Big Easy Bonanza

was an ethical rule on point, he was sure. Something about not engaging in conduct prejudicial to the administration of justice. He didn’t recall the details, but he thought that was the gist of it. What an obscure and misty proposition that was! He was also sworn to maintain the confidences of his clients. In this case his client was dead, a complicating factor. But did he have no responsibility to his client’s memory? Was there a duty there? It was all complex.
    Anyhow, maybe it was not dirty money, just some dough Darryl had squirreled away. Maybe Darryl had won it at the track, or making book on football. If the police got hold of it, it would be gone forever. They would protect and serve themselves. Darryl had no heirs that Tubby knew about. It was doubtful Darryl was safeguarding it for someone else, because who would trust him with that much money? The best thing, Tubby figured, was to hold on to it and see what happened. It would be smartest to hide it at his house. He couldn’t think of anyplace else. Tubby headed up St. Charles Avenue.
    He pulled into his driveway and parked behind the boat he stored in the carport beside his garage. Before the engine shut off he hit the automatic door opener perched on his dash. Tubby took the money into the garage, which he used for a workshop, and buzzed the door closed. He cleared a space on his workbench and dumped the money out. A careful count showed that it totaled $950,000, a little less than he had thought at first, but no problem. The bills were old and weathered and looked right at home among his hammers and hand saws. They smelled good in here, with the linseed oil and wood shavings. He thought about the bag. Should he lose it? Well, maybe it might turn out to be evidence, too. Probably better to keep it for the time being as well. Tubby packed the loot back in the bag and carried it all outside. He was starting to sweat.
    His boat, stored outside, was not an impressive craft, but a weather-beaten twenty-footer with an inboard motor that he used for pulling the girls waterskiing. He also occasionally took it out with Raisin Partlow, one of the few friends he had who still enjoyed fishing and beer. He climbed on board and rummaged around through a bunch of tangled crab traps. There was a compartment for tackle that was now empty.
    Neighborhood kids, or more likely his former brother-in-law Harold, had cleaned him out of tools and gear a couple of times, and now he did not keep anything of value around the boat. There was a storage area in the bow, stuffed full of some moldy life jackets. Tubby pushed the gym bag among them and covered it up. For some reason he did not want to have the money in his house, and he thought probably all the local thieves had given up on the boat by now. This was considered a good neighborhood. Lots of trees and lawyers, close to the universities, but if you left a bicycle in the yard unguarded for more than half an hour it would be gone. The neighborhood hired an off-duty policeman to drive around at night. He was a cheerful guy. He had never caught anyone that Tubby knew about, but he’d once helped Tubby push his car down the street when the battery died, so Tubby never complained about chipping in his monthly dues.
    Tubby stuffed his shirttails back into his pants and looked around. Only one of his neighbors was visible—a silver-haired lady in a flowery housedress, watering her plants under the sprawling shade of a live oak tree down the block. She was not paying him any attention. Across the street, an upstairs window curtain seemed to move, but he could not really be sure. You never could tell for certain in this neighborhood, with all the trees for cover and the houses close together, who was seeing what. It was generally a good bet that someone was looking around, as nervous as everybody permanently stayed about burglaries and other forms of mischief.
    Tubby tried to look normal, though he knew he could not quite make it since he was wearing a tie and stumbling around in a parked boat in the middle of the day. Oh well. He disembarked, dusted off his hands theatrically, and hitched up his pants. He got into his car and backed it out of the driveway. As he drove downtown he passed gaily dressed groups of tourists waiting for the streetcar at every other block. They were lighthearted. He was not.

TWELVE
    Tubby spent the rest of the day in his office. He even sent Cherrylynn out for a roast beef sandwich with extra gravy