Deadly Bayou: Susan Foret, Mystery Writer, #3

By A.C. Mason

Cypress Lake Chief of Police Jim Foret is found critically wounded near the place his father committed suicide and dies later at the hospital. Evidence at the scene suggests his gunshot wound is also self-inflicted. His widow, Susan believes he has been murdered. Will she end up a victim herself before the killer is brought to justice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781613092156

Book preview

One

Cypress Lake, Louisiana

Monday, July 22

Itook one look at Sheriff Danny Marchand standing in the doorway and knew immediately something was terribly wrong. My usually easy-going neighbor had the most somber expression I’d ever seen on his face.

You look so serious. What’s wrong?

He took a step inside, ducking his head slightly to accommodate his over six foot height as he came through the doorway. Jim’s been shot. His voice sounded official.

My heart thumped loud and fast. I could hardly breathe. How...?

He’s at West Lake Memorial in surgery. Come on. I’ll drive you there.

The kids are across the street...

Don’t worry. Rachel will take care of them.

I moved in a daze out the door. Before I realized, the city had whizzed by the car windows in a blur.

The siren sounded muted in my ears. Danny refrained from speaking; I was thankful for his consideration. Even though I wanted to know how this had happened, I wouldn’t have been able to carry on an intelligent conversation. All my thoughts centered on this nightmarish scenario. My husband Jim, the Cypress Lake police chief, had been shot and was lying on an operating table. Maybe those were also Danny’s thoughts.

Hospitals with their stark and sterile environment always depressed me. Today West Lake Memorial Hospital seemed even more austere. I wanted to see Jim, to know he was still alive. Touching him wasn’t possible at the moment. All I could do was say prayers.

Several of Jim’s officers, along with a couple of sheriff deputies, milled around in the hall outside the waiting room. Their facial expressions conveyed sympathy for me. I didn’t want sympathy—I wanted my husband.

I took a seat in one of the padded chairs in the waiting room. Danny sat next to me and clasped my hand in his much larger one.

Finally summoning the courage, I asked, Tell me the truth. How bad are his injuries?

Pretty bad, he said. Critical, in fact—a shot to the abdomen.

Chills ran up my spine. The worst nightmare a policeman’s wife could imagine was her husband getting wounded in the line of duty.

Where did this happen?

Danny averted his gaze for an instant. Out by Bayou Jean Baptiste.

My heart raced. The location his father had chosen to commit suicide. What happened?

We don’t know anything right now. He looked uncomfortable.

What do you mean? Was he alone?

As near as we can tell. The scene’s still being investigated. A couple of fishermen discovered him and called nine-one-one.

How’d he get out there?

We found his boat tied up nearby.

His boat?

You didn’t notice it was gone?

I shook my head. He kept the boat in that little shed in the back yard. I had no reason to look over there.

He nodded. So he left the house before you woke up.

Yes. In fact I didn’t even hear him leave. Something about Danny’s demeanor told me he wasn’t telling the whole story. Danny, I want to know everything.

There’s nothing more I can tell you right now, he said in a gentle, but still official voice.

I persisted, I know you’re not telling me everything.

He exhaled. We don’t have all the pieces put together yet. I didn’t want to tell you without having the complete details, but I know you’re not going to let it go.

I frowned at him. You’re right. I’m not.

He appeared to be weighing his words carefully. Right now, the evidence at the scene looks like his wound was self-inflicted.

He wouldn’t do that, I snapped.

Movement in the doorway caught my attention. A somber-looking nurse dressed in scrubs sent my stomach plunging. I was still reeling from Danny’s statement. If he hadn’t held on to my arm, I wouldn’t have made the walk over to her. Blood pulsed in my temples.

Mrs. Foret?

Yes, how is he? My voice trembled.

The doctor would like to speak with you in the conference room. Is there someone you’d like to accompany you?

Her words struck fear in me. I turned to Danny and gave him a wordless request to go with me to hear what the doctor had to say.

He nodded, and we followed the nurse down the hall.

The doctor looked as solemn as the nurse and too young to be out of med school. His dark eyes foretold a truth I didn’t want to hear. Please have a seat. He pointed to one of the chairs. I’m Doctor Theriot.

I sat in the chair only because I didn’t know whether my legs would hold me up. The news obviously was bad. How is he? I asked again.

His condition is grave. The bullet caused multiple injuries to the abdomen. However the main problem is the fact he’d lost a large amount of blood between the time he shot... the doctor quickly corrected himself. ...he was shot and when someone found him. I’m afraid the prognosis is not good.

I gripped the arm of the chair. They all thought Jim had attempted suicide. Even the doctor.

He did not shoot himself. He had no reason to do anything of the sort. Tears welled in my eyes. My throat tightened as I forced the tears back. I heard Danny’s voice speaking to the doctor, but my brain wasn’t processing his words. I finally realized the doctor was speaking to me.

We’ve placed him in ICU and are giving him blood to replace the loss. He may need more units—we’ll have to wait and see.

The urge to see and touch Jim overruled my fear of seeing him critically wounded. Can I see him?

Certainly, visitors are allowed in ICU, but only one at a time in the patient’s room. I’ll be checking in on him along with his regular physician, Doctor Rayborn. If you have any questions at all about his treatment or condition, don’t hesitate to call me.

I thanked him. He nodded and exited the room.

Seconds—minutes—I lost track of time after the doctor left. Danny’s voice came through the haze in my mind.

He put his arm around my shoulder. Will you be okay if I leave you for a few minutes?

I suppose so, but I wanted you to go with me to see him.

Of course, I’ll go up there with you. I just need to inform the men and get a blood drive started. I know Jim’s men will want to donate and probably a lot of my men.

I understood his need to inform Jim’s officers and ask for blood donors. I couldn’t help thinking maybe he simply wanted to leave this room. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of here since the doctor made his announcement of Jim’s condition.

A terrible feeling of emptiness came over me as I watched him leave. Danny and his wife Rachel had been godsends to both me and Jim ever since we moved to Cypress Lake when Jim accepted the position of chief of police.

My thoughts turned back to my husband and the idea he might have tried to kill himself. What reason could he possibly have for doing such a thing?

In my mind, suicide was a selfish act, and puts the surviving family members through hell. They feel guilty and forever wonder if there was something they could have done to prevent their loved one’s death. That wasn’t Jim. He would never put me and the kids in such a position.

Danny returned shortly. The men were all eager to give blood.

I appreciate their donations. Let’s get up to ICU. I want to be with Jim.

We walked down the hall toward the elevators in silence.

My heart kept thumping wildly. In a few moments I would see my husband. I needed to see and touch him. At the same time, I didn’t want to see him because of the emotional toll I knew a look at his wounded body would have on me. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and repeated...be strong...be strong.

Reality hit me square in the face when I saw him through the large glass panel on the door to his room. This wasn’t simply a nightmare where I’d wake up to find Jim lying next to me still asleep. He did look as if he were asleep, except for the wires and tubes connected to him.

Danny hovered around behind me in silence. I knew he was also hurting because he thought of Jim as a son.

I opened the door and stepped inside. Danny chose to remain in the hall. My gaze followed the tubes leading from an IV hooked up to his arm. The damage a bullet could do to a human can be horrendous. I had to be strong and not fall apart.

I slowly walked over to him, keeping my gaze centered on his face. The lump in my throat felt like I’d swallowed a baseball.

I touched Jim’s cheek with the tips of my trembling fingers. An image of my sister-in-law’s body when I discovered her in the foyer of her Garden District home many years earlier flashed through my mind. As traumatic as the event was, the sight of my husband proved to be ten times worse. And he wasn’t dead.

My poor darling Jim. Who did this to you? No matter how the manner of this shooting appeared, I would never believe he tried to kill himself. If necessary, I’d prove it.

DANNY STARED THROUGH the glass panel at his city counterpart. A feeling of helplessness swept over him. There’s no way in hell Jim tried to end his life. The younger man’s prognosis wasn’t good. If he didn’t make it and the investigation continued to lead to suicide, he vowed to delve a lot deeper into the case himself. He didn’t intend to let Susan know his thoughts on the matter. He didn’t want her involved, but he figured his keeping quiet wouldn’t stop her.

On the other hand, if this turned out to be a homicide as he suspected, keeping quiet wouldn’t be an option.

Two

Movement outside the glass door panel drew my attention away from Jim. Danny and Cypress Lake Officer Angie Ducote, Jim’s latest hire at the station, were engaged in conversation. Their somber expressions didn’t seem strange, considering the situation. Could she be reporting new evidence found at the scene? Something to prove Jim didn’t attempt suicide? Or just the opposite?

Behind them two nurses scurried about at their station, busy with their duties. They appeared uninterested in the sheriff’s conversation with another police officer. But then, why would they? Unless Angie told Danny a bit of earth-shaking news involving the entire community, no civilian would be interested.

I’d inquire later. Those nurses would soon be pushing me out of here for a while. The rules clearly stated on the wall outside allowed visitors only ten minutes at a time. I turned back to my husband and gently squeezed his hand. No response. His shallow breathing worried me. I made a mental note to ask the doctors.

A nurse didn’t enter his room until long after my ten minutes were up. Guess they cut me some slack because he was my husband and I certainly wasn’t upsetting the patient with my presence.

His regular physician, Doctor Rayborn, will be in shortly to check on him, she informed me as she inspected the IV bags and the other machines hooked up to him. You can stay in here until the doctor arrives. You’ll probably want to talk to him anyway.

Thanks, I appreciate it. I regarded her curiously. And after that?

In certain cases, we’re a little more relaxed about the rules. We just don’t want a crowd of people in the room at one time. However, you might want to consider going home for a while and coming back later. You’re going to need rest. We’ll take good care of him.

I’m not sure I can get much rest at home, but I’ll consider your advice.

Fifteen minutes later, Doctor Rayborn arrived. The usual cheerful manner he always displayed in his office didn’t appear to be in attendance today, although he smiled and clasped my hand.

I could tell by the look in his eyes, the smile was only on his lips. I moved away from the bed to allow him to make his examination.

After he checked Jim and wrote on the medical chart, he turned to me. Did you notice any signs recently to indicate he might be depressed?

I took a deep breath to quell my irritation at the doctor’s question. No, and I don’t believe he tried to kill himself.

He looked sympathetic. Suicide is very difficult for loved ones to accept.

I don’t mean to be rude, but if one more person mentions suicide to me as the reason he’s lying here, I’m going to scream. Jim was not depressed. His actions were in no way unusual.

The doctor only nodded.

Please tell me about his current condition. My voice sounded angry even to me.

I don’t want to give you false hopes about his recovery. As I’m sure Doctor Theriot told you, his current condition is grave. His blood pressure and other vital signs are not good at this point and there’s a great deal of tissue damage in the abdominal cavity. We were able to repair some. We’re hoping that after he’s received more blood to replace the large amount he lost, he will start coming around.

He replied in a very calm voice as if he were a hostage negotiator. I suppose he’s used to belligerent patients and their families who were not willing to accept his diagnosis.

"What about a projection for the future when he recovers?" I refused to say if.

I can’t give you any prognosis for the future right now. What I can say is his recovery would be a long, arduous process.

In other words, he doesn’t have much hope Jim would survive his wounds. I didn’t ask any more questions.

I’ll be back in the morning to check on him, Doctor Rayborn said. My colleague Doctor Theriot may be by later tonight. Do you have any questions about his condition or his treatment?

I’m concerned about his breathing. It seems shallow. Is that to be expected?

He’s extremely weak. The blood loss is my major concern.

His officers and some deputies from the sheriff’s office are donating blood for him. I tried to sound hopeful.

Excellent. He extended his hand to me. Please call me if you have any concerns.

I accepted his hand. Thank you. I’m sorry for my outburst earlier.

He waved off my apology. You have nothing to be sorry for. Having a loved one with gunshot wounds is a traumatic situation for family members.

I glanced at Jim. Yes, and even more traumatic when everyone keeps insisting he attempted to kill himself. The doctor had left the room when I turned back.

A helpless feeling coursed through me. Nothing for me to do but sit here watching my husband and hope he survived his injuries. The doctors didn’t give me much hope. There’s always a miracle. Prayers couldn’t hurt.

A soft tap at the door drew my attention away from Jim. Bill Kaufman, the Cypress Lake mayor and a close friend of Jim, stood in view through the glass panel. I motioned for him to enter.

As he stepped into the room, he threw a cautious glance at Jim. His expression clouded. I could sense the depths of his sadness at the event leading up to his friend’s current condition. He greeted me with a hug, then pulled back, but continued to hold on to my hand.

I caught Doctor Rayborn on his way down the hall, Bill said. What little he could tell me didn’t sound good. Are they giving you any encouragement?

Not really. The doctors are hoping the blood replacement will get him back on the right track.

But they can’t say for sure.

No, but I have to be positive. He will come out of this and reveal what really happened out there on the bayou. There’s no way Jim tried to kill himself.

A trace of a frown wrinkled his brow for an instant. Is that the official theory?

According to Danny, the evidence at the scene indicated attempted suicide.

Like you, I can’t imagine why he would commit such an act. He gave me a smile of encouragement. Staying positive is the way to go.

Bill’s cell phone buzzed softly. He took a quick look at the display. His raised eyebrows suggested a problem or at least an important message. My secretary. He squeezed my hand. I’m sorry this is such a short visit, but my mayoral duties call. I’ll come back soon.

Thanks, Bill, I said. I appreciate your coming by.

He paused at the foot of Jim’s bed. Come back to us, buddy.

After Bill left the room, I stood beside the bed staring at Jim. You have to be able to tell me what happened. Wake up, please, I silently begged. I kept repeating the latter phase as if my plea would force him awake. My mantra didn’t work.

His eyes remained closed. Only the slight up and down movement of his chest let me know he was still alive. Or was he? His face had taken on a bluish tinge. His chest ceased to move or else the movement was so minute it became undetectable.

A panicked feeling in the pit of my stomach froze me in place. Alarms abruptly sounded and numbers and lines on the machine displays seemed to go berserk. The line showing his heartbeat began to straighten. Two nurses burst into the room and rushed to his bedside.

Another nurse brushed me aside. You need to leave the room, Mrs. Foret.

Stepping backwards toward the door, I watched in horror as the nurses frantically called for assistance. More hospital personnel ran in. An aide gently escorted me out of the room.

Doctor Rayborn ran down the hall toward me, the tails of his starched white coat flapping like wings. He dashed into the room. Hospital personnel blocked my view so I couldn’t see what went on. The scene seemed surreal. I couldn’t breathe.

The frenzied activity in the room came to an abrupt halt. From the dejected stances of all the personnel, I knew something had gone terribly wrong. Everything afterwards seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Doctor Rayborn stood in front of me. His lips moved, but in my dazed mind no words emerged from his mouth. Words I knew without hearing them.

JAMES MATTHEW FORET, the Cypress Lake chief of police, a native of Lafayette, Louisiana and a resident of Cypress Lake, died on July 22 at West Lake Memorial Hospital. Prior to his eight year tenure as head of the Cypress Lake Police Department, he was a member of the New Orleans Police Department where he held the position of detective in the Homicide Division. He is survived by his wife Susan LaGrange Foret, son Matthew James Foret, daughter Caroline Ashley Foret, an aunt, Eileen Morgan Landry of Lafayette, and numerous cousins. He was preceded in death by his parents, Francis M. and Julia Morgan Foret, and grandparents, Joseph and Ellen Foret and Julian and Sally Morgan. Visitation will be held at Cypress Gardens Funeral Home on Saturday July 27 from 9:00 a. m. until the Mass of Christian Burial at 11:00 a. m. at St. Paul’s Catholic Church. Pallbearers will be members of the Cypress Lake Police Department.  Entombment in Cypress Gardens Mausoleum to follow.

Three

Sunday, July 28

The autopsy was wrong . It had to be. The pathologist ruled his death as suicide. I couldn’t believe it. I would never believe he killed himself.

In a way, the findings didn’t make a difference; Jim was still dead. I wasn’t certain Danny would dig deeper into the case to discover the killer I knew was out there somewhere. I shook off the idea—just my dark mood talking.

Although Danny never would admit his true feelings, I sensed he didn’t believe the report either. He would do his best in a search for Jim’s killer. At the same time, he’d do his darnedest to keep me from becoming involved. We shall see about that.

Getting involved in the investigation would be difficult, both physically and emotionally. Death and its counterparts had followed me around for years, clinging to me like cat hair on my good black pants. Loss still attached itself to my being—this time stronger than ever.

The whole event seemed surreal. I felt like a person on the outside looking at someone else’s life. Unfortunately, the life was mine and very real.

After my sister-in-law’s murder, I assumed nothing could top the horror of discovering her body, but I was wrong. Last year, a murder victim died within a few feet of me as the local Mardi Gras krewe’s parade ended. And now this...

Naturally, Jim’s death hit harder than either of the others. The love of my life had been shot and killed. No official investigation would go forward. Not unless someone, either Danny or I, found new evidence to disprove the coroner’s ruling on the manner of death.

The killer or killers were clever enough to make his murder appear to be suicide. Even the location had been carefully selected—the area where his father had committed suicide. Who would have wanted him to follow in his father’s footsteps?

I made a vow to myself. I would do everything I could to make certain the people responsible would be brought to justice.

THE WALL CLOCK DISPLAYED the time as 9:30 p. m.. Caroline and Matthew had finally fallen asleep. The past week had been especially