Showdown in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #3)(41)

Raissa rolled the story Maryse had told her around in her mind. How the hell was she supposed to explain it to Zach when a key component was a photo-snapping ghost? Finally, she blew out a breath and told him about the black car at the end of the street.

“Did Maryse get a look at the driver?” Zach asked.

“No, but she might have a photo.”

Zach raised his eyebrows and Raissa shook her head. “It’s a long, complicated story going back months, and I’d rather explain the details when I can show you myself. Maryse is on her way to a drugstore in New Orleans right now to get the film developed. One of those one-hour joints, so she can meet us somewhere in the city or back in Mudbug.”

“What are you going to do about your car?”

“Nothing, right now. It’s obviously not safe to drive.” She waved her cell phone. “I’m glad I maintained an untraceable cell phone, or they’d likely be tracking me that way, too.”

Zach shook his head. “This is all a bit much. I made detective five years ago, and I’ve never seen such cloak-and-dagger stuff in my life. I don’t know how you’ve lived this way for so long. Hell, my captain’s on the verge of a stroke and he’s not even facing an opponent like Sonny Hebert.” Zach sighed. “But in his defense, this case could cost him his job if it goes wrong.”

Raissa looked over at Zach. “What do you mean? I know there’s pressure on the department because it’s the mayor’s granddaughter, but that’s status quo for this sort of situation.”

“Not exactly.” Zach hesitated for a moment, then decided that given Raissa’s deductive skills, she might be able to help. He told her about his talk with the captain that morning and his subsequent visit with the Francos.

Raissa listened to the story, her eyes widening until he got to the part about talking to Peter Franco, and then she frowned and shook her head.

“Why are you shaking your head?” Zach asked.

“That’s not right.”

“What part?”

“That Melissa wasn’t ever sick. Once a month, her mother took her to a specialist who has an office across from my shop. They usually stopped in my shop and bought Melissa candles.”

“You’re certain?”

“Of course, I’m certain. I’ve seen them once a month for probably six months or more. That’s why I was so upset when I saw the details of the kidnapping on the news. This one was almost personal in a way, because I knew the victim.”

“Why would the father lie?”

“I have no idea. Maybe we should ask?”

“If he’s lying, he’s not likely to tell the truth just because I ask him to.”

Raissa shook her head. “Not him. The doctor.”

Zach frowned and started to speak and she waved a hand to cut him off. “I know doctor privilege and all that, but this is the mayor’s daughter who’s been kidnapped. If the doctor knows something, he might tell us.”

“No way. You’re not going anywhere near your shop. One of Sonny’s guys is probably watching it, not to mention the Agent Fields problem.”

“I can handle Fields, and the FBI can’t make me do anything. I’m not under arrest.”

“Sonny’s guys can probably make you do plenty, starting with giving up breathing.”

Raissa turned in her seat to face him. “Who do you think stands a better chance against them—me or Melissa Franco?”

Zach rolled the options around in his mind for half a second. “Shit.” He turned at the next red light and headed toward Raissa’s shop. Raissa pulled off the wig and tried to fluff her hair into some semblance of normal.

A couple of cars were parked on the street outside of Raissa’s shop, but none was a black Cadillac. She pointed across the street. “That’s the office.”

Zach pulled over close to the building and parked at the curb. A man in his sixties with black and silver hair stepped outside the door and turned to lock it. “That’s him,” Raissa said, pointing at the man locking the door. She checked the street, then jumped out of the car.

“Dr. Spencer,” Raissa called as the doctor slipped the keys in his pocket. He turned around and gave her a wave.

“Hello, Raissa. I haven’t seen you in a while. Did you finally take a vacation?”

Raissa walked over to the doctor, Zach close behind. “Hardly,” she replied. “But a friend did—her honeymoon, in fact—so I’m filling in at her shop.”

The doctor smiled. “That’s nice.” He gave Zach a curious look, then looked back at Raissa. “Well, my wife has dinner on the table, so I better run.”

“Actually,” Raissa said and pointed to Zach, “this is Detective Blanchard with the New Orleans Police Department. He’d like to speak with you about Melissa Franco.”

Dr. Spencer’s eyes widened. “The kidnapped girl? Why would you want to speak to me?”

“Because,” Zach said, “you treated her, but her father clearly stated to police that his daughter had never been sick. I want to know why he would think that.”

Dr. Spencer shook his head. “You’re mistaken. Melissa Franco was never a patient of mine.”

“I saw her here,” Raissa said. “Once a month. She and her mother always stopped in my shop after they left your office.”