Dead Suite (13 page)

Chapter 9

It was too early to crack open the minibar so Sadie buried her gloved hands in buckets
of cleaning solvents, and her mind tried to find a happy place. She thought of Hairy
and his squishy softness and the comical twitch of his whiskers. Then she thought
of Zack and felt a stabbing pain in her heart so she returned her focus to her rabbit.

For hours she sprayed emulsifiers on hard, dried tissue that clung to every surface
like old chewed bubble gum. Sadie filled large bins with strips of carpet and underlay
as well as sections of mattress. Anything that could not be cleaned had to be disposed
of as biohazardous waste. You didn’t mess around with the thousands of diseases lurking
in a single droplet of dried blood.

Eventually the afternoon crept close to six o’clock and Sadie realized she needed
to go downstairs to meet Gayla in the bar as promised. She was looking forward to
the break but not to spending the time with Owen’s partner. When she left the room,
Sadie checked her cell phone. Gayla had texted her a few minutes before to say she
was on her way. Sadie replied and confirmed she’d be there. Then she called down to
Bev Hummel’s office.

“I’m taking a break now and meeting a client at the hotel bar,” Sadie told her. “It’ll
be brief and you won’t be billed for my time there.”

“And when do you expect to be finished with your job?” Bev asked.

“It’s a much larger job than I expected,” Sadie said, but didn’t go on to explain
she had assumed she’d be mopping up after one body not three. “However, I will work
until late tonight and return and do the same tomorrow, if necessary. In the meantime,
you can definitely arrange to have workers ready to go for replacing drywall, carpeting,
and of course, bedding and the mattress.”

Bev Hummel thanked Sadie for the heads-up and they ended the call.

Quick as a bunny Sadie re-dressed in the skirt and blouse she’d worn when she arrived
at the hotel. Even though she’d hurried, it was still ten past six when Sadie walked
into the hotel lounge. There were a couple of businessmen with their oversized asses
draped across barstools but the tables were empty.
Huh.
Sadie had definitely pegged Gayla as the punctual type and had expected to find her
already tapping a foot with impatience.

She slipped into a booth not far from the entrance and ordered a Diet Coke and yam
fries. If she was working the night shift, caffeine and carbs were definitely the
way to go.

The fries arrived around the same time as Gayla. She looked frantic as she slipped
into the booth across from Sadie, putting in an order for a vodka gimlet as she sat.

“I’m not happy,” Gayla said. Her hair stuck out as if she’d been pulling it and her
face was devoid of makeup.

“Okay.”
Thanks for the warning.

Sadie glanced pointedly at her watch but there was no
I’m so sorry I’m late
forthcoming. She dipped a yam fry in yogurt sauce and started the conversation with,
“Sooo, how are things at Halladay Street?”

“Busy,” Gayla said, narrowing her eyes. “Extremely busy. We’re probably going to need
traffic control of some kind.”

“Why?” Sadie sipped her pop and offered Gayla a fry, but she declined.

“Because of the damn video!” Gayla hissed.

“I don’t follow.”

Gayla looked at her like she was as sharp as a bag of rocks.

“The vid-e-o,” she said slowly. “On YouTube.”

Sadie shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh come on. Have you been hiding under a rock all day?”

“No,” Sadie snapped. “I’ve been holed up at a crime scene and up to my elbows in blood.”

The waitress arrived with Gayla’s drink. She snatched it up and took a large mouthful
before getting up from her side of the booth and squeezing in next to Sadie. With
a flourish, Gayla snapped open her purse and pulled out an iPad.

Sadie was curious now. She watched the screen expectantly while continuing to nibble
on her yam fries. Within seconds, the screen opened up to a dark room lit only by
candles and focused on a small table. Gathered around the table she could see Maeva,
Rick Thingvold, and herself, holding Osbert. After some jerky movement on the table,
the camera focus became Sadie.

“Oh my God.” Sadie choked on a mouthful of yam and coughed. “That’s the séance!” She
turned to Gayla. “That stupid Rosemary must’ve had it still on record when she put
the phone down on the table! We told her to stop.”

Gayla shushed her. “Wait. It gets good.”

Good was not exactly how Sadie would’ve described it. She watched the video in horror
as the closet door behind her slammed open, causing her to jump in real life just
as video Sadie also jumped. Then her chair was being pulled back and she could see
the imprint of what could be described as long clawlike fingers around her shoulders
as the chair fell and Maeva deftly lunged to snatch Osbert from danger. On the video,
streaks of eerie light shaped like long arms dragged Sadie back across the floor toward
the closet. Then a flash of light, which Sadie knew to be Rosemary’s wand spell, and
the closet door slammed shut. Before the video faded to black, there was a clear shot
of Sadie flat on her back, legs sprawled out with a distinct damp stain between them.
Gayla returned to the opposite side of the booth.

“Wow,” Sadie muttered. “I am sooo sorry. I sure as hell didn’t know it was being videoed.
I swear.” She shook her head slowly as boiling rage rose up inside her. “I’m going
to
kill
Rosemary. This time she’s gone too far.”

“It’s huge. Everyone’s seen it,” Gayla said, downing the rest of her drink. She pulled
out the wedge of lime from the bottom of her glass and began sucking on it, making
loud slurping noises. “So much for trying to solve the problems at the house so we
can make a quick sale. I’m guessing this is not going to exactly improve our chance
of convincing workers nothing’s wrong at Halladay Street!” she hissed.

“But how do people know the address?” Sadie blinked rapidly. “Was there something
I missed?”

“Someone in the comments below the video put it together and said it was the Halladay
Horror house.” Gayla waved a hand in the air to signal for another drink. “And somebody
else claimed to see something in the closet when they played it in slow motion.”

“Really?”

Sadie couldn’t help but sound doubtful and she didn’t know what to say about the entire
fiasco. Her mind was reeling and she had a sinking feeling that things were horribly
beyond her control.

“Originally I was coming here to pay you and get back the house key,” Gayla said.
“And to ask you if you’d consider helping out at the house one more time to try and
solve this problem, but now . . .” She blew a long breath between her pouty lips.”
Now, I’m thinking it’s probably not such a good idea.”

Paying me, or just my going back to the house?
Sadie wondered. But obviously she couldn’t expect to be paid for turning the house
into a three-ring circus, even if it wasn’t her fault.

Gayla finished her next drink as quickly as the first and paid both their bills, but
she did not leave a check for Sadie for services rendered. It wasn’t long before Sadie
was slinking back up the elevator to continue the big job ahead. She waited until
she was back in the room before she picked up her phone. She scrolled through her
contacts until she discovered Rosemary Thingvold’s number and wasn’t at all shocked
when the call went directly to voice mail. Sadie left a message that would melt Rosemary’s
ears and then tossed the phone to the table.

Sadie was changing into casual clothes when the phone chirped that a text message
had come in. The note was from Dawn.

Saw the vid. Wow! That’s great promo!

“Who the hell sent the video to Dawn?” Sadie muttered, then smacked her forehead with
the palm of her hand. “Maeva!” She shook her head. “I knew nothing good could come
of those two being friends.”

Sadie was tempted to blast Maeva and send a scathing retort to her sister, but she
had other fish to fry . . . or ghosts to send over. She slipped her hazmat suit over
her clothes before heading into the next room.

The painfully slow and agonizing process of mopping up this particular scene definitely
put her blood-borne pathogen training to work. Four hours went by without spiritual
interruption. Although Sadie would’ve loved the opportunity to at least help Opal
and Olivia move on, she’d rather not have to deal with that freaky Marlene. There
was just something so . . . off about her.

Eventually, Sadie needed a break. She straightened from her crouched position, with
her knees popping and her back screaming from the strain. Back in the other room,
she doffed her hazmat gear, delighted to see that Bev Hummel had come through again.
A fresh carafe of coffee, water bottles, and a small tray of mixed fruits and crackers
were centered on the table.

Sadie nibbled while she checked her phone. She had nine missed calls; two were from
Maeva, another two were from her sister, and the balance came from Detective Petrovich’s
number. She dialed the detective.

“I take it you want an update?” Sadie asked him as she poured strong, dark coffee
from the carafe into a bone china mug.

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m checking in. You were going to get names.”

“Before we get into that, when will your guys be done with my car?”

“You can probably get it tomorrow. There weren’t any usable prints, except for yours.”

“I had a feeling that someone who’d take the time to put an amputated finger in a
baggie on my windshield wouldn’t pause to get all touchy-feely with my Corolla.”

“So did you find out anything at the Pacifica?”

“I’m still up to my armpits in alligators or, more accurately, maggots,” Sadie said.
“I can tell you about the two you already know, Olivia and Opal. Both missing pointer
fingers. They were sisters but the strip club portrayed them as twins, and they were
doing side jobs, trying to earn extra money to go to esthetician school.”

“Nothing I don’t already know.”

“Here’s something you may not know. They said they got a text message to meet someone
at the hotel to party. Check their cell phones and see who sent that message.”

“Hold on.”

She heard him walking, probably to somewhere more private than the bull pen. The shutting
of a door sounded before he was back on the line. “There were no phones. Their purses
were left, but no phones. We got their cell records and we’re looking into messages.
There were a couple messages from a number that traced back to an old lady who only
recently noticed she’d lost her phone.”

“Any chance she could be the killer?”

“She’s at least ninety and in a wheelchair. It’s highly unlikely. Probably the killer
lifted her phone and used it.”

Sadie frowned. “Okay, what about the third girl?”

“There was no third girl.”

“Her name is Marlene and she’s got all her fingers. She’s wearing a brown skirt and
shirt with her name embroidered on it.” Sadie sipped her coffee. “The uniform is very
close to the same one the housekeepers wear here at the Pacifica.”

“You sure?” Petrovich’s voice had ramped up a notch.

“Of what? Yes, I’m sure I saw her. No, I’m not sure she’s connected to the other girls.”

“If a housekeeper was murdered in the room, we would’ve noticed.”

“Well, what if she was killed here but her body put elsewhere?”

He sighed heavily and Sadie knew why; he didn’t want to run around chasing ghosts.
He needed hard, physical proof.

“I’ll ask around about a Marlene who worked as a housekeeper,” he said. “Is there
anything else you can tell me about this Marlene person?”

Sadie chewed her lower lip. She didn’t want to send Petrovich on a wild-ghost chase,
but she didn’t want to leave out anything that could help catch this killer.

“Well, she looked young, maybe late teens. She had dark hair and eyes, just over five
feet tall.”

“Shit,” Petrovich exclaimed. “Shit on a stick.”

“I know. It’s a mess.”

“Guess I’ll go back and interview that bitch that runs the hotel,” he grumbled.

“Bev Hummel?” Sadie asked. “I found her really nice and actually helpful.”

“That’s probably because you’re helping solve the problem. She looks at me as if I
was the guy that ruined her pristine hotel’s rep by killing girls there.”

“About that—are these murders connected to what happened in Albuquerque?”

He was quiet a long time.

“Dean?”

“Did a ghost tell you about those girls in Albuquerque?”

“No. Google told me. You told me I might find out more if I did some digging, so I
did.”

“Right now, we’ve got no evidence linking these girls to those in New Mexico, but
yeah, they were all working girls.”

“And the fingers?”

“That information’s never been released to the public, so you didn’t hear it from
me. The Feds are looking into it.”

“Okay, there’s one more thing.” Sadie paused. “The spirit of Marlene . . . she said
the killings were for me. She said this guy is going to keep killing until I’m dead.”
She swallowed thickly. “Why would she say that?”

“Please don’t ask me to analyze a message given to you by a ghost. You’re making my
head hurt. The only connection to you so far is that finger left on your windshield,”
he replied, and then his cop voice gave way to a softer tone. “That said, there’s
a definite sicko out there, so yeah, you need to play it safe and keep your alarm
on and your doors locked. Wouldn’t hurt to have Zack chauffeur you around so you’re
not on your own.”

“Sure.” She didn’t want to explain why
that
wasn’t going to happen.

“Don’t go believing everything ghost witnesses tell you, okay?” He chuckled. “They’re
probably as unreliable dead as they were alive.”

Sadie wished she could laugh along. The only problem was that she knew from experience
ghosts don’t lie.