Blood Money by James Grippando Page A

involved some kind of unidentifiable meat, Jack found himself captivated by a woman who fully understood why he had turned down the big bucks of private practice to work long hours for little pay at a place like the Freedom Institute. The next day, a stunning strawberry blonde sans dust showed up in a dilapidated Land Rover for a trip to the cocoa region, and Jack’s tumble was complete. From then on, virtually every spare dime went to round-trip airfare between Abidjan and Miami.
    Inevitably, geography took its toll.
    The coffee arrived. As Jack stirred in a packet of raw sugar, Rene leaned closer, almost halfway across the table. A man less committed to his fiancée would have simply grabbed an eyeful of cleavage. Jack squirmed.
    “You like my necklace?” she asked.
    “Oh, your necklace.” He took a closer look. It appeared to be made of copper, with a colorful bead. “Pretty. Looks like an African work of art.”
    “The Senufo people hold on to their traditional beliefs very strongly. When I left Korhogo, the juju priest blessed the necklace and presented it to me at a ceremony. Probably two hundred people showed up, lots of them former patients at the clinic.”
    “Nice.”
    “The glass bead is actually a gris-gris,” said Rene. “Some people in this country associate that with voodoo, so the juju priest made mine teeny-tiny enough to wear on a necklace. Less conspicuous.”
    “Very thoughtful.”
    “In Côte d’Ivoire they say it brings good luck. Some even believe it’s a form of birth control, but I’m not putting that one to the test.”
    “Good call,” said Jack.
    “So no jewelry for you?” she said, glancing at his naked ring finger. “I thought you’d be remarried by now.”
    The segue seemed rather calculated, and Jack wondered if she was playing dumb—if her out-of-the-blue text message had been prompted by the inaccurate reports that his engagement was off. Broken neck, broken heart . . .
    “I’m engaged.”
    “Oh, I had no idea. Congratulations. Who’s the lucky woman?”
    He told her about Andie, though without so much as a hint at her undercover work. Even in the broadest of terms, however, the very concept of a criminal defense lawyer with plans to marry an FBI agent was sufficient to trigger the usual skepticism.
    “Sounds like . . . a perfect match.”
    “Yeah. If there is such a thing.”
    She smiled, catching his drift. “Touché.”
    Rene had a great smile. All they needed now was for Andie to walk by like Adele, singing “Someone Like You.”
    Never mind, I’ll find . . . It was time to shift gears—fast.
    “You still in pediatrics?” he asked, knowing it was a dumb question.
    “Of course. That’s what brought me in touch with the Laramore family. Celeste’s primary physician back in Tennessee is still her pediatrician.”
    Jack felt another twinge of pain for the family. The fact that she was still young enough for a pediatrician underscored the tragedy.
    “Are you one of her treating physicians?”
    “No. But one of my colleagues is on the team.”
    “So you two share information?”
    She averted her eyes, and Jack still knew her well enough to read her apprehension. “Look, Rene. I appreciate your reaching out to me. But I don’t want you to breach any confidences.”
    “No, this is totally on the up and up.”
    “You look uncomfortable.”
    “It’s a little complicated. His name is Dr. Ross. Stefan Ross. We’ve been seeing each other for about two months now.”
    “Got the picture. Two pediatricians at the same hospital date each other. Naturally, you share information.”
    “We talk. If I look uncomfortable, it’s because Stefan probably didn’t expect me to pass this bit of information along to the Laramore family.”
    “Like I said, if you’re breaking a patient confidence—”
    “No,” she said, interrupting. “Just the opposite. Trust me, there’s already a buzz about this at the hospital. This is something that Celeste’s