[Tubby Dubonnet 04.0] Shelter From the Storm by Tony Dunbar

Author:Tony Dunbar [Dunbar, Tony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: New Orleans mystery, Hard-Boiled Mystery, thriller and suspense, Legal Thriller, Mystery, Amateur Sleuth, Literature and fiction, Series, mystery series, kindle read, kindle, legal mystery, Contemporary Fiction, contemporary mystery, Suspense, Tony Dunbar, Detective, lawyer mystery
Publisher: booksBnimble Mysteries
Published: 1997-12-29T05:00:00+00:00

Edward’s reverie in the bathroom was interrupted by a pounding on the door.

“The two debauchers,” he said to himself.

He drew back the bolt and found Big Top, scrawny in his underwear, muddy and dripping copiously.

“What the hell are you doing in here, sleeping?” Big Top screeched.

“Just reading a magazine,” Edward said truthfully.

“Tell you what,” Big Top announced, pushing past him. “I’m going to take a shower and clean up for supper.”

He stripped off his shorts and socks, hopping one-legged around the bathroom and banging into the sink. He threw his soggy clothes in Edward’s general direction. “See if there ain’t a washing machine around here, would you?”

“There’s not,” Edward said, offended.

“Then I’ll wear some of your dry clothes. While I’m in here you can haul out your duds and I’ll see what you got.”

Big Top closed the door on him. Monk was stretched out in a wet spot on the floor, watching the ceiling fan rotate slowly in the breeze from the windows.

“Howya doin’, buddy?” he inquired lazily as Edward stepped over him.

Edward did not reply. In the kitchen, Wendell was humming an upbeat tune and chopping onions and tomatoes.

“It’ll be done soon,” he said, intent on his work.

“It looks wonderful,” Edward said. “But what about getting away,” he whispered. “Don’t you think we should make a run for it?”

“But my soufflé is in the oven,” Wendell said crossly.”

“What are you making” Edward asked.

“Cheese Soufflé and Chicken Louisiane.”

“Which is?”

“Oh, you fry up the chicken and then you put on the olives, and the artichokes, and the mushrooms, and a little sherry, and the secret ingredients, and that’s what it is,” Wendell said, dusting the flour off his hands. “You serve it on rice.”

“It smells great. But you know they might kill us, or something. I think we could slip out the front door.”

“And go where? It’s an ocean out there. Would you like some wine?” He poured a glass for himself from the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon airing out on the Mexican-tiled counter.

“We could find a police station. There must be one around here. Or we could knock on doors until somebody took us in.”

“And leave all of our stuff?” Wendell raked the tomatoes and onions into the iron pot simmering on the gas stove. He flourished his carving knife in the air.

“I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously,” Edward complained.

Wendell took his friend by the hand. “We’re in a flood, in New Orleans at Mardi Gras, and have been kidnapped by desperadoes. I should take that seriously? They don’t seem so dangerous to me. Well, maybe that Rue, but not the other guys.” He consulted his cookbook. “Cook soufflé twenty to twenty-five minutes in a moderate oven,” he muttered. “Shrimp, ham, or chicken may be added.”

“Look, Wendell,” Edward began, but he was interrupted by Big Top bellowing from the bathroom, demanding clean clothes.

“Now he wants my clothes,” Edward hissed.

Wendell shook his head distractedly. “I wonder if I burned that roux,” he said.

Frustrated by his inability to formulate an

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