Dead Suite (15 page)

“No worries.” Sadie rescued him. “Are you sure there isn’t a Marlene working here
as a maid?”

“I know all the housekeeping staff, and I’ve never met a Marlene,” he said, and his
cocky smile said if there was a young woman within a mile radius his penis GPS would’ve
found her. “I’ve been here two years now. Maybe it was before that?”

After he was gone Sadie dressed again in the skirt and blouse she’d worn when she
arrived. She made sure the bins were prepared for staff to load and bring down to
her van via the freight elevator, and then she packed her belongings in her suitcase.
Then Sadie settled down to sip coffee and nibble a warm croissant spread with strawberry
preserves. It wasn’t often she got the five-star treatment. It was too bad people
had to die for it to happen.

She scrolled through her messages and noted a number of text messages from Maeva,
who’d obviously been surprised and upset by the uploaded Internet video. A night of
hard work and a few hours of sleep made Sadie think the video was less of a big deal.
She didn’t reply to all of Maeva’s comments about the video because that felt like
a lengthy conversation. She did tell her she would be home shortly and would call
her later.

Bev Hummel greeted Sadie in her office with a wide smile, as if they were long-lost
friends.

“You’re all done?” she asked.

“Mostly,” Sadie replied, taking a chair across from her. “I will leave the ozone generator
in the room for at least another day or two to allow them to make sure the air is
perfect. If you could ask your staff to bring the bins down, I’ll meet them at my
van.”

Bev picked up her phone and placed the request to the staff to do as Sadie asked.

“Can I send in the repairmen to take care of carpeting and wall repairs?”

“Yes,” Sadie said. “And as I mentioned before, the mattress will need to be replaced
but the other furniture was all salvageable.”

“Great.” Bev Hummel clapped her hands. “I’ll be thrilled when this entire unfortunate
event is behind us.” She got to her feet, announcing the meeting over. “Thanks for
taking care of this so quickly. I appreciate it.”

Sadie hesitated at the door.

“By the way, I think a friend’s daughter worked here as a housekeeper. . . . Marlene?
Did you know her?”

Bev Hummel looked thoughtful.

“The name isn’t familiar. Are you sure it was Marlene?”

“I might’ve gotten it wrong,” Sadie admitted. “If it’s okay with you, I’ll hang on
to the room keys until I get the rest of the equipment in a couple days.”

Bev agreed, and Sadie strolled off through the exquisite lobby, pulling her suitcase
behind her, and exited the front doors with a nod to the uniformed doorman. She tugged
her case down the bumpy sidewalk and around the corner toward the delivery entrance.
She was at her van just as three men arrived with hand dollies stacked with Stericycle
bins. Sadie unlocked the van and rolled up the back door so they could load the supplies.
She wished she could also bring the help with her to her storage unit, where she’d
be unloading the hazardous material until she scheduled a waste pickup. Her aching
muscles could use the help.

The three Pacifica employees who were charged with the task of wheeling down the multiple
bins of blood-sodden debris and hoisting it into the back of her van now rewarded
themselves with a smoke break behind the building.

“Thanks,” Sadie called out, offering them a wave as she tossed her small suitcase
in the back and then rolled the back door down with a slam and locked it.

“No problem,” one called back.

Sadie took a couple steps toward the driver’s door and then walked back to the clutch
of young guys leaning casually against the brown brick next to the massive Dumpsters.
If Marlene had been on the staff before getting killed, maybe they’d remember her.

“I wonder if any of you know my friend’s daughter,” Sadie began. “I thought she worked
here in housekeeping. Her name’s Marlene?”

Each of them shrugged in turn and shook their heads.

“Sure, I know a Marlene who cleans rooms, but not at this hotel,” one with red hair
and freckles responded as he dragged hard on his cigarette.

“Okay. Thanks anyway.” Sadie turned to go.

“Yeah, she works at the Eminence, not here.”

Sadie slowly turned back to the group.

“The Bay Eminence? That really modern tower on the waterfront?”

“Yup,” he replied. “I work part time at both.”

“That isn’t Marlene,” one of the other guys piped up. “You’re thinking of Maxine.”

Freckle-faced guy finished his smoke and ground it under the toe of his shoe before
nodding. “You’re right. Maxine. Blonde with big . . .” He held his hands in front
of his chest.

“Right. Got it. So, you work at both hotels?” Sadie tilted her head. “That isn’t a
conflict of interest?”

Sure, it might seem ridiculous that this lackey might smuggle the deep dark secrets
of each luxury hotel and sell it to the highest bidder, but hey, there had to be fierce
competition for the wallets of Seattle’s tourists.

“They’re sisters,” he replied with a shrug.

“Yeah,” added his friend, flicking his cigarette butt into the alley behind the van.
“Our paychecks are from Torpor Inc. The company owns a lot of hotels.”

“Torpor,” Sadie repeated slowly and then slapped her palm to her forehead. “Now I
remember. They were in the news a few years ago determined to own one historic hotel
and one ritzy modern one in each major city in the world, right?”

With a nod of disinterest they told her they needed to head back to work. Sadie found
herself wondering if Petrovich realized the hotels were owned by the same company.
He wouldn’t be much of a detective if he hadn’t connected those dots, but she still
felt she needed to update him about the connection the three dead women had to Women
Against the Streets. She reached for her phone but it wasn’t in any of her usually
designated pockets. She began searching the large purse she’d received from Maeva,
but it wasn’t there.

“Damn.”

Sadie rubbed the back of her neck wearily. She must’ve left it in the hotel room.

Instead of heading back around the front of the building and posing as a businesswoman
in her skirt and pumps, Sadie saved her feet the anguish and cut through the back
exit the workers just entered.

She followed a long hall to a bank of service elevators, then hopped on one that was
open and rode it up to her floor. Within a minute she was using her room key to enter
the safe zone room and had located her phone, which was waiting expectantly on the
small round table next to the coffee carafe.

Snapping up her cell, Sadie made to exit when a sound in the adjoining room stopped
her short. She cozied up to the connecting door and listened. A male’s voice spoke
loudly over the hum of the air purification machine but his words were indistinguishable
through the wooden door.

There shouldn’t have been anyone inside that room until after she’d cleared it by
removing the ozone generator. Sadie fidgeted nervously. Everyone knows that murderers
love to return to the scene of their crimes. Sadie couldn’t help but wonder if Opal
and Olivia’s slasher had returned to relive the moment. A chill swept up Sadie’s spine.
She glanced longingly at her purse, wishing she’d had the forethought to pack her
pepper spray, but she’d left it in her bedroom after assaulting Zack.

Looking around the room, she searched for something she could use as a weapon. Nothing.
Her feet ached as a reminder that she was in heels and would be no match in a race
from a homicidal maniac. Unless she took them off. She slipped her feet out of the
spiky shoes and realized she had her weapon.

Not a fool with a desire to confront a finger-cutting, slashing homicidal maniac on
her own, Sadie dialed Petrovich and was greeted by his voice mail. She whispered intensely,
“I can hear a man in the murder room at the Pacifica. I’m going in. Send help!”

She also called down to hotel security and, in a whisper, told them to send someone
up to the room. She tossed her purse and one shoe silently onto the bed and with one
pump raised high she slowly, carefully, and every so noiselessly turned the door handle.

Abruptly, she decided to use the element of surprise. She threw the door open and
lunged onto the back of a tall man facing away from her. With a shrieking battle cry
she wrapped her arms around his neck in a death grip as she pounded him with her shoe,
screaming, “Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot!”

Chapter 11

The man spun around and fell backward onto the hotel bed with Sadie still on his back.
She lost her grip around his neck and he leapt to his feet, panting and wide-eyed
as a white plastic object dropped from his hand.

“Herbert Sylvane?” Sadie struggled to a sitting position, eyed him up and down, and
determined he had no weapon. She glanced around the room and could see nothing had
been disturbed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The manager of the Bay Eminence Hotel smoothed his dark suit as his breath came in
ragged gasps as if he’d just run a marathon.

“I should ask you the same question,” he said formally. He reached into his pocket,
pulled out a tissue, and dabbed at his head delicately. The tissue came away red from
a small gash. “I think you punctured my head with your shoe!”

“I should’ve aimed for your heart!” she exclaimed, not at all certain she had the
stomach to stab a man to death with her black pumps. “You know exactly why
I’m
here.” Sadie fisted her hands on her hips and glowered. “I was hired to clean here.
I doubt you can say the same. You killed them, didn’t you?” she demanded. “You killed
them and came back to visit your sick, twisted handiwork!”

“What! N-no!” he shouted in response. “Are you crazy?”

His eyes went to the floor and the object he dropped earlier. Sadie’s gaze followed
his and together they lunged for the bottle.

Sadie’s fingers reached it first. She held the bottle, containing a clear liquid,
up to her face and read the label.

“Holy water?” Her jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I used to be a priest.” Herbert rocked nervously from one foot to the other. “Someone
evil came into this room and did terrible things to those poor women and—” He looked
her in the eyes defiantly. “Well, I just had to try and get rid of it.”

“Rid of what? The evil?”

Sadie glanced down at the bottle again. Nowhere on it did it state it could cleanse
a room of evil spirits and/or murderers. However, she realized with dismay that she’d
been known to rely on the healing powers of smudging, cleansing, and yes, even holy
water in the past. She tossed the bottle back to him and he caught it deftly in midair.

“How did you get in?”

“Bev let me into the room.” He looked sheepish. “I asked her to let me know when you
were done. She’s a good Catholic. I convinced her I’d be quick and no one would even
know I was here.”

Just then a sharp knock sounded at the door and male voice shouted, “Open up! Hotel
security!”

Sadie went to the door, opened it and told them it was a false alarm. “I heard someone
in this room and didn’t realize Ms. Hummel had given permission,” she explained.

They looked beyond her and nodded hello to Herbert Sylvane.

After they were gone, she told Herbert, “I’d told Bev I was done so I guess she didn’t
think I’d be back so soon. I just came back for my cell phone.” Sadie sighed and ran
her hand through her short-cropped hair. Her heart had slowed its rapid beating in
her chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Me? I thought you were the murderer, here to attack me!” he cried. “I’m surprised
I didn’t drop dead from a heart attack.”

They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

“I’ve got to know . . . ,” Sadie began. “You’re no longer a priest. Why’d you leave
a noble calling like that to work at a hotel?”

“It’s an age-old story, really. I was young and I fell in love. Decided to leave the
church and get married.” He looked sad. “She left me a couple years later for someone
else.”

“I’m sorry.”

He dabbed his head again with the tissue and winced.

“I guess old habits die hard. I was careful not to touch or interfere with anything
you’ve done here,” he said. “I just wanted to be sure that whatever evil intent remained
was also cleaned up.” He cringed visibly. “To you, that probably sounds a little out-there.”

“Hey, you can never be too careful when dealing with evil,” Sadie acknowledged wisely.
“So, were you done? Or do you still need to sprinkle some more?”

“If you don’t mind?” He held the bottle up.

“Knock yourself out.”

She watched as he walked about the room, sprinkling drops of water at various locations
and quietly murmuring.

“By the power of God Almighty, I command evil powers to leave here forever and be
consigned into the everlasting lake of fire, and may they never again touch any creature
in the entire world.” He flung more water around the room and after words in Latin
and some serious prayers he concluded with, “Peace be to this place and to all who
enter here in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Instinctively Sadie genuflected and repeated, “Amen.”

She thought seriously about asking him to sprinkle a little holy water on her as well,
but that would require a longer explanation about what she’d been up to. Sadie slipped
her shoes back onto her feet and they left the room and walked down the hall toward
the elevator together.

“The job you do . . . cleaning up all that kind of ungodly mess. . . . How do you
do it? Don’t you get scared?” Herbert asked in a tone just over a whisper.

“Yes,” Sadie replied, just as quietly. “Yes, I do.”

“Then why do you do it?” He stepped forward to press the call button for the elevator.

Sadie wondered if he’d seen the Internet video and was asking about her ghost dealings
but decided he was more likely asking about cleaning up after murderers. Both had
their equally terrifying moments. After a moment she simply replied, “Somebody has
to do it. Somebody has to make sure people aren’t traumatized twice.”

When the elevator arrived they walked inside. Sadie smoothed her clothes, which had
become crumpled in her wrestling match. Herbert Sylvane watched her and leaned in
to take hold of the pendant around her neck.

“Carnalem concupiscentiam est insatiabilis,”
he said, reading the inscription aloud.

“It’s some kind of good-luck charm given to me by a client,” Sadie said with a shrug.

He smiled. “Then you should always wear it. Everyone needs a little luck.”

The elevator came to a stop. As the doors slid open, Herbert reached into his pocket
and pressed the bottle of holy water into her hands.

Sadie looked up at him in surprise.

“Use this to keep you safe,” he said evenly. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked
into her eyes intently.

Sadie thanked him before allowing him to zip swiftly out of the lobby ahead of her.

She was walking to her van when an unmarked car sped past her and rounded the corner
to the alley.

“Damn! I forgot to call off the dogs,” she muttered and broke into a run, with her
shoes pinching her feet as she went.

She reached her van just in time to see Petrovich climbing out of his car and eyeing
her quizzically.

“What’s the emergency?” he called out. “I couldn’t make heads or tails over what you
were saying on your message.”

“Sorry.” Sadie held up her phone. “I was just about to call you.” She quick-stepped
up to where he was waiting beside her van. “I heard someone in the room upstairs.”
She indicated the upper floors of the Pacifica with a wave of her hand. “I thought
maybe the killer returning to the scene of the crime and all that.”

“Who was it?” he asked.

“Nobody really.”

Sadie hesitated. Should she tell Petrovich an ex-priest was cleansing the room with
holy water? She shook her head and decided against it. Herbert Sylvane only appeared
guilty of Catholic guilt. Suddenly, she put a hand on the van because she felt momentarily
unsteady on her feet.

“Nobody? Are you sure?”

“False alarm.”

No need to get Herbert Sylvane interrogated for sprinkling holy water, and no use
in getting Petrovich more annoyed than he already was.

“So, you’re all done here then?”

Sadie said she was and Petrovich opened his mouth as if to say more, then slammed
his jaw shut. His eyes grew hard and he pushed Sadie away from where she stood against
the hood of the van.

“Somebody’s left you another present.”

Sadie looked with dismay to see a clear Ziploc baggie once again under her windshield.

“Just once it would be nice to get diamonds,” she said. “Or even a coffee gift card,
you know?”

Petrovich shushed her and ordered her to stay put while he went back to his vehicle
and called in the crime-scene techies who’d take over.

“You’ve still got my car and now you’re going to take my van?” Sadie shouted.

“We’re done processing your Corolla. I’ll get one of the guys to drive it over here,
since they’re on their way anyway.”

Although it was highly irregular, Petrovich put in the request and then once again
stepped forward to join Sadie by her van. She’d turned her back so she didn’t have
to look at it, but Petrovich was staring hard enough for both of them.

“Looks like there are two,” he muttered under his breath.

“Two what?” Sadie asked, knowing the answer but hoping he’d come back and say something
upbeat like
I saw two kittens,
or
puppies,
or
cute shoes
 . . . anything but—

“Fingers,” he said. “Near as I can tell without picking up the damn bag, it looks
like there are two fingers in that bag.”

“Oh God.” Sadie pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “So now we’ve got
three fingers and four bodies.”

“Four?”

“Counting Marlene. I know you’ve only found three girls, but if her ghost is around,
there’s got to be a dead Marlene somewhere.”

Petrovich rubbed his eyes. “I asked Bev Hummel to check her employee records and nobody
named Marlene worked here in housekeeping or otherwise.” He turned and faced Sadie.
“Could you be wrong?”

“About the ghost named Marlene telling me a serial killer is slaughtering women for
my benefit and won’t stop until I’m dead?” Sadie smirked. “As fun as that sounds,
I didn’t make that up for entertainment value because my life is boring.”

“I know, but maybe your wires are crossed or something.” He shoved his hands in his
pockets and glared. “I don’t know how this thing you do works, but I’m guessing it’s
not science. I can’t see it, touch it, or smell it, so I can’t go building a case
around it, you got me?”

“Yeah,” Sadie said, unenthusiastically.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t respect you as a person. You’re the best blood-’n’-guts
person in the business and I know you’ve helped me when the occasional”—he paused,
searching for the word—“otherworldly thing needed to be dealt with, so what I’m trying
to say is this.” He placed his hands on Sadie’s shoulders and looked hard into her
eyes. “Be safe. Do what you gotta do to protect yourself. Maybe take a holiday until
we catch this guy.”

“I hear Hawaii’s beautiful this time of year.” Sadie sniffed back tears. “Too bad
I can hardly afford to go around the block.”

“Then stay home and watch TV for a few days,” he suggested. “Stay in bed with Zack.
I’m sure he’d find that a real hardship.”

Sadie bit back tears. “Do you have any leads yet?” Her voice broke slightly, so she
cleared her throat.

Petrovich blew out a breath and hesitated before answering. “Blood samples show the
girls were drugged with a cocktail containing Rohypnol and other stuff.”

“The date-rape drug?” Sadie nodded. That explained why the ghosts had no idea what
happened to them. “So some guy is dragging drugged prostitutes through elegant hotel
lobbies and nobody sees a thing?”

“I’m thinking he had them meet him in the hotel rooms and drugged them there. We’ve
gone over the security tapes from both hotels and don’t see anybody who looks the
same at both locations, and we don’t even see the girls coming and going. He could’ve
disguised them. Had them wear wigs. Had them dress as men . . . anything.”

“That would make more sense than him sneaking drugged hookers through the lobby,”
Sadie agreed.

“That’s the thing with these classy-assed places,” Petrovich grumbled. “There are
security cameras everywhere. Still we got zilch. The girls don’t show up on the videos
as entering the hotels.”

“And both hotels are owned by Torpor. You knew that?”

He nodded. “Torpor Inc. owns both hotels. Could be coincidental or not.”

“Oh! I just remembered.” Sadie clapped her hands together. “WATS.”

“Whats?”

“W-A-T-S,” she said, spelling it out. “It stands for Women Against the Streets. All
three women—May, Opal, and Olivia—got help from there.”

“And you know this because?”

“They told me,” Sadie replied.

“Of course they did.” Petrovich released a world-weary sigh not unlike the one often
released by Sadie’s own mother.

“It’s an organization that helps keep working girls safe. They keep a list of bad
johns and things like that. I’m sure every hooker in the greater Seattle area has
gone there at one time or another, but hey, thought you’d want to know.”

“Sure. Might as well throw one more needle into one more haystack.”

Sadie felt hurt. She was only trying to help.

“I do appreciate it anyhow,” Petrovich added quickly. “Just wish we’d catch this screwball
before he gets someone else. The mayor is breathing down our necks ’cause he’s worried
about scaring tourists away.” He narrowed his eyes at Sadie. “Speaking of scaring
business away, what’s this I hear about you on some video that’s all over the freakin’
place?”

Sadie’s head dropped until her chin was at her chest. “You know about it?”

“
Everyone
knows about it.”

“Rosemary Thingvold thought a video would be good publicity for Madam Maeva’s,” she
mumbled. “I had no idea she was even taking it.”

“It was all a mock-up, right?” Petrovich asked. “That door swinging open and you falling
to the ground and being pulled backward across the floor toward some crazy pimped-up
horror closet . . . You guys faked that with special effects and all?”