Things were so much better out here than they were inside the house. She felt sorry for JJ, who had to be scared, hungry, and uncomfortable, but not sorry enough to go back inside.
Before Cassidy knew it, though, she’d started to drift off, with the humid air lulling her to sleep... until JJ’s voice broke through her respite.
“Cassidy, we’re free to go.”
She snapped open her eyes, but quickly squeezed them shut again from the sun’s sudden painful glare. Using her hand as a sun shield, she regarded JJ standing on the top step of the porch, wearing nothing but a pair of tighty-whities and an awkward smile. “Ew,” she said, “where the heck are your clothes?” She put her hand to her stomach, puffing out her cheeks.
“The CSU took them. My clothes had soaked up a bunch of the evidence, so they confiscated them.”
“Couldn’t they have given you something else to wear?”
JJ folded his arms. “They offered me a hazmat suit, but you know I get hives if I wear anything other than cotton, or at least a cotton blend.”
“So you chose to come outside like that?”
“Well, I didn’t have many options, did I? Not like I was going to wear one of Francine’s body-odor infused, mothball muumuus.”
“There is no way you’re getting in my car dressed like that.” Cassidy held up her hand to block the view of his terrifyingly white body. “Please don’t take this personally, JJ, but you’re absolutely disgusting.”
“Um... how do I not take that personally?”
“Because, anyone who looks like that”—she waved her hand in front of him—“is disgusting.”
“Oh, ha ha ha, very funny. You have to take me home. I can’t call a cab dressed like this.”
“I’m surprised the cops don’t arrest you right here for indecent exposure.”
“I’m not any more exposed than I would be at a pool.”
“Fine, but wait a second. I have something for you to put on before you get in.” She opened her trunk and rifled through its contents. “Here it is.” She held up a pink rain slicker, smiling ear to ear as she handed it to him.
“I can’t wear that. My hives!”
“It’s cotton lined.”
“But—”
“But nothing.”
“It’s a small”—he held it up to his nearly naked form—“and when I sit, it won’t even cover my butt.” He tried to hand it back. “You can’t make me wear this.”
“I can, and I will. Just put it on, or you’re not getting in my car.”
JJ groaned. “I hate you.” And he squeezed into the rain slicker. Its seams screamed, and the rubbery material squeaked as he walked toward the front passenger side door.
Once in, JJ gave Cassidy a sideways glance. “Could we just have a quiet ride back to my place? I don’t think I can tolerate listening to the eighties station right now.”
“But it’s my favorite,” she said.
JJ batted his sad eyes at her, a look only her eighty-pound golden retriever had been able to control her with.
Cassidy sighed. “Okay, fine. But, only because we’re such good friends.”
“Do you think we’ll need to fill something out at work? Like an incident report?” JJ said. “I mean, we’ve never had this happen before.”
“No idea. I’m sure they’ll have us document it, but I don’t feel like it right now. Do you?”
JJ thought for a second, then shook his head.
“That settles it, then. I’ll take you home, have the office secretary reschedule the rest of our appointments, and we’ll see what happens. Oh, JJ...”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“Me, too.” He stared out the window while Cassidy drove him home.
CHAPTER 2
A
fter dropping JJ off at his place, Cassidy continued on to her own. Unlike her friend’s outdated apartment, her complex had been touted as the “in” place for singles who wanted a social life. But having lived there for two years, Cassidy had to disagree with that little bit of false advertising. The complex was full of people she wanted nothing to do with. In fact, a very unattractive thirty-something male with an obscene amount of back hair and a propensity for uncontrolled swearing had recently approached her at the pool. She now rushed past that area or found ways to avoid it altogether.
In the car, Cassidy donned her usual disguise—oversized sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat—and with them in place, a sense of calm settled in. She checked the rearview mirror to make sure she was unrecognizable, but still adorable. She pouted her lips and winked at her reflection. Satisfied, she stepped out and hurried across the courtyard. As she strode along the walkway that separated the ground floor apartments from the pool area, a statuesque male form using a leaf skimmer to clean the pool caught her eye.
She stopped and snarked in his direction, “About time someone cleaned that thing. Have you seen the people using it?”
The man wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his physique wasn’t what she'd grown accustomed to seeing at the complex. He stood over six feet tall, which was a must in Cassidy’s book. He also had a head full of thick, shiny black hair, and her knees weakened a bit as she imagined running her fingers through it. Biceps bulged under sun tanned skin while he skillfully used the pool skimmer. Cassidy’s heart quickened, and she bit her bottom lip.
“Are you the new pool man? I don’t recall seeing you here before.”
He didn’t answer; he just kept skimming the water. Did he not speak English? Or maybe he simply couldn’t hear her. Her Spanish was rusty, and her sign language abilities ended after a few obscene gestures and gang signs, so Cassidy decided to cut her losses. He was extremely attractive, but she didn’t want to work that hard to make first contact. She turned away just as he replied.
“That’s a really large hat. You hiding from someone?”
Horrified she hadn’t remembered to remove her disguise before approaching him, Cassidy ripped her hat off, then slowly lowered her sunglasses, one finger on its frame, to glare at him.
“You don’t like my hat?” she said. “Never mind, don’t answer that. I really don’t care what you think.” And she took a couple of quick steps away from him, turned, then added, “Put your shirt back on. No one wants to look at the zit taking over your back.” She stormed off toward her apartment.
“Have a nice day.”
Cassidy slammed her apartment door closed, then leaned against it. In her bedroom, Max jumped off the bed and scrambled down the tiled hallway. He was upon her in seconds, wiggling his way impossibly close and covering her hands with sloppy dog kisses. His tail thumped hard against the wall.
Cassidy crouched, rubbed him all over, and kissed the top of his head. “Oh, Max, I love you too, buddy.” You’re the only male in my life who hasn’t screwed me over.
Max began to calm down, and he sat in front of her, tail continuing to wag as he leaned into each head rub.
“This has been the worst day ever. Remember how I told you about that mean old lady? Well, I think someone killed her.”
Max scooted in a little closer, gave her chin a kiss. Cassidy smiled and scratched him behind the ears.
“I’m sure she had it coming, but you should have seen it. It was awful.” Cassidy kissed the top of Max’s head again for comfort. “It smelled terrible in her house. If I thought body odor and mothballs were bad, buddy, blood and Bengay is ten times worse.”
Max wiggled around, soaking up all of the attention. His large sloppy tongue cleaned away the day’s horrors.
“Hey, you’re a male, maybe you can answer this: Why are men so frustrating? There’s a new pool guy, but I’m not sure he and I are going to get along.”
At this, Max gave her a look of pure melty love, but its sweetness also tweaked her guilt.
“All right, maybe I was a bit too mean to him. But he insulted me first.” She played with Max’s velvety-soft ears. “Well, he didn’t really insult me,
I guess. Still, he didn’t have to be so, so.” She sighed. “Maybe it’s not all his fault.”
Max wiggled free and ran into the other room, reemerging with his favorite stuffed animal, a duck whose squeaker had long since been torn from its plushy body.
“Oh crap.” She’d forgotten the hand sanitizer in the car.
Antibacterial soap, of course, would work just fine to kill germs, but Cassidy needed more. The soap didn’t have that same smell she’d grown to trust. Not only had it become a way to keep germs at bay, but it also calmed her nerves. There was no other option. She had to go back and get it from the car.
Cassidy readied herself, fixing her hair and makeup in the mirror near the front door. She’d leave the disguise on the end table. That hot new pool guy already knew who she was, and a part of her liked that idea. She opened up the door and walked through with confidence.
As she marched down the walkway leading to the pool, though, her resolve began to wane. The pool guy was still working, but now she’d decided not to give him the satisfaction of any eye contact. So, head held high, she almost made it past him without incident, until—
“Hey, beautiful,” a man called out to her.
Cassidy spun around with narrowed eyes and perfect posture, prepared to give him a piece of her mind. But it hadn't been the pool guy who’d spoken. Standing in front of her was the sweaty, foul-mouthed Chewbacca who’d flirted with her a few weeks prior.
She rolled her eyes. “Ugh! No means no, slick. Now go shave something before the Sasquatch hunters get you.” Cassidy tossed a glance to her left. The pool guy was leaning on the skimmer, wearing an amused expression.
He seemed about to say something, until his cellphone rang. He reached into his pocket and answered it. “What’s up, Chez?”
“Whatever.” She hurried off toward her car.
Once safely inside the “little slice of heaven,” as she referred to it, Cassidy located her hand sanitizer, squirted the clean-smelling, alcohol-based liquid into her palms, and rubbed them together until dry. Her mood softened. Suddenly, the pool guy burst through the gate, buttoning up a long-sleeved white shirt as he hurried to a car a few spaces down from hers.
Was there a big sale on chlorine pellets at the pool-supply store? Cassidy watched him leave.
It was past two o’clock in the afternoon. Too late to cancel the in-home doggie daycare. Brandy, the canine specialist she'd hired, got there between two and three to give Max snacks and a walk. He really enjoyed her so it didn't seem fair to keep the two apart. The Sunshine Home Health company hadn’t yet called, and Cassidy needed something to do.
“I need a drink,” she said and sped off to her special watering hole.
A few minutes later, she pulled into her usual parking space in front of Ted’s Bar and Grill, a place Cassidy frequented. She strode through the parking lot, making quick work of the distance that lay between her and the icy cold mug that held her favorite adult beverage. As she entered the establishment, the dark decor and rank smell of stale beer washed over her.
Somehow, this bar had become a place of respite for her. Could have been the copious amounts of alcohol available, or the bar’s low-key atmosphere, or maybe because, while she was there, Cassidy could be herself with no pressure to be perfect. No one ever seemed to notice, or care, that she wiped everything down with antibacterial wipes—from the barstool, to the top of the bar itself—before sitting down to enjoy a beverage. From the moment she'd first set foot in Ted’s Bar and Grill, she’d always felt welcome and safe, ready to take on the problems of the day, or at least to let them all go.
“Hey, Cassidy! Great to see you,” Ted said. Then, he looked up at the clock. “Wait, shouldn’t you be working? And come to think of it... you usually come in on Tuesdays to take advantage of the specials. Is everything all right?” Concern settled into his weathered brow.
The first time Cassidy had met Ted, she’d come into his bar, ordered a beer, and the two of them had struck up a conversation. Much to her surprise, she hadn’t lied to him or kept him at a distance. Much like today, she’d come in after a difficult day. Back then, she’d just moved to Miami, didn’t know anyone, and most of her belongings had been scratched or otherwise damaged by the movers. So, she’d unloaded her emotional burdens onto Ted, and ever since that day, they’d enjoyed a special bond.
“I’d love my usual,” Cassidy said, as she sanitized the barstool, then sat down. “I’ve had the worst day.”
“Worse than when your patient threw up cherry Kool-Aid all over your new Manolo heels?”
“I shouldn’t have worn such expensive shoes to work. Honestly, I learned my lesson from that one.” She took a long, satisfying drink from the frosty mug of beer Ted gave her. “But, yes. Today was way worse. JJ and I went to a patient’s home and found her... dead.”
“We all have to go sometime, Cass. I would think, in your line of work, you’d be prepared for that sort of thing.”
“I guess I should explain myself.” Cassidy took another swig of her drink, while Ted dried mugs with a rag that could have used a thorough wash with bleach. “She didn’t just die. The mean old lady was murdered.”
“Really? Well, ain’t that a kick in the craw. Are you sure?”
“If you believe that being stabbed multiple times then left impaled on a tribal spear with a dirty old pair of compression stockings stuffed into your mouth to be an accident or death by natural causes... then I guess anything’s possible.”
“Wow.”
“And her insides had spilled out all over the place. It was horrifying.”
“Not sure what to say.” He shook his head and leaned both hands against the bar. “I’m sorry for your loss. I hope they catch the psycho who did it.”
“But that’s just it. She was a total bitch; a true she-devil. On some level, she might have had it coming to her. I mean, I’ve seen her trying to hit the paperboy with rocks from her flower garden; said he was fat and should pedal faster next time. Not a good person.”
She downed the last of her drink and handed back the empty mug.
“You want another one?”
“Nah. One’s my limit—except on Tuesdays.”
“Cass, what happened today was a real tragedy, and I hope you’re gonna be okay. I’ve seen some pretty creepy stuff in my life. This murder has some disturbing elements to it. Just be careful.”
“Wouldn’t any murder be considered disturbing?”
“Well, yeah, but it just feels like there’s more to it than meets the eye.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not sure ... just a hunch,” he said.
“All right, well, thanks for creeping me out, mister.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want you to be careful, is all. You sure you’ll be all right tonight?”
“Positive,” she said. “It’s the end of the month, so I’ll need to be to work early in the morning to complete all of the unnecessary paperwork my boss thinks is vitally important. Plus, I’m sure I’ll have to give a statement, or fill out a million forms, or something.”
“Yeah, I can imagine it's going to be a nightmare."
“Personally, I think Saturdays were created for sleeping in until noon, but my boss doesn’t have a life. I've heard her brag about falling asleep by nine o’clock. Rumor has it, she polishes off a box of cookies and a two-liter bottle of soda each night. Maybe I should send her pancreas a sympathy card. Anyway, don’t worry, you’ll see me next Tuesday.”
After a few departing words, Cassidy slid off the stool and left the bar. Worry was still very much there, but the beer and the chat had allowed her to somewhat disconnect from the situation. Similar to what her high school counselor had said in the report she’d once given to Cassidy’s mother. Emotional Detachment, or some psychological mumbo jumbo.
Cassidy strutted back to her car. Bring it on, Mr. Pool Guy.
Just before she turned onto the main road from the parking lot, something hit the bac
k window. She slammed on the brake and looked into her rearview mirror. Someone ducked behind a parked car in the lot. Should she get out and confront the person? Something else hit the side of her car, but this time it sounded larger. Without looking both ways, Cassidy slammed on the gas, squealing her tires as she skidded into traffic. Her heart raced. Was it a punk kid or was someone now trying to hurt her?
CHAPTER 3
S
o, what do you make of all of this?” Detective Maria Sanchez said. “I can’t imagine this was some random act of violence; no forced entry, the presence of garden shears in the living room, the use of the spear, the viciousness of the act, the way the support hose was crammed into her mouth.”
Earlier that day, while Detective Javier Delacruz was fishing his wallet out of the pool at his apartment complex, the call had come in: an elderly woman had been brutally murdered and found in her home by two traveling therapists. Delacruz had been a homicide detective for the better part of a decade and he’d never seen anything quite like it.
“I completely agree,” Delacruz said. “Look, the flat screen TV is sitting just a few feet away. It hasn’t even been touched.”
“The perp could have been in a hurry. Or, maybe someone interrupted him before he could grab the larger items?”
“Possible. But the officers on the scene said there was no sign of anything having been stolen; drawers hadn’t been rummaged through and expensive jewelry still hung from the gaudy manzanita tree in the bedroom.” Delacruz tapped the end of a pen on his chin as he bent low to scrutinize the large bloodstain left behind by the once-impaled victim.
“All bystanders have been questioned,” Sanchez said, “and as usual: no witnesses. No one heard anything, no one saw anything.” She snapped her notebook closed. “We’re smack dab in the middle of a retirement community where the average age is older than dirt. I’m pretty sure some of these residents remember where they were when Lincoln was shot. Hearing and seeing are not what they do best.”
The Cure May Kill You: A Cassidy Hudson Mystery Page 2
