Tony Dunbar - Tubby Dubonnet 00.5 - Envision This

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

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 and 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.