Crescent City Chronicles (Books 1-3)

by Judith Lucci

  He continued his fantasy as he walked through the darkened tunnel of the medical center. Huge steam pipes hissed at him as he walked by them. The sound was comforting. The steam cleared his mind. He carefully jumped around to avoid deep pools of water. He couldn't see the pools of water, but Weston could feel they were there. Weston liked knowing what was around. Every now and then, he waved and joyfully greeted a large rat or an enormous New Orleans cockroach. They were his friends. Several rats were albinos and had pink, inquiring eyes. They neither bothered him nor required anything from him. Hapless creatures. Helpless, like he made his victims. He loved hapless and helpless.

  Weston wished he had a light as he entered the stretch of tunnel between the Pavilion and the main hospital. It was pitch black. There was only a single light bulb about every 50 feet. The engineering people never entered this part of the tunnel. The heating and maintenance facilities for the Pavilion were located directly under the building itself. Weston cursed a little as he wiped the cobwebs from his face. He hated spiders. They reminded him of women who were both hateful and as dishonest as woven webs of intrigue around full-blooded men. Such a useless exercise, he thought to himself. No wonder they had to be put in their place. Women – disgusting pigs.

  Finally, he reached the seldom-used elevator under the Pavilion. He smiled and congratulated himself on the ingenuity of his scheme. They would never find him, not right here in the Pavilion. The tunnel and the elevator were Weston's secret. He had used them many times to enter and leave the hospital secretly, most recently when he had "used" the nurse. He had even left the outside door to the stairwell open to confuse people. He smiled at his cleverness. He felt himself aroused again at the memory of his night with the pig nurse, Angie.

  The elevator opened into an old supply room, which was now part of one of the seclusion rooms. A thin wall and heavy metal door separated the supply room from the small seclusion cell. Of course, Weston had a key to the door. He was sure no one else did. He doubted if anyone even remembered the door was there – except for the patients in seclusion, and no one listened to them.

  Weston remembered late last March when he had entered the hospital through the tunnel and the elevator. He had been surprised to find the seclusion room occupied by a young, beautiful woman who had just been admitted for severe depression. Of course, she had been suicidal and hostile, which is why the shrinks had secluded her. He would never forget the look of fear in her eyes when he entered her room through the metal door. It had been an unexpected surprise for him, too. A very pleasant surprise indeed, as it turned out. Of course, she had screamed, but the seclusion rooms were soundproof. How handy. How fortunate! And, his timing had been just right. He had entered a few minutes past midnight and knew he had a full two hours for fun before the next rounds by the hospital staff.

  It had been two great sex-filled and sex-crazed hours. The girl had a beautiful body and Weston had used it fully for his convenience. He couldn't remember how many times he had gotten off, but it had been good. Ah, life was good, he thought to himself as he remembered his fortune. After the initial sex act, which never involved penetration, the woman had been submissive and even begged him to kill her. He had accommodated her by helping her slit her wrists. He hadn't wanted to and would've liked to have visited her again, but was afraid the shrinks might believe her story. She just hadn't been insane enough. Besides, the best sex of all had been giving it to her while she bled to death. That had also been the best part with the old lady, but she had been an imposter, so it really didn't count as much. She had been a plastic, old lady bitch, and she deserved that knitting needle just where he placed it.

  Ah, the power of it all, the supreme triumph. Orgasm for one at another's moment of death. Ultimate power, ultimate control. Didn't the shrinks call that something? Necrophilia or something? He liked the word. It had a pleasant ring to it. Several other times he'd enjoyed "fruits" of the room, but had never derived the same satisfaction he had the first time. The first adventure was always the best for him. It was a great setup. Crescent City Medical offered him everything he needed, even a huge bonus at the end of the year for the cost savings he had instituted. His bonus would be even more now that the plastic shrink was dead.

  A sudden thought alarmed him. He broke out into a sweat. Suppose the room was occupied tonight? What would he do? Then he relaxed. It would only be a woman in the room. No problem. The seclusion room was on the women's side of the Pavilion. It was available only for female seclusion. No sweat after all. Cool. Maybe someone would be waiting for him tonight. Maybe even Rose. Weston breathed a sigh of relief. He was tired and the voices and all the whiskey had finally hit him. He was super human, but everyone had a limit. He walked off the elevator and inserted his key into the lock of the heavy metal door.

  As the door creaked open and a shaft of light appeared from the overhead light, Weston felt fear for the first time in his life.

  Facing him in the room was the drug crazed, raging face of Anthony Gavette.

  Weston was frozen in place.

  Anthony stared at him and said quietly, "I've been waiting for you, you slimy bastard. You took my Rose!" Then Anthony lunged at Whitset, knocking him to the floor.

  Chapter 35

  The rape treatment at Gulfport Memorial had been just as awful as Alex had expected. It was the most humiliating experience she had ever endured. Even though the physician had been kind, she thought she heard some joking outside her cubicle. Nadine's quiet reprimand had convinced her she was correct.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when she was discharged. The ride back to New Orleans was quiet, both women deep in thought. Finally, Alex asked, "When will I know? When will they tell me if I've been raped?"

  "The physician told me he would run the labs himself. He said he would get back to me this afternoon." Nadine glanced over at Alex, aware that she was depressed.

  "That long? Why so long?" Alex's voice sounded pitiful.

  "They do a lot of testing, Alex. You know that. Try to get some sleep now." Nadine's voice was chiding. She was getting pretty tired, too.

  "I just want a shower and something to eat. Then, I want to go to CCMC and check on Monique. I'm really worried about her." Alex's voice faltered as her eyes filled with tears for her friend.

  Nadine nodded. "Yes, I talked with Robert. He's also very concerned. Monique's still in surgery. They're doing a craniotomy. She has a depressed skull fracture."

  "Did she regain consciousness before the surgery?" Alex was afraid to hear the response.

  "No, she didn't. She was completely unresponsive. Robert's also in surgery. Said he was hopeful that once they relieve the pressure in her head, she might regain consciousness, maybe even come back full force." Nadine reached for Alex's hand and pressed it. "You know how these things go, Alex. It could be either way." Her voice was sympathetic. The look she gave Alex understanding.

  Alex flinched as she remembered the sound of Whitset's lead pipe splitting Monique's skull. She would never forget the sound it had made, not as long as she lived. She shuddered to herself and cried silent tears for her friend.

  "It's so unfair, Nadine. Monique and Jack had just found each other. They're in love. Did you know that?"

  Nadine jerked her head and stared at Alex. Her eyes were closed, her head laid back against the seat. Hell no, she didn't know that. She said softly, “No, Alex, I didn't know that. Thanks for telling me."

  Alex made no response until Nadine awoke her in front of her house. Nadine made them both a sandwich, while Alex showered and dressed. It was afternoon. Then, they left for CCMC.

  Chapter 36

  Don Montgomery was pacing furiously back and forth in his office. Elizabeth Tippett and Josh Martin were sitting at a small conference table. In front of them was the morning edition of the Times Picayune. The lead story on the front page outlined the tragic attack on Angie Richelieu and the death of Mrs. Smithson.

  Elizabeth finally spoke, "Don, for heaven sakes, sit do
wn. Your pacing is driving me nuts. Stop it!"

  Montgomery turned on her. "Tippett, what the hell is going on here? Tell me again! Are you sure Whitset is responsible for the attacks on Alex and Monique Desmonde?"

  Elizabeth sighed and turned to Josh Martin and back to Don. "Yes, absolutely. Officer Martin was there! What other proof do you need? He interrupted the attack on Alex. Monique was already unconscious. Whitset is definitely responsible. Can't you get that through your head?" Elizabeth was tired, worried about Alex and Monique, and sick of Don.

  Don sat down and glared at Josh Martin. "Where in the hell is Commander Françoise? That useless bastard should be here helping us clean this shit up!"

  Josh bristled at Montgomery's reference to the Commander. Jack was his hero and he worshiped the ground he walked on. He was short on energy, patience, and time. He mustered up some self-control and said in a derogatory voice, "Mr. Montgomery, Commander Françoise is out searching for Whitset now. There's a citywide manhunt for your administrator. I'm leaving here now to meet up with him, if I can find him."

  "No need. I'm here, Josh. No need to hunt." The three of them looked towards the doorway of Montgomery's office and stared at the exhausted Jack Françoise. Jack was so grey with fatigue and anxiety that he appeared to be an apparition. Jack touched Elizabeth's shoulder and sat down.

  Officer Martin rose in deference to his commanding officer. "Commander, can I get you anything?"

  Jack shook his head negatively and addressed Montgomery. "Is Alex here yet?"

  Montgomery stared at the Commander and said, "Hell, no! I heard she'd been attacked by Whitset. Is it true?"

  Françoise nodded. "Yeah, Whitset attacked Alex and Dr. Desmonde. I understand she's still in surgery. Anyone check on her?" Jack looked at all of them dismally.

  Elizabeth answered, "Yeah. I called up about an hour ago. She was still in surgery. They said it would be several more hours. They're doing a craniotomy, Commander. She has a severe skull fracture. Why not come with me to my office and I'll call again." Elizabeth stood alongside Josh, and the three of them left a speechless Don Montgomery in his plush executive office.

  As the trio walked towards Elizabeth's office, Jack's cell rang. He looked at the number. It was Nadine's cell. He said, "I'll catch up. Let me talk to Nadine. I think she's with Alex.” He stopped and sat in the lobby, while Josh and Liz waited expectantly.

  Jack returned and gestured with his hand. "Let's go to Alex's office. She and Nadine are over there.

  Alex and Nadine were sitting at the conference table in Alex's office. As soon as Jack entered, Alex went over and hugged him. She could feel his silent tears as they embraced. Alex said softly, "Jack, we don't know anything yet. Let's be positive. Robert's up there, so you can be sure she's getting the best." She continued to hold Jack, feeling him shudder as he grouped for composure.

  Finally, he let go and smiled at her. "You're looking pretty good, Miss Lawyer Lady. You do have a few bruises and a shiner. Everything else okay?"

  "Yep, I'm doing okay. Promise. Nadine has been great. Can you get her a raise?" Alex winked at Nadine.

  "I'll do my best." He looked at Josh and Nadine. "Can we talk privately?" He looked sideways at Elizabeth.

  "I get the message, Commander. I've got to go clean up our image with the press anyway. You guys be good while I'm gone, okay?" Liz gave them all a big smile. She hugged Alex when she left and said, "We'll talk later, Al. I'm glad you're okay. You don't look too bad for a chick who has been up all night," Elizabeth joked, as she left them alone.

  Alex smiled at her friend. "Yes, Liz. Later. I'm doing pretty okay. Say some prayers for Monique."

  "I've been praying for you all since about three o'clock this morning. And by the way, you two owe me. I've been sitting with Don for hours, listening to him rant and rave. Steer clear of him if you can. He's a wild man again."

  "Gotcha, Liz. Thanks," Alex said.

  Elizabeth gave Officer Martin a special smile as she quietly closed the door of Alex's conference room.

  Jack sat down wearily in a chair and said to the group, "I got the preliminary forensics on Angie. We ain't got zip. Nothing."

  Alex gasped, "What? Nothing? How can that be?"

  Nadine spoke quietly, "It's probably because so much time elapsed between the rape and the collection of the evidence. What about blood and hair samples, Jack? Are they conclusive?"

  Jack's face brightened. Damn, he thought to himself. I really am in bad shape. I'm almost useless. He had forgotten about the evidence, except the rape forensics. "Hell, yeah, we got the hair and skin. We even got the damn bite mark. I can't wait to catch the little pervert." Jack, clearly in a brighter mood, rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

  Alex was still confused. She felt her heart fluttering with fear. She looked at Nadine and said, "Nadine, why don't we have any ABO groupings? Surely, there should be something!"

  Nadine understood Alex's fear. "I guess the specimens weren't collected soon enough to build a good case. Anyway, the genetic markers could only implicate Whitset if ..."

  She was interrupted by Commander Françoise, who said tersely, "Nadine, suppose the man's a non-secretor? Then we'll never be able to determine ..." Jack's voice trailed off as he stared at Alex, whose face had flushed a bright red. She was staring at the conference table, unable to speak.

  Nadine knew what they were thinking. If Whitset was a non-secretor, then Alex might not know if she had been physically raped or not. She'd never come to closure on the subject. Damn, Nadine thought. This just isn't fair.

  "Alex," Nadine began, "We don't know anything yet."

  Alex stood. She was in the greatest rage she could remember. "Shut up, Nadine! Shut up all of you! None of you know that humiliation, the ignominy, I just endured at that Podunk hospital. All of you just get out of my office!" She looked wildly at Josh, Nadine, and Jack. "I said to get the hell out of here, now!"

  Jack was shocked. He'd never heard Alex curse like that before. He stood to try to comfort her. As he reached for her, she pushed him away, fighting back hot tears.

  Nadine remained seated and looked up at Alex's tear streaked face. "Alex, I know exactly what you’ve been through. I've been through it myself. We'll leave now, but I'll be back here in one hour to see you."

  Alex stared at them as they left her office. Then, she put her head down on her conference table and wept, crying for herself, Monique, Jack, and Robert. Her life would never be the same. She just knew it. There was no way it could be.

  Commander Françoise, Nadine Wells, and Josh Martin reconvened in the hospital dining room, all of them staring tiredly into their coffee.

  Finally, Jack said, "How bad was it in Gulfport?"

  "It was as bad as always, Jack. Nothing different or unusual. It's just a demeaning experience for any woman, or man for that matter." Her voice was clear, but her eyes had a faraway look in them.

  Jack cleared his throat, uncomfortable with what he was about to say. Finally, it came out. "Nadine, I didn't know that you had been ..."

  Nadine interrupted him. "I know you didn't Jack. It's not something I've ever revealed during a case." She looked bluntly at Jack and Josh. "Make sure this goes no further."

  "Of course not, Nadine. Your secret is safe with us. Right, Josh?"

  Josh nodded his head affirmatively and said, "Right, Commander. Right, Ms. Wells. No one will ever know." Personally, Josh never wanted to piss off either the Commander or Ms. Wells. They were both pretty scary in their own right.

  Chapter 37

  Robert Bonnet was deeply troubled. As he stood in the shower in the O.R. suite, the warm water seemed to remind him only that he was still alive. He was numb all over. The rest of the world seemed cold to him, cold and unkind, and out of sync.

  Monique’s surgery had progressed well, but Robert was depressed by the extent of her head injury. The neurosurgeon, Dr. Van Hansen, wasn't hopeful for much of a recovery. In fact, early in the surgery, after assessi
ng the extent of her injury, the buildup of intracranial fluid, and its compression on the brain, he had recommended they close, take three EKG readings, and then make a decision. Robert had objected vehemently, even though the clinical picture looked grim.

  At a later point, the neurosurgeon had pointedly questioned whether Monique should even have any plastic surgery, suggesting it was a waste of time and doubtful that Monique would ever even ask for a mirror if she ever regained consciousness.

  Robert again objected angrily. A volley of harsh words had followed.

  Robert really didn't like Van Hansen. He was lousy at the bedside and had the 'Surgeon rude, superior personality'. But Robert knew he was also a great technical neurosurgeon. In the end, the plastic surgeon had come in and done a fairly good job of reconstructing Dr. Desmonde's face where Lester Whitset had tried to obliterate it. Of course, only time would really tell how good she would look, if she even lived.

  Robert continued to chastise himself. Perhaps the neuro doc had been correct. Maybe he wasn't seeing Monique's injuries for what they were. Part of the time during the operation, he had found himself remembering their youth together. They had been great friends. They still were. Then, his thoughts returned to the "celebratory dinner" they had shared only two days before. Jack and Monique had been so happy that night. Oh, there had been a few tense moments, but Robert knew the two loved each other beyond belief. Now, he had to go tell Jack that things didn't look so good.

  "Bonnet, wake up! Are you still in there? You're going to be a prune if you don't get out." Robert recognized the voice of one of the male O.R. techs. He opened the shower door and grabbed a towel.

  "Yeah, I'm coming out. Give me a minute." Robert left the shower and was changing into clean scrubs when the tech approached him again.

  "You okay, man? You look awful. You're all wrinkled." Tom Finney, the O.R. tech, looked him up and down. He smiled at Robert and gave him a look of encouragement. He studied the surgeon's face and said, "Listen man, you know how those damn brain guys are. They thrive on pessimism. They always predict the worst ... not sure of this, not sure of that, and all that horseshit. Then, they look like Santa Claus or the tooth fairy when the patient wakes up and starts bitching about the nursing care. Brain surgeons practice more savior behavior than the rest of you. Don't let him get you down!" Tom slapped Robert on the back.