Free Under the Cajun Moon by Mindy Starns Clark Page A

crazy ever since your mother called me and told me your father had been shot.”
    “Do you have the details of what happened?” Kevin asked.
    “Yes, please tell us what you know,” I said.
    Sam nodded, placing the tips of his fingers together and bouncing them against his chin in a familiar gesture of contemplation. He began to explain, but most of what he told us we already knew, that my father had been down at Paradise when he had been shot earlier today, probably around noon. As soon as it happened, my injured father had called my mother, but she was at the spa and had her cell phone turned off. Unable to reach her, he had hung up and tried the house, finally leaving a message for her there, telling her what happened and for her to rush this whole contract through as quickly as possible. Apparently, once he left that message, he hung up and dialed 911 for help. He was still alive but unconscious by the time the paramedics found him.
    “Excuse me, would you folks like something else to drink?” Graze had suddenly interrupted from the doorway. “Hey, Sam. I’m sorry, but I didn’t see you come in. Would you like a brandy or something?”
    Sam turned around toward the bartender, who was holding a tray of small glasses filled with a bright red liquid.
    “What have you got there, Sazeracs?”
    “Yeah, these are for the party outside. You want one?”
    “Gimme three and then give us some privacy, would you?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Graze placed three of the red drinks in front of Sam, who grunted in frustration and said, “Not three for me, Graze. One for me and one for each of them.”
    At times like that, Sam always reminded me of my father. Between the two of them, they managed to keep the staff on their toes. The big difference between them was that my father corrected with the intent to humiliate, while Sam corrected so the person would get it right the next time.
    Not wanting a Sazerac, I ordered a cup of decaf coffee instead. After Graze was gone, I reached out and placed my pale hand on top of Sam’s dark one.
    “Why don’t you take a deep breath? You’re scaring me. I’m afraid you’ll have a heart attack or something.”
    Sam did as I suggested, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Next to me, Kevin finished his meal and then started on his Sazerac, sipping it contentedly. To me, though the drink may have been the signature cocktail of New Orleans, I always thought it most closely resembled cough syrup.
    “Okay,” Sam said reaching for his glass and taking a long sip. “I’m okay.”
    Considering his current state, I didn’t want to rush him. On the other hand, I really needed him to keep going with what he was saying.
    “Your poor mama,” he finally continued. “She didn’t even know anything had happened to Julian until she got home from the spa about 1:00 p.m. and checked her messages. By then, your daddy had already been airlifted to Oschner’s.”
    The timing made sense, given that my television show appearance had been from 1:00 to 2:00 p.m. While I was being grilled on live TV by Tony, my mother had arrived at home, heard my father’s message, and started trying to reach me soon after.
    “Who shot him? How did the accident happen?” I asked, hoping Sam would confirm that it was indeed an accident and not intentional, as Kevin and I suspected.
    Sam set his drink down and met my eyes.
    “It was no accident, baby. Whoever shot your daddy, it sounds like they shot him on purpose.”
    “We were afraid of that. But
why
, Sam? Why?”
    “I wish I knew,” Sam said, looking from Kevin to me and back again. “He was calling from his cell phone when he left the message, so there’s a lot of static and skipped words and it’s hard to hear. You can sure make out that he’s been shot, though.”
    “Wait a minute, I’m confused about something,” I said. “My father always told us that Paradise didn’t get cell phone reception at all. One of the things he always liked about it was that