Bad Medicine

by Caroline Fardig

  With all of the strength I can muster, I take a step back from him. “You’re right. I admit it—I enjoy the craziness. Happy?”

  Seeming unfazed by my refusal of his advances, he jokes, “Admitting that you have a problem is the first step to recovery.”

  The tension between us has ebbed, and I smile. “Something like that. Now, as I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, do you think Lydia was going after you to somehow get back at me?”

  He furrows his brow. “That’s a little far-fetched.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t fit her profile, either. You’re unlike any of the others—except…maybe she lumped you in with Brad and Jed in the womanizer category.” It’s a fair assessment, but he’s not going to take it well.

  Narrowing his eyes at me, he says, “I am nothing like them. And besides, Lydia and I have already gone on a date, the night of the baseball fundraiser. She didn’t try to kill me.”

  “Not yet,” I reply ominously.

  “Quit trying to scare me. Do you really think she had something to do with Brad Wilson’s death? I’m not convinced.”

  “Maybe. It’s worth looking into.”

  “So where do you want to start?”

  “We could talk to Melinda, and maybe go talk to some of Brad’s co-workers at Best Buy. Knowing him, he would have bragged to someone about dating—or as he would put it, banging—a doctor.”

  A slow grin creeps across his face. “Or we could just visit the crime scene.”

  I gasp, “Are you serious? We can’t break and enter into a crime scene.”

  “Sure we can. What’s the matter? Are you chicken, Hart?”

  “Actually, yes. Wouldn’t you be if you got arrested once already this week for that very act?”

  “But this time you wouldn’t screw it up, because you’d be with me.”

  “Weren’t you the one who just gave me a lecture on being smarter and not being a loose cannon?”

  “Yes, but this time, we’ll have a plan so nothing could possibly go wrong.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” I wail. “Every time I say something like that, something goes majorly wrong.”

  “Relax. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Let’s hear your evil plan, since you think you’re so smart.”

  He smiles. “Obviously we can’t just bust down the front door. But, we might be able to get in like you did last time you broke into his place.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “From the balcony? But there’s a new tenant in Jesse’s old apartment next door, so we won’t be able to get in through there this time.”

  “Like I said, I’ve thought of everything. We go in through the Chronicle office, and out onto the roof. We put a ladder up to Jesse Robertson’s old balcony. Earlier today, I spoke to the lady who lives in his old apartment to find out if she’d heard anything unusual, which she hadn’t because she works nights. So, tonight after she goes to work we can sneak across her balcony and onto Brad’s. If we’re lucky, we can get in his sliding door and then we’re home free. It’s the perfect plan.”

  I point out, “It’s only the perfect plan if he left his sliding door unlocked and the cops didn’t lock it when they secured the crime scene. You can’t be breaking that glass with a rock like you usually do.”

  He waves off my worrying. “Sliding doors don’t latch properly half the time, especially old ones like his. We’ll get in.”

  I shrug. “Whatever you say. But if we get caught, you’re buying me an expensive lawyer.”

  “Done.”

  “Now what?” I ask. If Brad’s neighbor is on night shift, it might be a while before we can go over there.

  “Maybe we should go talk to Melinda,” he says.

  “Maybe I should go talk to Melinda.”

  “Why just you?”

  “She has no use for you.”

  He looks taken aback. “She barely knows me.”

  “She’s my friend, and you dumped me. That’s all she needs to know,” I explain.

  Shaking his head, he says, “I still don’t get how you’re friends with her now. She knows you were trying to gather evidence to try to prove she murdered Robertson, right?”

  “Yes,” I say impatiently, not really wanting to rehash that mess. “But she doesn’t know I broke into her house. And she is not to find out, am I clear?”

  “She won’t hear it from me. So does that mean I can go?”

  I hesitate, trying to decide whether he’ll be a help or a bother. While I’m mulling it over, Bob comes up to Blake again, purring and rubbing himself all over Blake’s legs. Blake picks him up and pets him, and Bob noses Blake’s chin, giving him kitty-kisses. Yuck.

  I scoff, “I don’t get this love thing the two of you have going on. Bob was about ready to kill Brody this weekend. He was growling and everything.”

  “Bob can tell who’s awesome and who’s lame. Can’t you, Bob? Besides, I think he’s missed me.”

  “If you like each other so much, why don’t you ask him to move in with you?”

  “I would, but I wouldn’t want to rob you of your beloved pet.” Damn. I tried. Blake asks, “So are you letting me go to Melinda’s or what?”

  “Fine. But you have to behave. She’s touchy, and sometimes you have to know when to shut up.” I look at him pointedly. “And you don’t always know when to shut up.”

  ***

  As Blake drives us over to Melinda’s house, another wave of old feelings washes over me. I haven’t ridden with him in his Porsche since we broke up. It seems that with everything we do tonight, more and more memories keep flooding back.

  Melinda answers the door and greets me, “Hey, Lizzie. I like your dress. It’s slutty.” She looks beyond me to Blake and frowns. “Why is he here? I thought we hated him.” You’ve gotta love Melinda. She’s direct, and she’s a loyal girlfriend.

  I shrug, “He can be useful…sometimes.”

  Blake grimaces. “You know I can hear you.”

  We ignore him. Melinda shows us inside, and we sit down. Melinda’s house is dark. Like, black. I mean, the walls are black, the carpet is black, the furniture is black, and so on. The first time I was in here, I was totally freaked out by the staggering amount of Wiccan paraphernalia she has littering every surface in her home, but I’ve since gotten used to it. It’s charming in an off-putting kind of way. If you look closely, some of the stuff is pretty cool, and she must have a small fortune invested in candles.

  I begin, “I’m sorry about Brad. I know you two were close once…”

  Melinda shrugs, twisting a strand of her black and blue striped hair around her finger. “The asshole was using me. I’m not devastated, but it’s weird thinking I’ll never see him again.”

  “Yeah. I know. I heard you got questioned by the police.”

  “They wanted to know if I still kept in contact with him, but I don’t. I got asked a few probing questions about our sexual history, since he was found all bound up, but other than that, not much. They tried to insinuate that I had something to do with it, but I shut them down.”

  I ask, “Do you know who he was seeing? He obviously didn’t chain himself to the bed.”

  “I have no clue who his latest victim was. But when they find her, she’s going to be in a heap of trouble for leaving him. I mean, I get it that if he was reacting to too many drugs in his system, he probably couldn’t verbalize his safe word. But common sense tells you if the other person is actually dying, you cut the act and do something.” She shakes her head. “Very amateurish.”

  Melinda knows her dominatrix shit, or so I’ve heard from Brad. “Did he ever use drugs when you guys were together?”

  “No. At least not like that. I smelled pot on him a few times, but he never did anything in front of me. He knew I wasn’t into it.”

  “His real voice was kind of stoner-y.” Brad had immersed himself so far into his “Goth Brad” character, he even changed the tone of his voice around the coven members.

  She rolls
her eyes. “That’s what made me so angry about him—I would never go for some surfer-dude stoner. I got played, and that pisses me off.”

  Blake, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, asks her, “Did you ever meet any of his other friends, or did he ever talk about his family with you?”

  Melinda sneers at Blake and asks me, “Are we talking to him?”

  “Yeah, we’re talking to him. He decided to play nice.” I give Blake a playful punch on the arm, and he gives me a smile that inexplicably warms me all over.

  Shrugging, she says, “Whatever you say. No, I never met any of Brad’s friends, and his family lives in another state, I think. He did talk about some guy named Shane who works with him. I think they would hang out on occasion. That’s all I know. When someone’s lying to you about who they are, they don’t tend to bring you home to mommy or introduce you to their inner circle of friends.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, I guess not. So any ideas on this? Do you think he OD’d by himself or do you think someone tried to kill him?”

  “I don’t know why anyone would want to waste their time trying to kill that turd. When I heard he overdosed I was shocked, because I thought he was smarter than that. Then again, I also thought he was sincere in wanting to know more about witchcraft, but turns out he just wanted in my pants.” She gets a curious look and asks, “Why do you give a crap who killed Brad, anyway?”

  “Well, there have been a few other semi-suspicious deaths in town this—”

  Blake nudges me with his leg and shakes his head slightly. I guess he doesn’t want me spilling all of our sensitive information to Melinda. I reassure him, “Melinda’s cool. She can keep her mouth shut. Right, Melinda?”

  “Duh,” she retorts nastily at Blake. I’m glad she’s on my side.

  I continue, “So as I was saying, there have been a couple of other deaths of men from Liberty this week, all of which seem suspicious, and I can tie two of the three to a certain person in town.”

  “I heard you got arrested the other night for snooping around in the new chiropractor’s office. That’s pretty bad-ass, for you.” Melinda called me a cheerleader the first time we met (which I am so not), and I’m afraid she still believes I’m a bit of a goody-two-shoes. If she thinks my arrest is so cool, I wonder what she’d say about that B and E being my fourth one. She’d undoubtedly not think it was cool that her house was one of the four. I’m still keeping that one to myself. She continues, “Does that have anything to do with all of this?”

  More nudging from Blake. Aside from controlling my emotional reaction to the electric spark it causes to run up and down my leg, I choose to ignore it this time. “Yes, it does. I can’t fit all the pieces together just yet, but if I can find out the identity of Brad’s date from his friends or co-workers, maybe I’ll be a step closer to catching this psycho.” I glance at my watch and say, “We’d better get going. We have one more stop to make tonight. Thanks, Melinda. You’ve been a big help.”

  We say our goodbyes and head back to my house. Once we’re in his car and out of earshot, Blake says, “So, Melinda’s still kind of a bitch, huh?”

  I laugh. “Melinda can be a bit intense, but she’s a very loyal friend. You just happen to be on the wrong side, that’s all.”

  “You would have thought I cut your heart out by the way she acted toward me.”

  I cock my head to the side and stare at him, waiting for him to realize that is exactly what he did.

  “What?” he asks, totally missing the point.

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, I respond, “Never mind. Let’s get our plan in place here. We can’t afford to make any mistakes.”

  He pulls to a stop in my driveway. “Well, the first thing you need to do is change clothes. You’ll attract all kinds of attention in that dress,” he says, taking a little too long of a gaze at my body. His face has the exact look I pictured all those times I wanted to reach for a donut and didn’t, or wanted to quit running around Independence Lake and didn’t. Ah, victory feels good.

  Since we’re going to be climbing ladders and sneaking around, I opt for all black running gear and a black hat. I look like a cat burglar, but isn’t that what I kind of am? I don’t need to be worrying about my wardrobe right now. I need to be worrying about how Blake and I are going to get into Brad’s apartment without getting caught. I didn’t mention this to Blake, but if we do get caught, the thing I’m most worried about is what Brody will say. I don’t see him forgiving me for breaking into his crime scene.

  After changing, I head into my living room, and there’s Blake and Bob, snuggled up on the couch together. I shake my head and ask, “Should we go over the plan one more time?”

  Blake replies, “Chronicle roof to ladder to balcony to sliding door to crime scene. I think you’re overthinking this.”

  “Yes, I am, because I’m freaking out here!”

  He gets up and comes over to me. “There is no reason to freak out. You’re with me.” When he grips my shoulders and smiles encouragingly down at me, that damn tingling and quivering I used to get around him goes nuts inside me again. Going with Blake on an “illegal errand”, as he has been known to call our little escapades, is actually a real turn-on for me in a sick kind of way. He adds, “You’ll be fine. I’m not going to let us get caught. I promise.”

  “I guess,” I murmur, a torturous combination of desire and dread filling my entire body.

  “That’s the spirit. Let’s roll.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “You keep one of those telescoping ladders in the trunk of your car?” I ask incredulously as Blake produces the ladder and closes his trunk. “Why?”

  “I’m an investigative reporter. You never know when you’ll need to peek in someone’s window, and sometimes the window you need is on the second floor.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that, you sicko.”

  He laughs as he unlocks the back door to the Chronicle office and ushers me inside.

  Walking through our office in the dark, I get an uneasy feeling. I really don’t know if I want to go through with this. I mean, what are we going to find that the police didn’t find? This is a bad, bad idea. I get exponentially more nervous as we climb the stairs and make our way out onto the roof. I’m trying to take deep breaths here, but it’s not working. I’m a complete mess.

  Blake says, “You’re going to have to calm down, you know.”

  At the sound of his voice, I start and clutch my chest, feeling my heart hammering inside. “Don’t do that!” I hiss.

  “You need to get your head in the game, or this is going to end badly. Take a breath, woman.”

  I take a moment to compose myself while he sets up the ladder. I can do this. I’ve done this before. Not the part about hanging from a ladder three stories up, but I’ve broken into this very apartment before. No sweat.

  Very calmly, I walk over to the ladder and glance up. That balcony looks higher up than I remember. It’s a long climb to the top, and to be honest, Blake’s cool ladder looks a little unstable.

  Blake says, “After you.”

  Trying to keep my teeth from chattering, I reply, “Oh, no, I’m good. You go first and show me how it’s done.”

  He looks at me knowingly. “If I go first, you won’t come up after me. You go. Now.”

  I stick my tongue out at him and grip the ladder with both hands. It doesn’t wobble, but that doesn’t mean it won’t once I’m farther up. I put my foot on the first step and pull myself up. Did I mention I really don’t want to do this? My ankle starts to ache somewhat as I’m continuing up, probably from the awkward pressure being put on it. I haven’t been on a ladder since I broke my ankle. I climb a few more steps and make the fatal mistake of looking down. If I were to fall off the left side of the ladder, I’d probably hit the side of the apartment building, bounce off, and land on the Chronicle office roof. It would hurt like a bastard, but I’d live. However, if I were to fall off the right side of the ladder
, there’s nothing to bump into but air.

  “Quit looking down and climb!” Blake’s voice startles me again, and I nearly lose my grip on the ladder. I feel two hands reaching up to steady me, one of them landing on my ass.

  Now I’m irritated. If it weren’t bad enough to make me lose my concentration and nearly fall to my death, he has to cop a feel? Now? I seethe, “Was the ass grab necessary?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll let you fall.”

  I finish climbing up the ladder as quickly as I can, making sure not to look down this time. When I get to the top, I hoist myself over the railing and land on Jesse’s old balcony. Breathing a sigh of relief, I have never been more thankful to be on solid ground.

  Blake easily climbs the ladder and swings himself onto the balcony. He’s still in his work clothes, but has removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He looks incredibly hot, but I don’t think I should be thinking about that right now. We cross the balcony, throw our legs over the adjoining railing, and end up on Brad’s balcony. Only one more obstacle, and we’re in.

  I try the sliding door, but this time it’s locked. Shit. I knew this was going to happen.

  Blake gently pushes me to the side and takes a couple of tiny tools out of his pocket. He sticks them in the lock and wiggles them around. I’ll be damned. He’s trying to pick the lock.

  “You don’t know how to pick a lock,” I scoff.

  “Yes, I do,” he says, not taking his eyes off the lock.

  “When did you learn?”

  “This winter. I thought having to resort to breaking a window to get into Jed Stewart’s office was a little bush-league. I know a guy who’s good at picking locks, and I had him give me some lessons.” Blake always “knows a guy”, no matter the situation.

  “How many locks have you picked?”

  “On my own? None.”

  I roll my eyes. There’s no way we’re getting into this apartment. “I can’t believe you took lock picking lessons. That’s so thug.”