Big Easy Bonanza

office. You pay him according to the number of calls you receive from the ads. You have a gentlemen’s understanding that, down the road, if the cases pay off he gets to raise his rates.”
    A peppered fillet, covered with sliced almonds, appeared before Tubby. He pricked it gently with his fork, and a puff of steam escaped, with it a light smell of daybreak and high tide at the beach. E.J. inspected his skewered oysters and bacon and inhaled with pleasure.
    “Ah, this looks perfect,” he crooned. “So you think that would be legal?”
    “I don’t see why not.”
    “Let me give it some thought. And I’ll discuss it with Nyop. As you said, every immigrant likes to own a company.”
    “Like your grandfather.”
    “Actually, my great-grandfather,” E.J. said, referring to the old Frenchman who had managed to acquire so much Vieux Carré real estate that it had taken his descendants four generations to work it down to the several blocks they now owned and leased at handsome rates. Unlike Tubby, who was originally from a hamlet called Bunkie, surrounded by sugarcane and rice plantations, and who had only landed in New Orleans because his father had gotten him into Tulane, E.J. was a pillar of New Orleans society. Never mind that several of his ancestors had been hung as outlaws by the Spaniards or the Yankees, E.J. paraded with the Krewe of Proteus, when it rode, and had flattered Tubby by inviting him to join. Tubby had declined because, at the time, he was privately too hard up for cash to pay the dues.
    “How’s your drug-smuggling case coming?”
    “Okay. How did you hear about that?”
    “I saw your name in the newspaper – the story about the bail hearing.”
    Tubby finished chewing a bite of fish, and stabbed a crisp slice of tomato. “There’s not much for me to do. He got caught with the goods.”
    “Did they have a tip?”
    “Oh, yes, but nobody is telling where it came from. The DEA field office down there was well prepared though they’re still having to explain why all they caught was Darryl Alvarez.”
    “I’ve always thought it a little distressing how criminals turn each other in all the time. Where’s the honor? Wouldn’t it be terrible if professionals did that to each other?”
    “We’re slightly more reliable, I guess, but that’s changing, too.”
    “A toast to the reticent nature of officers of the court everywhere. What do you think Alvarez was planning to do with the pot?”
    “Sell it, of course,” Tubby said. “For all I know he sells it out of the back room at Champs. Do you know Darryl?”
    “Sure, I’ve eaten and imbibed a few at Champs. But it’s a total surprise to me that he’s in that league. So much pot must cost a lot of money.”
    “The police say its street value was in the millions. They didn’t catch him with any cash, though. It probably left with the boat.”
    “Have you been over to Champs since his arrest?”
    “No, but Darryl comes to see me. He was by yesterday.”
    “What’s going to happen to him?”
    “He’ll probably go to prison for a while, unless he points the finger at someone else.”
    “Just what I was saying. Everyone feels this need to turn someone else in. They pass around guilt like a bottle of wine.”
    “Not Darryl. So far he’s not talking, though he’s sweating a little. I guess he’s more like one of your professionals.”
    “Well, I have always appreciated discretion.”
    “You ain’t never been in jail, cher.”
    “And I’m the second generation of my family with that distinction,” Chaisson said with obvious pride.

TEN
    It wasn’t long before Daryl opened up a little more to Monique about the money. She was behind the bar, mixing an old-fashioned for the nice old man who pumped gas at the marina, when this skinny kid with long blond hair, good-looking but vacant and needy somehow, sat down. He waved until she paid him some attention.
    “Is Darryl Alvarez here?” he asked. He had a look of desperation.
    “I don’t know. If he’s here, he’s busy. What will you have?”
    “Oh, not really anything to drink. But I need to speak to Mr. Alvarez. It’s important.”
    “What’s important about it?”
    “I’ve got to tell him in person.”
    “Sorry,” she said and started to move away.
    “Wait a second,” he pleaded. “Do you know who Tubby Dubonnet is?”
    Monique recognized the name of Darryl’s lawyer.
    “Yeah, I do.”
    That brightened up the young man’s face. He was making