The Cure May Kill You: A Cassidy Hudson Mystery

by Carlie Lemont

  Outside, the wind howled and blew around a long-forgotten soda can that rolled and skittered across the balcony’s wooden planks.

  The complex’s bright overhead lighting shone down. Thankfully, no one hid behind the small table-and-chair set, Cassidy kept there to eat and relax on cool evenings. After retrieving the wayward can, she closed the sliding glass door and replaced the drapes.

  She was alone, and safe...

  Her apartment phone rang. Cassidy flinched, crying out, and dropping the baseball bat with a clatter. Max began to bark, running out of the bedroom and into the living room where all of the action was taking place, tail wagging the entire time.

  “Max, I told you to stay,” Cassidy said, but gave him a loving kiss on the top of the head anyway. “You’re my big, strong boy.”

  Her phone rang again.

  “What the hell!” She snatched the receiver off its base. “Who is this?” Unusual for the apartment phone to ring. Cassidy couldn’t remember giving the number to anyone, let alone giving them permission to call her on it. Especially in the middle of the night.

  “Hey, it’s Virgie, your mother.”

  “What do you want, Virgie, my mother?” Cassidy rolled her eyes. Really. Who introduces themselves like that to their own kid?

  “Well, isn’t that a fantastic way to greet your mother on the phone.”

  “Mom.” Cassidy slumped down onto the arm of the couch. “It’s after two in the morning!”

  “Oh, don’t you worry yourself, honey. It’s not nearly that late here in Hawaii. Plus, I figured... well, hoped actually, that you’d be up partying. It’s Friday night, after all. Shouldn’t you be out looking for a man or something?”

  “No, it’s actually Tuesday, Mom, not Friday. And I have to work in the morning.”

  “Whatever. It’s Friday somewhere, right?” She gave a blithe laugh.

  “It’s not Friday anywhere yet.”

  “You’re not getting any younger, my dear.”

  Oh, here it comes. Cassidy cringed, bracing herself for the forthcoming speech on marriage, children, and grandchildren. Mom was likely sitting poolside in a brightly colored muumuu, sipping some fruity drink with that stupid, stereotypical umbrella floating in it. She’d probably just finished an hour-long conversation with another retired widow about her only child being single and childless. The horror! Emboldened by alcohol and armed with a few new guilt-inducing comments, she’d managed to fat-finger Cassidy’s home phone number and was now ready to let her have it. How dare Cassidy hoard all of her eggs and be so unwilling to fertilize them, carry a baby for nine months, then care for the child for the next twenty years all on her own—how dare she!

  “Mom, I can’t have this conversation with you again. Not now, not in the middle of the night.” Cassidy ran her fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. “Call me back at a decent hour, then you can complain all you want about how I haven’t given you any grandchildren.”

  Virgie huffed. “Well, with an attitude like that, I can see why you’re still single.”

  Cassidy clutched her forehead in frustration. “Did you call for a reason, or are you just trying to piss me off?”

  “I was simply calling to see how you were doing. Can’t a mother call her own child and inquire about her day? Why do all of our conversations end with you being a rude, spoiled brat?”

  “Spoiled?” she sputtered. “Really? I don’t think this is the time or place to remind you that even though you’d had plenty of money from all of your dead husbands, I still had to take out thousands of dollars in student loans to go to college. Need I remind you that from the time I was twelve, I was forced to use public transportation to get anywhere because you couldn’t be bothered to take me to school, my friend’s house, or even shopping? Spoiled? Really, Mother?”

  “It’s not nice to throw the past into people’s faces.”

  “You’re probably right. But right now, I really don’t care. If there’s nothing urgent to discuss, I’m saying good night and going back to bed.”

  “Wait! I do need to say something. It’s important!”

  Cassidy waited. Maybe, just maybe... Would her mother apologize for her past transgressions?

  “Yeah ?”

  “How’s Max?”

  Cassidy let out a groaning sigh.

  “I miss him. I was just telling Stella, here, at the pool, that he’s the best dog ever.”

  “He’s good, Mom. I’m sure Max misses you, too.”

  “Oh, good. Did you get the card I sent you last month?”

  “With the coupons for drink mixers and dog food? Yep, thank you. Came in handy when I bought Max his latest bag of gourmet food.”

  “Nothing but the finest for that boy!” Virgie said. “Gotta spoil the grandchildren I do have, even if they do walk on four legs and are covered in luxuriously soft fur.”

  “Um... okay, on that note, I really need to let you go now.”

  “Bye-bye, dear.”

  “Night.” Cassidy hung up the phone, cursing the day she’d given her mom the apartment phone number.

  Thunder rumbled and boomed, bringing rain that fell in bursts. Cassidy loved the sudden rainstorms and their ability to lull her to sleep. But, tonight felt different, and goosebumps prickled over her arms and legs. She lowered herself to the floor, and Max rushed over to lick her face, neck, ears, and hands. Cassidy hugged him and gave him kisses atop his head.

  Eventually, Cassidy stood up and reached for the living room light switch to turn it off, though the prospect of walking back to the bedroom in the pitch-dark made her rethink that idea.

  Instead, she left it on for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER 18

  T

  he following morning, Cassidy’s head swirled with a heavy mind-fog and her shoulder ached. At first, she couldn’t figure out why, but then remembered the previous night’s terrifying ordeal, which had turned out to be nothing more than her wind-aided overactive imagination.

  Cassidy stretched her arms high above her head, straightened her legs, and groaned. With her in a surly, sleep-deprived mood, today would not be a good day for her coworkers, her patients, or the general public. She sat on the edge of the bed, resting her face in her palms, trying to think of a good excuse to call in sick. Nothing came to mind. Already on six separate occasions, she’d used the death of her grandparents. Had her boss been better at math, or just paying attention, she’d have realized that that excuse had stopped being legitimate a long time ago. With a huff and moan, Cassidy fumbled her way toward the bathroom.

  At once, she was brought to an abrupt halt by Max, who had an urgent need in his eyes.

  “Shoot! Hang on, buddy.”

  Cassidy donned a hat, her sunglasses, and an oversized jacket, then scurried down to the courtyard with Max. Once he’d done his duty, she brought him back up to the apartment, where she fed him and refilled his bowl with some fresh-filtered water from the refrigerator. After a few minutes of cuddling and puppy kisses, Cassidy rushed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

  Her cellphone beeped with a text from JJ. She ignored it - there wasn’t time to reply. He was probably overreacting about something anyway.

  Some time later, Cassidy glanced at her watch: an hour late for her first appointment. Today would prove to be busy, and it never set well with her to treat patients after three in the afternoon.

  Cassidy sent a text message back: I’m on my way. Call Dottie and let her know we’re running late. If she seems upset, come up with an excuse. Worst case scenario, blame me. But please make sure she knows we’re coming.

  Seconds later, her phone rang, flashing JJ’s cell number. She let it go to voicemail and, shoving her supplies of hand sanitizer and shoe covers into her purse, she hustled past piles of paperwork and dirty laundry. She'd need to finish it all tonight, no matter what.

  She reached for the doorknob, but stopped suddenly and looked behind her.

  “Oh crap—Max.”

 
At the sound of his name, Max sprinted down the hallway, tail wagging, tongue lolling and ready to dole out kisses.

  She’d forgotten to leave instructions for Brandy. Every morning she pulled out a new sheet from the stack of photocopied ones tucked away in a kitchen drawer, and placed it onto the counter. She was concerned that Brandy might not remember the lies she was contractually obligated to tell the neighbors if they started asking questions about Max. If confronted, Brandy had options. After all, Cassidy wasn’t an obsessive control freak. Brandy could either tell them she was lost and Max was helping her find her way home, or she was walking Max for the resident in Apartment 201, that nosy, balding woman who lived under her.

  Task complete, Cassidy raced to the front door, pulled it open, when something fluttered to the floor, just inside the doorway. She eyed the small envelope, debating whether or not to just leave it there or take the time to read it. Cassidy shrugged. Eh. Work could wait a few more minutes. She might have a secret admirer.

  “If this is another complaint about my music being too loud,” she shouted, hoping the neighbor below could hear her, “I promise you I’ll turn it up until your windows rattle!”

  But as she picked up the envelope, she noticed it was unlike any other complaints that had been taped to her door in the past. The others had been a single sheet of paper. This was a blank, unsealed envelope without a name.

  Hesitant, Cassidy opened the letter—

  STAY OUT OF MY WAY, BITCH!

  IF YOU DON’T MIND YOUR OWN BIZNESS, YOU’LL BE NEXT!

  —then dropped it, hands now shaking, where it fell to her feet. Slowly, she retrieved the note and, pressing it to her chest, closed her eyes to muster enough courage to re-read it.

  The handwritten script had been scrawled in strange, slanted letters—pointy, almost angry-like—though upon closer inspection, each one was of the same height and perfectly spaced, as if stenciled. No matter how it had been written, or how poor the spelling was, the threat scared her. The problem was she was over an hour late to work. She’d have to inform the detectives later.

  Cassidy hurried down the walkway, past the pool, and was about to make it out the gate leading to the parking area, when something caught her eye: a small, round object that lay discarded on the ground. She approached, curious. It was a patch, the kind sown onto hats, or jackets, or other articles of clothing people seemed to enjoy ruining. Where had she seen it before? Racking her brain at the moment wasn’t helping her stress level, so Cassidy instead took out a clear plastic sandwich baggie from her purse and scooped the patch into it, ever-careful not to touch it with her bare hands, then sealed the bag and shoved it back into her purse.

  Once outside the security gate, Cassidy strode to her car, head down and therapy bag clutched to her side. Just as she reached for the handle, a single word carved into her driver’s side door screamed a blatant accusation at her—BITCH—amplifying her fear ten-fold.

  Heart pounding, she jumped into her car and locked the doors, started the engine and burned rubber out of the apartment parking lot, breaking more than a few traffic laws on her way to pick up JJ.

  “What took you so long?” JJ said.

  “Don’t start with me, Jamal. I’ve had a really bad morning.”

  “You never have a good morning. What makes today any different?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Cassidy needed to keep JJ from seeing the message scratched into her car door, since she didn’t want to deal with an unavoidable freak-out, which would include melodramatic facial expressions and tears. She couldn’t handle that right now.

  “Dottie seemed pretty cool with us running late,” JJ said, before he pointed out through the windshield. “After this stoplight, make the second left, and then a right. Wow—wait! Cassidy, please don't speed like this through residential areas. You’re gonna kill someone.”

  At the stoplight, Cassidy screeched to a halt.

  “Really? The second left?” She glared over at her friend, then hit the gas hard as the light changed to green, flinging JJ backwards in his seat. “We’ve been to Dottie’s house at least twenty times, and I’ve always driven. We were there just the other day.” Cassidy slowed down, approaching the next stoplight. “I think I can remember how to get—”

  She glanced to her left, distracted by the people in the car next to her.

  “Oh man, that sucks. Look.” A woman with two chins and a rat’s nest on her head pointed at Cassidy’s driver’s side door.

  JJ leaned forward. “What’s her problem?”

  Cassidy rolled up her window. “Probably feels sorry for me because you’re in the car.” Irritation getting the best of her. “Now roll up your window, too. I don’t need anyone else’s pity.” And she turned on the radio to drown out the laughter and obnoxious comments coming from the zoo that inhabited the car next to them. They arrived at Dottie's in a matter of minutes and it was a relief to get their day started.

  Inside Dottie’s home, Cassidy began to relax. Yet, the events of the morning still nagged at her. Cassidy prided herself in being aware of every situation she was involved with, but couldn't make sense of the note and patch. They were unnerving to say the least. Still she did her best to focus on Dottie and her treatment, rather than the possibility of a psychopath stalking her.

  “Honey, are you all right? You seem a million miles away.” Dottie laid her hand on Cassidy’s knee, causing Cassidy to flinch at the unexpected physical contact.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” Dottie said. “I know you don’t like to be touched.”

  “I’m fine. I was just distracted, is all.” She glanced around the room, breaths quick and pulse racing as she fought down the desire to spill her heart out to the grandmotherly woman. Not only would it be inappropriate, but it also might be dangerous. The less any of her patients knew about the murders, the better.

  “I just haven’t been myself lately,” Cassidy said. “I need a vacation from him, I think.” And she tossed a thumb over her shoulder at JJ, who stood in the living room with Juanita. They were immersed in their usual daytime soap opera debate. “I hope you have Baxter put away so he doesn’t get any ideas.”

  Dottie belly-laughed. “I’m glad JJ managed to get over that little incident. I had a nice long talk with Baxter, and I think we’ve come to an understanding. Although I did put him away in his sleeping cage, just in case.”

  After reviewing Dottie’s home exercise program with her, Cassidy started to get up from the sofa, but instead noticed a picture of Dottie’s late husband propped up on the coffee table.

  “He was such a handsome man,” Cassidy said.

  Dottie smiled. “Thank you, dear. He was a true gentleman. Did you know we went dancing every other Saturday night for ten years before he passed away? He could really cut a rug.”

  Cassidy leaned forward and squinted, scrutinizing the photo. “What’s that on his hat?”

  Dottie picked up the picture to take a closer look. “Oh! That’s his World War Two hat.” She tapped the glass with a fingernail. “That patch there was given to all of the soldiers who went to war for this country. He proudly wore it until the day he died.”

  Cassidy’s brow lifted. Hard to tell, but the patch on the hat looked very similar to the one she’d found that morning.

  “Well... I guess we should get going. We have a long day ahead of us, and I’d like to get home to my Max at some point.”

  “How is Maxwell doing?” Dottie said, placing the picture back on the coffee table. “I do hope he obeys better than my Baxter does.”

  “He’s doing great, actually. Out of his puppy stage; he’s finally starting to calm down, which is nice.”

  “I’m sure, I’m sure ... I have to ask: why did you inquire about my husband’s photo?”

  Cassidy blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh, um, well... to be honest, I saw a patch like that one today, and I didn’t know the story behind it.”

  “Everyone is different
, I’m sure, but from what I remember, my husband and his buddies?... they prized that patch. It’d become a symbol of their struggle to survive some of the most horrific conditions, a struggle between life and death, and they usually wore it with pride wherever they went. My husband was buried with his sown onto his favorite hat.” Dottie’s eyes welled up with tears. “Made me so proud to see him with it on, one last time.”

  Cassidy placed a gloved hand onto the woman’s shoulder. “Sounds like he was a wonderful man, and I feel privileged to be providing care to his widow. You stood by him through tough times, and now we stand by you.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear. Now, don’t let me keep you. Remember, you have a busy day. Give your baby, Max, a kiss from his honorary grandmother.”

  “I sure will.”

  Dottie struggled to stand.

  “Dottie”—Cassidy stepped next to her—“remember what we’ve been working on?” She placed a hand on the woman’s safety belt wrapped around her midsection.

  “I know, I know,” Dottie said with a chuckle. “Nose-over-toes. I’ll get it right one of these days.”

  “I know you will. We can review all of that stuff again next week when we come back to see you.”

  Once Dottie was steady inside her walker, Cassidy removed the belt and called out to JJ. He smiled at Juanita, patted her awkwardly on the back, and grabbed his therapy bag, before rushing over to the door where Cassidy stood waiting. Cassidy tapped her foot while she waited for him.

  “You can continue your little love affair with Juanita when we come back next time,” she said and began to power-walk down the driveway to her car.

  “Hey, what’s your hurry?” JJ rushed to catch up. “We had two cancellations; the office just called me a little while ago. Our only other appointment is at three o’clock.”

  “Call and reschedule it,” she said, blocking JJ’s view of her driver’s side door. “I just remembered I have somewhere important to go. You can call from the car.”

  In less than fifteen minutes, Cassidy had driven back to JJ’s apartment complex, while JJ managed to reschedule their last appointment, relay that information to the home office, and even finish his electronic paperwork in the car.