by Judith Lucci
Alex yawned. "I must have been really knocked out not to hear the phone. Truthfully, Robert, it hurts like hell. I'm going to have a hard time wearing my ball gown with this sling on." Alex panicked as she realized she still hadn't heard from Mitch.
Robert noticed the look on her face. "What? You look worried."
"I haven't heard from a friend for a couple of days. Let me check my voice mail and cell. Maybe he left a message this morning."
Alex listened to her answering service and checked her voice mail, but Mitch hadn't called. She felt herself becoming increasingly agitated as her concern for him increased.
Robert was aware of her increasing anxiety as she paced around her dining room. “Maybe we should talk about it a bit.”
Alex wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss her weekend date with her ex-husband and said instead, "How 'bout some coffee? I need to get up and get going."
"I'll make coffee and some breakfast for you while you start getting ready, but let me catch you up on this morning. You missed the board of trustees meeting, but not much happened. They're supportive of the hospital and don't understand Governor Raccine's actions or behavior. Several of them expressed overt anger with the Governor. By the way, you'll be happy to know Don didn't suggest the board fire you."
Alex gave him a wry smile, and her eyes lit up. “Terrific. I'm pleased to hear that. Anything else happen?"
"No, not really. Today is Ron Davis' funeral. It's at 1:30 at Saint Anne's Church and Diane's funeral follows at 3:30 at Saint Bartholomew Parish. Ron's burial is at Lafayette Cemetery, but Diane's is in Old Metairie. Can you make it?"
Alex sighed and shook her head, her face reflected the misery of the week. "Have to make it. Why’s Diane's funeral so soon?"
Robert's face was sad and he said slowly, "I think her husband just wanted to get it over with. I don't think he ever thought she had a chance of surviving. Besides, I'm sure that both families want them buried before the weekend when Mardi Gras is in full swing. The traffic will be even more horrendous then."
"I suppose so. It's so distressing, all of it. It's going to be even sadder when we actually bury them." Alex had tears in her eyes. It was a poignant moment for both of them. "Do you know if Don Montgomery is going?"
"I would certainly hope so. I know Dr. Ashley and Elizabeth are planning on coming together. Would you like to go with me? If you hurry up and get dressed, we can grab a bite for lunch on the way. Better still, I'll make us an omelet while you get dressed. Do you need any help because of your shoulder? I'm available." He looked a little embarrassed.
Alex looked sharply at him to see if he was serious. He apparently was. She was a bit chagrined.
Before she could respond, he said, "You know, I'm a doctor." He was blushing by this time and his tone was officious.
"And, I'm a nurse. I can manage. If I need you, I'll call, though."
After her shower, a painful ordeal at best, Alex decided on a black loosely fitting linen dress. It was simple in design and a strand of pearls was all the jewelry she needed to complete it. She selected some black heels and critically checked herself in the mirror. She decided she looked OK, not great. She was pale from the pain and her normally glorious reddish-blonde hair had lost its normal luster. After several attempts which caused agonizing pain, Alex realized she was unable to button her dress. She went to her closet to try and find a simpler outfit to wear, but all her clothes seemed to have similar fastenings. Finally, she went for help.
When Alex reached the kitchen, Robert was pouring orange juice into two crystal juice glasses. Two fresh mushroom and Andouille sausage omelets were waiting in the pan beside some grits on the stove. Rich New Orleans coffee with chicory completed the menu and it smelled great.
"Grits are for you," Robert quipped cheerfully. "I still can't eat them."
Alex shook her head at him and said woefully, "Guess I'll never make a Virginian out of you. Eating grits and going to the rivah are fundamental social requirements. Do you think you could help me button my dress?"
“Oh, I see, so you do need some help.” Robert’s eyes were twinkling at her. "I’ll be glad to assist. Let me check that dressing as well. It looks a bit crooked to me. I may need to adjust it."
Alex grinned at him. “Just keep it professional, please!”
There was little conversation as they ate. Both seemed caught up in each other's presence so they only exchanged polite conversation. She felt comfortable and awkward with Robert. It seemed strange, but she sort of liked it. She decided to take a risk and talk about Mitch.
"Do you know Mitch Landry?"
Robert looked surprised at her question. "Sure. I knew him when we were kids. Haven't seen him much since undergrad LSU. Why?"
Alex was silent for a few minutes as she debated whether she should confide her fears about Mitch.
Robert continued and tried to make it easier for her. "I know you've been seeing Mitch. Is that what you wanted to tell me?"
"No, not really. Do you know whether he gambles?"
Robert looked at her strangely. "Gambles? You mean like at the casinos?"
"Yes, I guess. Francoise told me yesterday Mitch was a compulsive gambler. I've been seeing him for a few months, and I've never seen evidence to suggest that. It threw me for a loop. Anyway, Francoise thinks he may be in trouble with the mob, or somebody for a bunch of money. What concerns me is that I've noticed several men loitering around when we've been out. I haven’t heard from him for a while, and I am a little nervous about it."
Robert thoughtfully scratched his chin and said, "Well, I've heard rumors, but I don't know for sure about the gambling." Robert stopped speaking for a moment and seemed to be remembering something.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing really. It seems like I did hear a couple of years ago that he'd been treated for compulsive gambling. Tell me more about the men that you have noticed hanging around. What are they like?"
Alex could picture them vividly in her mind. "One's short, stocky and smokes a cigar. The other's tall and has a ponytail."
She dropped her fork in recognition. "I'm sure the man that grabbed me last night had a ponytail also. If there's a connection, then Mitch's somehow involved in the CCMC events. We've got to call Jack."
She ran out of the kitchen to get Francoise's numbers. He was out of his office and his cell phone said, "the party you are trying to reach is unavailable". She left her number on his beeper and cell. As she returned to the kitchen to finish her coffee, Alex continued to think back over her conversations with Mitch, and she became more convinced that he was involved in the events at the hospital. It was an upsetting thought, for many reasons.
She finally said to Robert, who'd been watching her carefully, "I left my number with 911 on Jack’s cell.”
“I'm sure he'll call soon," said Robert as he took a forkful of omelet.
Within seconds, the phone rang. It was Francoise.
Alex didn't give him time to speak. "Francoise...Jack. Thanks for calling me back so soon. I think you're right about Mitch. I'm so worried. I haven't heard from him in two days. That's not like him....."
"Slow down, Alex," he said in a hint of his old self.
"Sorry, I'm just so worried. It just hit me. I think something might have happened..."
"I'll send a car over to his place. How's the shoulder?"
"Hurts like hell!"
"Lucky you didn't get killed! Listen, I got to go. I'll get back to you."
Chapter 20
At 1:20 p.m., Robert and Alex arrived at Saint Ann's Parish Church for Ron Davis' funeral. The church was jammed with hordes of people. Alex recognized ten or so staff members from CCMC as well as several board members. She suspected much of the crowd were curious onlookers, most likely thrill-seekers. Alex also spotted Francoise and recognized several of his staff who had worked the nursing units for the past few days. She continued to survey the crowd and felt certain there were other state police as well as DEA staff about.
Alex and Robert seated themselves in the same pew with Dr. Ashley, Elizabeth, and several other CCMC physicians and administrators. Elizabeth was stunning in a black suit which set off her dark hair and startling green eyes. Dr. Ashley looked impeccable in a dark suit. He smiled and acknowledged both of them as they were seated.
Don Montgomery was conspicuously absent. Out of the corner of her eye, Alex noticed Jonathan Mercier seated several rows behind them. His eyes looked like cold grey steel and were focused directly on the back of Robert's head. Alex shivered a little after noticing his gaze, but said nothing to Robert about his presence.
Ron’s widow, Sarah, was very sad but seemed to be doing well as she followed the casket down the aisle in the knave of the church. She had each of her small children by a hand. The little boy looked solemn with his dark eyes so large while his little sister, probably about three, brought smiles to the mourners' faces as she waved to them while she walked down the church aisle. The funeral mass proceeded without mishap. Alex and Robert followed the mourners out of Saint Ann's Church into the bright sunshine. They joined the CCMC group who were talking quietly while they waited to speak with Ron’s widow.
Sarah had just approached Robert when they were accosted by reporters. A female reporter approached Robert Bonnet and extended her microphone to him.
"Dr. Bonnet, how do you feel about Dr. Davis' death? Do you feel responsible? Word has it that all the accidents at CCMC are related to you. They all involved your patients. Was Dr. Davis an unplanned event?"
Robert was speechless, stunned as were the others from CCMC. No one spoke.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jonathan Mercier appeared. "I'm a member of the board of trustees at Crescent Center Medical Center."
Immediately the reporters focused on him.
Mercier continued. "I can officially say, on the record, that I'm concerned with Dr. Bonnet's practice, and the ‘accidents’ or whatever they are, that've occurred to his patients. I plan to have his practice investigated immediately by the Louisiana State Board of Medicine and would suggest that those affected pursue legal actions, if not malpractice, then civil suits against Dr. Bonnet."
Suddenly, Sarah's gentle voice interrupted Mercier. The reporters turned quickly. Mrs. Davis said quietly, "Dr. Bonnet's not responsible for Ron's death. Robert was Ron's mentor, and he taught him many things about medicine. It is because of Dr. Bonnet that we moved to Louisiana and CCMC. Dr. Bonnet was my husband’s valued and dear friend. My husband's death was a tragic accident and nothing more. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like all of you to leave so we can continue with the burial. Thank you." Sarah turned to Robert and hugged him. She said, "Ron loved and valued you as his friend and colleague."
Robert returned her hug.
Alex watched as Francoise approached the press group.
Francoise was livid, his face bright red, and he was gesturing wildly.
Alex could swear she saw smoke billowing from his ears.
"You heard the lady, get out of here. For God's sake, this is a funeral. Get outta here or I’ll arrest you for unlawful assembly."
Alex watched as the press scattered and Jack murmured, “What a bunch of nosy bastards.”
She smiled brightly at Francoise. "Thanks. Where'd Mercier go?"
"To hell, I hope," Francoise blurted and abruptly left.
Robert was quiet and withdrawn on the way to Diane Bradley's funeral. His face was somber.
As they crossed Tulane Avenue, on the way to St. Bart's Church, Alex said quietly, "Don't let Mercier bother you. He doesn't have any authority, and he's only speaking as an individual. As soon as it's known he's carrying a torch of destruction and out to get you, all of his complaints will be dismissed."
Robert's voice was forlorn. "I’m not so sure. These things are always damaging. Even if the Board of Medicine finds no fault with my practice, I'll be suspect. I’ll lose face with my patients and colleagues. Anyway, I don't want to talk about it now." He dismissed her reply with a wave of his hand.
Alex touched his hand as a gesture of comfort.
***
St. Bartholomew's Church was also filled to capacity. Many CCMC nurses were present. Diane's husband, parents, and young ‘tween daughter were consumed with grief and were escorted down the aisle for the funeral mass.
The priest had been Diane’s comfort all of her life, had heard her first confession, and had officiated at her marriage. He knew her very well. He was more personal than Father Henry had been and told several amusing anecdotes about Diane, her childhood, and her family. The service, while personal, seemed sadder to Alex, and she felt an enormous lump in her throat the entire time. At times, she wasn’t sure she could even breathe, the service was so emotional, so tearful. It all seemed so unfair, so useless, and for what? That was the question that plagued her and seemed to eat away at her insides.
After Diane's interment, Alex and Robert stopped for coffee at a small coffee house near Alex's house. She listened patiently while Robert reviewed the recent events at CCMC.
Eventually, Robert looked sadly at Alex and said, "Maybe that reporter was right, who knows? Maybe I am responsible and maybe I should give up medicine."
"That's ridiculous, Robert. We know you're involved because you're being singled out. Remember, though, the emergency department incidents, when Ron and Diane died, were specifically directed at CCMC. Ron and Diane were not your patients."
Robert’s face was grave, his eyes tearful as he responded, "No, they were my friends. Which is worse?"
"I don't know," Alex responded dismally. "Want to come over for a while?"
"Sorry, I need to go see Sarah Davis and her children. You know I'm her son's godfather?"
"No." Alex's voice was quiet. "Would you like me to go with you?"
Robert’s practiced medical eye searched her face. "You look a bit pale. You’re having a lot of pain? You are moving as though you are."
Alex replied bravely. "Not that much."
"I'll drop you at home and call you later."
Chapter 21
Alex checked her voice mail as soon as she got home. There was only one message from her grandfather, but there was nothing from Mitch. She checked her face in the mirror and groaned and then changed into her bathrobe as best she could. Then, one armed, she went into the kitchen where she made herself soup and a sandwich. The phone rang as she was sitting down to eat, so she went to answer it. It was Francoise.
"How're you feeling? You weren't looking too good at the funeral."
"Okay, Jack. More emotionally drained than anything. The funerals were just so sad, sad beyond all belief." She paused then said, her voice hesitant, "I still haven't heard from Mitch."
"Can't find him either. He's not at home and I've had my men outside his place all day long. Any ideas where he could be?"
"Did you check his work sites at Lafayette and little Arcadia? Sometimes he spends the night up there."
"Nah, I'll have the locals check it out. Is it unusual for you not to hear from him?"
"We talk every day. I'd expect to hear from him now, since the Extravaganza is tomorrow night. If he calls, I'll find out where he is. I'm worried about him."
"Yeah. I'd like to talk to him. I've assigned a unit to sit outside your house. Don't want your buddy to come back for you tonight."
"What? You think he would?" Alex’s heart began to beat quickly. She hadn’t thought of another visit from the ponytailed stranger.
“Don’t know, not taking any chances, though.”
Alex had never thought she could be in danger. The thought of the man coming back just creeped her out and scared her to death. She was sure he would kill her this time. She could hardly breathe or speak from the fear.
“Alex, are you still there”
“Jack, what do you think the chances are he would come back?”
"I don't know. He might be involved with Mitch. The fact he went after you last night, assuming it's the same man, makes me thi
nk he's after you now. If we can't find Mitch, he probably can't either, and maybe he thinks he can get from you whatever he wanted from Mitch. Am I making sense?"
Alex was silent for several moments, thinking. "Unfortunately, yes. Think the ponytail man was using Mitch to get information about CCMC?"
"Maybe, possibly. I think the ponytail is involved with what's happening at CCMC, and we know Mercier's after Robert. The dumbass made that pretty clear today. What an asshole. Been trying to connect the two, but I can't. I don't know who the ponytail is, at least not yet… what I do know is that he is a strong son of a bitch."
"What about the short fat man with the cigar? Know how he fits in?"
"Got an idea it's Frederico Petrelli, a gang boss from Chicago. Runs the gambling operation here. I'm not positive though. It’s just my theory."
"You sound pretty certain. This is getting more complex." Alex felt her senses were dulled and doubted her brain was as quick as usual.
Francoise hesitated for a moment and then responded. "Well, I got some other theories. Need to find Mitch though to test 'em out, that is, if Mitch's to be found."
"Do you think Mitch's okay?" Her chest felt heavy with fear.
"I think he's running. If he's smart, he's running. You sit tight and stay safe. My man's outside."
"I promise. I'll talk to you later. Keep in touch. Let me know if you hear from Mitch."
“OK. Ciao.”
Alex ate her supper while she thought about her conversation with Francoise. She began to worry incessantly about Mitch and wondered for the first time if he was dead. It seemed strange no one could find him. She kept trying to figure out the relationship between Mitch, Ponytail, the fat man, and Robert until she thought she would scream, but nothing came. Alex knew there was a connection, but she needed the missing pieces. She cleaned up the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was 8:00 p.m. in New Orleans, 9:00 in Virginia. She decided to phone her grandparents. Her grandmother answered.