Read Online Night Watchman (The Tubby Dubonnet Series Book 8) by Tony Dunbar - Free Book Online

your existing clients are, but they might be people you’ve worked with for years.”
    “A private detail? You mean like guarding a bar?”
    “They don’t let you work bars anymore— not in uniform. That’s supposed to put cops in close proximity to bad guys, which is a no-no. So now, we have to guess who the bad guys are. But we work everything else. Parties, weddings, funerals, festivals. The easiest job is being a crossing guard for a private school. Working details is the only way you can make any money in our line of work. Do you know what the pay scale is for cops?”
    “Not much, I bet.”
    “You got that right. They changed the rules for who can take what private job, but there’s been a lot of confusion lately. So I kept on doing the same private jobs I’ve always done, and some dweeb turned me in. I filed a grievance and Alonzo, our union president, told me to my face that I’m fucked. He says he won’t lift a finger. And in his day he stole thousands of dollars on private details. One thing led to another and I smacked him.”
    “You broke his jaw?”
    Ireanous laughed, even deeper this time. “One punch and down he went. The guy always has been soft.”
    “Who swung first?”
    There was a pause.
    “Well, he made a threatening gesture.”
    “Like what?”
    “He jabbed me in the chest with his finger.”
    “That’s good. What’s your current status in the department?”
    “I’m just biding my time, waiting for my hearing, living the good life in the Ninth Ward.”
    “Where were you before?”
    “Uptown at Magazine and Napoleon.”
    “That was better?”
    “Much.”
    “Less crime?”
    “Sure, and lots better criminals.”
    “When’s your hearing?”
    “Who the hell knows. Whenever Internal Affairs feels like burning me.”
    “All this just for working an unauthorized private detail? What was it?”
    “I was, uh, bodyguard for Trey Caponata?”
    Tubby knew that name. “The old man’s son?”
    “Yeah.”
    “The mob boss’s son?”
    “That was just a rumor,” Babineaux said. “The mob is history anyway.”
    Tubby shook his head. “Nuts. I met the old guy just one time and there was no question that I was breathing only because it pleased him to see me sweat.”
    Ireanous shrugged.
    “So that’s it?” Tubby asked.
    “No,” the cop said. “Not quite. I also run, I should say ran, the organization that assigned the private details to the other cops.”
    “You mean you were in charge of who got the jobs?”
    “Pretty much. Other people kept track of the schedules and the books.”
    “Running such an organization must have taken up a lot of your time.”
    The potential client nodded.
    “Did you have any left over for police work?”
    The scowl, the growl and the slap on the desk erupted all at the same time.
    “I was and am a damn good cop!” Babineaux thundered.
    There was a light tap, tap, tapping on the door.
    “Come in,” Tubby said softly.
    Cherrylynn’s face appeared, radiating concern. “Anyone need any coffee?” she asked.
    “No, we’re fine,” Tubby said. She backed out and closed the door quickly.
    “Are you married?” he asked the policeman.
    “Divorced.”
    “Any kids?”
    “I’ve got a daughter. She’s in college, but when she’s home she lives with me.”
    “Where is she in school?”
    “Florida State. She wants to be a doctor.”
    Tubby sighed. “Okay. I will represent you. Here’s a contract to look over.” On the document was a blank space where Tubby could write in his hourly fee. He filled that in with a high number and slid the paper over the desk. “Take it home and read it if you like.”
    “I can read it here.”
    And he did. It was just two pages long, but it took about ten minutes, while Tubby stared out the window at the French Quarter far below. A long string of barges filled with Kentucky coal was being guided downstream around the hairpin turn in the Mississippi River by a red tugboat. Ultimate destination,