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

calm down and think maybe nothing was going to happen.
    Then Darryl brought her into it. After her shift ended on the third day following her talk with Casey, she carried her receipts up to the office as usual. When Darryl finished with the books they often had a few drinks, maybe smoked a joint, and decided whether they would go to his place, her place, or each to their own place.
    “Baby,” he said. “I’d like you to help me with something. It’s a big one.”
    He sounded very serious, so she gave him her full attention. She was ready to do anything he wanted. “Whatever you say, honey. Just ask. You know that.”
    It was a big one. The idea was that Darryl was going to drive a truck down to the boonies on Sunday night. He wanted her to follow him in his Mazda. She would be carrying something. At a certain spot she would park and wait while he went about his business. It might be forty-five minutes. Then, when he called her on the car phone, she would come on and meet him.
    “It’s that simple.” Darryl spread his hands to show her that was all there was to it.
    “I really hate to ask you,” he said, “but there’s nobody else I trust.”
    Monique felt terrible.
    That was on a Thursday. Thinking about Darryl’s trip tormented Monique so much that she stayed home from work the next night. She huddled up in her bed and watched television, trying not to think any thoughts, and drinking wine coolers till she really did feel ill.
    Casey the cop called on Saturday morning.
    “You’re missing work. What’s going on?”
    “Nothing,” she said. “I’m just sick. Are you watching me?”
    “You bet. And I know something’s cooking. When is Darryl taking a trip?”
    “I don’t know. Leave me alone,” she sniffled.
    Casey got loud. He threatened her and went over her options. One, she could be the subject of an intense police investigation. Casey was stretching things here. He had some pals on the NOPD who might knock on her door and ask about the aroma of dope if he called them, but they wouldn’t stick their necks out too far for free. Two, he could arrange it so that someone else, not him personally of course, beat the living shit out of her. That would be a good job for Freddie, or he could even tap Bin Minny, but then he’d have to cut the big guy in. Third, he would let her mother and everybody in Evergreen know that Monique was a coke-snorting hooker in a New Orleans bar so that even little Lisa would be afraid of catching some disease from her. Four, all of the above.
    Or, she could tip him off and he wouldn’t bother her anymore.
    Freddie, listening to Casey’s end of this conversation at BB Bonds, got so excited he jumped out of his chair and punched the air.
    “I’m not going to leave you fucking alone,” Casey told Monique. “I’m going to be on you like a fly on shit until you tell me when the fuck Darryl is taking his trip.”
    “He doesn’t let me know that stuff,” she bluffed, but Casey knew from the way she said it that she was lying.
    “Bitch—listen to what I’m telling you. There’s nobody standing between you and me. I’m your bad dream. This is the law talking. I’m going to come down there and whip your ass and bust your ass all the way back to Alabama.”
    “Go away, you bastard,” she cried.
    Casey was quiet for a moment. Then he said, softly, “You are not going to deny me or get past me. I’m going to see that you do time in some really terrible joint. Where, it doesn’t matter. And I’m going to personally see to it that your little baby girl has an extremely sick and warped childhood.”
    She couldn’t hold out after that. It took just a couple of seconds for her to tell him that Darryl had said something about taking a ride on Sunday. She didn’t tell him where Darryl was going, that she would be going along, or anything else. Casey poked a little more, but he was satisfied. It would be easy to trail Darryl. He’d been promised the cooperation of certain