The Cajun Doctor

by Sandra Hill

  Uh-oh! Why is there no time? Samantha wondered.

  “Instead, we’ll post guards here 24/7. One inside and one outside.”

  More unwanted guests for Daniel! That was proven true when Daniel complained, “But there are no more beds here for . . . guests.” He was probably picturing more trips to the furniture warehouse.

  Brad glared at Daniel for interrupting, but explained. “The agents will rotate shifts. It won’t be the same person all the time. And none of them will sleep here, or they’ll know why they call me the buzz saw.” That last was probably a joke, FBI humor, but no one laughed.

  Daniel nodded, uncaring that Brad could do what he wanted, with or without Daniel’s approval. Samantha was about to warn Daniel to be careful but Brad had already moved on.

  “Okay, two cases, two separate but overlapping crimes. The Dixie Mob first. Fred Olsen from our Baton Rouge office is already heading up that investigation. Fred, you want to explain the situation to these folks?”

  Fred, about fifty years old, with steel gray hair, wearing a lime green polo shirt and khakis, looked like he would be perfectly at home on a country club golf course.

  Scotsmen were avid golfers and the men, and women, of the Starr family were scratch golfers, except for Samantha who couldn’t see the sport in spending half a day hitting a little ball with a stick. Nick was a good golfer, too, more for the networking possibilities. Not that golf had anything to do with the current situation.

  “We’re already well into an investigation of the Guenot branch of the Dixie Mob,” Fred told them. “In fact, we expect to make the arrests later today or tomorrow morning. We have enough evidence to put the bunch of them away for decades. That’s confidential information, by the way.”

  “Does that mean, you don’t need me?” Angus asked hopefully.

  “As you know, Mister Starr, your lawyer negotiated a deal for you,” Fred said, clearly not a happy camper about the deal or Angus’s question.

  At first, Samantha didn’t realize that the FBI agent was referring to Angus when he said, “Mister Starr.”

  Angus glanced over at Luc with surprise.

  Luc shrugged. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet.”

  “We’ll take all your testimony, Mister Starr, but we won’t use it in open court filings. A grand jury presence might be required, but that remains to be seen . . . and negotiated,” Fred explained. “However, we will require you to give us detailed intel on the Guenot compound, and you’ll come into my office this afternoon to look over some mug shots. We consider your information to be corroborating evidence.”

  Angus did a little fist pump in the air, then asked in a way too aggressive voice, “And what do I get from this deal? Will I still have to pay Jimmy back the money he loaned me, with interest?”

  Fred bristled at Angus’s tone, and Luc stepped in to elaborate. “Criminals, even those in prison, have long arms. If Guenot and his gang know you have anything to do with their conviction, they might have hit men on the outside come after you. You’d be looking over your shoulder for life.”

  Angus’s Adam’s apple bobbed a few times at that prospect, and he wasn’t looking quite so aggressive.

  “So, your benefit, young man, is anonymity,” Fred said sternly, “or as far as we can keep it anonymous.”

  Angus nodded his acceptance.

  “That doesn’t mean that you won’t have to testify against Dr. Coltrane, however. Same goes for you, Ms. Starr, and you, Ms. Fontenot,” Brad interjected. “Besides, Mister Starr, you could still be arrested for your involvement in the baby-selling scheme. Your hotshot lawyer hasn’t negotiated you out of that one.”

  “Yet,” Luc mouthed to Angus.

  “As for the money to be repaid, no, you would not be handing over any money to the mob, but you might be handed a sizeable fine by the courts.”

  Angus appeared duly chastised.

  “Does anyone have any questions about the mob case before we move on?”

  No one did.

  Samantha wasn’t sure what she would have to add to the baby-selling case against Nick, but she certainly could testify about his sleazy character. Lily Beth, on the other hand, was dismayed. “Mah brothers will find out,” she wailed.

  Brad was unmoved, probably figured it was her fault for getting involved with Nick to begin with. “It might be advisable for you to contact them yourself, rather than hearing your name on the news.”

  “Easy fer y’all ta say!” Lily Beth whined. “If this gets in the newspaper or on TV, everyone will know at the college. Mah career will be over.”

  Ninety-nine percent of the people in the room wondered why a girl with her seeming intelligence didn’t think of that before.

  “Don’t worry, honey. We can figure that all out later,” Samantha soothed Lily Beth. But she had no idea how.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Trouble always comes in threes . . . in their case, fours, or fives . . .

  The meeting was far from over, Samantha soon realized.

  Brad had introduced everyone in the room initially. Now, he reintroduced one of them. “Theodore ‘Sonny’ Sonnier, also from our Baton Rouge field office, is in charge of the Coltrane case. I’ll let Sonny give you a status report.”

  Sonny was young, under thirty, long-haired, and built like a bodybuilder in a tight black wicking shirt tucked into belted jeans. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, and a cell phone was clipped to his belt. He was the one who’d been pounding away expertly on a laptop. Rambo meets Steve Jobs.

  “This baby sellin’ scheme, she is news ta us,” Sonny said in a deep Cajun accent, “but the minute Luc contacted us, we began investigatin’. Bank records. Births. Adoptions. Background checks. With the evidence you two have given us t’day,” Sonny looked pointedly at Angus and Lily Beth, “it’s still not enough ta put the bastard away. We’ll need your assistance, Ms. Starr.”

  What? Me?

  Seeing her confusion, Sonny went on, “We’d lak ya ta contact yer ex-husband and set up a meetin’, soon as possible. We’ll wire ya up, and help ya rehearse what ta say. If we kin get Mr. Coltrane on record, admittin’ his crimes, then his arrest is a done deal.”

  Samantha was stunned. “But why me? Wouldn’t Angus or Lily Beth be the better persons to get him to incriminate himself.” She took one look at Lily Beth’s horrified face as she clutched her belly, and immediately amended, “I mean, shouldn’t Angus be the one to confront Nick?”

  Sonny shook his head. “That’s just what Dr. Coltrane wants. To get his hands on Mister Starr. We cain’t take that chance.”

  But they could take a chance with me? “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “Not ta worry. We’ll prep ya, good and proper.”

  “I’m not that good an actress.”

  “Do ya wanna see Coltrane behind bars?”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “Well, then, chère, yer ship cain’t come in if ya doan send out any boats.”

  “And I’m the ship?”

  “Mais, oui! Do ya agree ta participate?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Hell, no!” Daniel said at her side. He’d been stunned speechless apparently on first hearing the proposal that she be the bait. Now, he was more angry than stunned. “Samantha’s been a spectator at best in this whole mess. It would be too dangerous to put her in close proximity to her slimeball loser of an ex-husband.”

  Even Samantha was surprised at the vehemence of Daniel’s reaction.

  “I assure you, we will have her back every step of the way,” Sonny assured Daniel.

  Who was not assured. “If she goes, I go with her,” Daniel insisted.

  “Out of the question,” Sonny insisted right back. “And, furthermore, if Ms. Starr is unable ta get the needed evidence in her meeting with Mr. Coltrane, we might need Mr. Starr ta set up his own meetin’, pretend ta be comin’ back ta work fer the good doctor.”

  Angus groaned, no more an actor than she was an a
ctress.

  The calmer voice of Luc intervened. “Let’s set this aside for now. We can discuss Samantha’s involvement later. Or Angus’s. Go on, Sonny.”

  “There’s a reason why we have ta act quickly with Dr. Coltrane,” Sonny said, still pursuing the same subject. “Under other circumstances, we could take our time investigatin’ and interviewin’ witnesses. But perps like Dr. Coltrane skip town the minute they get a whiff of the law on their tails. Doctors, no matter their backgrounds, are able ta relocate easily ta other countries that bar extradition. Besides, desperation makes even the sanest criminal do bad things, and Dr. Coltrane is desperate, and worried. We already know that.”

  Sonny seemed to have an opinion of doctors similar to Samantha’s. But more important, what did he mean about Nick being desperate? That sounded ominous. What did he know that she didn’t?

  “All the more reason not to involve Samantha,” Daniel persisted. “Or Angus, who has the brain of a computer and the common sense of a duck.”

  “Hey!” Angus protested.

  “I appreciate your concern, but I can speak for myself, Daniel.” Samantha patted Daniel on the arm to ameliorate her words.

  He shrugged her arm away and glared at her.

  “We haven’t had a chance to inform you yet, Ms. Starr,” the state trooper spoke up for the first time, “but Nawleans police reported a break-in at your house last night.”

  Samantha gasped at that news.

  “Not a lot of damage, but someone was clearly looking for something other than valuables. Broken window. Drawers pulled out. Pages ripped out of an address book. PC computer hard drive missing. Desk overturned. That kind of thing.” The trooper was reading from a small pocket notebook. Then, he looked up. “No fingerprints. The perp knew enough to wear gloves.”

  Samantha frowned. It was probably Nick trying to figure out where she might be and whether she was hiding Angus. That theory proved true when the trooper added, “The only thing that seems to be missing is a picture that must have been hanging in your bedroom. Nothing but an empty hook on the wall.”

  Daniel gave her a “See, I was right!” look.

  “Definitely Nick,” she said. “The painting that hung there was a rather valuable, antique miniature by a Southern artist. A wedding gift from my mother that Nick wanted, but didn’t get in our divorce settlement.”

  “Ya have photographs of the picture, yes?” Sonny asked.

  She nodded. “For insurance purposes.”

  “Well, if we find it in his possession, or discover evidence of its sale on the open or black market, we kin nail him fer that, too, guaranteed,” Sonny said. “And that’s another issue ya could discuss with him durin’ yer meetin’ . . . the break-in.”

  Daniel made a sound under his breath that sounded like a growl.

  For more than an hour, they continued to discuss the case, while Tante Lulu handed out cups of sweet tea and beignets she’d made early this morning, probably at the crack of dawn. She was in her element! Feeding the masses.

  “These beignets, they are almos’ as good as the ones from Café du Monde, yes,” Sonny complimented her.

  “Bite yer tongue, boy. I was making beignets before that restaurant opened.”

  Which was highly unlikely . . . in fact, impossible . . . since that famous New Orleans restaurant had opened during the Civil War.

  Lily Beth went up to take a nap, still distraught over the prospect of her brothers discovering the trouble she was in. And Angus went off with police officers in a van with blackened windows to check out some mug shots and give more details as he could remember on the Guenot compound. Luc insisted on going along with his client, which made Samantha anxious. Angus must not be safe from the law, yet.

  Before he left, Luc took Samantha aside and said, “The Fibbies will try to talk you into meeting with Nick. Don’t agree to anything without me present. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it. Just don’t feel coerced. They need you more than you need them.”

  She nodded, feeling a little shaky without him being there. But then, Angus must be feeling even worse, going to a police station.

  John went out to show the police and several agents the property so they could set up a plan for surveillance.

  Brad and Sonny stayed behind, presumably to discuss Samantha’s possible meeting with Nick. And Daniel wasn’t moving anywhere while that was still a possibility.

  This whole debacle wasn’t as over as she’d thought it would be when the feds rode in on their white chargers.

  One of the officers came back shortly to report, “There’s a freakin’ alligator farm next door. If the mob gets in here and breaks down that fence, we’re gonna be overrun with about two hundred of those gators.”

  Samantha didn’t bother to tell them that gators wouldn’t travel that far over land, away from the bayou, or their water habitat on the neighboring property. Whatever! Let them squirm a little.

  “Two . . . two . . . hundred?” Brad sputtered.

  “The owner of the farm, a woman, cussed us out and raised a rifle, warning us not to trespass. Flashed us a license to carry and told us to get the hell away from her property.”

  “That would be Delilah Dugas. Ain’t she sumpin’?” Tante Lulu commented to no one in particular. “Sometimes she enters alligator wrestlin’ contests. I wish I could wrestle alligators. Well, I could wrestle mah pet alligator, Useless, but he ain’t vicious or nothin’. At least his breath doan smell lak dead animals. All Useless eats is Cheez Doodles.”

  Samantha noticed that the old lady, as she talked, had been adding things to the grocery list Samantha had started this morning. Wait until Daniel saw the size of the thing! It looked like there were two more pages.

  Brad’s jaw dropped open at Tante Lulu’s words, but Sonny just chuckled, knowing that anything could happen in the bayou. And he was no more worried than she was that they’d have gators knocking at their door.

  Daniel’s cell phone rang then. When he checked the caller ID, he stood and apologized, “Sorry. I’ve got to take this call.” He went over to the other side of the long kitchen. While Brad and Sonny compared notes, and Tante Lulu stood before the open fridge taking inventory, Samantha could overhear one side of the conversation.

  “George,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, no!”

  “And her father can’t get here in time?”

  “I told you I’d pay for his motel.”

  “Dammit!”

  “What can I do?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Is an hour too long?”

  “I’ll make it in a half hour.”

  “Okay. Listen, tell Molly to hold on. Tell her I have a special present for her.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Daniel clicked off and stared grimly off into space before coming over to tell her, “I have to go to the cancer center right away. Come out in the hall a minute so we can talk in private.”

  Brad looked up with interest but didn’t stop them from leaving the kitchen. Tante Lulu was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee, entertaining Sonny with a story about the Bayou Black Sonniers, his distant cousins, who used to trap muskrats and squirrels in the nude. “One time Yancy Sonnier almos’ got his wienie caught in a trap. Hoo-boy! Scared the livin’ daylights outta the boy! Took ta wearin’ a pie tin in his jockeys.”

  Out in the hallway, which led to the storage rooms and out to the ground floor, front verandah, Daniel took her in his arms and kissed her. Just what she needed after a harrowing morning! And a good reminder of the night they’d just shared.

  The kiss was short and sweet, unfortunately.

  “What’s happening at the cancer center?” she asked.

  “There’s a bit of a crisis with the little girl you saw there.”

  “And they need you?”

  He shrugged. “Need is too strong a word. I can help. I’m going to take some cell phone pictures of the kittens
to show Molly and tell her she gets her pick when she gets better.”

  “Will she? Get better?”

  “It’s fifty-fifty.”

  “What’s that about her father?”

  “He lives in Savannah and has no place to stay when he gets here.”

  “I thought there were accommodations. Temporary housing solutions for parents of sick kids.”

  “Her father is a convicted felon, armed robbery, out on probation. These places are overcrowded anyhow, and when push comes to shove, they’ll take the person with a clean record first.”

  “And her mother?”

  “Gone. Left with a boyfriend when Molly first got sick. A grandmother helps, but . . .” His words trailed off.

  “Go. I’ll make your excuses to Brad and Sonny. And, oh, wait a minute.” She went back into the kitchen and got the grocery list.

  When she came back and handed it to Daniel, he asked, “What’s this?”

  “I know you have other things on your mind, and you might not be in the mood after you leave the center, but just in case things go okay, would you mind? This is a little list of things you could get on your way back.”

  “Holy crap! I should have asked Aaron to leave the truck again.”

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “Are you kidding? Ten pounds of rice? A half bushel of shrimp?”

  “I think Tante Lulu is planning on making shrimp étouffée for dinner.”

  “For who? An army?”

  “She means well.”

  “So did Attila the Hun. And how long is the old bat staying?”

  “Now, be nice.”

  “I wish we could go back to bed and hide under the covers. I haven’t had nearly enough of you.” He nuzzled her neck.

  “Likewise.” She arched her neck to the side so he could nuzzle some more.

  “A rain check?”

  “For sure. Maybe you could dream up a couple more of your fantasies by then.”

  He grinned. “Or you could tell me some of yours.”