Fat Man Blues: A Hard-Boiled and Humorous Mystery (The Tubby Dubonnet Series Book 9) by Tony Dunbar

tenderly, but she recoiled.
    “Oh, no, no!” was all Angelo could say. “I’ll kill that son of a bitch!”
    “You’re squeezing me too tight, baby,” she said, adjusting her bra.
    He loosened his fingers, helped her with her shoes, and escorted her out the door. The kid was rocking to Ghostland Observatory and barely noticed them leave. If Angelo had taken a moment to stop and listen, he might have liked the music, too.
    * * *
    It was time to call it a day, and Tubby went to retrieve his Camaro from the seventh floor of the Place Palais garage. Lost in pleasant thoughts, he didn’t realize he was being watched by the driver of another vehicle parked nearby. Backing out of his reserved space and proceeding tediously down the ramps to the street and St. Charles Avenue, he never picked up the red Impala that was slowly following behind him.

CHAPTER X
    Tubby Dubonnet was headed home, and he hoped there would be a woman there. He was pretty sure that there would be. Peggy O’Flarity had been spending two or three nights a week with him on Henry Clay. The rest of the week she stayed in Folsom with her horses. Their schedule wasn’t well established, however.
    Sure enough, Peggy’s Porsche was parked in front of his house. She left the driveway to him.
    He found her sitting on a plastic chair on the back porch wearing a wool sweater, for the evening was cool, and sipping a mug of Chai tea. In Tubby’s estimation Peggy was an extremely attractive woman— youthfully middle-aged.
    “It’s very nice to see you here.” He waved at her from the back door.
    “Is it?” she looked at him for confirmation. She still wasn’t sure where things stood between them.
    “Absolutely,” he said, and meant it. He stepped onto the deck to rub her shoulders. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
    “That feels so good.”
    “Any dinner plans?”
    “I had a business luncheon with the Arts Council, but I’ll do whatever you want.”
    “We could go out. We could stay here and order a pizza.”
    “If you keep rubbing my back, I won’t care what we do.”
    “I think I’ll shower off,” he said.
    She stood up, breaking his grip, and turned around. Running her fingers into his hair she kissed him tentatively. Her breasts just grazed his chest.
    “Maybe I’ll join you,” she said with a sheepish smile.
    “Well, you would be welcome,” Tubby replied— also with a smile— but not a sheepish one.
    Alone, he climbed the steps to his bedroom, relieved that his occasional maid had deigned to come just that morning and the sheets would be fresh and the bathroom spotless. Not that he usually worried about such things. But since his divorce and the purchase of his new home, he had invested in certain luxuries— like the rain forest shower with multiple, strategically-focused shower heads. With hopes of good things to come, he turned down the sheets before stepping into the shower.
    Tubby soaped up and was rinsing with the pulsating water when he heard a timid knock at the bathroom door. “Come in,” he boomed, over the flowing water. It opened and Peggy walked slowly into his foggy field of vision wearing nothing but her birthday suit, a very alluring birthday suit, in Tubby’s opinion. He extended a dripping hand, “Come on in, the water’s fine.”
    She stepped into the shower and into his warm and wet embrace. He accepted her softly, their bodies relaxing into each other as the water worked its magical charms.
    “Here,” he said, pushing her gently away, “let me help you wash up.” He picked up the bar of soap and began the long journey down her voluptuous body, spending a bit of extra time soaping her hard nipples and soft belly. Peggy seemed transfixed. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You could spread your legs a bit.” She protested but he was encouraging, “Come on, baby, just a little bit.”
    Peggy did as she was told, and the soap continued its journey through the swollen folds and crevices