Dead Suite (16 page)

Sadie weighed exactly how much Petrovich’s analytical cop brain could handle and replied,
“Sure.”

“I got a big kick out of some of the comments saying if you play it slow you see a
ghost in the closet.” He shook his head and laughed. “Reminded me of how we all used
to play records backward looking for the secret message.”

Sadie chuckled along with Petrovich but her mind was thinking she really needed to
take a closer look at that video.

The investigation team came in their big black vehicle and began bagging and tagging
everything in, on, and around Sadie’s van. Another guy rolled up minutes later driving
Sadie’s Corolla.

Sadie asked Petrovich if she was cleared to leave.

“Yeah, go ahead. I know where to find you.”

Sadie thanked him and walked to her car just as the CSI guy who’d driven it there
was climbing out.

“Hey, I think you’re up to nearly a million hits.” He tossed Sadie’s keys to her.
“Congratulations.”

“Um, thanks?” She climbed behind the wheel of her car just as her cell phone rang.
It was Bev Hummel’s number. Sadie glanced around at the chaos that was spilling from
the back alley and now jamming up traffic in front of the hotel. The media vans were
also pulling up. No doubt the manager of the Pacifica was wondering what the hell
was going on. Sadie figured it wouldn’t hurt to let the call go to voice mail and
deal with it later.

When Sadie pulled up to her house she knew immediately her day was heading from frying
pan to fire. Parked in her driveway was Maeva’s car, as well as the Thingvolds’ Mini
Cooper. Maeva had a spare key to Sadie’s place and must’ve let herself inside. Sadie
was tired and didn’t want to deal with her friends, so that was bad enough. However,
parked in front of the house was a Channel 11 news van. Sadie had slowed her car as
she passed by, but now she hit the accelerator before anyone could see her. She zoomed
down the street and around the corner, then parked in a back alley and pulled out
her phone.

Maeva answered on the first ring.

“Why does my driveway look like Grand Central?” Sadie demanded.

“You didn’t return my calls and we need to talk.”

“I was working. I planned on calling you after I napped and showered,” Sadie explained.
“What’s with the news van?”

“It showed up shortly after we got here. We were waiting for you in the driveway,
but when reporters began asking Rosemary questions I thought it might be a good idea
to get everyone inside.”

“Good call. The last thing I need is to have her adding fuel to the fire. I imagine
they’re at my house because they heard about the new fingers found on my van at the
Pacifica,” Sadie said. “Then again, maybe they’re there because of the gazillion hits
on that video that’s sure to ruin my life.”

“I know you’re angry about the video. I was pissed too,” Maeva said. “But we wanted
to get together to talk to you about it.”

Sadie weighed her limited options.

“I’m still really ticked off at Rosemary. She had no right to post what happened at
Halladay Street on YouTube. I don’t know if I feel like talking to her about it.”

“Her heart was in the right place.”

“Maybe, but her brain had obviously left her bald little head,” Sadie said, sulking.
“Fine. We can meet to talk about it, but first I need you to take care of Hairy. I
haven’t been home since yesterday.”

“Rosemary’s been playing with the little guy,” Maeva said. “And gave him some fresh
water.”

“Good. Could you top up his kibble and give him a couple yogurt yummies? If I’ve got
any carrots left in the fridge, give him one of those too. Where can we meet?”

“A coffee shop somewhere might be best.”

Sadie gave it some thought and then suggested the Zoka Coffee Roaster & Tea House
in Green Lake. “And make sure you don’t bring the paparazzi with you,” Sadie warned.

“Give us half an hour,” Maeva said, and they ended the call.

Sadie had wanted to spend the majority of her day snuggled up on her sofa with her
pet bunny. She’d planned a marathon of TV watching and junk-food eating and now she
couldn’t even set foot in her own home. It did little to improve her mood when there
wasn’t even decent parking within a block of Zoka’s and it started to rain. She was
forced to park way down Keystone Place and jog back up to Fifty-Sixth. When she walked
into the coffee shop, all stresses briefly faded away at the welcoming smell of espresso.
A true Seattleite didn’t get jittery from too much coffee. Instead, it was as comforting
as mother’s milk.

Sadie took her order of a macchiato and bagel and, hoping for a seat, glanced around
the room filled with wooden tables and chairs. Finally she scored a table against
the wall in a quieter corner and settled in to wait. It was one full macchiato, a
bagel, and then a scone later that Maeva and Rosemary blew through the front doors
of the coffee house. Sadie waved them over.

“Sorry it took so long,” Maeva said, peeling off her drenched jacket. “I wanted to
drop off Osbert with Terry first.”

“It had the bonus effect of throwing the camera crew off our trail, though. They followed
us to Maeva’s but when they saw us go inside with the baby they left,” Rosemary said,
offering Sadie a sweet smile. She sat down in the chair opposite and hung the strap
of her laptop off the back of her chair.

Maeva got up to get coffees for herself and Rosemary. Once she was out of earshot,
Sadie glared at Rosemary.

“You sure know how to rock the boat,” Sadie said in a half whisper, pointing an accusing
finger at Rosemary.

“I know.” Rosemary glanced down and sheepishly drew circles on the wooden table with
the tip of her finger. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I swear. I just meant to upload
a video as an example of a séance performed by Madam Maeva’s. I had no idea it would
attract this level of attention.”

Sadie sighed. “Do you have any idea what this could do to my business? Scene-2-Clean
is being held together literally by my sweat and other people’s blood! I’m just trying
to keep a respectable trauma-clean company afloat. If word gets out that I’m ghost
hunting . . . well, this could ruin me!”

“I hope that won’t happen,” Rosemary said sincerely, and she rubbed her bald head
distractedly as she spoke. “I only recorded things to show what Madam Maeva’s could
offer in the way of private services.” She stole a look toward Maeva still in the
coffee lineup and then leaned in to say to Sadie, “Maeva hasn’t recouped her powers
since having the baby, and it’s been hard on her. I just want the business to thrive
so it’s one last thing for her to worry about.”

“I know.” Sadie knew in her heart of hearts that crazy ol’ Rosemary really did only
want to do good; she hadn’t wanted to show Sadie in a bad light with peed pants while
being devoured by a closet. “I haven’t had time to really analyze the video so I should
probably not be so hard on you.”

“You haven’t seen it?” Maeva asked, sounding dumbfounded. She put coffees on the table
for herself and Rosemary. “Haven’t you been at all curious what the fuss is about?”

“I did see it. Gayla couldn’t wait to show me what she was pissed about, but I didn’t
have a chance to really go through it. I’ve been a tad busy cleaning up after a serial
killer and having fingers left as little presents on my window.”

“Fingers as in plural?” Maeva asked. “I thought it was just one.”

“It happened again, just a couple hours ago when I was leaving the Pacifica. This
time two fingers.” Sadie narrowed her eyes at Rosemary. “And that little tidbit stays
between us. Do not be posting it anywhere on the Internet, because Detective Petrovich
would lock both of us up for interfering in his investigation.”

Rosemary held her hands up. “No worries. I’ve learned my lesson.” She dragged out
her laptop and put it on the table. “And speaking of that, you should watch the video
again. It takes a few times before you can absorb everything going on.”

The three of them huddled together looking at the video that had attracted so much
attention. Sadie cringed seeing herself being flung to the floor, then dragged backward
with her legs in the air and an obvious wet mark on her jeans as she screamed in pure
terror with her mouth exposing fillings on her back molars. The entire video was less
than five minutes.

“It’s no better watching it a second time. It looks like a bad scene from a B horror
movie,” Sadie grumbled.

“A lot of people in the comments are suggesting it’s just a publicity stunt,” Maeva
harrumphed.

Sadie’s eyebrows shot up and she looked at her friend.

“Well, that’s not such a bad idea. I don’t mind being associated with a comical commercial
for Psychics ‘R’ Us. Maybe that’s
exactly
how we should play this thing.” To Rosemary she added, “Maybe you can just put in
the credits at the end thanking me for my acting services for Madam Maeva’s?”

“That’s a horrible idea,” Maeva grumped. “It’ll make my company a laughingstock!”

“I think it’s better if we just let the haters believe it’s a stunt and let those
who want to believe in the possibilities of an afterlife think of Madam Maeva’s as
a way to reach out to those beyond,” Rosemary said simply.

“Except for one thing,” Sadie said. “My name and company have been mentioned in the
comments. People who think it’s a stunt will laugh it off and not use Madam Maeva’s
Café. No big loss because those kinds of people wouldn’t have searched for a psychic
anyway. Those who think it’s the real deal will be burning up Madam Maeva’s phone
lines trying to book appointments to get visits with their dearly departed, right?”

Rosemary nodded. “We’re booked solid with readings for the next month.”

“That’s great for Madam Maeva’s. But . . .” Sadie looked from Rosemary to Maeva. “There’s
no upside for me. Nobody’s sitting around thinking that since their dearly departed
committed suicide and they need someone to mop it up they might as well call the crazy
Scene-2-Clean girl who peed her pants at a séance!”

“I thought that was just a shadow,” Maeva said.

“Sure. A shadow,” Rosemary agreed. “But there’s no shame in being terrified. It was
a scary situation!”

“That’s right,” Maeva said. “When the writing said ‘Bring Sadie’ we thought it was
because there was a special message for you. We didn’t think you were in any danger,
or we would never have suggested you come.”

Sadie rubbed her temples in a circular motion, trying to ward off a tension headache.

“Okay, I don’t want to talk about the weird vortex of doom inside that house that
wants to kill me,” Sadie muttered.

“But we really should talk about it,” Maeva said seriously. “Whatever darkness is
there needs to be dealt with.”

“I agree. You go ahead and deal with it. I’m choosing to take a different route. I’m
going to ignore the whole thing. Unfortunately, my problems are bigger than a stupid
video and a haunted house. I’ve got a serial killer leaving me pointer fingers, and
a ghost at the hotel says the murderer won’t stop until I’m one of his victims.”

“You never said anything about that.” Maeva offered her friend a frightened look.

“It’s a pretty new development,” Sadie admitted. “Three ghosts at that hotel but only
two bodies were found by the police. I dealt with the two, but this girl named Marlene
seemed to only exist to warn me.”

“Marlene!” Rosemary Thingvold exclaimed. “Was she wearing a brown uniform with her
name embroidered on it?”

“Yes!” Sadie nodded excitedly. “How do you know her?”

“This is more serious than I thought,” Maeva said, shaking her head slowly. To Rosemary
she added, “We need to show her.”

“Show me what?” A feeling of dread filled Sadie’s stomach next to the bagel and scone
she wolfed down earlier.

Rosemary tapped on the keyboard of her laptop and began playing the video again. When
the movie was near the end, she paused the footage and began showing it frame by frame
before pausing and zooming in on one particular shot.

The closet appeared as a deep swirling mass of blackened smoke. In the center were
two red slits of eyes; and impossibly long, smoky appendages stretched from the closet
and across the floor, holding Sadie’s shoulders and dragging her.

Sadie shuddered. “Good thing you had your wand,” she told Rosemary.

“I think my wand may have helped, but I have a feeling you were saved by someone else.”

“Show her the next part,” Maeva instructed.

Rosemary clicked and the video began to play, and then she paused it again.

“Can you see it?” she asked Sadie.

Sadie looked in at the horrible mass of smoke and eyes and could vaguely make out
something else in the background.

“Get closer,” Maeva instructed.

Rosemary clicked a few times and soon the screen was zoomed in on the heinous closet.

Sadie gasped.

Centered in the smoky vortex was the same ghostly figure of a young woman dressed
in a brown uniform, with
MARLENE
stitched on the blouse.

Chapter 12

The female apparition of Marlene had her arms locked around the darkened sphere with
the red eyes. In the blink of an eye and coinciding with the flash of Rosemary’s wand,
Marlene appeared to envelope the monster and then both were gone as the video faded
to black.

“Wow,” Sadie murmured. “That’s her. That’s Marlene from the hotel.” She looked from
Maeva to Rosemary. “I don’t get it.”

“We need more information on the history of that house,” Maeva said firmly.

“And you, personally, need a serious smudging,” Rosemary added.

Sadie straightened in her chair. “You are so not coming anywhere near me with your
burning herbs. I prefer to keep my eyebrows.”

Maeva was busy texting on her phone.

“How’s Osbert?” Sadie asked. “Do you have to go?”

“I’ve got another hour until his next feeding so I texted Gayla and asked her to meet
with us.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Sadie said. “I met with her last night
and she seemed overwhelmed by the video and all the attention it was drawing to the
house.”

Maeva’s phone chirped and she glanced down.

“She’s agreed. We’re to come to her condo on Lakeside as soon as we can.”

The trio dipped out into the rain and formed a three-car convoy onto the I-5, then
exited at Montlake. Within fifteen minutes they were searching for parking on the
side streets around the waterfront building. Once their vehicles were all squeezed
and tucked into designated spots, the three met out front.

Sadie let out a low whistle as she scanned the water view. “What do you think? A million
for this place?”

“Double it, I’m sure,” Maeva said.

They buzzed in and rode the elevator up a few floors. Gayla Woods opened the door
with a martini in one hand and a fluffy white cat in the other.

“This is Prince,” she said, raising the feline up to their faces.

“Um, nice to meet you,” Sadie replied awkwardly.

The cat looked like he wanted chew off somebody’s face. Sadie hoped he wasn’t partial
to trauma cleaners.

“Drink?” Gayla asked over her shoulder as they followed her into the living room.

“We’re driving,” Rosemary said and then after a glance at Maeva added, “And nursing.”

“Not all of us are nursing,” Sadie said as she elbowed Rosemary out of the way and
vied for what appeared to be the only comfortable chair in the room—a navy-blue upholstered
armchair next to the window.

Gayla’s apartment was decorated mostly in shades of white, including the sofa and
area rugs. She’d successfully managed to combine an eclectic mix of antiques and modern
furniture. None of it looked cheap, or comfortable. Sadie guessed the sofa was as
stiff as Gayla’s martini but maybe she thought that a million-dollar view would make
you feel better about sitting on rock-hard furniture.

“I’ll make tea,” Gayla said, disappearing down the hall.

“Great,” Sadie muttered. “Now I’ll have to drink tea.”

Sadie had a long-standing hatred of tea because it was the beverage of choice offered
by bereaved families when they talked to her about mopping up their loved ones. If
death had a drink choice, it was tea.

Sadie opted to put her large new purse on the floor next to the chair and then noticed
Gayla’s cream-colored Fendi handbag already there. Sadie hoisted her large bag back
onto her lap and glanced down at the impressive purse. It was open and nestled inside
the linen lining of the designer satchel were a number of bills. Sadie recognized
the red bold lettering on many of them immediately as being past due.

Nonchalantly, Sadie grabbed the half-dozen envelopes from Gayla’s purse. She shuffled
them in her hands, getting a look at bills from utility companies and a rental agency
all with past-due red gleaming through the white opaque envelopes. Just as quickly,
Sadie tucked the envelopes back into Gayla’s bag. When she glanced up Maeva was eyeing
her curiously and Sadie just offered her an innocent smile in return.

“Look at that view,” Rosemary whispered.

Sadie got her mind out of Gayla’s finances and turned to enjoy the view. It was truly
spectacular with the twinkling lights of Bellevue glimmering off the lake only feet
away and a backdrop of the Cascade Mountains in the distance.

“I’d have to mop a lot of blood to afford a place like this,” Sadie said, awed. “Maybe
I should’ve gone into real estate investing instead.”

“Is that all she does?” Maeva asked. “I thought she was an accountant.”

“I do both,” Gayla Woods announced as she walked into the living room balancing a
tray of colorful ceramic teacups, a teapot, and a refreshed martini. She placed the
tray on the coffee table and told everyone to help themselves. “Many years doing accounting
work in the hospitality industry helped me often find profit in areas that others
might find too risky, or unappealing.”

“Yes, being an accountant must’ve been very helpful with crunching numbers and finding
the best real estate deals in Seattle,” Rosemary remarked, reaching for a cup and
filling it from the teapot.

“It’s helped,” Gayla admitted. “Not all of the places I buy are in Seattle. The market
here is still quite pricey compared to a lot of the country. For example, I was in
Los Angeles pricing some foreclosures a few months ago when Maeva was speaking there.
She made quite the impression.”

“Thank you,” Maeva said. “So what got you started on investing?”

“A boyfriend came upon a discounted house deal and we invested together. Mostly, I
got lucky early on and that made all the difference in the world. Found a couple places
that looked like bargains, fixed then up, and then resold them just as the market
was taking off. Made a tidy profit and then hit repeat for ten years.”

“You make it sound easy,” Sadie said, thinking about how she’d scrimped and saved
to get the down payment for her own place and now struggled to make the mortgage payment.
But then she remembered Gayla’s past-due bills just a few inches from where she sat.
“I’m guessing the way the economy has been going, it’s been tough.”

“It hasn’t been all martinis and olives,” Gayla said, letting out a snort of laughter.
“Sometimes we’ve had some real lemons.”

“What do you do with the lemons?” Maeva asked, stealing a glance at her watch.

Gayla shrugged. “We either rent them out until we can sell them for a profit or we
cut and run. There’s a ranch house we own in Bellevue that was a hard sell, so I rented
it out for a couple years. Now the market in that area is up and I’m selling it.”

“You said ‘we.’ Do you do all your investing with a partner?” Rosemary asked.

“My fiancé and I partner up on many places, but I have a better knack for discovering
those with a high profit margin.” She grinned proudly.

“You must be doing well for yourself, though, because this is a stunning apartment,”
Sadie remarked.

“Thank you, but I can’t take credit for this one; it belongs to a friend. I’m just
staying here until Halladay is remodeled, and then I’m moving somewhere warm and dry
with my fiancé.”

“What are you going to do about Halladay Street if it takes a long time to sell?”
Sadie asked.

“That’s the magic question, isn’t it?” Gayla said, then put her fingers to her lips
to shush a giggle. “I’m sorry. I guess that’s not politically correct, is it? To talk
about magic in front of you?”

“We’re not magicians,” Sadie said dryly. She began to wonder why they’d come. “In
light of that unfortunate video—,” Sadie began.

“And I have to say again how sorry I am about that,” Rosemary added, cutting her off.

“We’re just wanting more history on the house,” Sadie continued. “I mean, we all know
the basics. . . . Some crazy-assed woman killed her daughter there and then went to
jail.”

“And then the mom killed herself,” Gayla said.

“Yes, but was there any other history of wrongdoing in the house?” Maeva asked.

“Isn’t that enough?” Gayla asked, her speech slurring slightly. “A girl was killed
because she was hooking around town and—”

“Excuse me?” Sadie leaned forward. “Did you say she was hooking? I thought she was
fourteen? Are you saying she was a prostitute?”

Gayla frowned and took a dainty sip from her martini glass. “That may have just been
a rumor I heard from the neighbor.” She got to her feet and began pacing, obviously
frustrated.

“That could tie in everything,” Sadie murmured. “I don’t know how, but if the killer
was connected to Halladay Street . . .”

Gayla tossed up her hands. “I just want this house business finished. I’ve got places
to go. Things to do. I own houses all over this goddamned country and I don’t plan
on staying in Seattle forever.” She stared out the window at the drizzle falling lightly
over the city. “I hate the rain.” She planted manicured hands on her hips. “Can you
help me or not?”

They were all quiet a moment.

“We’re just trying to find the cause so we can come up with a solution,” Maeva said
evenly.

“Rumors at that time were that the mom believed her daughter was possessed by demons
and she tried holding an exorcism,” Rosemary said.

“Yes, it was all very sad. I remember reading about it in the paper,” Maeva added.
“The mother admitted that she’d called every priest in the Seattle area but everyone
turned her down, so she attempted the exorcism herself. Poisoned the demons but, actually,
killed her daughter in the process.”

“Tragic,” Rosemary said.

“Yes. Horrible.” Gayla sounded bored and not exactly horrified. “Can you fix it or
not?”

“The house has issues,” Rosemary said.

“Understatement of the year,” Sadie murmured, but something Gayla said was niggling
at her subconscious.

“We’ll do what we can.” Maeva looked at her watch. “I need to get back to my baby.”
She got up and shook Gayla’s hand. “Thanks for seeing us. We’ll try and fix things.”

“I hope so.” Gayla walked them to the door, saying, “I hired your company because
the workers at the house said they heard strange sounds and things were being moved
around the house. I thought, what’s the harm? We’ll get some psychics in here, get
rid of the ghost or whatever it is, and the superstitious handymen will go back to
work and all would be right with that house and my world. I remembered the talk you
gave about helping spirits move on.” She turned from Maeva and pinned Rosemary with
a hard stare. “Unfortunately, you haven’t exactly lived up to your end of the bargain,
have you? As a matter of fact, you’ve made things a hundred times worse.”

Sadie straightened and regarded Gayla coolly.

“Rosemary has already admitted that she shouldn’t have posted the video, but the video
doesn’t change what happened. If anything, it should reinforce to you the difficulty
Rosemary and Maeva have had with your house. It’s obvious they’ve tried to—”

“It’s obvious to
you
,” Gayla replied icily. “To anyone else it might just appear that the house I planned
to renovate and sell for quick profit was turned into a sideshow circus to benefit
Madam Maeva’s.”

Maeva looked like she wanted to slap Gayla into next week but she merely stated in
a calm voice, “We’ll be going. Thanks for the tea.”

Then Maeva and Rosemary headed into the hall walking in the direction of the elevators.
Sadie took longer to tie her shoes.

“You mentioned you might’ve heard about Iris working as a hooker from a neighbor,
is that correct?”

Gayla rolled her eyes. “What possible difference could that make?”

“I was wondering if any of the neighbors ever heard of anything happening in the house?
Did they hear banging around or strange sounds?”

“I don’t see how that would matter.” Gayla made a shooing motion with her hands. “Your
friends are holding the elevator for you.”

Once in the elevator Sadie turned to her Maeva. “Thanks for the tea?” she repeated
in disbelief. “I thought you were going to give her a beating and, instead, you
thanked
her?”

“I’ve dealt with skeptics and cruelty my entire life and I gave up having fistfights
about it when I was a child. If I beat the crap out of everyone that dissed me or
my business, I’d be in jail by now,” Maeva explained.

“And she’s right to be angry,” Rosemary added. “She hired us to do a job and we haven’t
done it.”

“Has she paid you?” Sadie asked. “She had a stack of unpaid bills in her purse.”

“We never collect on a job until it’s completed,” Maeva said. “And you shouldn’t go
through another woman’s purse.” She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Besides, my
boobs are leaking. If I don’t get home to feed Osbert I’m liable to explode.”

The elevator door opened and they stepped off.

“Do you think I should pull the video?” Rosemary sounded concerned and she rubbed
her shiny scalp distractedly.

They walked through the lobby to the street as they talked.

“What’s done is done,” Maeva said. “I don’t see how you can change it.”

“How about you just put up some kind of disclaimer at the beginning of the video?”
Sadie suggested.

“And say what? Lie? Tell viewers that what they’re about to see isn’t real?” Maeva
shook her head. “We were all there. We saw what happened. I’m not about to start denying
it and look like a fraud. I’m not throwing Madam Maeva’s under the bus because of
this. If we don’t get paid by her highness”—Maeva pointed up, indicating Gayla’s floor—“then
we’ll just have to take the loss.”

Although Sadie understood her friend’s point, from her perspective the video sucked
donkey ass in a big way.

They walked up the street together until they reached Sadie’s car.

“This Marlene ghost showed up in the closet to keep me from the demon and also at
the Pacifica to warn me about this killer,” Sadie began. “Does that mean that whatever
is in that house is connected to the guy murdering prostitutes? If Iris Prior was
having sex for money, she could be connected to this guy killing hookers in the hotel
too.”