Big Easy Bonanza by Smith Julie & Dunbar Tony

Author:Smith, Julie & Dunbar, Tony [Smith, Julie & Dunbar, Tony]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Sometimes, to pick up a few bucks, Casey tracked down people who skipped bail. If he could catch the guy at home, he had enough authority to make the arrest and bring him before the court downtown. He collected from the bondsman for his services.

A prisoner at the jail had given Casey a tip that a minor pimp called Phil the Phoneman was staying with his mother in Algiers, the part of New Orleans across the Mississippi River. Phil had failed to appear for his trial on a charge of promoting prostitution, causing his bondsman to risk forfeiting $5,000. So there was plenty of financial incentive to find him.

It was easy. Phil even answered the door, pretty as you please, and now he was sitting in the backseat of Casey’s car. Freddie was the passenger in front. To save paying the toll on the bridge, Casey decided to take the ferry back over the river. They had to wait a few minutes in a line of cars, while listening to their captive go on and on.

“This is bullshit. Oh, man,” he’d say.

“This is real bullshit. Oh, man,” he’d say again.

“I cannot believe this.” His hands were cuffed in front of him, not too securely, but symbolic of the fact that his day was totally shot.

They were waved onto the boat and snugged in with the other cars and trucks.

“I’m getting some air,” Casey said when they were parked. He opened his door, and Freddie did the same to join him.

“How about some music at least,” Phil whined.

“Shit, man, you think this is a cruise boat?” Freddie asked.

“Turn on the radio for him,” Casey ordered. “Who cares?”

Freddie switched on a country station and got out of the car. He caught up with Casey, who was at the rail, looking at the brown water churned up by the ferry’s powerful battle with the current. There was a tanker coming downriver fast, and the ferry paused to let it pass. Black chunks, like tree trunks or railroad ties, bobbed in the big ship’s wake and floated after it in pursuit. They could hear snatches of music from the tour boats loading up at Woldenberg Park in the French Quarter. Casey had a few peanuts in his pocket, and he cracked them open, tossing the shells toward the seagulls trailing the ferry. He didn’t offer any to Freddie.

“This has been a very unprofitable week,” he said, almost to himself. “It is hard to believe Alvarez didn’t have any money with him. I thought for sure we’d find it in his truck.”

“They tore that apart,” Freddie said.

“Very frustrating,” Casey said.

He ate another peanut.

“I guess we’ll never know unless we ask Darryl,” he said, and spit out a piece of shell.

Above them the captain blew the horn, signaling their approach to the dock. The pilings groaned as the boat crunched against the pier, and the two men watched the civil servants throw heavy ropes ashore to secure the vessel. They got back in the car. Phil the Phoneman was still shaking his head, but he seemed to have calmed down some.

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