“How would she know Brad?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. We want to get into her patient files and see if Brad, Jason, and Mark Heston had been patients of hers. Remember I told you about finding old patient files in her desk? At least two of them are dead from similar circumstances.”
“And you want me to be the bait,” she says uneasily.
“Bait, no. A new patient with a real case of sciatica, yes. The only thing you have to do is make sure Lydia stays in the room with you until you get the all clear from us. We’ll text you when we’re finished.”
“And how am I supposed to keep her in the room?”
“I don’t know. If she gets done with you too soon, tell her your butt still hurts. Bitch and moan like you do all the time. It shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”
I get a well-deserved scowl for my comment. “Do you know how hard it is to carry around another human being twenty-four hours a day? Very soon, this baby is going to have to come out of me one way or another, and I’m not too thrilled about either method!”
Stomach acid bubbles in my gut at the mental picture of what she just said. “You’re going to have to quit talking now. I’m getting a visual in my head, and it’s not pretty.”
She makes a face at me.
“So are you going to call for an appointment?” I ask.
“Maybe, if you ask nicely.”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “Would you please call for an appointment?”
“That wasn’t nicely.”
“I said please. And don’t forget I’m only doing this to help out your friend.”
“Fine,” she grumbles. “But don’t even try to tell me this is all about helping Kim. You’re loving every minute of your sleuthing.”
I smile. “Who, me?”
While Julia calls for her appointment, I call Kim to give her the update I promised her. Or, more accurately, to ask her a couple of questions. This whole mess has gotten so insane and complicated that I don’t want Kim to know any of the details just yet. Ideally, she wouldn’t have to find out the whole truth until Lydia is behind bars.
Kim answers tiredly, “Hello.”
“Hey, Kim. It’s Lizzie.”
“Oh, hi. Do you have any news for me?” Kim sounds so sad and defeated. I wish I could ease her mind and tell her that Jason didn’t purposely take his life, but I don’t want her going to the police and demanding they put a homicide detective on Jason’s case.
“Um, not a whole lot yet, but I need to know a couple of things from you.”
“Whatever I can do to help.”
“You said that Jason never did recreational drugs, and I believe you. Was he on any prescription medication of any kind, or even taking any over-the-counter stuff lately?”
“Why is that important?”
“Um, it’s possible that something he ingested could have interfered with another medicine in his system.” I think back to my conversation with my brother about drug interactions. “Even something as safe as cough medicine or vitamins could react with another substance and cause death.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Jason was on blood pressure medicine. I think it was called Lopressor. He also took a daily multivitamin.”
While I have Kim on the phone, I quickly Google “Lopressor” and find that it’s a brand of beta-blocker. Ryan said something interferes with beta-blockers, but I’m drawing a blank as to what it is.
I ask, “Did the police tell you what kind of pills were in the bottle in Jason’s hand when you found him?”
“They said it was Adderall. It’s a prescription drug, but Jason doesn’t…I mean, didn’t have a prescription for it. It’s like speed or something. Jason died of a massive heart attack brought on by the Adderall.”
I also Google “Adderall”, finding out it’s an amphetamine. That means it’s not like speed, it is speed. Now I remember Ryan mentioning that amphetamines don’t play well with beta-blockers. Lydia is such a calculating bitch. She knew Jason was taking a daily beta-blocker, so she chose an amphetamine to give him because it would do the most damage. Well, at least I’m assuming she knew. If Jason was indeed one of her patients, he would have given her his medical history during his first appointment, just like I had to do. I’ll know for sure when I look through Lydia’s files this afternoon.
“That’s terrible, Kim.” I hesitate for a moment, not quite knowing how to put this. “Is there anything missing from your house? Um…like any photos?”
“Well…yes, come to think of it. A framed photo of Jason is missing from our living room. I thought maybe it had been misplaced with all the people who have been in and out of my house lately, but I can’t find it anywhere. How in the world did you know that?”
Damn, I’m wicked smart. Truthfully, though, it was more of a shot in the dark. I happened to be thinking about the photo going missing from Brad’s house last night, and the image of the framed picture I found of Lydia and her husband suddenly popped into my head. Now I learn there’s a photo of Jason missing from his home. That coincidence could point to the fact that Jason’s killer and Brad’s killer are one and the same. Maybe Lydia keeps trophies like Brad. Maybe the photo of her and her husband in her locked desk drawer was her trophy from offing him rather than a cherished reminder of her past.
Realizing I’ve been pausing for way too long in my conversation with Kim, I reply, “It may be nothing. I’m still working on getting you some solid information, and I’m not going to say anything until I have everything worked out. Okay?”
Kim replies uncertainly, “Okay, but this is starting to worry me.”
“Me, too,” I reply, and end my call with Kim.
I probably should just cut her loose and tell her I can’t help her anymore. However, if I piss her off, I run the risk of her babbling to the police, specifically Brody, about my little investigation. He knows I’ve been investigating Lydia, so that’s not the problem. The problem would be that when Kim found Jason, I was there and bolted before the police arrived. I haven’t yet bothered to tell Brody about it. I can’t imagine he’d be pleased.
My desk phone rings, and I answer unenthusiastically, “Liberty Chronicle, this is Lizzie.” After two late nights, I’m dragging.
“Ma’am, I have a headline story for your front page. ‘Overworked cop needs to see his lady. Badly.’ Can you help me with it?” It’s Brody. Evidently now I’m “his lady”. Hmm. Kind of a nerdy pick-up line, but I think I like it.
“No, I’m sorry, sir. I’m only the copy editor. Let me transfer you to a reporter,” I say, trying to keep the laughter out of my voice.
He hesitates. “This is Brody.” He’s such a straight shooter. He doesn’t know I’m screwing with him.
I laugh. “I know. I was just giving you a hard time.”
“Funny, that’s what I was planning on giving you tonight.”
“Brody!” I exclaim, blushing all the way to my roots. I definitely didn’t peg him for a “naughty phone talk” kind of guy. Following my outburst, I get a couple of looks from nearby co-workers, so I duck my head and fluff my hair out to cover my reddened face.
“What? It’s the truth,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll even buy you dinner first. What time can I pick you up?”
I grimace. “Not until nine. I have to work at the funeral home tonight.”
“I don’t get why you want to work there.”
“I don’t want to work there, but the money’s nice, so I hate to quit.”
Back when I didn’t have a life (last week), the long hours weren’t such a problem. I was happy to have something to do. Now it’s just a pain in the ass.
“How about I take you to lunch?”
“Sorry. I have an appointment.” A bogus appointment with my evil chiropractor, so I can snoop through her patient files. Brody is not hearing that from me, though.
“So what you’re saying is that I have to wait all the way until nine o’clock tonight to se
e you.”
“Yep. Sorry.”
He sighs. “That sucks. I have to go, but I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, bye,” I say, and hang up my phone. Nine o’clock can’t get here fast enough.
***
Julia’s appointment is at noon, and mine is at twelve-thirty. That couldn’t have worked out better. I’ll arrive early to ensure I’m there once Julia goes back into the exam room. Giving Julia a ten-minute head start, Blake and I leave for Lydia’s office in separate vehicles.
As I get out of my car and walk to the entrance, I try desperately to calm myself. I seriously can’t get caught this time. Taking a big breath, I push through the door. I look around the waiting room, and…no Julia. Shit! They’ve already taken her back to the exam room. I have to hand it to Lydia—she’s the only doctor in town who’s on time.
Lydia’s receptionist greets me. “Hello. Your name, please?”
“Elizabeth Hart.” I pull out my phone and shoot Blake a quick text letting him know that Julia is already in place. We need to haul ass.
“If you’ll have a seat, Dr. Thomas will be right with you.”
“Thanks.” I sit down, and my stomach clenches when the door opens and Blake walks through.
“Good morning,” he says smoothly to the receptionist, swaggering over to lean on her desk. He’s wearing his I-can-make-a-woman-do-anything grin, and from the expression on the receptionist’s face, it’s working.
“Hello there, sir,” she replies, smiling shyly. “What can I do for you?”
I interrupt, “Excuse me. Where is the restroom?”
She glances at me impatiently. “Down the hall. Second door on the left.”
I scurry into the hallway, blow past the restroom, and slip into Lydia’s office. This should be easy. Just get in and get out. I go straight for the bookcase of patient files, to the “H” section. There is Jason Harris. Yes! I pull the file out enough to snap a quick photo and keep going. Ooh, there’s my file. I wonder if it says “BITCH” in big, red letters on it. I’d love to see what she’s written on my chart, but I don’t have that kind of time. I keep looking. Mark Heston, check. I take a picture of his file also. Thinking back to the little stake-out Brody and I did, I decide to check for Jed Stewart’s file, even though she didn’t actually kill Jed. Yet. Yep, there’s Jed. Another name pops out at me in the “S” section—Ed Sloane, my boss. He’s probably safe. I doubt if Lydia could stand being on a date with him long enough to kill him. I squat down to the next shelf and look for the “W” section. And there is Brad Wilson. We have our connection. The bitch is going down.
After I get my last picture, I turn to exit Lydia’s office but stop when I get a text from Julia: She’s done with me. Damn it! Now I’m trapped. I hope Blake can get to Lydia before she decides to come into her office. As fast as my shaking fingers will go, I text Blake: Stall Lydia. Still in office. My breath is coming so quickly, I’m in pretty good danger of hyperventilating. I struggle to get hold of myself, but it’s not working too well.
Thankfully, I hear Blake’s voice boom, “Lydia! I came over to see if you’d like to have lunch with me.” I breathe a sigh of relief. He got her. Now I have to slip out of here without getting noticed.
Opening the door as quietly as possible, I peek out into the little hallway. I can see all the way into the reception area, but Blake must have pulled Lydia off to the side so she won’t see me. I pop into the bathroom, hoping Blake will let me know when the coast is clear.
After a moment, there’s a knock at the door, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Ms. Hart?” It sounds like the receptionist.
“Y-yes?” I reply shakily. I’m going to need an adult beverage when I get done here.
“Is everything all right?”
“No, I don’t feel well.” This is not actually a lie. “Can I reschedule my appointment?”
“Yes. I’ll let Dr. Thomas know.” I hear her footsteps retreating down the hall.
Whew! Since I’m by the sink, I take a moment to splash some cold water on my face. Glancing at my reflection, I see the start of some dark circles forming under my eyes. I really need to quit stressing over this Lydia thing, but I’m so close. At some point, I’m going to find some evidence that isn’t circumstantial, and then Brody can arrest her, and we’ll all live happily ever after.
My phone beeps, and it’s a text from Blake: All clear. Taking Lydia to lunch. You owe me.
Relieved, I sigh. Blake pulled it off and saved my ass yet again. I text back: Please don’t let her murder you. The text was a joke, but I’m honestly very uneasy about him being alone with her.
I exit the bathroom and head back out to the waiting area. Clutching my stomach and acting like I’m sick, I tell the receptionist I’ll call her later to reschedule. I burst out of the office, thrilled to be out of there and in the clear. I guess Blake and I won’t be hitting Best Buy to talk to Brad’s co-workers like we’d planned. We still need to find out if Brad told anyone about who he was planning to be with on the night he died. Since I’m working his visitation tonight, I can maybe try to pull some people aside there. Becca would kill me if she found out I’m planning on pumping people for information while at a visitation, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Blake gets back to the office an hour after I do, looking completely disgusted. He comes straight for me and takes a seat on my desk, knocking over my pencil cup and not even bothering to pick it up. “That was excruciating.”
He looks so sad. I’m just relieved he’s alive, but I hate to let him know that. I joke, “Thanks for taking one for the team.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Guess who’s got two thumbs and a date with a serial killer tomorrow night?” He points his thumbs at himself unenthusiastically. “This guy.”
I gasp, “Blake, no! You can’t go out with her. It’s way too dangerous.”
Frowning, he points out, “You didn’t seem to mind when I went to lunch with her.”
“She never kills at lunchtime,” I explain lamely.
He throws a glare at me. “What we need to do is try to catch her in the act.”
“So you decided, on your own, that you should be the bait. I don’t like it. It’s too risky.” I shake my head vehemently. “No. Call it off. We’ll find another way.”
“She needs to be stopped.”
“And you think you can fend her off better than any of those other guys?”
“Yeah, because I won’t get blindsided like they did. And because I’m awesomer,” he boasts.
“Awesomer is not a word.”
“You can put ‘-er’ on the end of anything.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Do you have to turn every conversation into a grammar lesson?”
“I don’t do it during every conversation.”
“Yeah, but it’s still annoying.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “So back to Lydia. What makes you think she’ll try to kill you on this particular date? Haven’t you been out with her a bunch of times before? She never tried anything any of those times, right?”
He thinks for a moment. “We went to dinner when I interviewed her, but it wasn’t like a date. She was all business, and then of course we got interrupted by some crazy chick getting arrested.” I wrinkle my nose at him, and he continues, smiling. “Then she asked me to go to the baseball fundraiser at The Liberty Inn, and I accepted, mostly because I got told not to. While I was there, some crazy chick picked a fight with me and I got upset, so we left early. If she had plans to off me that night, you must have foiled them. Thanks.”
I shrug. “I guess our fight was worth it to save your life.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You guess?”
I laugh. This is another thing I’ve missed about not being with Blake—the impromptu discussions during work. He always used to find any excuse to come over to my desk and talk to me. When he suddenly stopped doing it, I felt like something was
missing out of my workday.
Blake continues, “For tomorrow night, she did the asking. Maybe that’s her MO—she always asks out her victims. It’s part of her sick little game.”
“I still don’t want you to do it,” I say flatly.
He regards me condescendingly. “Your interest in whether I live or die is endearing, but unnecessary. I’m the man with a plan, remember?”
“So what’s the plan, man?”
“Not sure yet,” he smiles, getting up and heading toward his desk. He adds, “But you’ll be the first to know.”
***
My workday at the Chronicle is finally over, and I didn’t actually fall asleep at my desk like I assumed I would. My crazy life is starting to catch up with me. As I’m dragging myself through the employee entrance of the funeral home, my phone rings. It’s Brody. I stop in the darkened storage area to lean against the wall while I take my call.
“Hey,” I answer, yawning into the phone.
“You can’t be tired yet. You still have to work and go out on a date with me.”
I yawn again. “No problem. I just need to drink a gallon of coffee first.”
“Tell you what—I’ll bring dinner over to your place, and then if you want to fall asleep, I can put you to bed and tuck you in.”
Smiling at the thought of what that might involve, I retort, “You mean like you did the night you drove me home from Julia’s?”
“Yeah, that was fun. I wouldn’t mind doing that again.” He lowers his voice. “But this time I won’t be such a gentleman.”
Having to work this extra job is starting to piss me off. There are much more fun things I could be doing with my time, like Brody. “Sounds good to me, but I’d better hang up now. It’s not very professional of me to be all hot and bothered at the funeral home.”
He chuckles. “No, I suppose not. I’ll meet you at your house at nine.”
“See you then,” I reply, disconnecting the call and smiling to myself.
“Who’s getting you all hot and bothered?” Becca’s voice booms from directly behind me.
Bad Medicine Page 17
