The Cure May Kill You: A Cassidy Hudson Mystery

by Carlie Lemont

  “I need coffee, and I need it now.” Cassidy marched toward the exit door, JJ in tow.

  “Don’t forget, we need to swing by work and get the information Janet left for us.”

  “Coffee!”

  “Be on the alert, Mr. Jones,” Sanchez called after them. “We don’t know who you can and can’t trust. Try to talk some sense into your friend.”

  “Will do,” he called back. “Thank you.”

  Cassidy’s long strides made quick work of the distance between the coroner's building and her car. She unlocked it, tossed her purse into the back seat, and got in, slamming the door behind her. Somehow, JJ managed to catch up and get in right before she pulled out of the parking space.

  “Are we going for coffee?” he asked, clicking his seat belt.

  “That, and lunch.”

  “Oh, good idea. I’m pretty hungry.”

  “It’s not about the food, man.”

  JJ looked over, confused. “Then what are we talking about?”

  “We need to get to the bottom of this. First, we stop and get coffee for my sanity. Then we get some lunch to waste time before we go into the office.”

  “Why do we need to waste time?”

  “Less chance of people being in the office.”

  “I don’t know about this, Cassidy. I’m leaning more toward letting the cops handle it.”

  “Don’t fail me now, JJ. We have to figure this all out before it’s too late. Who’s next? Another patient? One of us?”

  “Fine,” he said. “So, what’s your plan?”

  “When we get to the office, we snoop. You said so yourself, we can’t trust Stacey.”

  “Right. But we can’t trust a lot of people.”

  “With her, though, I’m beginning to think things just aren’t adding up. She says she grew up in Florida, but has a deep Southern accent. Then, there’s this weird picture in her apartment with the name Veronica written on the back of it. Something’s not right. She might not be who she says she is.”

  “I don’t want to get fired,” JJ said. “Please, tell me this will be legal.”

  Jaw set, Cassidy narrowed her eyes. “Let’s just hope we don’t get caught. Brace yourself, Jamal. It’s go time.”

  CHAPTER 31

  C

  assidy pulled up to the Sunshine Home Health building, taking the closest parking space that wasn’t a handicapped spot, and from inside her car, scanned the parking lot for any recognizable vehicles.

  “I don’t see anyone, do you?” she said.

  “Not really. But I don’t know what most people drive,” JJ said.

  “Yeah, me, either. Okay, so here’s the plan. We go inside and slink our way to Janet’s office—”

  “What are we looking for in there?” JJ’s eyes popped wide. “It better be worth it because if we get caught, we’ll be fired for sure.”

  “Didn’t I already explain all of this to you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, fine. First, Janet left a file for us to pick up—that’ll be our alibi. But I also want access to Stacey’s records. I can’t think of a better way to do this than to search through her employee file.”

  “Yeah, I guess so... They did make copies of our driver’s licenses, professional licenses, and fingerprint cards. It’s a brilliant plan, but only if we don’t get caught.”

  “That’s why you’re going to be my lookout guy.” She got out of the car.

  “Wait—what? Hang on!” JJ struggled to get out of the car in time to stop Cassidy. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous? I mean, I do horrible under pressure. What exactly would I have to do? You know I get faint when—”

  She batted him off. “Shhhh! Calm down. It’s not going to be dangerous, per se. You’ll just keep a lookout while I’m doing all of the dirty work.”

  Cassidy strode to the front door, employee key in hand, unlocked it, and together they slipped inside, locking the door behind them. Down the hallway she hurried, tailed by JJ who made soft whimpering noises the closer they got to Janet’s office, which was ridiculous, since the main offices were deserted at this time of day. Their uninterrupted journey to Janet's office took no time at all. They both stopped in front of Janet’s door, hesitant.

  “Meh.” Cassidy snatched the taped envelope off the door and shoved it into her purse. “I was hoping she’d forget to give us the information on Randi’s patient so we’d have an excuse not to go.” Then, she donned a pair of hot pink latex gloves and checked the door handle. The lever clicked down, the door pushed opened, and they both stepped inside the smelly cave.

  “You have to stay out there and signal me if someone comes,” Cassidy whispered.

  “How do I signal you?”

  “Yell, I have to use the bathroom. And make sure it’s loud enough for me to hear.”

  JJ crossed his arms and wouldn’t budge.

  “Well, do you have a better suggestion?”

  “I could hoot like an owl,” he said.

  “No, that’s too obvious. Just say something really loud, so I can hear it.”

  “Fine. I’ll say something.” And he left the office, going around the corner to the hallway.

  Cassidy rushed over to the file cabinet at the back of the room and jimmied the drawer. Locked. She tugged harder, but it didn’t budge.

  “Dammit.”

  Reluctantly, she put her purse on the floor and rummaged through it for a nail file, a safety pin—anything she could shove into the lock and wiggle. That’ll work. A paper clip. As a child, she would break into her mother’s jewelry box so she could play dress up—Cassidy knew what she was doing. The cabinet had seen better days and was less-than-secure. She straightened the paper clip, pushed the tip into the lock, and jiggled it around until half of it was lodged. Next, she bent the rest of the clip into a ninety-degree angle to make a lever handle and, turning it just right, deactivated the locking mechanism. The filing cabinet drawer slid open. She yanked out the paper clip and threw it into a junky corner of the room where no one would ever find it.

  Cassidy settled back on her three-inch heels and scanned through the upright file folders, quickly locating Stacey Michols’ file. She pulled it out and placed it, open, on the floor. In the folder lay the same general paperwork as in everyone’s else file and, finding the sheet with Stacey’s driver’s license on it, Cassidy debated whether she should make a copy or just take the paper itself. There might not be enough time to make copies, so she took the sheet and the job application with its list of personal and employment references, then placed the folder back into the drawer and closed it up, nice and tight. Janet would never be the wiser.

  Cassidy went to leave, when Janet’s computer caught her attention. It was still logged on to the internet revealing Janet’s search for hairstyles and color. It was sad that not everyone had Cassidy’s sense of style and grace. Perhaps she could make that into a side career: style consultant.

  Cassidy hunched over the computer and searched the internet for links related to Stacey Michols.

  Nothing.

  She scrutinized the paperwork from the file, examining Stacey’s driver’s license for a long moment. Then, it struck her. Alabama. Out of state. Maybe the DMV in Alabama would have something listed. Googling it, she located the state’s website and typed “Stacey Michols” into the search engine. Again nothing. Yet something still wasn’t right... At first glance, Stacey’s photo seemed odd, though it certainly could have been her awkward smile or the severely short bangs she was sporting. Then she noticed the real reason: the license didn’t match the examples on the website. According to the Alabama DMV, a photocopy of their license should show a watermark of the word Alabama bisecting the ID into left and right halves. This was missing in Stacey’s photocopy.

  A fake.

  “Something!” JJ yelled, and Cassidy face-palmed. Ugh. He literally said “something,” that incompetent ninny. “Something! Something!”

  Cassidy crammed the documents into her purse, logged out
of the computer, and left the room, closing the door behind her just as Stacey rounded the corner. There, they both came to an abrupt stop.

  “What are you two doing here?” Stacey said. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  “Shouldn’t you?” Cassidy said. “Aren’t you our... assistant?”

  They stood at a standoff; neither broke eye contact nor moved a muscle, and Stacey’s left fist was gripped dangerously around a pen. When not armed or heavily shielded, being rude to a potential psychopath wasn’t the best idea. Stacey broke first—her posture relaxed, her fists unclenched, and she switched the pen to her right hand, twirling it around in her fingers.

  “I just had to leave Janet a note,” she said. “I think I need to take some time off. Vacation would do me a world of good.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to mention it,” Cassidy said, “but you have looked a little worn out lately. Now, if you don’t mind, we have more important people to see today.”

  “Of course.” Stacey stepped out of the way. “But you never answered me, Cassidy. You two are usually working at this hour, aren’t you?”

  “Eh. We had to pick up some paperwork Janet left us.”

  “A new patient?”

  “Nah, one of Randi’s. The old battle-axe called in sick again.”

  Stacey flinched.

  “What?” Cassidy said.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Randi’s just a mean old woman with a bad attitude, that’s all.”

  “I would never gossip, but you’re the one who said it.”

  JJ peeked around the corner. “Hey, Cassidy, shouldn’t we get going?”

  Cassidy gave a nod, and the two women brushed past each other. Before she rounded the corner, though, Cassidy glanced over her shoulder at Stacey, who stood staring at her, stiff and intense. Cassidy kept moving. Once out of sight, she stopped short.

  “JJ,” she whispered, “I need to get into her wallet.”

  “What—are you kidding me? That woman’s crazy, a possible killer, and you want to dig through her belongings?”

  “We have to. Look, I found this.” And Cassidy opened her purse, showed him the papers.

  “So?”

  “A fake Alabama driver’s license. I need to search her wallet. Maybe she has the real ID in there, or at least something that might indicate who she really is.”

  “Oh my God, you’re crazy. How are we going to do this?”

  “Simple. We go back there, and you distract her while I search through her stuff.”

  “Me? Distract her? I'm going to get hurt, aren't I?”

  “I’ll be here to protect you." She flexed her bicep. “These guns mean business, you know.”

  “Yeah, but her guns might have real bullets in them.”

  Cassidy dropped her arm. “Good point. We’ll just have to be sneaky and not get caught. I have an idea. Follow my lead.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Just follow my lead.”

  Together, they walked back down the hallway, where Stacey sat on a bench outside Janet’s door, writing something down on a piece of paper.

  “Excuse me, Stacey,” Cassidy said. “Janet just sent us a text. She wants us to review toilet transferring techniques with you.”

  Stacey looked up. “What? Why?”

  “As a shower aide, you need ongoing training to ensure the safety of both yourself and the patient. It seems Janet doesn't have faith in you, or at least thinks you could improve. Don't forget, correct body mechanics is vital, so JJ here will demonstrate some lift techniques for you.”

  He shot her a look of horror.

  “Oh, gee, I’d rather not. Maybe next week?”

  “If we hurry, we can squeeze it in now,” Cassidy said. “You have some heavy patients that need extra assistance getting into the shower, am I right?”

  Cassidy sure hoped she was right.

  “Well, yes...”

  Perfect.

  “JJ’s an expert on transfers from wheelchair to shower. Right, JJ?” She looked over at him, and even though his eyes bugged out and his lip quivered as though he wanted to cry, Cassidy had run out of options. “You ready?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Stacey walked with JJ down to the other end of the hallway where just beyond some wheelchairs and a few shower benches had been stored. While JJ set up the equipment to simulate a bathroom, Stacey sat down in the wheelchair to wait. Cassidy made sure they were both occupied, then took up her position next to Stacey’s purse. She pulled on a pair of cherry-red latex gloves and tried to look nonchalant, resting her chin in her palm to watch them practice.

  Even though Cassidy knew he was terrified, JJ was doing a spectacular job teaching, taking his time and holding her attention. Cassidy blindly searched through Stacey’s purse without being detected. Soon, her fingers found the wallet and, pulling it out, placed it on her lap. Then, checking every few seconds to make sure Stacey was unaware, she rifled through it.

  She scrunched her nose. The wallet had seen better days, with its cracked and peeling pleather surface and strange odor. Inside sat two crinkled five dollar bills, the same fake Alabama driver’s license, a library card, two credit cards, and a membership card to a local discount shopping chain. Nothing of importance, so Cassidy dug through the zippered compartments, unearthing nothing but a few coins.

  As she started to fold the wallet closed in disappointment, the lining at the back puckered slightly. Cassidy glanced down at the end of the hallway. Did she still have time? Yes. JJ was still doing a great job, so with an index finger, Cassidy fished around inside the gap of the lining... and felt a thick piece of paper.

  She pulled it out and unfolded it. It was an old picture of Stacey as a little girl of maybe ten, standing next to a woman with a slight resemblance. Her mother? On the back, a child had written: Veronica Currington.

  Veronica?

  The picture in Stacey’s apartment also had that name on it. Was it her real name? Or maybe it was her mother’s name.

  Cassidy shoved the picture into her pants pocket, dropped Stacey’s wallet back into the purse, bolted to her feet, and started to stride toward the exit.

  “JJ, we have to go!” she called out as she passed by.

  JJ glanced between Stacey and Cassidy then, without a word, left her sitting in the wheelchair.

  “Oh, hey, are we done, then?” Stacey said.

  “Yeah, you’re done,” Cassidy said, walking out of the room, hastening toward the exit.

  JJ hurried behind. “Did you find something?”

  “I’ll show you in the car.”

  Cassidy power walked all the way and had almost broken a sweat by the time she closed herself into the vehicle and cranked up the air.

  JJ got in. “Geez, you didn’t have to run.”

  “No, I did, actually. Look.” And Cassidy shoved the photograph into JJ's hands.

  He squinted at it for a second or two. “Is this Stacey?”

  “I got it from her wallet. It was hidden in the lining. On the back, it says ‘Veronica Currington,’ but I would swear it’s her. There’s also a picture at her apartment with the name Veronica on it.” Cassidy took back the photo and stowed it in her purse. “All of my internal bells and whistles are going off. I just don’t have any actual proof of anything.”

  “So, what should we do?”

  Determined, Cassidy drove to the far side of the parking lot and re-parked under a large palm tree that offered just a hint of shade. “I need you to be on the lookout.”

  “On the lookout for what?”

  “Stacey. She’s still inside, and who knows when she plans to leave. I want to Google search Veronica Currington. Can I borrow your new phone?”

  JJ reached into his pocket, and his face blanched. “Oh no! I left it in the office. I took it out when we were doing transfers.”

  “You want to go get it?”

  “No way. I’ll get it tomorrow. Hopefully she won’t be there.”

  “Fine. I’ll do
my best with mine. I think I have a single bar of signal.”

  “Better make it fast.” He twisted around in his seat to watch through the back window.

  “So, I’m typing in ‘Veronica Currington’ and ‘murders’” Cassidy said. “And I get nothing. But when I type in ‘Veronica Currington’ and ‘missing persons’... I get a few hits.”

  JJ leaned over to see. “What does it say?”

  “Seems a Veronica Currington lived up near Pensacola. Says there’s a case involving an abusive stepfather or something.”

  “That would explain her accent. Isn’t Pensacola up in the panhandle?”

  “Geez, could this freaking picture be any less clear?” She tapped the screen on the phone trying to enlarge the image.

  “They probably blurred the kid’s face on purpose,” JJ said.

  Cassidy scrolled through more information. “We don’t have time to read all of this right now, but I did look at her driver’s license, which was a complete forgery, by the way. She’s probably stupid enough to put her real age on it, though, which fits what I’m finding from this article. Says here that Veronica went missing just before taking the stand against her own mother in the abuse case.”

  “Against her own mom? That sounds awful. What else does it say?”

  “There’s no time right now. I think we need to go to Ted’s.”

  “How can you think of drinking at a time like this?”

  “I don’t need a drink, Jamal; I need to talk to Ted. He’ll have some good advice for us. Who knows, he might even have heard something about this case.”

  JJ squealed, crunching in on himself. “She’s looking at us through the office door! Cassidy, we have to get out of here, and fast.”

  Cassidy put the car into gear and tried for a nonchalant exit. Forced to drive closer to the office entrance in order to leave the parking lot. Cassidy pretended to be involved in a conversation with JJ, and just as she passed the door, she stole a look.

  Nothing.

  Stacey had to be on to them—any idiot would be. But, was there time to prove her guilt before she killed again?

  CHAPTER 32

  T

  he usual calm washed over Cassidy when she walked through the doors of Ted’s Bar and Grill with JJ. It was nice having a safe, comfortable place to retreat to. While JJ sat down at the bar, Cassidy disinfected her bar stool and surrounding bar top before she did.