Dead Suite (2 page)

“My name is May Lathrop,” she said slowly, her bottom lip quivering with emotion.

Sadie glanced over and offered her a sympathetic smile. “I know. Your name was in
the paper.”

“It was?” She blinked rapidly as if she might cry and then swallowed her tears and
began pacing the floor anxiously. “How did this happen? Who did this to me?”

“Sorry, I don’t know, but I’m sure the police will try their best to find out,” Sadie
replied, then added, “I’m guessing you took a job here, right? At the Eminence? I
imagine whoever hired you for an hour or a night . . . well, I guess he was messed
up in the head.” Sadie tapped the side of her own head.

“I have a corner off Union Street. This is a much fancier place than I’m usually at,”
May said. Her fingers reached to stroke the fabric of a fine high-back chair in the
corner, but her hand simply dropped through the material without contact and May choked
back a sob.

“Don’t suppose you remember what you were doing here?” Sadie shook her head. “I don’t
mean
what
, I mean
who
. Do you remember who hired you or even where you were before coming here?”

“I remember getting a message from someone to meet for a private party. . . .” May
shook her head. “I was getting out.” May walked closer and sat back down on the hotel
bed, but her shape hovered over it instead of sinking into the cushiony duvet. “I
wanted to be an actress, you know. I even had a part a few years ago. I was a dancing
toilet brush in a commercial for a toilet-bowl cleaner.” She giggled at the memory
and then hung her head. “I know that sounds lame.”

“No it doesn’t,” Sadie said, even though it really did. “Look, we all make mistakes
and bad choices.”

“Yeah, but you’re still alive so you at least get a chance to fix your mistakes,”
May protested.

There really was no arguing with that.

“So how come I’m still here, if I’m dead?” she asked. “Is it because I wasn’t good
enough for heaven?”

“I don’t know exactly how these things work.” Wearily Sadie plopped herself down onto
the chair next to the bed and folded her gloved hands on her lap. “But usually if
someone doesn’t go right over to the hereafter once they’re gone, it seems to mean
that they have something they need to deal with in the here and now. Some kind of
message, or final request they want to have delivered. That’s where I come in. I can
try to help you with that. You got family?”

“Somewhere. I haven’t kept in touch. Last I heard they’d moved somewhere in Texas.”

May’s eyes filled with tears and she ran her hot-pink fingernails through her hair.
For the first time Sadie noticed the index finger on May’s right hand was missing.
That was a little something that hadn’t made the papers. Obviously Detective Petrovich
was keeping that tidbit to himself as part of his investigation.

“I was saving up to get out of this business. Had nearly a thousand put away already.
Plus some jewelry a couple regulars gave me worth maybe a thousand more. What happens
to that money?”

“Without a will . . .” Sadie shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“I worked hard for that money. I want to see something good come of it. There’s a
charity that helps women called WATS,” May said. “It stands for Women Against the
Streets. They were really good to me. When I needed medical help once, when a john
got rough, they took care of me. Just a bunch of Good Samaritan volunteers, but they
really cared, you know? They also helped me into my low-income apartment and got me
into some free acting classes.” She got to her feet and stood with new determination.
“I want WATS to have my money and jewelry. Maybe they can use it to help other girls.”

“That’s really nice of you.”

“So you’ll take care of that for me? Make sure WATS gets my money? It’s in a shoe
box on the top shelf of my bedroom closet.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sadie said. “Your apartment will be taped off by police. I can’t
just barge in there and take something.”

“But I’m giving you permission!”

“Somehow I don’t think the cops will believe me when I tell them your ghost said it
was okay for me to take your cash.”

She giggled softly. “Okay, well, it’s not like you even have to tell them.”

“Breaking in isn’t a specialty of mine either,” I said.

“You don’t have to break in. My apartment is in the basement of a house. There’s a
large rock with painted yellow daisies in the flower bed next to the door and I keep
a spare key under there. Twice I had my purse stolen on the streets. After that, the
second time, I learned not to keep cash or keys on me.” She rattled off the address
of her place and Sadie got a pen and paper from the desk in the corner of the room
and took down the information.

“Okay, I can’t promise anything,” Sadie said. “But I’ll do my best to make sure this
happens for you.”

Then Sadie got to her feet and approached May.

“It’s time for you to move on.”
And time for me to get back to work.
“I want you to close your eyes and think about the most beautiful thing in the world.
Think back to a time of peace and tranquility in your life and imagine a loving soul
ready to embrace you. Let go of this place and all the ugliness and pain in this world,”
Sadie told her gently.

May did as she was told and exhaled a long, slow sigh before her body began to glow
brightly. A shimmer appeared around the edges of her shape and then, after a few more
moments, she’d vanished entirely.

Sadie smiled and her heart beat excitedly in her chest. This part never got old. The
shimmer meant that May had moved on and wouldn’t return. If they simply disappeared
without a shimmer, it meant they were still here, just not visible. As much as Sadie
could do without the drama of being a ghost whisperer, she had to confess she felt
a small thrill at helping make someone’s final wishes come to fruition. She figured
she was somewhat like the Easter bunny or tooth fairy except she delivered messages
from the great beyond instead of chocolate or cash.

At the end of the cleanup she notified the front desk so that they could discretely
go to the safe room with linen carts and use them to haul all her stuff down through
the freight elevators. They would deliver the bins and equipment to the back alley
delivery entrance where Sadie’s Scene-2-Clean company van was parked.

Sadie snagged all the little shampoos and soaps from the bathroom and then re-dressed
into her blouse and skirt before she made her way downstairs to chat with the manager
of the Eminence.

She knocked on Herbert Sylvane’s office door and he called her to come in. The office
wasn’t as plush as the hotel itself. A large black desk monopolized the room, while
bookshelves held a few hard covers but mostly knickknacks. The desk was tidy with
a few papers stacked in an inbox at one end and a small statue of the Virgin Mary
at the other. Herbert Sylvane walked and talked stiffly like he had a stick where
the sun don’t shine. His skin was pale and his hair was dark. Aside from the fact
that he dressed like he’d just stepped out of a
GQ
cover, he had a down-home warm smile that immediately put Sadie at ease.

Ever the gentleman, he got up from behind his desk and remained standing until she
took a seat across from him.

“Cleaned up the mess already?” he asked her.

“Yes, basically it’s done. I know you wanted everything finished by today but, if
it’s okay with you, I’m going to let the ozone generator run for a couple more days,
just to be absolutely certain there’s no smell.”

“Absolutely.” He steepled his manicured hands beneath his chin and smiled. “That’s
a great idea and I appreciate your thoroughness. Nothing says five-star elegance like
the smell of rotting flesh.”

He winked at Sadie and it triggered a memory.

“Have we met before?”

He frowned and shook his head.
“Maybe . . . have you stayed here in the past? Thankfully, I haven’t had reason to
call a trauma cleaner before.” He continued. “So everything went as expected? No surprises
that caused you any delay?”

Sadie thought briefly of May Lathrop, then shook her head. “I’ve been doing this for
a few years, so these kinds of messes no longer surprise me,” she said.

“One of the housekeeping staff swore they heard noises coming from that room the night
after the murder. Of course the room was sealed by police and nobody had been in or
out until you.”

Sadie said nothing and then Herbert laughingly continued. “This is how rumors get
started. Don’t want word getting out we’re haunted, or anything, right?”

“That wouldn’t be good,” Sadie agreed. “I’m sure being in the news like this was difficult
for the hotel, but you handled it well. With the amount of clientele I see in the
lobby, I don’t think business has suffered at all.”

“There have been only a few cancellations,” Herbert admitted. He lifted a carafe on
his desk. “Coffee?”

“No thanks, I’ve already had my fill.” She got to her feet. “Thank you for calling
my company to handle the cleanup. I’ll e-mail the hotel insurance company my invoice
in the next day or two and I’ll send you a copy.”

He walked her to his office door.

“Good. I appreciate your speed on this. I hope that I see you again as a guest of
the hotel.” He stuck out his hand and shook hers heartily. “I’ll be sure to give you
a discount on our very best suites anytime.”

Sadie chuckled and thought to herself that if she were going to spend a few hundred
dollars in one night, it wouldn’t be for a place to sleep. Instead she was more likely
to spend it on a good pizza, a great movie, and a few bottles of local beer enjoyed,
hopefully, with Zack. Either that or a night of pub crawling and debauchery with good
friends.

Sadie walked across the expansive lobby and then ducked out a side door of the hotel
and headed toward the alley and her company van. She paused before opening the vehicle
door to check e-mails on her phone. She was hoping for an e-mail from a prospective
client because she needed the money. She lucked out when, among the offers to enlarge
her penis, there was a job-related e-mail from a man named Hugh Pacheo that read,
Your company came recommended to me. I require cleanup of my son’s garage after he
took his own life. The house is located in the Bellevue area. Please contact me when
you have a moment to discuss this further. Sincerely, Hugh Pacheo.
He left a contact phone number beneath his name.

Sadie was about to dial the man’s number, but her phone rang in her hand with a call
from Detective Petrovich. She recognized his number immediately.

“Hi, Dean, how’s it going?”

“It’s going,” he replied.

Dean was a serious cop of few words. He never called unless he had a specific reason,
so Sadie started up her van and waited. He heard the vehicle turn on and barked, “Hope
you’re not going to talk on the phone while driving.”

“Thanks, mom, I’m putting in my earpiece.” Sadie rolled her eyes as she dug out the
Bluetooth and plugged it into her ear before pulling away from the curb.

Sadie allowed Petrovich to mother hen a little. They’d met a few years ago when he
attended the scene of Sadie’s brother’s suicide. The detective had been kind and generous
with his time, going above and beyond his own duties to check up on Sadie in a fatherly
way. He made sure Sadie got counseling, even drove her a few times to a group offering
support to families affected by suicide. It had been a lifeline. After cleaning up
Brian’s suicide, Sadie had vowed to make sure no other family would have to be traumatized
a second time by cleaning up after a loved one had passed. She left her career as
a primary school teacher to wash up blood and guts instead of wiping chalkboards.
Some days it was a toss-up whether or not she’d made the right choice.

“I’m calling to check if you found anything at the hotel,” he said.

Sadie frowned as she steered the large cube van down a crowded downtown street. “Like
what?” She stifled a yawn.

“Like something that should be attached to a person,” he replied cryptically.

Sadie recalled ghost May running her fingers through her hair and being a digit short.
“You’re talking a finger, right?”

“So you found it?” he asked excitedly.

“Well, no, I didn’t.”

“Then how did you know that’s what I’m—” He stopped himself. “Never mind. I don’t
want to know.”

Even though Petrovich had gone against his own sense of cop reason and acumen a few
months ago and hired Sadie to deal with a ghost situation at a crime scene, it didn’t
mean he was ready to fully accept her paranormal talent. As a cop and a friend, the
detective would gladly refer grieving families to Scene-2-Clean for professional reasons
that had nothing to do with specters and spirits. He knew that trauma cleaning provided
a valuable service for families, but the psychic stuff freaked him out. Mostly he
liked to pretend that that part of her didn’t exist.

“You think the murderer took the finger with him?” Sadie asked as she yawned loudly
into the earpiece. “Sorry, I pulled an all-nighter and I’m heading home to bed.” She
rubbed her eyes and added, “I don’t know where else the finger could be. A finger
is small, but not so small that I’d miss it. I took that room apart.”

“Yeah, I know you’re thorough. That’s why I asked. Our evidence-collection team went
through every inch of the place, so I’m sure if it had been there they would’ve snatched
it up. Still, sometimes you get luckier than we do so I figured I’d ask.”

Sadie didn’t know how “lucky” she’d feel locating an amputated finger.

“Guess he took it,” Sadie said.

They were silent for a minute, each searching their own minds and coming to the same
conclusion.

If the killer took the finger, it was probably as a trophy.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Sadie asked the detective.

“Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” Sadie asked.