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

to suggest that they had spent their lunch hour working out at an executive spa. Despite his wavy black hair and the two gold chains around his neck, Darryl did not look so hot. A little frayed, maybe. But he flashed his big smile when he asked, “How’s it going today, Tubby?”
    “I’m staying busy. Have a seat.” Darryl was pretty fidgety. Maybe facing prison time did that to you. Tubby told him about his talk with the U.S. Attorney.
    “You think they’ve got a case?” Darryl asked.
    “I don’t see how a first-year law student could miss landing you, Darryl. All they’ve got to do is show the videotape of you waving at the camera with your hand on a ton of marijuana while a shrimp boat disappears into the Gulf. I’m just giving you the straight poop. They misspelled a few words in the indictment, but I don’t think that’s going to save you. They read you your rights four times. If you don’t want to take the hit, you’re going to have to tell them what you haven’t told me. Who were you selling it to? Or, who were you working for?”
    Darryl sighed. “If I told you that, I’d have a lot more problems than I have now. So what are we talking about if I get convicted?”
    “The penalty for possession of that much pot with intention to sell is a minimum of twenty-five years, up to life. Except for your little cocaine bust in 1985, this is your only offense. Because I’m such a good lawyer, I think you’ll get the twenty-five years and serve about eight.”
    Darryl sighed again. “Monique would shit over that.”
    “Who is Monique?” Tubby asked.
    “Aw, she’s my girlfriend. We’re probably getting married. She’s my night manager at Champs. I told her I might have to do six months. I think she might get another job if I got eight years.”
    “Give me something to tell the U.S. Attorney and let’s make a deal. Then everybody’s happy.”
    “Not as happy as you might think,” Darryl muttered. “I’ll see if maybe the Governor will commute my sentence. I contributed enough.”
    “Not even the Governor can commute a federal sentence. He just can’t reach over to Pensacola and say, ‘You’ve got one of my very best friends locked up in your very comfy prison. Please cut him loose and send him home to the ‘Gret Stet’ of Louisiana.’”
    “No? Okay, I guess not. What happens next?”
    “I’m going to file discovery motions and see what the rest of their evidence is—other than catching you with several bales of grass in your truck. They’ll set it for trial in September, October maybe. There’s not much for you to do now but look after your business. And maybe you should take a little time off and spend it with Monique.”
    “I’ve been thinking about doing that, too. Maybe run over to Gulf Shores or, who knows, fly up to Canada.”
    “Whereabouts in Canada?”
    “Heck if I know. Monique says she wants to go to the Yukon and see the Mounties.” Darryl shook his head. “Listen, Tubby, could I leave this with you?” He plunked the gym bag down on Tubby’s desk. The way he lifted it made it look heavy. “It’s important that it be in a safe place.”
    “What is it?” Tubby didn’t want to touch it.
    “It’s a lot of my business records. And some personal stuff to do with Monique. I’ve been getting things organized for going away, and this is stuff I don’t want to leave lying around. I was thinking you probably got some room in your safe. I wouldn’t want to leave it here more than a week. After that, I’ve made other arrangements.”
    “Let me see what’s in it.”
    “I don’t want to open it, Tubby, and I don’t think you want to see this stuff. I swear it’s just papers. Nothing illegal at all.”
    “Is there anything that might be thought of as evidence of a crime in that bag?” Tubby was wondering if this conversation might be being tape-recorded. He had recently sat through a few hours of a local judge’s bribery trial, based largely on taped telephone