Mercy (Buchanan-Renard 2)

Since he didn’t have any intention of letting Michelle out of his sight until they had had a talk about her situation, he didn’t mind at all. “No problem,” he said. “Daryl’s the big kid’s dad? The teenager who came into the bar looking for me? What was his name?”

“Elliott,” she said. “And yes, Daryl’s his dad.”

“Maybe we could drive through a McDonald’s on the way. Get some french fries and a Big Mac.”

“Do you just not care about your arteries?”

It was the way she asked the question that made him laugh. She’d sounded so appalled. “Sure I do. So how about it?”

“There aren’t any McDonald’s in Bowen.”

He ran upstairs to get his car keys while she went into her office to get her medical bag. Theo beat her to the front door and waited.

“You’ve got your house key?” he asked.

She patted her pocket. “Got it.”

“I locked your back door. You left it open.” He sounded as though he was accusing her of a crime.

“I sometimes forget to turn it. We don’t worry about locking our doors in Bowen.”

“Was your clinic locked up tight?”

“Yes, it was.”

“From now on,” he said as he pulled the front door closed behind them and made sure it was locked, “every door is secured. Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” she said as she put her medical bag on his backseat.

Theo was backing out of the driveway when he glanced at her and said, “Think we could stop for —”

“No.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“Yes, I do. French fries, greasy burger —”

“Potato chips,” he said.

“Too much sodium.”

While she directed him down one unmarked road after another, he argued with her about nutrition. “Don’t you ever lighten up?”

“I’m a doctor, so I guess the answer is no.”

“Doctors aren’t allowed to eat anything that tastes good?”

“I had no idea my houseguest was going to be such a whiner. Daddy likes junk food. You could move in with him.”

She was afraid she sounded belligerent. Theo gave her the opening to prove she wasn’t a complete stuffed shirt or a prude when he asked, “What do people do around here for fun?”

She shrugged. “Oh, pretty simple things . . . go to the movies, swap fishing stories over a pitcher of beer at The Swan, have potluck dinners at the VFW hall, visit neighbors to compare tomato crops . . . and then, of course, there’s the perennial favorite . . . sex.”

“What?” he asked, sure he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“Sex,” she repeated innocently. “They have sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

He laughed. “I knew I was gonna like this place.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

There’s Daryl’s house at the end of the road,” Michelle said.

Theo would have parked by the curb, but there wasn’t one. There wasn’t a driveway either, and so he pulled up on the grassy slope and parked the car next to a battered old Chevy van. The two-story frame house was in desperate need of repair. The bowed steps looked as though they were about to cave in.

Daryl’s wife, Cherry, was watching for them behind the screen door. As soon as they got out of the car, she came out on the porch and waved to them.

“Good of you to come by, Dr. Mike. Daryl’s hand is giving him fits. He doesn’t like to complain, but I can tell he’s in considerable pain.”

Theo took Michelle’s medical bag and followed her. She introduced him. After Cherry wiped her hands on her apron, she shook his hand. She was a rather plain woman with a weathered complexion, around the age of forty, Theo guessed, but when she smiled, she was quite lovely. The nickname, Cherry, obviously was due to her bright red hair.

“I’ve heard all about you from our oldest boy, Elliott. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited,” Cherry said. “You certainly did impress him,” she added with a nod. “Come on inside. I was just fixing to set the table for supper. Oh, before I forget to tell you, Mr. Freeland might be passing by to say his hello. He rang up about twenty minutes ago.”

“Mr. Freeland?” The name seemed familiar to Theo, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it before.

“The music teacher at the high school,” Michelle said.

Cherry led the way through the living room and dining area. The furniture was sparse and worn-out. The kitchen was small and crowded with a long oak table and ten chairs, none of which seemed to match.

Daryl was waiting for them. He was seated at the head of the table feeding a banana to the baby in the high chair next to him. The little boy had more of the banana on his face and hands than in his mouth. The baby spotted his mother and broke out in a toothless grin. Then he saw Michelle and immediately clouded up. His lower lip trembled.

She kept her distance. “No shots today, Henry,” she promised.

The toddler burst into tears. Cherry patted the baby’s hand and soothed him with a handful of Cheerios she placed on his tray.

“Every time Henry sees me, I hurt him,” Michelle said. “When I can afford it, I’m going to hire a nurse and let her give the shots.”

“Don’t you mind Henry. He’ll figure out you aren’t here to mess with him in a minute or two,” Cherry said.

Daryl stood and put his hand out to shake Theo’s as Michelle made the introductions. The man’s left hand and arm were bandaged to the elbow.

“Why don’t you sit down next to Dr. Mike by that stack of papers,” Cherry suggested to Theo, “while she has a look at Daryl’s hand.”

Daryl wasn’t too subtle as he shoved the papers closer to Theo. “Big Daddy Jake thought you might find these papers of mine interesting . . . you being a lawyer and all.”

Theo knew a setup when he saw one. He nodded and sat down. Michelle knew what was going on as well, but she went through the motions of looking at Daryl’s hand.

After checking the color of his fingers, she asked, “Are you changing the bandage every day?”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze fully directed on Theo. “Cherry changes it for me.”

“We’ve got enough of the gauze you gave us to last another week,” Cherry said. She, too, was watching Theo closely and was nervously twisting her apron in her hands.

Theo wasn’t sure what was expected of him. Michelle decided to fill him in.

“Daryl worked for the Carson Brothers’ sugar mill.”

“After the accident they let me go. Laid me off permanently is what they did,” he explained as he rubbed his chin.

“Did the accident happen while you were at work?” Theo asked.

“Yes, it did,” he answered.

“Daryl put in twenty-two years at that mill,” Cherry interjected.

“That’s right,” her husband said. “I started the day I turned seventeen.”

Theo did the math and was shocked when he realized Daryl was only thirty-nine or forty years old. The man looked ten years older. He was as worn-out as his house. His hair was streaked with gray, he had deep calluses on his right hand, and his shoulders were stooped.

“Tell me about the accident.”

“Before or after you look through those papers?” Daryl asked.

“Before.”

“All right. I’ll make it simple. I was operating a shredder, which is a big machine you just can’t do without in a sugar mill, and I told Jim Carson it wasn’t working right and he needed to shut it down and get it fixed, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He’s hard up for money, and I understand that, of course. Still, I wish he had listened. Anyway, I was doing my job, and all of a sudden the belt snapped and the whole darn thing came down on me. Crushed every bone in my hand, didn’t it, Mike?”

“Just about,” she agreed.

She was standing over him and thought she might be making him nervous, and so she pulled up a chair and sat down between him and Theo.

“D

id you do the surgery?” Theo asked Michelle.

“No, I didn’t,” she answered.

“Dr. Mike sweet-talked a hand surgeon in New Orleans into fixing me up,” Daryl said.

“He did a good job too, didn’t he, Daryl?” Cherry added.

“He sure did. Because of him, I’m going to keep all my fingers. I can already move them.”

“It’s a miracle is what it is,” Cherry said.

“Jim Carson came to see me in the hospital. It wasn’t a social call,” he added. “He told me it was carelessness on my part because I knew that machine wasn’t working right, and I went ahead and used it. He called me a slacker and let me go.”

“Is there a union at this mill?”

“Oh, no, the Carson brothers would close the mill down before they’d let a union in there. They complain they don’t make enough money as it is to make ends meet and make payroll, and if they had to put up with employees trying to tell them what to do, well then, they’d just fold up.”

“They’re always threatening to retire and close the mill if anyone makes trouble for them,” Cherry said. She let go of her apron and went to the sink to wet a cloth to wash her baby’s face.

“Have you got a pen?” Theo asked Michelle. “I want to make a couple of notes.”

She opened her medical bag and sorted through her instruments. The baby, Theo noticed, was watching Michelle with what could only be described as a comically wary expression.

“Henry doesn’t trust you,” Theo said, grinning. The baby turned to Theo and smiled. Drool dripped down his chin.

While his mother tried to wash the banana off his fingers, Michelle handed Theo a notepad and a pen. He put on his glasses and began writing.

“What about worker’s compensation?” Theo asked.

“Jim told me their insurance rates would go up if I put in a claim and that I didn’t qualify anyway, since the accident was my fault.”

“Daryl’s worrying about the other folks at the mill,” Cherry said. “If Jim Carson shuts it down, everyone will be out of work.”

Theo nodded, then picked up the papers Daryl had collected and began to read. The conversation immediately stopped, and Daryl and Cherry waited expectantly. The only noise in the kitchen was the baby slurping on his fist.

It didn’t take Theo long to finish. “Did you sign any papers about your termination?” he asked.

“No,” Daryl answered.

“Don’t forget to tell Theo about the lawyer,” Cherry reminded her husband.

“I was just getting to that,” Daryl said. “Jim sent over Frank Tripp to talk to me.”

“Everyone calls him Maggot,” Cherry said. She had moved to the stove and was stirring the stew she’d prepared for supper. “We call him Maggot to his face,” she added. “We don’t go behind his back. We want him to know what we think of him.”

“Now, calm down, Cherry, and let me tell it,” Daryl said softly. “Frank’s a lawyer over in St. Claire, and if I weren’t sitting in my house, I’d have to spit after saying his name. He’s a common thug is what he is, and so is his partner, Bob Greene. They’ve got a partnership together, and they work on a monthly . . . what’s that word I’m searching for, Cherry honey?”

“Commission?”

“Retainer,” Theo said.

“Yes, that’s the word. Anyway, like I was saying, they get a monthly retainer from the Carsons, and it’s their job to take care of any problems that come around, problems like me.”

“That sounds like a sweet deal,” Michelle said softly.

“We were wondering . . .” Cherry began, and then nodded to Daryl. “Speak up, honey. Tell him what’s on your mind like Big Daddy told you to do.”

“All right. Cherry and I were wondering if there might be something you could do about this, since you happen to be a lawyer yourself. We’ll pay you for your time, of course. We don’t take charity.”

“But we don’t want to get you into any trouble,” Cherry said.

“How would you be getting me into trouble?” Theo asked, thoroughly perplexed.

“Since you haven’t officially resigned from the Justice Department yet and signed the coaching contract at the school, Big Daddy explained you can’t take money.”

“Because you get paid by the Justice Department,” Cherry said. “Is that true? Or was Big Daddy just speculating?”

“If there is a fee, I need to know the amount so I can start figuring how I’m going to come up with the money,” Daryl said.

“There won’t be any fee,” Theo said.

“Then what Big Daddy said was true?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Is there anything you can do about the Carsons?” Cherry asked again. Her voice was hopeful, but her face showed her worry.

“Without making the Carsons mad enough to shut the mill down,” Daryl reminded him. “Big Daddy spoke highly of your abilities . . .”

“He did, did he?” Theo wanted to laugh. He couldn’t imagine what Jake could have said about him. Jake certainly didn’t know what Theo’s abilities were. Theo and the older man had discussed fishing and little else.

“Yes, sir, he did, and he thought you could have a little chat with Jim Carson on my behalf. You know, get him to be reasonable. They take so much out of our pay for medical each month, and then they don’t let us use it in an emergency. That doesn’t seem right to me.”

“It isn’t right,” Theo agreed.

“Maybe you could talk to Jim’s brother, Gary. He’s older, and Jim does whatever Gary tells him to do. Gary runs the place,” Cherry said.

Theo nodded again. “I’m not familiar with Louisiana law,” he began, and immediately noted that Daryl’s expression went from hopeful to resigned. “Which means I need to do some research, talk to some friends who can give me some advice,” he added, and was pleased to see Daryl nodding and smiling again. “So here’s what I propose we do. I’ll do the research, figure out a course of action, and then you and I will sit down together and I’ll give you your options. In the meantime, I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell anyone about this conversation. I don’t want the Carsons or their attorneys to know I’m looking into this. Agreed?”

“Yes,” Daryl said. “I won’t say a word to anybody.”

“What about Big Daddy Jake?” Cherry asked. “He already knows we’re talking to you.”

“He won’t tell anyone,” Daryl said to his wife.

A child shouted for his mother, disrupting the conversation. “Mama, Mr. Freeland’s waiting on the porch. Can he come on in?”

Then another little boy around the age of five or six came running into the kitchen. His face was covered with freckles and he had his mother’s curly hair.

“John Patrick, bring Mr. Freeland into the kitchen.”

The little boy wasn’t paying his mother any attention. He had squeezed up next to Michelle and had latched onto her arm.

“We should get out of your way,” Theo said as he pushed his chair back. “I’ve read through these papers, Daryl. You can keep them here.”

“You can’t leave,” Cherry said. “Mr. Freeland came all this way to meet . . . I mean, it wouldn’t be right for you to leave without meeting him.”

“Since he just happened to be in the neighborhood,” Daryl said. His gaze was directed at the tabletop, but Theo didn’t have to look him in the eyes to know he was lying.

“Does Mr. Freeland happen to have a legal problem?” he asked Michelle.

She smiled, then promptly changed the subject. “John Patrick,” she said to the hovering child. “This is my friend, Theo Buchanan. He came all the way from Boston just to go fishing.”

John Patrick nodded. “I know who he is already. Everybody knows. Dr. Mike, can you tell your brother he’s got to come around again? And will you tell John Paul to hurry ’cause I left my kickball in the backyard and I need it. Okay?”

“Is Lois back?” she asked.

“The boy seems to think she is,” Dar

yl said. “He’s going to get an ulcer fretting about her.”

“We haven’t seen Lois in over a month now, but John Patrick’s still worried about her showing up unexpectedly. He won’t get his ball out of the yard until your brother comes by again, and he won’t let any of us go out there and fetch the ball for him either. I have to hang my clothes out to dry in the side yard just to calm him. Our John Patrick’s a worrier,” Cherry added for Theo’s benefit, as if that would explain the child’s bizarre behavior.

“John Patrick’s named after Dr. Mike’s brother, John Paul,” Daryl interjected.

“So will you tell him?” the boy pleaded.

Michelle put her arm around the child. “Just as soon as I see him, I’ll tell him you’d like him to come back over. Now, you’ve got to stop worrying, John Patrick.”

“Okay,” the child whispered. “The man sitting here . . .”

“Theo?”

John Patrick nodded.

“What about him?” Michelle asked.

“Could I ask him something?”

“You can ask me anything you want,” Theo said.

John Patrick straightened and turned to Theo. Though Theo didn’t have much experience dealing with children, he thought he could hold his own with a six-year-old.

“What do you want to know?”

The boy wasn’t shy. He leaned into Theo’s leg, stared him right in the eye, and said, “My daddy says Big Daddy Jake says you’ve got a gun. Do you?”

The question surprised him. “Yes, I do have a gun, but I’m not going to be keeping it much longer. I’m going to give the gun back,” he told the child. “I don’t like guns.”

“But you’ve got it now?”

“Yes, I do.”

The kid’s fascination was a concern, and Theo thought he should probably give a short lecture about the dangers and how guns weren’t playthings. He was trying to figure out how to put it all on a six-year-old’s level, but apparently John Patrick had already moved on.