaFrene watched, speechless.

“You’re crazier than a kettle of radishes,” he whispered.

“You want this?” Finn held up a framed display of fifteen gold-plated gambling chips from a casino. LaFrene knew exactly what they were— thousand dollar chips for the “Fort Knox Megaslot Machine for the Twenty-First Century.” Lucky had been with Finn the night he won them. Since they also commemorated the fifteen ways Finn knew how to screw people, and since he had won plenty more that night, Finn had framed the chips and put them on the wall where he could tell people what a cool dude he was.

He slammed the case to the floor and jumped on it with both feet.

“Hell, yes, I want that,” LaFrene said, getting up. “That’s fifteen grand.”

“Well come and get them,” Finn invited coyly. He scooped the chips off the floor and shook off the glass. Then he placed them on his tongue, one by one.

“Tastes great.” Gulp.

“Like caviar, Lucky,” Gulp.

LaFrene sat down heavily on his stool.

“You’re a lunatic, Max,” he said sadly.

The doorbell rang.

Max swallowed his last chip and looked around at the mess he had made.

“I hope that’s the cleaning lady,” he said, and burped. Stepping around an overturned lamp he went to open the door.

“This is quite an honor.” He stood back to let the visitor enter.

Dementhe closed the door behind him and looked past Max to take in the room.

“Hello,” he said to Lucky, who nodded.

“Please get the obnoxious and disgusting grin off your face, Max,” he said to Finn.

Finn’s smile stayed put. Dementhe’s face turned red and he jabbed Finn in the stomach with two stiff fingers to make his point. When Max just opened his mouth, the man jabbed him again.

“Eeeee,” Finn wheezed. He clutched his throat.

“What’s wrong with this fool?” Dementhe asked LaFrene.

“He needs a head shrimper,” Lucky said, but by then it was too late for Finn.

He was twirling slowly, gasping loudly, and beating himself on the chest. He staggered toward the bar and pointed a finger at Lucky, then, with a mystified expression on his face, he pitched headfirst to the floor.

LaFrene held up his hands like he was under arrest.

“What did you do to him?” Dementhe demanded, checking for a pulse.

Neither one liked the odds, and they got out of there fast.

***

“I don’t know if that’s actually a murder,” Tubby said when he had listened to the story.

LaFrene shrugged. “In my opinion it was. He was desiring to kill poor Max, except Max died on his own. Give Dementhe time, and he’ll do the same to me and this little lady right here.” He pointed at Norella, who was checking her appearance in the chrome legs of the coffee table. “I’m doing this for love, doll,” he called, and blew her a kiss.

She checked the mole under her ear.

“Why would Dementhe want Max Finn dead?”

“Because they was cooked up together in some crazy scheme. I don’t know the details. It had to do with Max’s call girls and how they was going to frame all the judges. Something screwed up, is all I know.”

“I guess it did,” Sapphire said, jaw squared.

“What’s your pointed view, little damsel?” LaFrene asked.

“I’m just one of the call girls, mister, if you must know. Just one of the chicks who flittered into his tree.”

Intrigued, LaFrene said, “It’s bees who flitter through the trees, doll. Have you got a stinger or are you a humdinger?”

“I can hum, and I can sing too. Despite what Max Finn did to me.”

“He was a crooked pot of piss, that’s no lie.”

“To me he’s like rain in the sky, but he’ll be gone by and by.”

Tubby’s head had been snapping back and forth, trying to follow this exchange, but, hopelessly puzzled, he interrupted.

“What’s Dementhe got against judges?” he asked. “Do you know?”

“Who the hell knows?” LaFrene spread his hands. “He’s just a nasty man. Some people are like that. I knew him from grade school. Before he got religion he was a good guy. But I didn’t get to be a lucky man waiting for the knife to fall. We’re clearing out. Norella, are all your bagatelles packed?”

“They’re all in the boat,” she said, avoiding Tubby’s eyes.

“Okay, you go first out the door, and be careful that fellow out there is still sleeping. You should drop your good-bye note on the coffee table on the way.”

Norella placed a folded piece of paper under an ashtray. She passed Tubby and Sapphire without looking at them and slipped out the door.

“Exactly where is everybody going?” Tubby asked, making conversation.

“We’re going to make an island off Texas,” LaFrene explained. “It’s a real nice place to stay for a while, where nobody bothers you. Kind of romantic, I thought. A lovely spot for me and my Queen of Denial. Now the plan has to change.”

“Are you going to kill us?” Sapphire asked.

LaFrene tugged on his earlobe like he was giving the matter some thought.

Tubby’s eyes did not leave the gun.

“It’s up to you. I ain’t a bad rapper. I’ll take you along if you want, my dear. I’ll even take your attorney and counselor-at-law buddy. It would be a vacation,” he said, warming to the subject. “Like de owl and de putty-tat, we’ll sail away for a year and a day. Of course, if you don’t want to go, it’s hello fishies for you.”