Assassination at Bayou Sauvage

by D. J. Donaldson

  “And he told her about Belle,” Gatlin said.

  Caught up in Broussard’s story, Teddy chimed in, “I’ll bet Betty insisted that she and Remy be tested to see if either of them carried the mutation.”

  “I’m sure of it,” Broussard said. “And the test came back positive for both of ‘em. Now they had a problem, because it’s a recessive mutation. You can only get a child with the syndrome if the kiddo gets a copy of the defective gene from both parents.”

  “Betty didn’t want to risk it, so she called off the marriage,” Kit said.

  “Has to be what happened,” Broussard said.

  Now Gatlin jumped in. “She tells Remy she doesn’t want to see him anymore, he goes nuts and strangles her. Dumps her body down by the river, drives around awhile still nuts, goes back and stabs her dead body 15 times.”

  “Then he gets the idea to punish everyone up the genetic pedigree for passing the defective gene down to Betty,” Kit said, “starting with uncle Joe.”

  “That’s why when he killed Betty’s parents, he focused his anger on her mother,” Broussard said, his teeth clacking against the lemon ball, which he’d shifted out of his cheek. “Her father wasn’t a Broussard and therefore not responsible. Remy gave us a big clue as to what his motive was when he left that condom in Julien’s mouth.”

  “You don’t think . . .” Teddy began.

  “Think what?” Kit said.

  “I was about to suggest that Remy then decided to also punish his side of the family for giving him the gene, starting with his daddy, Zach. But what kind of man could do that to his own father?”

  “The same kind that was planning on killing the whole clan in the church,” Gatlin said.

  “He must have had more than one defective gene,” Teddy said. Then, to Broussard, “Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .”

  “No apology necessary,” Broussard said. “Your thought has occurred to me too.”

  “Not that we really need it now, but in Remy’s house we found the gun that killed Julien,” Gatlin said to Broussard. “And the suppressor was with it. They weren’t even well hidden.”

  “He was planning’ on killin’ himself at the church so what did he care,” Broussard said. “Did you find the car Remy drove when he met Betty at the dollar store?”

  Gatlin nodded. “Gray Mazda, right in his garage. The raincoat and Guy Fawks mask he wore when he killed Zach were in the trunk. It was like Christmas. His boat was there too, with clothes in it that belonged to the fisherman he planted in the water at the picnic.”

  “What about the men who were harassing Kit?”

  “All taken care of. You know you’ve been a pretty talkative old geezer while we been here. You’re not even out of breath. Why not get dressed and go home?”

  “They want to observe me until tomorrow.”

  “Guess they never saw anybody as odd as you before. Let me know if you need anything before they get tired of you.”

  “I will.”

  “We’re leaving too,” Kit said. “Great job at the church. See you when you get out.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Teddy said.

  A few minutes later, while waiting for the hospital elevator, Gatlin said to Kit. “If you’re interested, I got another assignment for you.”

  “I’m interested. What is it?”

  They were still talking about it when the elevator door opened and they got on.

  Back in his room, Broussard was wondering how long it would take Gatlin and Kit to realize that in order for his parents to have produced Belle, they must have been related to each other . . . no way to know how close or how distant. Could even have been cousins.

  The hospital ventilation system blew a familiar odor into his room, gardenias. Looking toward the door, he saw a familiar taffeta-clothed figure.

  “Still in bed,” Grandma O declared. And it’s nearly ten o’clock.”

  “She ain’t really bein’ judgmental,” Bubba said, popping into view from behind her. “Dat’s jus’ how she is.”

  “Good to see both of you. What’s in the sack?”

  “I saw your eyes get big when I gave da sheriff dat bread puddin’, so I brought some for you. Want it now?”

  “You’re not gonna feed me are you?”

  “You ain’t hurt bad enough for dat.”

  She got him set up with the open container of pudding and a napkin on the lap table and put a plastic spoon in his good hand. Wasting no time, he dug in. After savoring the first bite with obvious pleasure, he gestured at the container with his spoon and said, “Fantastique.”

  “Thought you didn’ know any French,” Grandma O said sternly, hands on her massive hips.

  “Learned that one from the sheriff. Bubba . . . you keepin’ out of trouble?”

  “Seems like trouble only comes my way when I’m with you or Doc Franklyn. So for now . . . I’m good, unless you get outta dat bed and drag me into somethin’.”

  “On da way in we saw Philip, Kit, and Teddy,” Grandma O said. “Anybody else been to see you?”

  “Just Amelia, one of Uncle Joe’s daughters. She apologized for no other member of the family comin’ by but they all got reasons . . . lots of ‘em traumatized by the relatives they lost, some so confused they blame me for what happened.” He shook his head. “At Uncle Joe’s birthday picnic, after seein’ all those people I was related to but didn’t know, I felt like I’d been missin’ somethin’ . . . that in the future I should be more . . . interested in them. At least reconnect with all Joe’s kids, considerin’ how close we’d all been when we were young. But now everything’s a mess.”

  “Lemme tell you somethin’,” Grandma O said. “Bein’ related by blood ain’t da only way to have family. Philip an’ Kit, an’ Teddy are your family now. Me an’ Bubba are too. So stop feelin’ sorry for yourself.” She came closer to the bed, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. And in that moment, Broussard saw that Grandma O had never said anything that made more sense.

  Down in the hospital parking lot, Kit and Teddy were sitting in Teddy’s red truck, about to get underway, except Teddy was just sitting behind the wheel staring at the windshield.

  “What are you doing?” Kit asked.

  “I’ve been thinking . . . about our problem of me living in Bayou Coteau and you living here . . . how that’s going to work after we’re married.”

  “What did you decide?”

  “I have a guy who can run the gator farm without me there. And I’ve got enough property to manage in New Orleans that I’ll have plenty to do here. So, it makes sense all around for me to live in New Orleans full time. What do you think?”

  “Does this have anything to do with me being attacked while I was jogging?”

  “That’s part of it. If I’d been here, we’d have been running together.”

  “Then they would have found a different time, when you weren’t with me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I love that you want to protect me, but even if you’re here, you can’t follow me everywhere I go. And, despite what happened in Pirates Alley, I’m not helpless. I want to be sure you realize that.”

  “Hey, remember, I was there still hiding behind the gator carcass the time you jumped over it and took down that guy with the shotgun. Helpless? Furthest thought from my mind.”

  “Well, you were unarmed when it happened. It wouldn’t have been smart of you to do anything else.”

  “As for Pirates Alley, I heard a guy left there with at least one less functioning testicle than he had when he arrived. It’s just that when I can help you, I want to be only minutes or seconds away, not hours. And that includes giving you a foot message.”

  Kit nodded and pretended to think hard about what he’d said. “Okay then. I believe it’s time to set a date for the wedding.”

  Sometimes an active mind can be a curse, especially if the one it belongs to has a Ph.D. in psychology. Even as she answered Teddy’s question and they reaffirmed their
engagement with a kiss, Kit wondered if there would be a time in the future when Teddy would come to resent her for making him leave the love he’d had long before they even met.

  As Teddy started the truck and backed out of their parking space, Kit wistfully recalled something one of her favorite Tulane profs once said: “The trouble with life is that you have to live it to find out what happens.”

  Series Information

  Published by Astor + Blue Editions

  These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels

  Cajun Nights

  Young and vibrant New Orleans criminal psychologist Kit Franklyn has just been assigned her most challenging case yet—a collection of victims with similarities that include driving old cars, humming nursery rhymes, committing murder, and then committing suicide! Welcoming the help of her jovial boss, chief medical examiner Andy Broussard, the two set out to solve the case, devising strictly scientific possibilities. Not once do they consider the involvement of Black Magic, a New Orleans cultural staple, until an ancient Cajun sorcerer's curse surfaces with an ominous name: "Beware the songs you loved in youth."

  NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW — His writing displays flashes of brilliance… Dr. Donaldson's talent and potential as a novelist are considerable.

  WASHINGTON POST BOOK WORLD — SUSPENSFUL…likeable protagonists…Broussard and Franklyn are an engaging team…a welcome debut.

  HOUSTON POST — A deadly portrait of this steamiest of Southern cities…mighty fine.

  MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL APPEAL — A novel of creepy suspense…. It won't be easily put down, through your heart races to dangerous levels… a face-paced thriller that deserves a wide audience.

  THE PHOENIX REPUBLIC — Donaldson has relieved the tedium of the murder mystery grind with this engaging tale.

  BOOKLIST — We close this remarkable, intoxicating book like a first-time visitor leaves New Orleans: giddy, a bit disoriented and much less confident in our own assumptions about life.

  Blood on The Bayou

  New Orleans's plump and proud chief medical examiner, Andy Broussard, and his gorgeous assistant, criminal psychologist Kit Franklyn, set off to investigate a series of violent murders. Examination of the victims leads to the discovery that each has the throat ripped out: with a garden fork and something unrecognizable--something no man could have made. 'Blood on the Bayou' is written in Donaldson's unique style: A hard-hitting, punchy, action-packed prose that's dripping with a folksy, decidedly southern, sense of irony. Add in Donaldson's brilliant first-hand knowledge of forensics and the sultry flavour of New Orleans, and the result is first class forensic procedural within an irresistibly delectable mystery.

  LOS ANGELES TIMES BOOK REVIEW — The bayou atmosphere is redolently captured…

  BOOKLIST — Donaldson combines an insider's knowledge with a real flair for making the reader's skin crawl.

  MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL APPEAL — It's hard to beat his combination of cool science and explosive passion in the heart of humid Louisiana.

  No Mardi Gras for The Dead

  Kit Franklyn, lately drowning in personal doubts about her life and career, thinks that investigating the corpse she found in the garden of her new home will be the perfect distraction. Together with her boss, the loveable and unconventional chief medical examiner Andy Broussard, she sets out to solve this case that's growing colder by the minute. Though they identify the body as a missing hooker, now dead for twenty seven years, all hope of conviction seems lost—until the unorthodox duo link the body and two recent murders to a group of local, wealthy physicians.

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY — Likable protagonists, abundant forensic lore and vivid depictions of colorful New Orleans and its denizens…

  WASHINGTON TIMES — Kit…and Andy make a formidable team.

  BOOKLIST — Donaldson's genre gumbo keeps you coming back for more.

  MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL APPEAL — No mystery has ever started in a more clinically riveting and elegantly horrifying style…. If you haven't met Broussard and Franklyn, you should make your introductions.

  New Orleans Requiem

  It's a bizarre case for Andy Broussard and Kit Franklyn. A man is found in Jackson Square, stabbed, one eyelid removed and four Scrabble tiles with the letters KOJE on his chest. Soon, there's a second victim, also stabbed and missing one eyelid, but this time with only three letters on his chest, KOJ. The pattern is unmistakable, but does it mean there will be two more victims and then the killer will cease, or is he leading up to something bigger and deadlier? Broussard and Kit use their disciplines to profile the killer, but it soon becomes clear that the clues and objects they've found are part of a sick game that the killer is playing with Broussard; a game most likely engineered by one of the hundreds of attendees at the annual forensics meeting being held in New Orleans. Has Broussard finally met his match?

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY — Lots of Louisiana color, pinpoint plotting and two highly likable characters… smart, convincing solution.

  NEW ORLEANS TIMES — An accomplished forensic mystery. His New Orleans is worth the trip.

  JACKSON MISSISSIPPI CLARION-LEDGER — Andy and Kit are a match made in mystery heaven.

  MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL APPEAL — Nicely drawn characters…plenty of action and an engaging descriptive storytelling style… An investigation you'll be thrilled to make.

  BOOKLIST — Donaldson is a master of the gothic mystery.

  KIRKUS — Ingenious… This is one for those who like their lab talk down and dirty. –

  Louisiana Fever

  Andy Broussard, the plump and proud New Orleans medical examiner, obviously loves food. Less apparent to the casual observer is his hatred of murderers. Together with his gorgeous sidekick, psychologist Kit Franklyn, the two make a powerful, although improbable, mystery solving duo. When the beautiful Kit goes to meet an anonymous stranger—who's been sending her roses—the man drops dead at her feet before she even could even get his name. Game on. Andy Broussard soon learns that the man carried a lethal pathogen similar to the deadly Ebola virus. Soon, another body turns up with the same bug. Panic is imminent as the threat of pandemic is more real than ever before. The danger is even more acute, because the carrier is mobile, his identity is an absolute shocker, he knows he's a walking weapon and… he's on a quest to find Broussard. And Kit isn't safe either. When she investigates her mystery suitor further, she runs fowl of a cold blooded killer, every bit as deadly as the man searching for Broussard.

  PUBLISHERS WEEKLY — Delivers… genuinely heart-stopping suspense.

  KIRKUS — Sleek, fast moving.

  NEW ORLEANS TIMES — Broussard tracks the virus with a winning combination of common sense and epidemiologic legerdemain.

  BOOKLIST — This series has carved a solid place for itself. Broussard makes a terrific counterpoint to the Dave Robicheaux ragin' Cajun school of mystery heroes.

  JACKSON MISSISSIPPI CLARION-LEDGER —A dazzling tour de force... sheer pulse-pounding reading excitement.

  MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL APPEAL — (A novel of) "terrifying force.... utterly fascinating... His best work yet.

  LOS ANGELES TIMES — The autopsies are detailed enough to make Patricia Cornwell fans move farther south for their forensic fixes. ...splendidly eccentric local denizens, authentic New Orleans and bayou backgrounds... a very suspenseful tale.

  DEADLY PLEASURES — A fast moving, ... suspenseful tale. Andy and Kit are quite likeable leads ...The other attraction is the solid medical background against which their story plays out.

  KNOXVILLE NEWS SENTINEL— Vivid crisp writing... If your skin doesn't crawl with the step by step description of the work of the (medical) examiner and his assistants, it certainly will when Donaldson reveals the carrier of the fever.

  MERITORIOUS MYSTERIES — Donaldson paints the Crescent City with the vivid hues of summer while evoking the autopsy rooms of Gray's Anatomy. His protagonists meanwhile, are those you'd like to invite to dinner.

  Sleeping With The Craw
fish

  Strange lesions found in the brain of a dead man have forensic pathologist Andy Broussard stumped. Even more baffling are the corpse's fingerprints. They belong to Ronald Cicero, a lifer at Angola State Prison… an inmate the warden insists is still there. Broussard sends psychologist Kit Franklyn to find out who is locked up in Cicero's cell. But an astonishing discovery at the jail and an attempt on her life almost has Kit sleeping with the crawfish in a bayou swamp. And Broussard, making a brilliant deduction about another murder, may soon be digging his own grave.

  KIRKUS — Streamlined thrills and gripping forensic detail.

  MEMPHIS COMMERCIAL APPEAL — With each book, Donaldson peels away a few more layers of these characters and we find ourselves loving the involvement.

  BOOKLIST — Cleverly plotted top-notch thriller. Another fine entry in a consistently outstanding series.

  SAN ANTONIO EXPRESS-NEWS — The pace is pell-mell.

  BENTON (AR) COURIER — Exciting and realistic. Donaldson... starts his action early and sustains it until the final pages.

  MERITORIOUS MYSTERIES — The latest entry in a fine series which never disappoints. —

  Bad Karma In The Big Easy

  Andy Broussard, the plump and proud New Orleans medical examiner, obviously loves food. Less apparent to the casual observer is his hatred of murderers. Together with his gorgeous sidekick, psychologist Kit Franklyn, the two make a powerful, although improbable, mystery solving duo. Among the dead collected in 'The Big Easy' floodwaters after hurricane Katrina are three nude female bodies, all caught in the same brush tangle, none with water in their lungs. No water. Broussard knows this was not an act of God; not the work of Katrina. There's a killer on the loose and by God, Broussard means to find him. But Broussard has perhaps the biggest challenge of his colourful career. The city and all its records are destroyed, practically the entire population is scattered, the police force has no offices and many of the rank and file (who haven't defected) are homeless. And if that's not bad enough, Broussard discovers that the bodies were all once frozen solid, completely obliterating key forensic clues. Soon, Broussard and Franklyn are on a dangerous and labyrinthine journey through the obscenely damaged, ever mysterious, irresistibly seductive, city of New Orleans; leading them to a kind of evil that neither of them could imagine.