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WILLIAM CHAISSON LOOKED around his office in disgust. The office was cleaned that morning and it was a complete mess again. Books and papers were scattered about as he had spent most of the day and into the night researching and drafting motions.
Truth be told; he was hiding from the Mafia Prince and his hired goon. He should never have gone into the poker room the other night. But, his day had been bad and he needed to relieve the stress. He thought a hand or two of poker would help, but before he had realized it, he was down twenty thousand dollars and the Mafia Prince gave him until today to pay.
The personal injury case William was counting on to settle the debt didn’t seem to be coming to his rescue. His client wasn’t happy with the offer the insurance company made and declined it outright saying she knew she could get more. William ruefully shook his head and began to realize that the offer was slipping through his hands along with his chance to pay his debt. No matter how hard he tried to get the woman to see reason, she believed her case was worth more money. Hell, she hadn’t even been injured in the car accident; she should be happy that the insurance company offered her thirty thousand just to make the case go away. Their client was in the wrong. He was drunk when he rear ended his client. But now his client saw dollar signs. William didn’t see that happening; especially, since the insurance company had informed him they would take their chances in court. Mais non, they would not give him another settlement offer.
Her damn greed more than likely sealed his fate. These goons would probably break his legs, if not worse.
After locking the office door behind him, he walked up the dark staircase that led to his apartment. His footsteps echoed in the stairway. As with most houses and businesses here in downtown New Orleans, his office was downstairs and he lived above it. As he made his way upstairs, he looked around waiting to see if someone emerged from the shadows.
He opened his door and walked into the darkened area. The two bedroom and two bath apartment had a full size kitchen and a living room that looked over the French Quarter. There wasn’t much of a dining room, but since he spent little time eating here, it didn’t bother him. He didn’t think the kitchen had ever been used. He preferred to get his coffee at the little café right down the street and, generally, he ordered takeout or ate at one of the fine restaurants that New Orleans had to offer. His refrigerator was usually bare. He kept a few things in the pantry, but that was mainly snack food. He led the perfect bachelor life and planned to keep it that way.
As soon as he walked into the master bedroom, his apprehension grew. The sliding door that led to the deck was open. Before he could leave the apartment, the intruder knocked him unconscious.
***
OFFICERS BOUDREAUX and Brusly watched the road ahead as they waited for a speeder or drunk driver to come their way. So far, the road had remained deserted and dark; not a soul was out.
Brusly asked, “So where do you think everyone is? I can’t believe that it is this dead.”
“Man, I thought for sure this full moon would keep us busy, but damn, everyone seems to be keeping off the road tonight.”
“I hate just sitting here waiting for something to happen.”
“It doesn’t look like anything is happening anywhere. Everybody must be tired or something. This sucks big time.”
Brusly couldn’t agree more. Normally, the streets would be busy with tourists, conventioneers or drunks, but for some reason, no one was out having a good time. “I wish Sheriff Renault would let us patrol instead of just sitting here and waiting for someone to drive by. We would catch more speeders and drunks if we could patrol.” At least when they patrolled, they weren’t so damn bored.
Boudreaux replied, “The town council is complaining about the amount of gas wasted when we patrol; so, we have to sit here in the dark. Hell, we have to sit out here with the windows cracked and not run the engine to conserve gas. If they had to do this for just an hour they would change their minds pretty damn quick.”
“Mais, they only think about themselves and not us poor working stiffs.”
As Brusly picked up his phone, he saw the headlights barreling down on them, “Mon ami, we have one coming right for us.”
The two officers watched in disbelief as the car flew right past them and never slowed down for the hairpin curve. Officer Boudreaux exclaimed, “Mon Dieu, he is going to go straight into the river.”
With their lights flashing and siren blaring, they pursued the driver to, hopefully, catch his attention before he killed himself.
***
WILLIAM CHAISSON FELT as if he was flying. It never even dawned on him that his car was out of control when it started to flip. The world around him moved in slow motion. His world was suddenly right side up and then upside down, but it all went unrecognized by him. He never noticed how many times the car flipped. The sound of crunching metal didn’t phase him. The sound was all that filled the night air as the officers watched in horror as the car careened into the murky river water.
The car landed upside down in the Mississippi River. Glass rained down on his head as the water rushed into the car. He hung upside down by his seatbelt, completely dazed and disoriented. He was in a dreamlike state of mind. He could hear and see what went on around him, but it did not register in his mind. He couldn’t even move. Was he dead? Did his soul just not know to leave his body?
He tried to shout out, hoping that someone would help him, but he couldn’t find his voice. Surely, someone must have seen the accident; New Orleans was always busy.
“We need to hurry in case someone is alive down there,” the young officer called to his partner. “This was unlike any accident I have ever seen. There is no way the driver survived.”
Diving into the murky water, the officer forced the car door open and pulled out the injured man from the submerged car. The officer informed his partner, “He doesn’t appear to be alive.”
Somewhere through the fog in his brain, he listened in horror to what the man said. He couldn’t be dead; could he? He desperately tried to correct the officer. When he went to speak, his mouth refused to cooperate. How could he be dead when he felt the excruciating pain and heard every word they said?
He felt himself being moved into the ambulance. The bright lights flashing in the night sky hurt his eyes. Someone was checking his vitals. Good, then they would know he was alive. The person taking his vitals was talking, but he couldn’t make out a word they were saying. The world around him became distorted. Maybe he was dead after all?
Suddenly, white hot pain took over his whole body. He tried to scream out, but his mouth still refused to cooperate.