Tony Dunbar - Tubby Dubonnet 02 - City of Beads

by Tony Dunbar

“Well, no reasonable price would satisfy him. Your friend was a difficult man. He threatened, not to me, of course, but he threatened to report the discharge of chemicals, or whatever he claimed to have seen, to some kind of government outfit. But not out of any love for the fishies, Mr. Dubonnet. It was just a bargaining chip for him. If we had raised our offer enough, he would have withdrawn any statement he made. Do you doubt that?”

  Tubby didn’t really doubt that, though he liked to think well of the dead. Potter had been a good buddy, but Tubby had always thought the last bandwagon Potter would have jumped on would have been a campaign to get lots of government inspectors nosing around the docks.

  “Then what was the problem?” Tubby asked.

  “I’ll tell you, and then I’ll tell you why I’m telling you. Your friend screwed up. But, hey, I screwed up, too. We had this nice lease, on this nice land, right by the river. A good parking lot, lots of access. We’ll plant trees, landscape it. Fantastic place for a gambling boat. Great location. We can sell this idea to the casino board of directors. But naturally we want to keep this quiet till all the pieces fall into place, so we look for a company to put on the land, just to hold it. Could have been any company. I got a lot of companies. But Leo picks the disposal company. Sounds okay, just a truck parking lot, really. And Leo was going to see that everything ran smooth. But these lazy asshole truck drivers were just pouring the crap right out on the ground. They probably poured it into the river when they got worried about walking around in all the puddles of muck they were making. That’s the sad truth. But your friend got way out of line. He thought he could just nudge us a little, but he put his fucking finger right up my ass. That’s when Leo maybe tried to put on some pressure of his own. What happened after that I can’t say. I have no idea how your man Potter died. It wasn’t intentional.”

  “No offense, Mr. Caponata, but that’s bullshit. You know how he died and who did it. I might be able to put you in jail for this.”

  “I sincerely doubt that.”

  “Bijan Botaswati can tie you to Bayou Disposal.”

  “You will find that Mr. Botaswati, who I never heard of, has gone for an extended trip to Pakistan. He will be difficult to locate. But why would you want to put me in jail anyway, Mr. Dubonnet? I’m as sad about this as you are.”

  “For much different reasons.”

  “You think so? What do you think I’m made of? Marble? You don’t think I cry when people get hurt?”

  “That’s not your reputation.”

  “And what do you say my reputation is?”

  “That you were the Mafia don of New Orleans. That you ran all the rackets here.”

  “I never could understand why people thought that. You want some more coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” Tubby said.

  “How long have you lived in New Orleans, Mr. Dubonnet?”

  “I came here for college and stayed.”

  “So, a long time. You see any big rackets? You see people walking around in fear of the mob? Of course not. This is a very easygoing place. The only racket we got around here is politics. And you ain’t never seen no Caponata run for office.”

  “I imagine you’ve got your finger in quite a few pies.”

  “I’ve done okay, but I ain’t no don. I’m admitting that to you. Sometimes it helped that people thought I was, I won’t deny. But look—who’s the don now, since I retired?”

  Tubby thought about it.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “That’s my point. You can’t be a real don if nobody wants your job when you retire.”

  “All I can say is it’s because of you Potter Aucoin is dead. And justice hasn’t been satisfied. You see that, don’t you?”

  “No. I’m very sorry if my business dealings resulted in a death. But you can’t put it on me. I don’t even go out anymore, except maybe if some friends ask me out for a meal. I’m a lonely old man. And now my son is dead, too. It’s been a very hard month.” And with that he bowed his head and wept.

  Tubby didn’t know what to say. He waited until Caponata had composed himself and had dried his eyes with a napkin.

  “Leo Caspar meant a lot to me,” Caponata continued. “I won’t tell you the whole story because it’s none of your business. Leo had a hard time. His father was no fucking good. He cared nothing for his children. He died in the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary.”

  Caponata closed his eyes in satisfaction when he said that. “So I took them in like I was their father. We were as close as pizza and pie.”

  Neither man spoke for a moment.

  Caponata sipped his coffee.

  “So too bad about your friend,” the old man said quietly, setting his cup deliberately on its saucer. “But the score is settled.”

  The rush of relief Tubby experienced was almost overpowering. Caponata apparently was willing to forget all about the Dubonnets, young and old. His brain said get up and leave, but some other, uninvited internal voice insisted he stay and finish the job.

  “It’s more tied than settled,” he said. “Something more is owed.”

  “Now you’re pushing me,” Caponata growled. “Why should I do anything for you?”

  “Because if the law can’t get you for murder, I guess I can still kill your deal. The public might like to know that the Mafia runs New Orleans gambling, just like everybody thought.”

  “Nuts,” Caponata exploded. “I’m not into gambling. I’m into real estate. The only Italian thing about the guys who operate casinos is their suits. They want nothing to do with men like me. I’m bad for profits.”

  “Okay, well, real estate then,” Tubby said. “I bet the ground out there is saturated with the kind of stuff that melts concrete. What would an environmental Phase Two tell us about your grand casino parking lot? Don’t you think that might raise some eyebrows during your licensing process?”

  “It might cause some delay,” Caponata conceded. “But inspectors are a dime a dozen. And lawyers ain’t much more,” he added menacingly.

  Tubby took a wild shot. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “But what about Nicole Normande? You’ve kept her a secret, haven’t you? You don’t want her being known as the mob boss’s adopted daughter. Why, she’d lose her job at the casino. Her whole career would be shot. She’d be dragged down in the hole with you.”

  Caponata’s face had gone white, like a boiled potato.

  “How did you find that out?”

  “You just told me,” Tubby said. “The biggest worry I’d have if I were you,” he continued, “is that whoever killed Leo might find out that you have another weak spot. If the police get involved, I’m sure her relationship to you won’t escape their attention.”

  “Mr. Dubonnet,” Caponata broke in, “what would it take to make you go back to your nice office with a view and leave an old man to grieve in peace?”

  “Bayou Disposal off the map. Gone. All shut up. A total cleanup of whatever it has managed to do in a month down in Plaquemines Parish. Make those crawfish well. And also a nice contribution to Save Our River, which is an environmental group you may not have heard of. Think about an endowment for environmental research to the Louisiana university of your choice, funded by the casino. What great public relations. I don’t guess there’s anything you can do about the five hundred years of crap on the levee that’s any better than paving it over for a parking lot, so I’d say go ahead and build the damn thing.”

  “All of a sudden you don’t seem too concerned about your client, Casino Mall Grande.”

  “Of course I’m concerned. But Napoleon Avenue is the best of the three available sites according to you.”

  “Actually, it really is.”

  “I’ve told Jake LaBreau what I know about the place, and, thanks to Leo, he knows who is behind the project. His board of directors will do what they want with the information. I’m not allowed to sic the government on my own client. I might like to, but the rules of my profession won’t permit it.”

&
nbsp; “Oh. I’m always surprised to meet someone who cares about the rules. Is that all?”

  “No. Clear the name of the dead for me. Potter wasn’t using drugs. Someone planted cocaine in his shop just to send the police sniffing in the wrong direction, right?”

  “That’s a good deduction.”

  “Someone named Broussard?”

  Caponata shrugged.

  “Right, and he was killed just to keep him quiet. There’s no future in working for you, is there?”

  Caponata’s face went hard again.

  “Are you finished?” he asked.

  “No, I’m not. A man named Charlie Van Dyne was killed over drugs. Because of that, people are trying to hurt a woman I care about. I want that stopped.”

  “I’ve heard of Van Dyne but he didn’t work for me. Regardless of what you may think, I have nothing to do with drugs.”

  “You know who Van Dyne did work for, don’t you? You can get them to stop harassing a lady named Tania Thompson. You can do that, can’t you?”

  “I probably can.”

  “Then case closed.”

  “You know, Mr. Dubonnet,” Caponata said when Tubby stood up to leave, “I see you understand the value of family.”

  “I guess I do,” Tubby said.

  “That must be because you have three daughters of your own.”

  Tubby blanched and turned away quickly so that Caponata would not see that he had gotten the reaction he wanted.

  When the front door closed behind him, he exhaled.

  Cherrylynn was waiting outside in the Corvair, and Tubby asked her to drive.

  “Go to Friday’s or someplace,” he said, “and I’ll buy you a sandwich.”

  When they got a table he ordered a Diet Barqs to show her he was reforming. She, on the other hand, ordered a White Russian, and then a refill, while she went on merrily about what a nice street Joe Caponata lived on.

  Tubby finally broke in.

  “Do you know what this is all about?” he demanded.

  “What?” she asked, startled.

  “The deal I cut with that old bastard you’re so fond of.”

  “No. You didn’t tell me.”

  “Well, I just cheated the legal system.” He gestured dangerously. “I forgave murders and passed out sentences like I hold the scales of justice in my hand.”

  “I’m not really sure what you’re talking about, Mr. Dubonnet,” Cherrylynn said with a worried expression.

  “No, of course not,” Tubby said, collecting himself.

  “You must miss having Mr. Turntide around,” she said after a moment. “I know it would help you a lot to have another lawyer to talk with.”

  Tubby shuddered. He didn’t like to think about his ex-partner. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.

  “You do just fine to talk to,” he told Cherrylynn. She blushed.

  “I don’t know the ins and outs like you do, boss,” she said. “To me, Joe Caponata is just some colorful old-timer like Pete Fountain or Nash Roberts.”

  “He’s a rat.”

  “I’m sure he is. But did you see all the mandevilla he had blooming on the fence in his front yard? I thought it was so beautiful. He must spend a lot of time with his plants.”

  “Yeah,” Tubby said. He swallowed the last of his root beer. Someday I’ll be just another New Orleans old-timer, too, he thought. I’ll plant a beautiful garden, support the church, and go to Saints games, and all will be forgiven. God, it’s hard not to love this city. It’s so ready to accept you.

  “Me too,” Cherrylynn said, about what he didn’t know.

  They left shoulder to shoulder, like pizza and pie.

  CHAPTER 36

  It took Twink a while to digest the information that there would be no lawsuit against Bayou Disposal, at least not until they had given the company time to clean up its own act voluntarily. Tubby assured Twink that the company would do just that, and when he mentioned the gift to the environmental clinic, Twink saw the wisdom in patience. Debbie, sitting quietly in the dusty corner of the Save Our River office, took her lead from Twink, and when he expressed satisfaction with Tubby’s work, she was visibly relieved.

  But we can’t stop here,” Twink said. “There are two or three other solid complaints in that file, and we have to follow up on every one of them.”

  “You’ll still look into those, won’t you?” Debbie asked.

  “Absolutely,” Tubby said. “If we can catch some bad guys, we’ll sure sue them.” He meant it. When you undertake a pro bono case, you should at least deliver a lawsuit.

  When the meeting was over, and Debbie and Tubby were walking across the Tulane campus, scattering squirrels, toward Tubby’s car, Debbie said, “I’m not completely clear, Daddy, how you got Bayou Disposal to agree to a monitored cleanup of the crawfish ponds and all those marshes.”

  “Just the Dubonnet gift for gab,” he said. “You inherited some of that.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She laughed.

  They stopped and watched a women’s soccer team race a red-and-white ball up and down the quad.

  “Great exercise,” Tubby commented. “I never had the endurance for it.”

  “You’re holding up pretty well,” his daughter said. “Me and Christine are trying to organize a family dinner next weekend.”

  “Who’s invited?”

  “You, and Mom. And Marcos. I’m going to have it at my apartment.”

  “What about Collette?”

  “I called her. She said she might be busy. But you know she’ll come.”

  “Sure. Okay. You know I like to see everybody together. But I don’t know about having dinner with your mother. We’ve got our own lives now, after all.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t sit down at the same table, does it?”

  “No, I guess not. Just don’t get any ideas.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Besides, I think Mom may have some news.”

  “Really? What?”

  “I don’t know.” Debbie started walking.

  “Come on, what news?” He was dying of curiosity. “Does she have a boyfriend I haven’t heard about?”

  “I can’t tell you.” Debbie laughed. “You’ll have to come to dinner.”

  “Well, I’ll have to check my calendar first,” he said. But he knew he would go.

  CHAPTER 37

  Tubby met Adrian outside the courthouse and walked up the steps with him.

  “I got a kick out of your parade,” he said. “Thanks for all the throws.”

  “You looked like you were enjoying yourself, Mr. Tubby.”

  “Oh yeah. I can still fight for beads. You must lose a lot of weight dancing around in that outfit.”

  “It’s a workout, sure enough, but it’s not as bad as some of the other characters. The Moss Man, now, his costume is hot. He has to put ice in his suit just to stay alive.” The Moss Man, another parade headliner, was Adrian’s idol.

  “You talked to your dad about the race for judge?” Tubby asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, we’ll see how it goes.”

  “Will I have to go on the witness stand?”

  “If you do, I want you to tell the truth about what happened, just like you told me.”

  “Even about how much beer I had to drink?”

  “That’s not against the law, Adrian. That’s your excuse.”

  He got Adrian seated in the back of the courtroom and went to stand in the district attorneys reception line again. He passed a few pleasantries before his turn came up.

  “Good morning, Mr. Dubonnet,” Pettibone said when Tubby finally pushed past the other lawyers into the room.

  “Good morning, Mr. Pettibone. This is Monster Mudbug’s trial day.”

  “I’m dismissing that case,” Pettibone said.

  “You are?”

  “The guy’s got a good job, he’s never been in trouble before, and he comes from a good family. He’s innocent, it looks like to
me. The justice system doesn’t exist to make people like that suffer. Just tell him to keep away from motorcycles unless they’re his.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Pettibone scribbled on the affidavit and handed it to Tubby.

  “Just give it to the clerk,” he said.

  Tubby carried the paperwork through and reported back to Adrian.

  “You’re off,” he said.

  Adrian was so relieved that tears came to his eyes.

  “You don’t know what this means to me, Mr. Tubby,” he said. “I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to see my kid again. Thank you for everything.”

  Tubby put his arm around him and walked him outside.

  “Sometimes, Adrian,” he said, “the system works. It can’t screw up all the time.”

  He visited Edith Aucoin at her home. It took time to explain it all to her, what he knew about the events leading up to Potter’s murder and how Potter had tried to save the river. He told her about Bijan Botaswati and Mr. Caponata. He told her he couldn’t be absolutely positive about what had happened to Leo Caspar, but he was certain the man had died a horrible death.

  “It doesn’t make up for Potter,” she whispered, and cried softly.

  Tubby held her hand on the living room couch.

  She found a tissue in her pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

  “It does make me feel better to know,” she said.

  “I’m glad for that,” Tubby said.

  “I don’t really believe in revenge,” she said.

  Tubby studied the rug.

  “But Potter did. He believed in paying the bastards back. He was a real fighter, he was.” She smiled sweetly.

  Tubby nodded.

  “I wonder what I should do with the business,” she continued.

  “You could try running it,” Tubby suggested.

  “No.” She laughed. “That was Potter’s thing. I have absolutely no interest in brokering vegetable oil. And I don’t really need the money, as you know. We salted enough away.”

  “You want to sell your lease?”

  “If you think it’s worth anything.”

  “I know a company that might be interested. I’m sure that they would, in fact, pay top dollar. And I think that’s what Potter believed it was worth.”