Big Easy Bonanza

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 conversations, and now he was paranoid whenever a client made any unusual suggestions. It cramped his spontaneity, since his clients were coming up with wild ideas all the time, but you had to be careful.
    Darryl looked indignant. “Heck no,” he protested. “You think I’m crazy? You’re a lawyer. I know you don’t want any bad stuff. And by the way, I brought you the rest of your retainer. I made out the check for fifteen thousand dollars. Is that okay?” He pulled an envelope from his blazer pocket and offered it to Tubby.
    Tubby got a warm feeling from Darryl. “Yes, that’s fine.” What the hell, he thought. “Sure, you can leave the bag here. Try to get it out this week, though. I may need to fit something into my safe that’s actually related to my law practice, you understand.”
    “Tubby, it’s not going to be a problem. I really appreciate it. Look, I got to run. Call me at the bar if you hear anything. And you know I always got a table reserved for you.”
    “Sure, Darryl. And think about your situation a little bit. Call me if you have something I can deal with. Say hi to Monique.”
    After Darryl left, Tubby picked up the bag and squeezed it with his fingers. He couldn’t tell much about what was inside, but he was pretty sure it was paper. He held it up to the light but nothing showed through the fabric. He smelled it. The zipper had a tiny lock on it. Easy enough to force. Tubby shook his head at his own foolishness in accepting responsibility for anything that belonged to Darryl, but he did try to accommodate his paying clients. He opened the safe built into the cupboard below the bookshelves and stowed the bag inside next to a stack of wills. He spent a moment watching an old man and a young girl play a graceful game of tennis on the hotel roof below, then forced himself to go back to reading his vagueness exception. So much of the law was really a drag, he thought. It took straightforward disagreements and drew them out so much that the litigants finally screamed for relief or surrender, whichever would make it all stop. As an alternative to gun battles in the street, it was pretty good, but hardly anybody ever felt like a winner and absolutely nobody appreciated the lawyers. It was easy to feel sorry for yourself in this game.
    But then look at Darryl. Tubby’s father had told him, whenever he got down in the dumps, to think about people with real problems. He did, and it helped.
    Sometimes, to pick up a few bucks, Casey tracked down people who skipped bail. If he could catch the guy at home, he had enough authority to make the arrest and bring him before the court downtown. He collected from the bondsman for his services.
    A prisoner at the jail had given Casey a tip that a minor pimp called Phil the Phoneman was staying with his mother in Algiers, the part of New Orleans across the Mississippi River. Phil had failed to appear for his trial on a charge of promoting prostitution, causing his bondsman to risk forfeiting $5,000. So there was plenty of financial incentive to find him.
    It was easy. Phil even answered the door, pretty as you please, and now he was sitting in the backseat of Casey’s car. Freddie was the passenger in front. To save paying the toll on the bridge, Casey decided to take the ferry back over the river. They had to wait a few minutes in a line of cars, while listening to their captive go on and on.
    “This is bullshit. Oh, man,” he’d say.
    “This is real bullshit. Oh, man,” he’d say again.
    “I cannot believe