Page 6 of The Cajun Doctor

Samantha did a mental Snoopy dance as they all sat down, Nick and Daltry looking as if they’d swallowed bad crawfish. It would appear that Tante Lulu’s outrageousness had unexpected benefits.

“I’ve read the history on this case. It appears that Ms. Starr is requesting a termination of alimony payments . . . very substantial alimony, I see here . . . to her ex-husband Dr. Nicholas Coltrane. How come a doctor needs alimony?” the judge asked right off the bat.

“Because Doctor Coltrane deserves to live the lifestyle he shared with Samantha Starr while they were married. The same would be true if the genders were reversed, and a woman wanted alimony from her husband.” Daltry then cited some statute which supposedly supported his position.

“Don’t y’all be tryin’ ta teach me the law, Mistah Daltry.”

“My apologies, your honor,” a red-faced Daltry said.

Judge Pitre nodded. “For how long? It’s been five years. How long before Dr. Coltrane earns an income to match his former lifestyle?”

There was a telling silence which pretty much said, “Forever.”

Then Daltry said, “Records show how expensive the medical equipment is in the facility Dr. Coltrane had to purchase for his practice after moving out of a Starr family building. That on top of rising office salaries, insurance, etc. Little is left for even a minimal standard of living.”

The judge raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“Your honor? If I may speak?” Luc stood and picked up a folder, which he opened on the table.

The judge nodded.

“There are new circumstances that warrant the termination of alimony payments to Dr. Coltrane.”

“I object,” Daltry said, standing abruptly. “What are those documents? We’re entitled to discovery.”

“Don’t be an ass, Mistah Daltry. This isn’t some high-falutin’, on-TV, criminal trial,” Judge Pitre exclaimed.

Daltry flushed again and plopped back down into his chair.

Nick raised his hand in the air like a little kid asking his teacher for permission to go to the bathroom. At Judge Pitre’s surprised nod of acceptance, he smiled his lopsided smile, the one that meant he was playing the ain’t-I-adorable card. “I never wanted a divorce. It was Samantha who rejected my affections.”

“You were screwing the neighbor’s babysitter, you prick!”

“Samantha!” Luc hissed. “Remember. Carnival beads.”

“So not true! Your honor, Samantha is very insecure,” he confided in a whisper as if they couldn’t all hear. “She was always looking for infidelity in our marriage.”

“And you were looking for size double-D’s.” And, yeah, taking Luc’s advice, Samantha had to admit that Nick did look silly in her mind picture, bare-assed naked, with an erection standing out like a bird’s roost, holding strands of colored beads. She couldn’t help but grin.

“Atta girl,” Luc said, guessing what she was thinking.

Nick snarled at her seeming amusement at his expense, then told the judge meekly, “I even suggested we take ballroom dancing classes together, not just to heal our marriage, but because, I have to tell you, Samantha has no sense of rhythm at all.”

Samantha returned the snarl. “And you have no sense at all, period.”

The judge put her face in her hands, then shouted, “Enough! Does anyone have anything to present today that is remotely sane? Otherwise, I’m going down to Arnaud’s where I plan to order a Hurricane . . . or five.”

“Your honor,” Luc said with exaggerated meekness, “I submit credit card statements for Doctor Coltrane which indicate he is living a lifestyle that far exceeds his supposed medical debts, despite his claims of near poverty.”

“There are privacy laws, LeDeux. You have no right to those records,” Daltry sputtered.

“Shut up!” the judge said, then turned to Luc. “Continue.”

Shoving one sheet of paper after another toward the judge, Luc explained, “In the past six months, designer suits worth ten thousand dollars, restaurant expenses totaling twenty thousand dollars, jewelry, fifty thousand dollars, and purchase of a condo during his recent one-month stay in the Cote d’Azur.”

Judge Pitre’s jaw dropped with each sheet. Daltry looked a bit shocked, as well.

But Luc was on a roll. “I would like the court’s permission ta subpoena Cerise Barclay, Antoinette Gaudet, and Pussy Gate.”