Tony Dunbar - Tubby Dubonnet 00.5 - Envision This

by Tony Dunbar

  ENVISION THIS

  A Tubby Dubonnet Short Story

  BY

  Tony Dunbar

  booksBnimble Publishing

  New Orleans, La.

  Envision This

  Copyright 2012 by Tony Dunbar

  Cover by Nevada Barr

  ISBN: 9781617507243

  www.booksbnimble.com

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First booksBnimble electronic publication: April 2012

  Digital Editions (epub and mobi formats) produced by Booknook.biz

  Praise for Tony Dunbar’s TUBBY DUBONNET SERIES:

  “A real work of mystery art.”

  —New Orleans Times-Picayune

  “(Tubby Dubonnet) makes a charming guide to a side of New Orleans few see.”

  —Booklist

  “Dunbar weaves together the many strands of his highly entertaining tale with much skill and wit.”

  —Publisher’s Weekly

  The Complete Tubby Dubonnet Mystery Series:

  Crooked Man, G.P. Putnam’s Sons (New York, 1994)

  City of Beads, G.P. Putnam’s (New York, 1995)

  Trick Question, G.P. Putnam’s Sons (New York, 1996)

  Shelter From the Storm, G.P. Putnam’s Sons (New York, 1997)

  The Crime Czar, Dell Publishing (New York, 1998)

  Lucky Man, Dell Publishing (New York, 1999)

  Tubby Meets Katrina, NewSouth Books (Montgomery, 2006)

  For more about the first Tubby Dubonnet book, CROOKED MAN, go to www.booksBnimble.com

  Contents

  Envision This

  The Tubby Dubonnet Books

  Watch Tubby’s Video

  About the Author

  “How would you rate yourself in terms of computer savvy?” Jason asked Tubby.

  “Lower end of the scale.” He sized up the menu. “I think I’ll go for the BLT,” which was described as a crispy soft shell crab served with bacon, lettuce and tomato on toast. It came with fries. Tubby Dubonnet, who defined New Orleans food broadly as all of the very tasty food served in New Orleans, really liked the way they served fries.

  “I’m thinking of going light with the fried oyster salad. Maybe with bleu cheese dressing.”

  “That’s light, all right. Throw in some matzo ball soup and you’ve got a nice healthy meal.”

  They were having lunch at Lüke, a restaurant with a German flair.

  “Yeah, I think I will.”

  Tubby didn’t comment. His friend needed to gain a few pounds. Jason Boaz was a freelance inventor and looked like it. He was tall and skinny and had a neat black beard that ended in a sort of roguish goatee. That and a receding hairline, curious eyes, bushy black eyebrows, and a disbelieving expression. Tubby, by way of contrast, was a big guy in all respects, still boasting a full head of hair, and he had a guileless countenance that seemed to believe anything anybody said. He did, in fact, want to believe what people said, but he didn’t.

  They gave their orders to the waiter in a big white apron. The place was filling up. Mostly lawyer and banker types. That was all right. Tubby Dubonnet was a lawyer. Not too many tourists seemed to come to Lüke though its vast bar, covered in crabs waiting to be shelled, was a sight worth traveling from Cincinnati for.

  “So, Tubby, what I wanted to talk about is a new idea I have.” Tubby took a sip of his sweet tea – he was trying to cut back – and made the appropriate encouraging sounds because Jason had a knack for coming up with good ideas. Some, like his Port A Soak beer dispenser and his Fruity Swizzle and his Men’s Total Body Spray, actually made money. Tubby knew because he had done the legal work to patent those wild ideas and he had channeled the royalties through his trust account.

  The inventor lowered his voice.

  “It’s a major breakthrough in personal computing. It’s going to change the way we do everything.” He leaned forward so that his chin was just inches from Tubby’s. “It’s going to change the way we think!”

  “Wow,” Tubby said. “That’s heavy stuff for a Thursday.”

  Jason sat back in his chair. “Okay,” he said. “Check me out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ask me a question. Anything. Completely off the wall.”

  Tubby accepted a warm loaf of bread wrapped in a napkin from the waiter and thought about it. He reached for the butter.

  “What is the capital of Tanzania?” he asked.

  Jason wrinkled his brow and squinted like he was lost in thought.

  “Dodoma.”

  “Really? Could be.”

  “Could be and is. Now ask me a question you know the answer to.

  “What Supreme Court case determined that the judiciary can declare a law passed by Congress unconstitutional?”

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Marbury versus Madison.”

  Tubby was truly surprised. He would have bet a million bucks, well, a thousand bucks, that Jason Boaz had no clue about any significant event in American legal history unless it occurred within five miles of Jackson Square or involved one of his relatives.

  “How did you do that?”

  “It’s all in here.” Jason tapped the side of his forehead.

  Tubby just squinted at Jason. His client was a creative soul but by no means was he a walking encyclopedia.

  “In here,” Jason said pointing to his eyes. “Contact lenses.”

  “You can use your contact lenses like a computer?”

  “Something like that.” Jason nodded.

  “Just by rolling your eyes?”

  “That’s about it. I also have to use my cell phone to tee it up.”

  The waiter placed a garden salad in front of Tubby and a steaming bowl of matzo ball soup in front of his companion.

  Tubby didn’t look at his food. “That’s amazing,” he said.

  “All locally grown.” The waiter glowed with pride.

  * * *

  During the course of their meal, Tubby got quite a few more details out of Jason about the wonderful glasses.

  His invention was quite a mindbender. The contact lenses functioned like screens on a laptop or iPhone. The eye worked like the cursor, and at the present stage of development Jason’s handheld phone selected the applications and programs the wearer wanted to look at.

  “There will come a day when you won’t need the handheld at all,” he explained. “Right now it is difficult to have normal vision when certain effects are selected, but all those are just bugs to work out. With this baby, the entire Internet is in your head.”

  “That seems astonishing.” Tubby was enthusiastic. “You mean I could pull up legal precedents in the middle giving an argument in court?”

  “Yes, and at the same time check the results from the horse races at the Fairgrounds, operate a GPS, and find a recipe for a Sazerac.”

  “Jeez, Jason, this is hot stuff, right?”

  “And you can see it all in the blink of an eye,” Jason beamed. And blinked again.

  “But no X-ray vision.”

  “It’s coming,” Jason assured him.

  Tubby became serious. “You should get this patented right away.” He waved at the waiter for the check.

  “That is certainly true,” Jason said, “But this one is geometrically more difficult than anything you and I have ever done before. There are a lot of pieces to this. I have to admit that some are already in the public domain. Many of the elements probably belong to someone else. It’s really going to take some R a
nd D just to sort out what I’ve got and lock it up. This could be bigger than television. Hell, this could be bigger than the home computer itself.”

  Tubby wasn’t sure he’d ever want to stick a computer into his eye, but the way Jason told it, the possibilities were, well, unlimited. His mind started traveling down a path toward golden moments, keynotes at American Bar Association conferences, Presidential Awards at Lincoln Center.

  “I’ve got a meeting coming up,” Jason went on. “I talked to some people I know, and they turned me on to this venture capital company out of Biloxi. I outlined the idea to them in general, and the top team wants to come over here and take a look.”

  “A company in Biloxi, Mississippi? Casinos?” What else was in Biloxi but Gulfside gambling, lounge acts and cirques?

  “There may be casino money behind it. The company is called RevelationIt. They’ve done some work for the Air Force I know about. They’ve got some technical know-how and the bucks to put this over the top. I’m supposed to meet with them Saturday.”

  “And?”

  “And I want you to hold my hand, Tubby. I don’t know if they’re bringing a lawyer or not, but I want to be prepared for anything.”

  “Sure. Where’s the meeting?”

  “How about your office?”

  “That’ll work. You’re going to give them a demonstration?”

  “Why certainly.” He picked at the tablecloth with a breadstick. “There’s one other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m scared shitless something’s going to happen to me or to this…” he tapped his forehead again.“I feel like I need to have a little protection.”

  Tubby didn’t hesitate.

  “Sanre Fleures, my investigator. He goes by ‘Flowers.’ He isn’t cheap, but he can babysit you as long as you want, and you won’t have to worry about a thing. He is highly competent.”

  Jason liked the sound of that. “It would be a relief,” he said.

  “Let me call him up.” Tubby dug his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and tapped in the number.

  “May I speak to Flowers, please?” He introduced himself. Then he frowned. Watching him, Jason did the same. “Oh, well, too bad.” Tubby said. “Just ask him to call me when he gets back.” He clicked the phone shut.

  “Afghanistan,” he muttered. “Flowers has gone to Afghanistan for three weeks.”

  “What for.”

  “God only knows. That’s too bad.”

  “Who else have you got?”

  Tubby thought about it.

  “Well, Raisin Partlow is a pretty good man to have around. I don’t know whether he’s available. Only thing is he usually doesn’t answer his phone. I’d have to go find him.”

  “Should I call him?”

  “No. I’ll give it a shot and call you later. Meanwhile you can just…”

  “I’m going to go home and chill. Just like I’ve been doing for the past week until I decided to call you. Just chill out with my little Beretta by my side.”

  * * *

  Raisin Partlow was one of Tubby’s oldest friends. Come to think of it, after a couple of untimely deaths over the past few years, Raisin had made it to the head of the class. He had never been one to dwell on the more sobering aspects of life, like holding down a steady job. Maybe that was why he stayed so healthy.

  Tubby expected to find him holding down a stool at Mike’s Bar in the Irish Channel. One other thing about Raisin. Hurricane Katrina had hit everybody around New Orleans hard, but by and large they came back, though it might have taken a few years. Raisin, on the other hand, still showed his wounds. He had always been too friendly with smoky whiskey. So was Tubby and almost everyone else he knew. But now the boy really did drink too much. Even his girlfriend the nurse, the most forgiving soul in the world, had finally booted him out.

  Tubby walked through the door of the dimly-lit establishment and Raisin, sitting at the bar, greeted him with a perfect smoke ring and a cough. Raisin was rugged, dark-skinned, and had an unruly mane of curly black hair. He had ladies parked on both sides of him because Raisin was a popular guy. They were probably paying for his gin and tonics.

  Tubby patted them all on shoulders, hard and soft, and pointed Raisin to a table. Larry, the ghostlike bartender, gave the late arrival the twitch of an eyeball. He knew what Tubby wanted to drink.

  Raisin relocated, and the two men sat by the blacked-out window off to the side near the video-poker machine. Larry delivered an Old Fashioned to Tubby. Raisin handed his empty glass to the barkeep, who drifted off to refill it. Tubby leaned over the wet tabletop and told Raisin he had a job for him.

  “Whoa!” Raisin sat back. His eyes widened like he’d been visited by a spirit of uncertain origin.

  “Don’t worry,” Tubby assured him. “Short term. Probably just two days. And in a very nice house.”

  He laid it out for Raisin. The bodyguard would cruise over to the Boaz bungalow, four bedrooms and change overlooking Lake Pontchartrain. There would be maid service and ample hospitality. And all he would have to do was keep Jason alive and be good company.

  There was some discussion about the pay. Tubby got Jason on the phone and they worked all that out. Tubby vouched for Raisin’s character and the deal was done.

  “So,” Raisin said when they hung up. “This should be fun.” He signaled for another drink.

  “Not too much fun,” Tubby warned. “Jason is sleeping with a .9 millimeter and you need to be on your toes.”

  “Don’t worry about me boss. I can handle this.” Raison squared his jaw and stuck a Camel between his lips.

  “I know you can, brother. You’re a survivor.”

  Raisin lit his smoke and drained his glass till the ice rattled against his teeth.

  “That I am, boss. That I am.”

  * * *

  So it went for the next 24 hours.

  Tubby had other business to attend to, part of which involved actually going to his office downtown in the Place Palais building and getting brought up to speed on all his files by Cherrylynn, his irreplaceable secretary. She ran things pretty well without him and was indispensable when it came to reminding him of upcoming court appearances. That and getting paid. She was great at collecting bills.

  “Mrs. Margolis is finally sending a check,” she cheered. “$314,000 came in her mail today, she said, and our $50,000 is on the way.”

  “Believe it when you see it,” Tubby snapped. But he fist-bumped her. He had been trying to conclude the Margolis divorce for nearly ten years. The logjam of motions finally broke when Mr. Margolis found a new love who wanted babies and he decided there were things more important than money. More important even than lots of money.

  “I think that case started about the same time I came to work for you, Mr. Dubonnet.”

  “That could be true, Cherrylynn. You’ve been here a long time.”

  She had truly been with him for some great years. She was absent of course for those lonely hectic months after the hurricane. Tubby was busy trying to get his house back together and scavenging for business. Anything, but it was hard with the courthouse closed and all the people gone. Cherrylynn was lost to him somewhere in Texas. Something to do with an old friend. When Tubby re-opened his practice, she took her sweet time coming back – stopping first for a few months down in Plaquemines Parish to help some kind of cousin hoist a mobile home onto pilings 10 feet in the air on top of the slab that had formerly been his house. She still went down to visit him almost every weekend, and she emphasized the fact that they were “really distant” cousins.

  Tubby tried to check in with Jason mid-morning Friday. It took several unsuccessful calls and as a lawyer, he was naturally concerned. When Jason finally came to the phone he sounded hung-over.

  He managed to communicate that Raisin, the errant bodyguard, was sleeping on the couch. Yet Jason did not seem troubled by this. He assured Tubby there was nothing to worry about. He and Raisin were having a blast. Tubby star
ted to say something but held his tongue. Jason’s bodyguard was Jason’s business.

  He did find time for a little research on RevelationIt. They had a splendid website that advertised several lines of business in vivid color: military procurement, disaster relief, but most prominently, venture capital “in an innovative sphere of incubating technical advances.” The company reported several amazing success stories, such as bringing to market an e-entertainment distributor that had gone public. Tubby hadn’t heard of any of them.

  With so much to look at on the web, the company must be legit. The featured executives, heralded for their business acumen, seemed to be all-stars retired from Fortune 500 corporations, or else they were former military.

  Tubby was expecting to meet at least three of them on Saturday. They were Jerry Pratt, former test pilot for NASA, and Foxx Beaner, former hedge fund manager for Bilgesuks Growth Markets, a “Deep South Dynamo.” Then there was Bastrop Pillsbury, professor emeritus of mathematical theory at Christian Evangelical University in Ponderville, Texas.

  The whole gang was due at Tubby’s office at 11 o’clock.

  “I’ll make a big pot of coffee,” Cherrylynn promised.

  * * *

  The Mississippians stormed the Place Palais building like a football team coming onto a rival’s home field. They were packed tight together, all in blazers, all shaking hands at once, as they introduced themselves to Cherrylynn and moments later to Tubby, who stepped into the anteroom to greet them. The air was sweet with breath mints and cologne and loud with hellos.

  Jerry Pratt, the military guy, was blond, short and wiry. His glad-to-meet-you came out fast, like one word, and he gave Tubby the impression he liked a good scrap and was looking for a manly contest. Foxx Beaner, the money man, was big all over except for his face. His expansive arms reached for Cherrylynn, and Tubby feared he would crush her to his wide chest. Yet he had small features, a mouth the size of a ping pong ball when open and like a little toe when he closed his lips. And his eyes were specks of rare life rolling down the sand dune of his forehead.

  The evangelical mathematician, Bastrop Pillsbury, was nearly a mirror image of Jason. He had the same tall, loose frame, and the same neat black beard. Only Pillsbury was bald on top. He spoke with a Texas twang and there was an immense gold ring on the index finger of his right hand that must be a tribute to his alma mater. His teeth so white they suggested recent expensive reconditioning. Tubby thought he might be an inch taller than Jason, but there was no way to see if that was right because Jason wasn’t there.