by Judith Lucci
“Hello,” Alex answered sleepily.
“Alex, where have you been? I called and texted a million times last night. How’d it go?” Monique’s voice was piqued, but curious.
Alex sighed and said, “So sorry. We went to dinner at Tony’s and I didn’t get home until late. I meant to text you then, but I got so tied up in my thoughts that .…”
“Alex,” Monique interrupted, her voice sharp, “Forget the excuses. Tell me about it. Did you like him? Was it what you expected? It must have been OK if you went to dinner with him.”
Alex sat up on the side of the bed to answer. “Yes, it was great. I feel like I have a father. He’s kind, generous, and handsome. He’s a lawyer from New York.”
There was a pause and Monique waited for more. “And …,” she prompted.
Alex thought carefully before answering, “I do think he has a dark past and got involved in some bad stuff. He alluded to it several times, but I believe he’s one of those men who have learned from his experience and moved forward.”
Monique was silent for a moment as she digested Alex’s news. “What did he say about your mother?”
“Only that he loved her, they were young and she was sick, and he was too dumb to understand. To tell you the truth, I think my grandfather threw him out and used a couple of power plays to get custody of me.” This was the first time Alex had admitted this possibility to herself.
Monique laughed. “I think that is definitely plausible, knowing Adam Lee. He’ll do anything to protect the women in his life.”
Alex looked at the alarm on her bedside table. “Let me go, Monique. I’ve got to get ready for work. I’m sure you’re there by now,” Alex accused in a chagrined voice.
“No, but I am walking out the door,” Monique said, smiling to herself. “How about dinner this evening with me and Jack?”
“Can’t. I’m meeting Louis again.”
“Pooh, how long is he here?” Monique was disappointed.
“Just a couple of days, we’ll get together soon. I want to see Jack, … and you as well,” she quipped.
“Sounds great, have a good day. Talk soon,” Monique promised as she hung up.
Chapter 54
Bridgett stood up as soon as Alex walked into the office. She looked like a blonde goddess dressed in green. “And just what did you do last night, Alexandra Lee Destephano,” Bridgett demanded, blue eyes flashing and blonde hair bobbing as she confronted her boss.
“I …. What, what do you mean, Bridgett,” Alex asked as she stopped dead in her tracks at Bridgett’s desk.
Bridgett stood there, hands on her hips and said again, “What did you do last night, Alex. Where did you go and whom did you see?”
“I had dinner with a friend,” she stammered. “Actually, it was a relative. Why do you ask?”
Bridgett threw her blonde head back and laughed loudly, a wide smirk on her face. “Well, I’d say that’s a pretty close relative. Come here and look at your office.” As the two women walked toward Alex’s private digs, Alex wondered what in the world Bridgett could possibly be talking about. As Bridgett opened the door, Alex was overcome with the scent of fresh flowers. There were three arrangements of lilies, roses, magnolia blossoms, and other exotic flowers that Alex didn’t recognize.
“But, but who sent them,” Alex asked, her voice uncertain.
“You tell me, Alex?” Bridgett glared at her as her blue eyes flashed daggers. “You left here yesterday at 2:30. Something had to have happened after you left here for you to receive three incredible flower arrangements.”
Alex said nothing as she gazed at the lovely bouquets.
Bridgett peered at her suspiciously. “Now, give it up. Who sent them?” Bridgett flashed her ‘the look’ and Alex was about the answer when Robert Bonnet entered her office, looking tall, handsome, and immaculate in his white coat.
Bridgett smiled sweetly at Dr. Bonnet. “Good morning. How are you today? As you can see, Alex has a new admirer,” she added.
Bridgett could swear she saw a flicker of pain cross Robert’s handsome features, but his face flashed a smile. “These are beautiful, but not as beautiful as the two of you,” he said, always the Creole gentlemen.
“Flattery always works for me, Dr. Bonnet,” Bridgett quipped.
“Good morning, Robert,” Alex said as she gave her former husband an admiring look. Robert was impeccable as always and his gray shirt really set off his silver-gray eyes.
“This arrangement has a card,” Bridgett interrupted, handing a small envelope to Alex.
Alex opened the card, shook her head, and laughed. “They’re from my father. He’s in New Orleans and I had dinner with him last night. He’s the one who is sending me flowers.”
Bridgett’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’. “Now, Alex, that’s a shocker. Isn’t that the first time you’ve seen him in years?”
Alex nodded, “Yes, it is. He is here on business and he called me just before lunch yesterday so, on a whim, I decided to go.”
“How was it,” Robert asked, his tone serious. He knew the history behind Louis Destephano’s desertion of his only daughter, and had spent years hating him for hurting Alex.
“It, it was wonderful. We had a perfect time and I felt a connection with him almost at once,” Alex answered.
Bridgett was suspicious and continued to probe. “Well, what does he do and what’s he like?”
“He’s a lawyer, lives in New York. He’s still very handsome, has a gentle voice, and is obviously very smart,” Alex replied, speaking slowly as she thought about Louis.
Bridgett’s office phone rang and she rushed into her office to answer it. “I’ll be back,” she promised. “I want all the details,” she added as she closed the door.
Robert smiled at Bridgett as she left and Alex could swear Bridgett giggled. “Sit down, Robert. Do you have a couple of minutes,” Alex asked.
“Just a couple. I’ve got another case starting in a few minutes.” He paused and smiled at her. “So, your father. How did all of this come about?”
Alex shrugged her shoulders. “He called me yesterday and invited me for a drink at the Palm Court, so I went and we ended up having dinner.” She paused for a minute, and then added, “I really like him, Robert. I don’t think he is well though, I mean, in the best of health - nothing that he said, but I just sort of got that feeling.”
She thought for a minute and continued, “He said he’d been in the hospital earlier this year with his heart and at one point he seemed to be having a little pain. His godson asked him if we should go to the hospital, but he refused.”
“Perhaps he had a heart attack earlier this year. What kind of shape is he in physically,” Robert asked.
“He looks good, not overweight, doesn’t smoke that I can see, and appears to be active.” After a brief pause, she continued, “I guess he’s in his mid-sixties. He must have been quite a bit older than my mother.”
Robert shook his head. “It’s hard to say. As you know, anyone can have a heart attack. How long will he be around? I’d like to meet him.”
“I don’t know for sure, but I’ll ask tonight.” Alex stopped for a moment and laughed. “You’ll love this, Robert. Louis was very careful in how he spoke of my grandfather, but he said that Adam didn’t approve of him as a husband for my mother. Anyway, after the second time my mother was hospitalized, he believes that Adam may have pulled some strings to keep custody of me.”
Robert laughed. “Well, I was never good enough for you either, so that doesn’t surprise me at all. And, knowing Adam, he probably bullied your dad and forbade him to see or contact you. I wouldn’t put it past Adam, even though I am sure he thought he was doing the best thing.”
Alex grinned at him. “I’m sure he did. That’s how granddad operated, and still operates. Anyway,” her voice turned serious, “I do think he is ill. He invited me to go to Europe with him for a month or two and I’m thinking about going. What do you think?” Alex’s blue eye
s flashed, daring him to say no.
Robert was quiet as he contemplated Alex leaving NOLA to go abroad with the father who’d deserted her 30 years ago. He wasn’t happy about it and chose his words carefully. “Why Europe? Why not visit in New York for a few days until you get to know him better?”
“He has a home in France and he goes there every year for a couple of months or more. I don’t know, but I think he’s sick and I just want to spend some time with him. I’ll ask him more this evening. It’s just a hunch,” she said.
Robert nodded and raised his eyebrows. “How do you think your grandparents will take this?”
Alex shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know. I think Grand will be fine with it. Granddad, well who knows, but it’s really not something he can say much about. I guess we’ll see, though,” she added.
A dark look flashed across Robert’s face and quickly vanished, but not before Alex saw it. “So you’ve decided to go,” he speculated.
Alex nodded, “I most likely will. I’ll find out more this evening.”
Robert stood to leave. “Gotta go. The operating room calls. Let me know when I can meet him,” Robert reminded her as be bent down to kiss her cheek.
“Promise I will,” Alex said to his departing back.
There’s that control thing again. I really wish he didn’t have that. I’m going to make my own decisions, married or not. There had been elements of control in Robert’s nature for years and a couple of times it had caused problems during their marriage but Alex, much younger and much more naïve back then, had always acquiesced to him. Now she doubted that would happen. She’d been alone too long. Her eyes strayed to the pile of correspondence and telephone messages on her desk and she decided to get to work.
Several hours later Bridgett buzzed her, and said that her father was here to see her.
Chapter 55
Fredrico Petrelli was furious and the more he drank, the madder he got. The bar-keep, in the lower French Quarter bar, eyed Fredrico nervously, hoping he’d either leave or pass out. The man was vile, crazy, and unpredictable.
The bartender scanned the far end of the bar just as Petrelli slammed his glass on the table, hollering for another drink, and two men entered. The sun was blinding, and the bartender squinted his eyes to see who they were.
One of the men went over to Petrelli and said, “Come on, we’re leaving.”
Petrelli pushed him away roughly. Then, the other guy tried to reason with him. “Gotta go, Fredrico. We’ve got work to do,” he urged, “let’s hit it.”
Petrelli stood up, walked to the opposite end of the long, mahogany bar, and demanded another drink. The two guys followed and the first one said, “Listen up, Joey sent us to get you. Now come.”
Petrelli ignored him, focused on his next drink.
“He wants to see you about last night. Wants to ask you a few questions.”
“Screw Joey, he’s a kid, wet behind his ears. I’ll come over there when I’m done drinking. Tell him I said that,” Petrelli snarled. “Now, get the hell out of here.”
The two men looked uncertain, and the older one said patiently “Petrelli, we gotta go. Joey’s waiting. You know he’ll be pissed if you don’t come.”
Petrelli stood and met the man eye to eye. “What don’t you understand, asshole? I don’t take orders from kids,” Petrelli growled. “And, I don’t take orders from you either. Now get the hell out of here before I kill both of you.” Petrelli’s scowl was deeply etched in his face and looked permanent.
“OK, ok man. I got it. You ain’t coming, and that’s what I tell Joey, but you know he’ll be pissed and he may come after you himself.”
Petrelli raised his eyebrows and said nothing, the scowl unchanged as he gulped his drink.
“Just watch your back. You know Joey doesn’t like it when people don’t come,” the older one warned him.
Petrelli turned around on his bar stool, glowered at the two men, and snarled, “You leaving or you want me to break your skulls.”
“We’re gone. No need for any more violence,” the young guy said as he headed to the door, quickly followed in suit by the older one.
“Petrelli watched them leave, finished his drink, dropped a hundred dollar bill on the counter, and stalked out of the bar, slamming the door behind him. I am going to kill somebody. Just as soon as I can.
The bartender breathed a sigh of relief and continued to dry bar glasses.
Chapter 56
“Damn, damn, damn. Will it ever stop? What the hell else did they say, Jason,” Jack Francoise replied angrily as he sat behind his large walnut desk at the headquarters of the First Precinct Police District in downtown New Orleans.
“Commander, that’s all I know. I just got the info myself. They got a body, strung upside down in the Quarter, near St. Louis #1, and it looks like the work of our friend St. Germaine,” Jason repeated, again keeping his voice as calm as possible. “Let’s go in the conference room and check the feeds coming in on the big screen.”
Jack shook his head and turned to his computer to pull up his file on the St. Germaine killings, even though every detail was imprinted in his brain. “Screw the big screen. I know what these bodies look like.” Jack scrolled through his documents. “When was the last one, Jason? Do you remember,” he asked as he muttered and cursed incoherently, shifting through his files.
Jason Alexander, Jack’s deputy commander, scratched his head and said, “Sir, I think it’s been awhile. It’s been quiet around here lately. The last one I can recall was the young Congressman last fall, at the time of the terrorist attacks.”
Jack paused for a moment. “Yup, you’re right. It was the Congressman. That’s been six months ago. What the hell does this guy do in between his kills,” Jack wondered aloud, perplexed.
“No clue. Maybe he leaves New Orleans and goes somewhere else and kills there. One thing we do know, he’s most likely a home town boy, and the forensic folks think he has some sort of a psychiatric problem.”
Jack nodded as he reflected on that dismal day just a few short months ago. Since the New Year’s Day incident had taken precedence, it seemed like ages ago since everything else. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Damn, I just can’t see this stuff anymore,” Jack said as he squinted his eyes, his voice irritated.
“Here, sir, try these,” Jason suggested as he handed Jack his reading glasses. “They may just help,” he wisecracked to his boss.
Jack gave him a dirty look and said, “Yeah, they do.” He scrolled through a couple of more files and said, “Yeah, it was in October. Looks like there was one we were suspicious about in December, but the MO was a little different.”
Jason nodded. “Yeah, the task force decided not to include that one in the St. Germaine body count because the forensic evidence was different and didn’t support the evidence we currently have on St. Germaine. They thought it may be a copycat.”
“Terrific,” Jack said sarcastically. “Just what we need. A copycat St. Germaine.” He shook his head and asked, “What’s it they say? Life’s a bitch and then you die, something like that?”
Jason laughed. “Well, look at it this way,” he offered, his voice cheerful, “Maybe we can find the copycat, because we sure aren’t finding St. Germaine.”
“Let’s go, Cowboy,” Jack said, as he held on to his desk and pulled his body up. He reached for his walking cane and slowly made his way from behind his desk.
Jason watched him thoughtfully. “You know, boss, you’re getting better. Last week it’d have taken you much longer to get up.”
Jack cursed under his breath as he moved toward the door. “Not soon enough for me. Just get the cruiser. I didn’t drive in today.”
“OK, sir, I’ll meet you out front,” Jason offered as he hid a smile, figuring that Dr. Desmonde had put her foot down about the Commander’s illegal driving. Dr. D, as all of Jack’s men called Monique, packed a lot of wallop into her punch when she went to war with her husband. From what
Jason could tell, Dr. D generally won.
Jack made his way through the bullpen, walking slowly but very carefully, slapping backs and pumping the flesh of his men. Jack’s precinct was the finest police precinct in NOLA, and they had the worst crime in the city. Jack treated his men as family and in return, they loved and respected him. He decided to stop at the men’s room on the way out. It could be a long day and there was no way he was going to try to get his big self and a cane in one of those tiny little bathrooms in the French Quarter.
True to his word, Jason was at the wheel of the Commander’s cruiser, and Jack slid with minimal effort into the passenger seat.
“Same location, Jason,” Jack asked.
Jason shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact, it’s barely in the Eighth. Murder’s over near the Bywater, just a couple of blocks inside the Eighth.”
“Humph. That’s pretty surprising. Wonder why the killer changed locations,” Jack mused.
“Beats me,” Jason replied as he slid the cruiser skillfully through the New Orleans traffic, headed east toward the Bywater and St. Louis Cemetery.
Jack checked his watch. It was a little after nine in the morning. I wonder why this sleazy SOB changed locations. He was doing pretty well where he was. We certainly never came close to getting him.
The Bywater neighborhood was east and down river from the French Quarter. It was home to a healthy mix of blue collar folks who grew up there, and more recent bohemian arrivals. Artists and musicians were living in the Bywater because rent was much cheaper than the French Quarter. All in all, the Bywater was a pretty neat Boho and art community.
Jack looked around at the Bywater Streets. It was primarily residential, but undeniably hip with pubs, restaurants, galleries, and randomly placed, edgy, found-objects d’ art pieces scattered throughout the neighborhood.
“There they are, just ahead,” Jason noted as they came within sight of a dozen police cars, ambulances, and pedestrians, all gathered around for a better view.
