The Cure May Kill You: A Cassidy Hudson Mystery

by Carlie Lemont

  Ted served drinks to the couple sitting at the other end, then made his way over. “Well, hey there, Cass.”

  “Hi, Ted. This is JJ.”

  “Ah, JJ. It’s great to finally put a face to the name.”

  JJ extended his hand with a smile. “It’s great to meet you, too. I’m glad she let me come along this time.”

  “Well, anyway”—Cassidy dropped her purse onto the bar—“I think I’ll have a club soda and a lime. JJ?”

  “Diet coke, please.”

  Ted seemed confused, but served the drinks anyway. “Okay, what gives?”

  “What do you mean?” Cassidy said.

  “No offense by what I'm about to say, JJ—”

  “None taken.”

  “—but for starters,” Ted went on, “Cassidy, you’ve never come here with anyone before, and now you order a club soda? So, I ask again: What gives?”

  Cassidy shifted around on the stool under Ted’s business-like scrutiny, before her posture slumped. “Fine.” And resting her elbows on the bar, she said, “There were a couple more murders.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Ted said. “I’d heard about some guy being found dead in his house. The news didn’t say much more than that, though.”

  Cassidy sipped her drink. “They might not have said anything, but it was a murder. JJ got a phone call today from the police, telling us to go down to the coroner’s office to identify a body.”

  JJ quietly sat, sipping his diet coke, picking through the pretzel bowl until he’d found the peanuts at the bottom, and started eating them, one by one. Cassidy glanced away, disgusted.

  Ted leaned in. “I’m worried about you. You sure you’re okay? Anymore threatening messages? Vandalism?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, that’s good, at least. How about you, sport?”

  JJ shook his head, since his mouth was full of half masticated nuts.

  “I swear it’s Stacey,” Cassidy said. “I just don’t have any proof.”

  “What’s Stacey’s last name?”

  “Michols. But get this: I was rummaging through her purse and found this picture.” She handed the photograph to Ted, who studied it for a moment, then turned it over and read the name. “I also found this online.”

  But when she showed him the website detailing the case involving Veronica Currington, Ted’s face changed. No longer did he resemble the caring, father-figure she’d become used to seeing; his eyes were hard, mouth pursed as he read the article on Cassidy’s phone. She scrolled down to the end while he read it.

  At first, Ted said nothing. In fact, he strode to the far end of the bar and collected on the bill from the other two customers, who gathered up their things and left. Cassidy sipped her drink while re-reading the full article.

  “Excuse us, JJ,” Ted said when he’d returned. “Cass, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  Cassidy followed him away from JJ and out of earshot. “Something wrong?” she asked. “Do you know who she is?”

  “That article brought back some memories. Can you do me a favor?”

  “Sure, name it.”

  “Can you send a copy of the article to my printer?” He pointed to the back room. “I think it’s a HP6600. Is that listed as an option?”

  “I think so.” Cassidy clicked the print icon, and sure enough, the HP6600 came up as the only remote printer available. She confirmed it, and the printer came to life. Ted retrieved the article.

  “Thanks, Cass. He rolled up the paper and stuffed it into his back pocket. “This happened years ago. Such a sad story. This little girl had been abused by her stepfather, and her mother did absolutely nothing to protect her from the creep.”

  “What happened to the little girl? The article said she disappeared.”

  “She did. They were going to put her mother on trial as an accomplice to the abuse, but when the little girl disappeared, there was no one to convict the evil woman.”

  “Must have been huge news for you to have heard about it here in Miami. Pensacola’s a long way away.”

  At this, Ted’s expression softened. “Not that far, considering...”

  Cassidy glanced up at the wall clock, then over at JJ sipping his diet coke. “We should get going. We have to see a patient this evening.”

  “Really? I thought you guys never worked past, like, five o’clock?”

  Cassidy smiled, scoffed. “If I had my way that would be true. That Randi woman called off sick again, and I have to pick up her slack. If you happen to find out anything else, please call me.”

  “Of course. Oh, I heard you did a great job at the gun range,” Ted said.

  “Oh, crap. I forgot your gun-case at my apartment. I wasn't planning on stopping by today, or I would have brought it.”

  “That’s fine, but promise you’ll bring the gun back to me. Although, technically, it’s not registered to me.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Nah, no serial number. I call it a dump-gun. It's easy to ditch...but you don't have to be concerned about any of that.”

  “I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow, I promise.”

  “Sounds good. Please be careful out there. You remind me a lot of my daughter and I couldn’t bear to see you hurt.” He looked away.

  “I didn't know you had a daughter."

  “That story is for another day.”

  Cassidy glanced over at JJ, who sat watching one of the wall televisions while he grazed on germ-infested food. He might have been her best friend, but he disgusted her at times.

  “Where did you say you had to go this evening?” Ted said.

  “We’re seeing a patient for Randi. No need to worry, though: it’s a pretty safe neighborhood. Cashmere Estates. Apparently, she’s loaded. Her family invented rubber bands, or something.”

  Cassidy signaled to JJ, who smiled and waved goodbye to Ted.

  “Please, be careful,” Ted said, brow deeply creased, and he held up the printed copy of the article. “You just never know.”

  AS CASSIDY AND JJ WALKED out of his bar, Ted was immediately filled with dread and apprehension. He’d never seen a picture of that Stacey woman, but in scrutinizing the blurred-out face on the print out, he wondered what had become of that little girl. Had she grown up, changed her name? Become a child activist? Used the pain she’d suffered to do good? Or had she, like Cassidy and JJ suspected, become this cold-blooded killer that now lurked around Miami?

  Cassidy hadn’t noticed the photo at the bottom of the article where, next to the child with the blurred-out face, was the detective who’d been put in charge of the case. That man had a thick mustache, fewer wrinkles, and a badge. That man had done his best to keep the community safe. That man had been given the job to solve the horrendous case, but had failed. Sure, the little girl’s mother had been convicted of killing her husband, but he never thought it was how it happened. Not to mention no one was ever held accountable to the atrocities the little girl had gone through. And now the man, the detective who’d failed that little girl, stood staring at a print out of the case that had haunted him for the rest of his career and beyond.

  Ted picked up the phone and, watching Cassidy’s car drive away, made a very important call.

  CHAPTER 33

  C

  assidy and JJ had arrived at the front door of Randi’s patient, and as usual, Cassidy had suggested that JJ ring the bell. Afterwards, she’d offered him a moist towelette, but he politely declined. A minute passed with no response or any sounds coming from inside the home.

  “Ring it again,” Cassidy said.

  JJ did, and the waiting continued. While the seconds ticked by like slow minutes, Cassidy’s frustration began to escalate and she rummaged through her purse.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “My cellphone. I’m going to give Janet a piece of my mind.” Finding the phone, she placed the call. “I mean, how dare she send us here after hours, and for what? To waste our valuable time? Not to mention if, God forbid, so
mething horrible has happened here, too.”

  “Wait a second, I think I heard something.” JJ signaled for her to end the call, and Cassidy hung up.

  They fell silent, waiting for another noise to indicate someone was coming to the door.

  Nothing.

  “I’ll try one last time, then you can call Janet if you want to.” He pushed the doorbell again.

  “Hey. Did you hear that?” Cassidy said.

  JJ crinkled his nose as he continued to listen, then shook his head.

  “Sounded like a voice. Kind of faint, though. I think she might be coming to the door. I hope she hurries; the mosquitoes are circling like vultures this evening.”

  Both therapists flinched at the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, followed by whimpering.

  “Did she just fall?” JJ said.

  Cassidy squinted at the door, two fingers to each temple, humming in contemplation. “Nope, can’t see a thing. My X-ray vision isn’t working today. But I did hear a thud.”

  “Like a head hitting the floor?”

  Cassidy shrugged. “Can’t think of anything else that would make that noise. How about this: you go inside and check it out. If you need me, I’ll be right here. I’ll even have my phone at the ready to call for an ambulance.”

  “No way am I going in by myself, period, end of discussion.”

  “Fine, but you’re opening the door.”

  JJ opened the door with an eerie creak and they stepped inside. In the dimly lit entryway, Cassidy flipped on the light, immediately chasing off imagination-driven scenes of a dead body lying on the tiled floor and oozing out copious amounts of blood.

  She breathed out a sigh of relief and, donning a pair of emerald green latex gloves, paused to take in the home’s fancy interior. “Wow, this place is gorgeous! Look at all of the woodwork; the rafters and the door frames. Reminds me of the houses I saw, growing up in Chicago.”

  JJ cringed. “I don’t think we should be casing the place.”

  “You’re right. We need to find Randi’s patient. What’s her name?”

  “I don’t remember, and we left the paperwork in the car. How about I go get it?”

  Cassidy grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Not on your life, Jamal. Help me find her first.”

  “Okay, fine. It’s just... creepy being in here. Maybe we should go back outside and ring the—”

  A crash echoed from deep inside the home, and JJ’s eyes darted back and forth. “Oh my God. What was that?”

  Had this happened a couple of weeks ago, Cassidy would have rushed into the home in search of an injured patient. But after the recent events, she was more reluctant to go above and beyond. She opened her purse and started rummaging through it looking for something she could use as a weapon. Her fingers touched something hard and metallic. Wait! She’d left the gun in her purse? She must have forgotten to take it out after getting home from the gun range. If they were wrong and she was caught with a gun in a patient’s home, with no license to carry one, she might as well kiss her career goodbye. She looked up at JJ and decided to leave the weapon in the purse—for now.

  Clanging was followed by the same familiar thud.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Cassidy said.

  “Gee, thanks.” He crept down the hall with Cassidy right on his heels. “I think it came from this way.”

  The end of the long hallway opened up to a well-lit kitchen and a family room on the other side. They crouched in the shadows, trying to observe without being seen. The kitchen itself appeared to be unoccupied with no signs of a struggle or a brutal murder, but in the family room ...

  “Can you see anything?” she whispered.

  Cassidy had never dealt well with suspense; she hated surprise parties, scary movies, and even haunted houses. Just the idea that someone knew something would happen before she did, made her very uneasy. Now, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

  Behind, the hallway led down to the far side of the house, which was well illuminated. Cassidy tapped JJ’s shoulder and pointed back in that direction, but he shook his head, panic evident on his face as a shadowy movement caught her eye.

  “Was that Randi’s patient?” JJ said - voice barely audible.

  Cassidy shrugged, then made a zip-your-lips motion, when a strange scratching noise drifted from beyond the kitchen.

  “Maybe she fell and is trying to claw her way to help?” JJ said.

  Cassidy glared, mouthing Shut up! then led the way through the kitchen, pressing close to the wall, until JJ tapped her shoulder, sending her through the roof.

  What? Cassidy gestured.

  JJ pointed to the family room and frantically shook his head, eyes wide and brow beaded up with sweat.

  Keep going! She pointed forward before motioning that they should tiptoe the rest of the way.

  They did, and together they peered around the corner into the family room. At once, Cassidy froze in her tracks. JJ unleashed a blood-curdling scream, and Cassidy fought the urge to slap him.

  A body both bound and gagged hung upside down from the ceiling rafters, suspended mere inches from the floor and swinging ever-so-slightly, the taut rope creaking and whining under the strain. Cassidy recoiled as JJ leaned over and vomited.

  He groaned through his tears. “Let’s get out of here and call the police.”

  Cassidy stepped away from him, cellphone in hand. “We definitely need to call the police, but my damn phone doesn’t have a signal in here.”

  She scanned the room, spotting a landline phone. “JJ, go call the police from that phone, over there. I’m going to take a quick peek at the body and see if they’re dead.”

  “Ugh! Don’t touch it,” he said, and Cassidy threw him a withering look. Had he learned nothing from being her friend? Of course, she wasn’t going to touch it.

  Cassidy inched her way into the family room toward the hanging body. The closer she got, though, the more she had to fight against the overwhelming urge to run screaming from the house. Palms sweaty and heart pounding, Cassidy edged to just a foot away, then bent down to get a closer look at the severely beaten face caked with blood. It was difficult to make out a gender, let alone an identity. Cassidy went to straighten up, when something significant caught her eye: hair unevenly cut, braided sideburns, gaudy stirrup pants—

  “Randi!” Cassidy dropped her purse to the floor, startled. “Oh my God, JJ. It’s Randi!”

  All at once, Randi’s corpse opened its eyes to reveal a living Randi, reeling Cassidy backwards. Randi tried to say something, but her voice was muffled. Something had been crammed into her mouth. Cringing, Cassidy reached around Randi’s head to untie the dirty sock holding the gag in place, but Randi began to squirm, rocking back and forth.

  Cassidy flicked the woman’s forehead. “Hey, stop moving or I can’t untie you.”

  Randi glared, and Cassidy scrunched up her nose when she reached out for the blood-soaked sock. At first, Randi complied, remaining still, but then her breaths came in short, rapid bursts through a snot-filled nose, eyes darting to the right again and again.

  “What, are you having a seizure?”

  “Mmmm, mm, hmmm,” Randi mumbled, eyes still darting to the right.

  Cassidy followed Randi’s line of sight, where JJ stood trying to use the rotary phone. But rather than asking someone for help, he was repeatedly tapping the lever.

  “This thing isn’t working,” JJ said, and he turned toward Cassidy, holding up the end of the phone cord.

  It’d been cut!

  Cassidy spun around to Randi, who struggled even more, shaking her head, while tears welled in her eyes and sweat moistened her hair. Then she turned back to JJ just as someone stepped out from behind the armoire.

  “No! JJ!” Cassidy screamed, and she bolted up to rush to his aid, but collided headlong with Randi’s suspended body. Cassidy collapsed backwards to the floor.

  She scrambled up just as a large metal candlestick made contact with t
he top of JJ’s head. He dropped to the floor in a heap. The attacker pounced straddling JJ like he was a pony, holding the weapon high, threatening to finish him off.

  “Stop!” Cassidy screamed, stumbling toward them.

  The attacker looked up, their eyes locked, and Cassidy pulled up short. Despite the straggly mess of hair strewn across the face. And despite the sweat and tears that smeared the thick, dark makeup down reddened cheeks. Cassidy knew who it was: Stacey.

  An evil grin spread across Stacey’s face, eyes wide with bloodlust. Precious little time remained to save JJ.

  “Stacey, stop, please,” Cassidy said, holding out her hands.

  “My name’s not Stacey, bitch.”

  It was way past time to get the gun from her purse that sat on the floor near Randi. So, needing a distraction and to buy more time, Cassidy kept Stacey talking.

  “You don’t want to do this... What’s your name?” Cassidy said.

  “None of your business, bitch.”

  Stacey’s left hand tightened around the candlestick, and a sick feeling sank into Cassidy’s gut as she brought the weapon down with a practiced hand. In a split second before the weapon connected, JJ rolled hard to the right, throwing Stacey off balance. Now on his back, he grabbed Stacey’s neck with his left hand, his right arm lying limp by his side at an unnatural and painful-looking angle. Stacey threw the candlestick to the side and began to punch JJ in the face with her clenched fists. JJ’s nose broke, and blood spurted out over his face and sprayed blood onto Stacey.

  The sight of blood snapped Cassidy into action and she ran for her purse, dove to the floor, and tore open her Louis Vuitton like a Christmas gift. Tissues, candy wrappers, and tubes of hand sanitizer exploded everywhere across the carpeted floor, and precious seconds slipped away as Cassidy groped through it all until her hand hit pay-dirt—the now familiar hard, cool, metallic form of the Glock 45.

  With the gun in hand, Cassidy got up and marched closer to the struggle, where Stacey was now the victor. She stood over JJ like a hunter who’d just cut out the heart of her prey. Hands dripping with blood, she panted like an animal, stepping over his body and advanced toward Cassidy.