“Oh dear. We can’t have that, now can we?”
Cawkah! Cawkah!
Cassidy ducked as Baxter, Dottie’s large scarlet macaw, dipped and flew overhead, straight for JJ and Juanita in the other room. Apparently, their wild gestures and strange noises had attracted the bird. Seconds later, JJ let out a scream, and he fell to the floor in throes of terror, covering his head and kicking his legs.
“Oh dear!” Dottie said. “Baxter! Baxter, no!” She began to hobble over as a scene not unlike Darwin’s theory, Survival of the Fittest, played itself out on the sitting room floor.
All of the screaming and chaos caused Cassidy to freeze for a moment as she envisioned Francine, impaled. Her heart raced, nausea swelling, until Juanita yelled out something in Spanish and pulled her out of the day-terror.
Cassidy blinked, bewildered. Already Dottie was halfway to the sitting room. “Dottie,” she called out, “don’t forget your walker!” The last thing she needed was for her to fall and break a hip. “Safety first!”
Dottie seized the nearby walking aid, and said, “Juanita, grab Baxter before he bites off JJ’s fingers!”
With a frustrated cry, Juanita did her best to try and wrangle the bloodthirsty bird off JJ’s now-cowering form, but to no avail. After Cassidy determined Dottie was standing safely with her walker, she rushed over to JJ’s side.
“Hang on. We’ll get Baxter off you, but for God’s sake, please stop screaming. It’s making things worse.”
The longer JJ struggled and screamed, the more Baxter seemed to enjoy it. Baxter flapped his wings so hard against JJ’s face, Dottie grabbed Cassidy’s arm and whispered, “I certainly hope he doesn’t bruise too easily.”
Thankfully, Juanita managed to scoop the macaw into a pillowcase and secure him back in his cage. Once again, JJ was safe from harm.
“Oh my God, what just happened?” he said.
“Oh, honey, I hope you aren’t hurt,” Dottie said. “I think Baxter really likes you.”
“Likes me? What would he do if he hated me!” He wiped a drop of blood from his forehead. “Look at this—I’m bleeding!”
“You scratched yourself trying to hide under the sofa,” Cassidy said. “Stop being melodramatic.”
Dottie laughed. “I do think Baxter likes you,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. “Really, really likes you.”
JJ scowled. “What’s so funny? Did I miss something? I’m pretty sure your bird just attacked me.”
“Oh my...” Dottie had to stop to catch her breath. “He wasn’t attacking you, dear; he was trying to mate with you!” She laughed again, and everyone but JJ laughed along with her. “It took me a second,” she said, “but then I recognized his pattern of head bobbing and wing flapping. He most definitely liked you!”
“Oh, well, that’s just great,” JJ said, scrambling up from the floor. “If you’ll excuse me...” He hurried over to the door and let himself out.
“Oh, I hope he isn’t too upset. That was the best laugh I’ve had in years.”
“No worries, Dottie.” Cassidy laid a gloved hand onto the old woman’s back, ever careful to keep her sleeve from touching Dottie’s sweater. Dottie was clean, but that sweater had seen better days. “JJ’ll be fine. By our next scheduled visit, he’ll be back to talk soap operas with Juanita.”
“Baxter’s never acted like that toward a human,” Dottie said as they strolled back into the living room. “I wonder what’s gotten into him today?”
“Who knows? Maybe JJ had on different cologne. Personally, I’d have attacked him for that hideous shirt. Whoever told him paisleys were in style this decade, lied.”
“Bless his heart,” Dottie said. “You two kids act so much like brother and sister sometimes, picking on each other like you do. You have a soft spot for him, don’t you?”
Cassidy smiled. “It’s hard to stay mad him. Sometimes I wonder why he wants to be my friend. I can get a bit cantankerous with people.”
Dottie shrugged. “You remind me of when I was young.”
“Aww, you’re so sweet.”
“Just remember, though”—Dottie halted and held up a crooked finger—“it’s important to take a chance, to open your heart to people. Took me a long time to do that, myself. I stayed single until I met my late husband, George, who I’d almost completely shut out of my life, just like every other man who tried to get close to me. Fear of being hurt did nothing but hurt me. Thankfully, though, I opened my heart to him, and we got married when I was sixty years old.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“George and I had ten years together—the happiest ten years of my life. I wish I’d opened up to him sooner. We could have spent even more time together before the damned cancer took him away.”
Cassidy blinked back her own tears. “Thank you for sharing that with me. Must not have been easy if you’re as much like me as you think.”
“Yes, well... you’re right about that.” Dottie sat down onto the living room sofa, where Cassidy showed Juanita how to stretch out the elderly woman’s legs.
When they were finished, Cassidy got up to leave, but paused at the front door. “Thank you, Dottie. For everything.”
Dottie waved an arthritic hand. “You take care, dear. I’ll see you in a couple of days. And would you please apologize to JJ for me, and for Baxter?”
“Absolutely.” She closed the door behind her and hurried down the driveway.
Back in her car, JJ turned to Cassidy, arms crossed. “I can’t believe I was almost killed by a stinking parrot.”
“You weren’t almost killed. Molested, sure, but not killed.”
JJ’s face tightened. Were those tears? No. He suddenly burst out laughing and they shared a well-deserved emotional release. Cassidy wiped tears from her cheeks and struggled to catch her breath.
“Well,” she said. “we have three more patients to see today. Do you think we can bust through the rest of the day and get it done?”
“Sounds good to me. I like two of the three patients left on the schedule. I'm in such a good mood, I hope we can save the worst one for last.”
“You’re in luck, my friend. That’s how I’d scheduled our day.” Cassidy gave him a sincere smile. “You know, your scratch isn’t that bad, and the bleeding’s already stopped. Here”—she handed him a tube of antibiotic ointment from her bag—“use this, so it doesn’t get infected.”
“Thanks." He took the medicine and dabbed a small amount onto the injury.
Considering what had happened with Francine, if she and JJ could get through everything today with just a small scratch from a horny bird, Cassidy would declare it a successful day.
CHAPTER 9
I
t’s been a pretty good day so far, wouldn’t you say?” JJ said.
“I guess... ” Somehow, they’d managed to get through their last two appointments without incident, but there was still one left. “Don’t you think we should cancel this last visit and go get something to drink instead? No sense in jinxing our good luck, you know.”
JJ stared at her with a puzzled look, “Why?”
Cassidy gave him her best glare and held up the patient’s face sheet so he could see the name and photo printed at the top.
JJ faltered and grew pale. “Oh... well... maybe it won’t be so bad. Last time you seemed to get along with her.”
“I can get along with just about anyone. Doesn’t mean it’s easy or enjoyable. Problem is: she’s gross. No, she's more than gross, she’s disgusting.”
“Wear gloves. You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll need a face shield and a mask. Come to think of it, maybe even an entire hazmat suit. Honestly, not even two layers of gloves will be enough.”
“Well, now who’s being melodramatic?”
Cassidy pursed her lips and tightened her grip on the steering wheel, increasing her speed. The quicker they got there, the faster the appointment would be over with, and the sooner she coul
d focus on other pursuits - like cocktails.
She slowed her car to a stop along the curb in front of an elegant home set on a well-manicured lawn with beautifully crafted flower beds overflowing in a rainbow of color. Large, well-trimmed bushes and trees lined one side of the lawn to provide the house with shade. Everything about the property appeared well planned and maintained.
Yet Cassidy couldn’t get past the paradox of order on the outside when the inside was chaos. During their last visit, she had to warn JJ numerous times to avoid stepping in certain places—piles of unknown substances lay on the carpet, while mounded heaps of paperwork skittered and moved when disturbed by passing steps. And for hours after they’d left, they could smell the ever-present stench of rotten food in the fibers of their clothing.
After putting on the first layer of gloves, Cassidy drew in a couple of deep breaths and took the final steps up to the front door.
“Well?” she asked JJ.
“Well, what?” He searched the surroundings for answers.
“I’m not touching that doorbell.”
“You’re the one wearing gloves.”
With a frown, Cassidy stood as stiff as a board, hands planted firmly on her hips, and forced JJ to contort his arm around her to reach the doorbell. After a few seconds came the tell-tale elephantine stomping from the woman who lived inside the sad façade of beauty.
Bracing herself against the initial shock of what waited for them inside did little to dampen Cassidy’s horror when the door was flung open and she hoped to never have to witness it again—ever.
The corpulent woman who stood in the doorway wore a skin-tight hot pink T-shirt that read SKANK in bold black letters across her bosom. Fortunately, the shirt was long enough to cover her more delicate areas. Unfortunately, this was all she wore.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Carla Johnson said, and she flung her arms wide in an attempt to hug the two therapists. Cassidy stepped back just far enough to avoid the excitable woman’s vice-like grip. Much to her horror, though, she didn’t move back far enough to avoid the large droplet of mystery goo that landed smack-dab on the center of her forehead.
Cassidy sucked in air. “Oh my God! What was that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Did I getcha? Let me help ya with that mess...” And Carla reached for Cassidy’s face with dirty fingers.
Cassidy jerked back. “What’s on your hands!”
“This?” Carla lifted up both hands to reveal palms that glistened with petroleum jelly.
“Never mind.” JJ stepped between them. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Is she going to be okay? Skinny girl here looks like she’s gonna pass out.”
“She’ll be fine. Go inside and wait for us, Carla. We’ll be there in a minute.”
Carla trundled back inside, while JJ rushed over to Cassidy. “What can I do to help you through this?”
“Purse.” Cassidy's voice was shaky.
JJ opened her purse, dug out a package of antibacterial wipes, and scooped away the offending glob.
“Breathe, Cassidy, breathe. It’ll be fine.”
But Cassidy shook her head, then slunk off to one corner of the porch to die alone.
“Come on, now... you’re all cleaned up, and Carla’s waiting for us to help her.” JJ extended his hand to coax her back to the land of the living.
A few seconds passed, but Cassidy accepted both his help and his hand. She was still wearing gloves, after all.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t have to remind you of our code, do I?”
“Code?”
“Code of silence. If you tell anyone about this, you’re a dead man.”
“Of course, I’d never tell anyone. Pinky swear?”
“Let’s just get this over with.” She pushed past him and went inside the residential landfill.
An hour later, and with much relief, Cassidy stood outside in Carla’s manicured gardens. Free—she was finally free! After being inside that house of horrors, not to mention all of the filth, dirt, and God knew what else, to be able to breathe in clean air and move without fear of catching some horrendous disease... was pure bliss.
“JJ, call Stacey and tell her Carla really, really, really needs a shower.”
“I thought you said Stacey wasn’t feeling well; she had the flu or something.”
“No, she had a flat tire, or something. That was a few days ago, around the time of... you know.”
“Francine?”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet she’s fine to come give Carla a shower today, or at least one by tomorrow.”
JJ frowned and crossed his arms. “I don’t want to. You call her."
“Me? Why?”
“I don't like her.”
“How can you not like her? She’s so nice!”
“Nice? Really? Well, I guess that makes sense coming from you.”
Cassidy shoved her hands onto her hips. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
JJ shrugged. “Well, you can be... kind of not so nice to people sometimes. Maybe you feel some kind of kinship with Stacey or something. But I don’t. I find her rude.” He got into the passenger seat of her car.
“You’re the occupational therapist; showers are your domain, you know.” Cassidy got into the driver’s seat. “You should call.” She waited for JJ to take out his phone... but it never happened.
“Fine!” She reached for her phone.
JJ started to dig into his pocket for his phone.
“Oh no... no, JJ, let me call. Let me do your job for you.” And she made a melodramatic production out of opening her purse and rummaging through it for her cell. JJ rolled his eyes and looked out the window.
“Crap!” she said. “My phone’s a piece of junk. I never have cellphone service when I need it.”
“The phone works fine. It’s probably your carrier. Here, use mine.”
Cassidy took his phone, cleaned it off, and made the call.
“Hello?” Stacey said.
“Hey, Stacey, how are you doing?”
“Great, thank you. Is this Cassidy?”
“Yeah, I’m on JJ’s phone. Mine doesn’t have service for some reason. Anyway, good to hear you’re having a good day.” Cassidy then mouthed to JJ, she’s so nice.
Stacey was quiet for a moment. “Did you need something?”
“We’re over at Carla Johnson’s house, and she’s in desperate need of a shower. Any chance you could come by and give her one?”
“Let me check my shower schedule... “ Cassidy heard papers rustling. “It says here she doesn’t have a doctor’s order for a shower aide. If you contact the home health nurse and let her know it was an oversight, she can get the doctor to give a verbal order, which should cover us until they can get it written in the chart.”
“Sure, I’ll do it right now. Thanks again, Stacey. Carla will be relieved, as well, I’m sure.”
“Oh, hey,” Stacey said, “and since I have you on the phone, could you come over to my apartment? I have two patients that have similar bathrooms to mine and I'm having trouble transferring them into the shower. I thought maybe if you came over here, you could give me some pointers.”
Cassidy shrugged. “That’d be okay, I suppose. I could come over this evening. Text me your address, and I’ll see you after dinner. Might be a good idea, anyway, for me to review the weight-bearing status of our new patients.”
“Great! Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.”
“Are you guys best friends or something?” JJ said.
“Hold on, I’m sending a text to the home health nurse.” When she was done, she tossed him back the phone.
“So?”
“Don’t be jealous. I thought Stacey was very pleasant. Plus, she agreed to shower Carla.”
“It sounded like you made plans to go to her place."
"I did. She asked if I’d come over so we can review some of the pa
tients.”
JJ crossed his arms. “Sounds like a terrible time.”
“That’s your stupid opinion. Anyway, I’ve worked up quite an appetite. What do you think, a taco house that serves margaritas? I’ve definitely earned one after dealing with that pigsty.”
CHAPTER 10
C
assidy arrived late to Stacey’s apartment as usual. But, considering she didn't like socializing with people from work, other than JJ, she really didn't care. Now standing at the door of the second-floor apartment, she opened her purse to see the can of beer she’d stowed away, just in case. Scientists around the world always argued nature verses nurture, but this little coping mechanism had been genetically passed down to her from her mother, who could drive the Dalai Lama to drink.
Cassidy closed her purse and debated whether to knock on the door or simply kick it. Already it was scuffed, scratched, and in definite need of paint. Cassidy now had her doubts about the cleanliness of the inside, but it was too late to turn back. She’d already put effort into her outfit and makeup. She turned her back on the door, and knocked with her foot.
After a moment, the door opened, releasing the aroma of warm cinnamon rolls, Cassidy instantly felt fatter.
“Come on in.” Stacey said with a huge smile on her face.
“Thank you. By the way, did you know it looks like someone tried to kick in your door? It’s all dented and scuffed up.”
“Yeah, I think my neighbor got confused and frustrated when her key didn’t work in the daggone lock. It’s happened before. She’s a bit older, and I think she might be losing her marbles, bless her heart...”
“Wow, that’s kind of creepy. Did you freak out?”
“I wasn’t around. I came home from work one day and found the door like that. It’ll get fixed soon enough, I’m sure.”
Cassidy let the subject drop. She liked Stacey, but she didn’t want to get involved in her spiraling personal life. The last thing she needed was to get stuck listening to her problems.
When Cassidy stepped through the front door, she was instantly teleported to the Deep South. Knick-knacks were everywhere, and not a square foot of wall space had been left blank. Difficult to tell if the gaudy wallpaper was apartment-management-approved, but considering the amount of glue that had seeped out between the seams, it wouldn’t be coming off the wall willingly. Shocked by the level of poor decorating sense, yet impressed by how Stacey had managed to be so consistent—all of the doilies, quilts, afghans, wallpaper, ribbons, centerpieces, and scattered pictures of farm animals matched in both color and absurdity. She fully expected Paula Dean herself to sashay out of the kitchen, carrying a stick of butter in each hand and declare, “It’s time to stuff your faces, y’all!”
The Cure May Kill You: A Cassidy Hudson Mystery Page 6