Guest Post & #Giveaway: Shadows of Frenchmen (A Jonathan Gray, M.D. Mystery #2) by Michael Rigg
- Archaeolibrarian
- 8 hours ago
- 6 min read
Book Details:
Genre: Medico-Legal (Coroner) Thriller
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: May 5, 2026
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 979-8898202354
Series: A Jonathan Gray, M.D. Mystery, Book 2
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On a frosty Sunday morning in February, Dr. Jonathan Gray, Coroner of Orleans Parish, faces a gruesome sight. A dead man splayed against the circular steel and cut-glass blocks of the city’s AIDS memorial in Washington Square Park has strange symbols carved into his forehead and chest. A coded note—a cipher—has been placed under one hand. The body mutilation and note are hallmarks of a serial killer dubbed by the news media as the “Mardi Gras Sweeper,” because he strikes during Carnival season and leaves coded manifestos taunting police and giving hints about his next victim.
Hoping to avoid a panic during the city’s most profitable season, Mayor Max Jamerson asks Gray to investigate the murder “on the sly,” without formal assistance from the New Orleans Police Department. Time is of the essence as Gray races to figure out the cipher and track down the Sweeper in order to prevent additional killings—and save Mardi Gras.
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Chapter One
Alpha and Omega
Sunday, February 1, 2015 – 1:47 a.m.
Twenty-plus years with the Orleans Parish Coroner’s Office taught Jonathan Gray to expect the unexpected. But Washington Square Park had always been a tranquil haven on the fringe of the French Quarter. So crime-scene tape draping the square’s wrought-iron fence presented the visual equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard. Moonlight filtering through stately live oaks cast eerie—almost funereal—shadows, adding to the dissonance.
Fluttering in the nippy midwinter breeze, the neon-yellow ribbon communicated
a mute warning. On this side, normalcy. On the other, insanity. Stepping into the dysfunction never got easier. Regardless, turning back wasn’t an option. As if speaking the incantation aloud would immunize him against the unfolding drama, he repeated his trite pre-crime scene mantra: “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” His breath lingered in the frosty air before evaporating.
After checking in with the uniformed officer monitoring access, Jonathan angled toward floodlights illuminating a temporary canopy above the city’s AIDS memorial. More tape—red as opposed to yellow—identified the innermost “Do Not Cross” perimeter. Crime scene technicians in white Tyvek protective suits busied themselves measuring and photographing what must be the reason he’d been summoned. A male corpse sitting upright on the ground—its arms and legs twisted at seemingly impossible angles—leaned against the memorial’s circular cut-glass and steel panels surrounded by a pool of thick, dark-crimson liquid.
A curved, nearly rectangular piece of wood with brass edges—most likely a knife handle—protruded from under the right side of the dead man’s rib cage. A portion of his intestines spilled out of the wound. A second knife—its handle and part of its blade visible—had been thrust downward into the soft tissue between the left collarbone and neck.
Cause of death seemed too obvious to require someone of Jonathan’s seniority. A first-year med student could have made the call. But markings carved into the dead man’s forehead and chest hinted at something more sinister. No wonder Mitch Broussard from NOPD had called him in the middle of the night. The man’s heavy flannel shirt lay open, exposing his chest and a series of
capital letters etched into his skin. The letters—G I D I A I D I V—made no sense, at least not in English. A folded piece of paper with similar letters and other symbols, not quite readable from that distance, lay under the man’s left hand. Lack of blood covering the letters in the chest signaled they had been added postmortem. Jonathan focused on two marks in the man’s forehead. An uppercase “A” and what looked like an upside-down horseshoe—the Greek letter Omega—apparently cut while the victim was still alive.
It couldn’t have been two years already. But there it was. Alpha and Omega. Jonathan bit his lip and cursed under his breath. Then, a silent prayer. Looked like the nightmare was about to begin—again.
One of the CSTs stood and raised her clear face shield. “Hey, Doc. Welcome to Funsville.”
Thank you for the opportunity to address “I Dig Good Books!” readers. As you may know, my novels—both Shadows of Frenchmen and its predecessor, the Agatha and Anthony-nominated Voices of the Elysian Fields—are set in New Orleans, with the Coroner of Orleans Parish as the protagonist. So, you ask, why a coroner and why New Orleans?
The first part of the question is the easier to answer. I’ve always been fascinated with criminal forensics—coroners, medical-examiners, and such. After all, dead people can’t lie. In forensic science there is truth (along with some margin of error for interpretation). “Write what you know,” the all-knowing “they” say, “or at least what you enjoy and want to learn about.”
The second part of the question—why New Orleans—should be easy to answer as well. After all, what a better, more flavorful, more full-of-life place to set a novel in than New Orleans? And you wouldn’t be wrong to think that. But the real reason is not New Orleans itself, but the unique Louisiana Coroner System that drove the decision. Sounds like time to dig a bit deeper…
Most coroners (and medical examiners—the distinctions and difference area topic for a different discussion) conduct autopsies. Determine means, manner, and method of death, and related matters like time of death. Kind of basic. And to some, kind of boring.
But in Louisiana, coroners have a three-pronged medico-legal mission. They conduct autopsies in certain death cases, of course. But in Louisiana, coroners are also charged with coordinating sexual assault examinations and they are deeply involved in the mental-health commitment process. There are some other duties that fall into the coroner’s lap in Louisiana, but those are the three primary areas of responsibility. As you might imagine, having three distinct, but related, functions to draw from adds grist to the idea-mill when writing.
And each of the sixty-four parishes (think counties) in Louisiana must elect a Coroner (notice the shift to a capital “C”) who is a physician and who must be a resident of the parish. If no physician in the parish want to run for office, any resident of the parish can run. This can lead to a situation, especially in small parishes, where the electedCoroner is not a doctor. It might be a nurse or an EMT—someone with medical training—or someone, like an insurance agent, who has no medical background. Again, some interesting fodder for a writer’s imagination.
So, that tells us, “Why Louisiana.” But now you ask again, “Why New Orleans?” Well, there you have me. Once you’re in Louisiana, New Orleans has so much to offer when coming up with ideas. And the research can be fun and, often, tasty. (By the way, I’m assured that calories consumed “for research” don’t count against your Recommended Daily Allowance.)
Curious to learn more about Coroners in Louisiana and New Orleans in general? I hope you’ll check out Shadows of Frenchmen. Again, many thanks for this opportunity. And, as always, “Let the good times roll.”
Agatha and Anthony-nominated author Michael Rigg, a lawyer for more than four decades, writes mysteries and thrillers set in two very different locations: Virginia Beach (where he lives) and New Orleans (which he visits as often as possible “for research,” including participation in three Mardi Gras Krewes). He is a retired Navy Judge Advocate and a retired civilian government attorney, formerly working for the Department of the Navy Office of the General Counsel. He is a member of International Thriller Writers, Mystery Writers of America, and both the Sisters in Crime national organization and its Southeastern Virginia Chapter—Mystery by the Sea.
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Wow, this was VERY interesting! I did not know that about Louisiana.
Thanks so much for sharing.