Page 121 of The Cajun Doctor

“I think he went to the hardware store,” John said. “Do you need him here for this meeting?”

“No, but I would have liked to thank him for his service at the scene.”

“Send him a Hallmark card,” Luc advised.

“Bite me,” Brad countered. “Do you know the difference between a skunk and a lawyer? No? The answer: No one wants to hit a skunk.”

“Ha, ha, that joke is as old as you are.”

“Cajun douche bag!”

“D.C. dimwit!”

Luc and the FBI agent had been sniping at each other ever since they arrived, something about a promise being put in writing that hadn’t been so far.

Samantha would have liked to escape, maybe go check out the progress on the cabin and to learn more about Daniel’s plans. Was this a one-shot deal for one parent of a sick child, or a bigger deal, like a whole new mission for Bayou Rose? But she could be as stubborn as Daniel. Let him make the first move.

Brad told them what had happened with the Dixie Mob arrests and the implications for Angus. Also, he gave an update on the baby selling scheme.

“Does that mean we can go home now?” Samantha asked, with a sinking heart because she hated to leave with things unsettled between her and Daniel.

“I’d prefer that you wait a few days, maybe until after the weekend. There are a lot of loose ends to be tied up, and we need to cross our I’s and dot our T’s to make sure there aren’t any stragglers out there who could pose a danger.”

“Is that an official order?” Luc asked.

Brad sighed with exasperation. “No, it’s not an order. It’s a recommendation.”

Luc turned to Samantha, Angus, and Lily Beth. “Then I suggest that you all stay here a few more days. It’s not a hardship, is it? And y’all are invited to the pool party at my house on Saturday to celebrate Tante Lulu’s birthday. Maybe you could plan on leaving Dodge on Sunday.”

“That would work,” Brad said.

“You’re invited, too,” Luc said with exaggerated generosity.

“That would be just great. I’m not your aunt’s favorite person. Tante Lulu told me to get the pole out of my ass when I made an offhand remark about her hair.”

“Did she use those exact words?” John wanted to know.

“No. She used the word hiney.”

They all laughed at that.

“I can’t believe this all went down so quick and easy,” Angus said.

Sonnier . . . “Sonny” . . . was the other agent at the meeting, dressed like he was ready for the gym, again. He addressed Angus’s remark. “Not so quick . . .’cept in the case of Coltrane, and, believe me, that’s not the way we want an investigation ta end. But the Dixie Mob case, we’ve been workin’ on that fer two years now. Yer evidence was just icing on the cake.”

“So, you could have done without me?” Angus said, a little pee-ohed.

“Not at all,” Sonny interjected. “Every bit of evidence . . . physical, oral, whatever . . . is a brick in the wall of the cases we develop. One brick slips out, and the whole wall kin collapse. Do ya get mah meanin’, cher?”

“I do,” Angus conceded grudgingly. Then, he brightened and asked, “I don’t suppose you could get back my Jaguar that I sold to Jimmy for half its value to pay off one of my early debts.”

Sonny laughed. “Jimmy still has the Jag. We wondered about that. Not his usual style. But, no, my friend, you are not gettin’ yer car back. It’s government property now.”

“Will it be sold?”

“Possibly. At public auction.” It was Brad speaking now. “Why? You want to bid on it?”

Angus’s face reddened. “Maybe my father would buy it back for me.”