Dead Suite (22 page)

“Okay.” Sadie dropped the small black box onto the passenger seat and grimaced. She’d
already groped it all over and had probably smudged up any prints. “So you’re looking
into Owen Sorkin after all?”

“Just want him to clear up some questions, because you said there might be a connection
between that Halladay case and this one. Probably I’ll just rule him out. My money
is on Ed Muirhead. He had access to the girls.”

“What about Albuquerque?”

“The plays sometimes went on the road, so it’s possible he was in or around New Mexico
a couple years ago. We’re trying to get more information from the people who run the
theatre to confirm.”

Sadie felt relieved. Muirhead would stay locked up and she hadn’t slept with a murderer.

Still, there was the little matter of helping Iris Prior’s spirit, and maybe if she
found out a little more about her history she could help her move on. The skies were
delivering a downpour, with the rain coming down in sheets. Sadie reached into her
backseat and snagged her ball cap. She pulled it down on her head and zipped up her
dark jacket. She headed up the crooked walkway to the tidy blue house next to the
one owned by Gayla and Owen. After she knocked sharply on the door she heard the volume
of the television set get turned down. Sadie waited patiently while she was sure she
was being scrutinized through the peephole in the door.

Finally the door opened a crack and man peered at her.

“Yes?”

“Hi, Mr. Huett. My name is Sadie Novak. I was wondering if I could talk to you about
Della and Iris Prior?”

“That was years ago. I’ve got nothing to say about that.”

He made to close the door but Sadie stopped it with her foot.

“I understand Della left the house to you in her will. I’ve been trying to help the
new owners get the house renovated, but they’ve been having some issues that I thought
you could help me understand.”

“Are you a reporter?” he asked.

“No. Definitely not.”

He hesitated and then opened the door.

“Fine. Come in.”

Roy Huett was a short, middle-aged man with a sizeable beer belly. Sadie kicked off
her shoes and followed him into the living room. The home was decorated in early seventies
green and gold colors. Roy sat down in a brown La-Z-Boy recliner and Sadie sat opposite
him on a shiny green sofa.

“What do you want to know?” Roy asked.

“You must’ve known Della Prior well for her to leave you her house.”

He nodded. “She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. She had troubles.” He clenched
and unclenched his hands nervously. “But she never stopped believing that God would
deliver her from her pain.”

Something in the faraway, sorrowful look in his eyes told Sadie he cared for Della
Prior in a different way than just as a kindly neighbor.

“You were in love with her?”

He hesitated and nodded. “I wanted to marry her, but she said that in the eyes of
the church, she was still married to Eddie, even though the idiot walked out on her
and Iris.”

“What kind of troubles did Della Prior have?” Sadie asked gently.

“Well, money troubles, of course, because it’s not easy raising a daughter on your
own. Eddie deposited money into her account every so often but she could never count
on it. All the stresses took their toll. She wasn’t well.”

“She had emotional problems?”

“She was bipolar.” His chin dropped to his chest. “When she took her medication she
was fine but, toward the end, she became convinced that Iris was demon-possessed and
was controlling her meds, so she wouldn’t take them.” He looked toward his right in
the direction of the neighboring house. “It’s that house. You’re probably going to
think I have one screw loose, but I never felt good about being in that house. And . . .”
He looked like he was about to tell her more, then clamped his mouth shut.

“Did stuff happen there? Did Della think the house was haunted?”

“She would complain to me that there were sounds and things moving around the place.”
He sighed. “I took her to her doctor and he increased her medications, but it didn’t
help because she wouldn’t take them. Della became paranoid and thought Iris was playing
pranks on her to make her crazy.” He looked at Sadie. “Iris was a sweet girl but she
was defiant and a little wild. She wanted to be an actress, and Della thought that
wasn’t a proper life for a good Catholic girl. They fought constantly about it.”

“An actress?” Sadie leaned in close. “Do you remember if Iris ever attended classes
at a theatre called Stone Soup?”

“If she did, she sure as heck wouldn’t have told me about it, or her mother.”

He got to his feet.

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to leave. I work the night shift operating a forklift
at a warehouse. I start in an hour.”

Sadie thanked him and walked to the door. As she put on her shoes she asked, “You
said Della’s husband put money in her bank every so often. Did he ever call or visit
Iris over the years?”

“Never. Della tried to track him down but the closest she got was finding out the
deposits into her bank account were made into branches all over.”

He shrugged.

“You hung on to the house for a couple years before selling it. Any particular reason
why?”

“I thought maybe Della would’ve wanted me to keep it, so I tried renting it out in
the beginning. . . .”

“Were tenants frightened off?”

“Some stayed a week and others a couple months, but eventually they all left because
of noises and things they saw.” He looked ashamed, and he lowered his voice to a whisper.
“I brought Della to get her meds increased but she was right about the house the whole
time. I should’ve believed her.” He cleared his throat and then spoke up. “Anyway,
I couldn’t afford all the taxes and utility payments on the place so I put it on the
market and it sold. I was lucky two bidders showed up and wanted it right away.”

“Owen and Gayla.”

“Yes. They both wanted the place pretty bad and they also both wanted it as a quick
investment, so they agreed to partner on it.”

Sadie thanked Mr. Huett again for sharing information with her, and then she left.
She let all the information sink in as she ran through the torrential rain. She dug
out her keys and slipped quickly inside her car. Rain dripped off her ball cap as
she stared at the neighboring older home that had been the scene of so much grief.

Maybe it was time to bring something holy into the house. She thought about what Herbert
Sylvane had said to her about holy water being a natural cure to ward off evil. She
rifled around inside her purse and dug out the bottle he’d given to her when she’d
caught him blessing the room at the Hotel Pacifica. If she weren’t such a scaredy-cat,
she’d go into the house and toss around some holy water to see if it would help. But
there was no way she was going into the house alone.

As if just thinking about it conjured up company, a car pulled up to the front of
the house and out climbed Gayla. She had an oversized purse slung over her shoulder
as she walked purposefully toward the house. Sadie waited until Gayla was opening
the door and going inside before she decided to go and talk to her.

“Hold on!” Sadie shouted.

As she ran up the walkway, her cap did little to protect her from the rain, the wind
blowing wet sheets sideways and soaking her pants.

Gayla looked startled when she turned around but smiled at the sight of Sadie scurrying
up the walk toward her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, opening the door wide for Sadie and then following
her inside.

“I just paid a visit to the neighbor.” Sadie nodded in the direction of Roy’s place.

“Why would you do that?” Gayla sounded annoyed. She slipped her jacket off and hung
it, dripping, from the closet doorknob. Sadie slipped off her hat and coat and did
the same.

“I just wanted to get some of the history of the place,” Sadie explained. “I thought
maybe if we knew more about what had happened here to create the haunting, we’d have
a better idea of how to deal with it.”

“Do you want tea?” Gayla asked. “I brought a kettle here for the workers to use and
I’ve got a few tea bags in my purse.”

“Tea isn’t my favorite, but thanks,” Sadie said.

They walked into the kitchen and Gayla flicked on the overhead lights. She went to
the cupboard and took down a small electric kettle, then filled it up with water and
plugged it in.

“I’ve got instant coffee, but no milk. Would you like a cup?” She smiled. “It’ll take
some of the chill off.”

“Thanks. That would be great.” Sadie rubbed her arms against the damp coldness of
the room.

“It sure is cold in here,” Gayla remarked, getting down a couple of Styrofoam cups.
“We keep the heat turned low because, of course, it costs a lot to heat a house this
size.”

“I’m sure it’s a small fortune,” Sadie said. “I can hardly keep up with the bills
at my own place and it’s a third this size.”

“The bills at my condo are huge too,” Gayla confessed.

“I thought you were staying with a friend?”

Gayla turned her back to Sadie and got down a small container of instant coffee and
took a tea bag out of her purse.

“Actually, it belongs to my fiancé,” she said over her shoulder as she poured water
from the kettle into the cups.

Sadie wondered why Gayla hadn’t just said that right away.

“Well, it’s a beautiful place.”

“Yes, well, we’re only renting it,” Gayla remarked, turning around and handing Sadie
her cup. “Considering all the real estate I’ve owned over the years, it feels odd
to stay in a place that’s a rental.” She wrinkled up her nose in distaste. “But the
housing crash has taken its toll.” She raised her foam cup to Sadie’s. “Cheers.”

They touched cups and Sadie sipped the scalding, bad coffee.

“I came to take some measurements of the place,” Gayla said. “If I can’t get workers
in here who don’t freak out because of the odd floating apparition, I thought I might
as well do a few cosmetic upgrades myself.”

She laughed in a high-pitched way that made Sadie wonder if Gayla had a few martinis
before coming over.

“Come. I’ll show you,” Gayla said, walking toward the living room at the front of
the house.

Sadie followed and drank her coffee as she shivered against the cold. “I’ve brought
some holy water,” she mentioned as they reached the living room. “Maybe we can toss
some around and see if it helps.”

“Sorry, but been there, done that.” Gayla tilted her head and regarded Sadie. “You
really are quite the amateur at this, aren’t you?”

“I told you right from the start that I’m a trauma cleaner,” Sadie said defensively.
“I don’t know why you insisted that I help you when it isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea,” Gayla grumbled.

“What do you mean?” Sadie finished her coffee and put the foam cup down on the fireplace
mantel. “Owen didn’t seem to care one way or another; you were the one that kept insisting
that I work with Madam Maeva’s and—”

Sadie was startled by movement on the stairs. The spirit of Marlene hovered there,
her eyes wild and terrified. Sadie glanced away and caught Gayla looking in the same
direction.

“You can see her too!” Sadie exclaimed.

Gayla didn’t reply and when Sadie looked back, Marlene was gone.

“You saw her. Don’t try and tell me you didn’t. I saw it on your face,” Sadie insisted.

“Doesn’t matter,” Gayla said casually. She walked a few steps and pointed in the direction
of the big picture window that was covered by heavy, old-fashioned draperies. “I was
actually thinking those new-style sheer blinds would look fantastic in here. They’re
relatively easy to install. I’m sure I could do it myself and it would really brighten
up this room after a fresh coat of paint.” She held up the tape measure. “Will you
stand and hold it at the other end so we can get an idea of the window’s size?” When
Sadie didn’t move Gayla added, “We’ll do ghost talk after. Let’s get these measurements
done.”

Sadie grabbed the end of the metal measuring tape and tugged it out as she walked
to the opposite end of the window. “That’s why you insisted on using psychics to help
you at the house, even though Owen could care less,” Sadie continued as she held the
end of the measuring tape to the opposite end of the window. “You’ve got abilities
to see spirits too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gayla said in a bored voice. “Hold the tape
still.”

“You do so!” Sadie exclaimed, exasperated. “Don’t deny it. You saw Marlene standing
right over there.”

“Marlene?” Gayla burst out laughing and then just as quickly looked seriously down
at the measuring tape. “Seventy-one inches.” She pressed a button on the canister
of the measuring tape and the metal retracted and snapped sharply out of Sadie’s fingers.

“Yes. Marlene.” Sadie looked over and saw Marlene appear again on the stairs. “There
she is right now!”

Gayla nonchalantly looked in the direction Sadie pointed and shook her head with a
look of disgust. “That little slut isn’t named Marlene. Her daddy told me she was
a hooker too. Her name is Iris.” She smiled meanly at the ghost. “Aren’t you, dear?”

“Iris!” Sadie gasped and tried to work her mind around that realization, but suddenly
she felt woozy. She stumbled toward the fireplace and clung to the mantel.

“You—you drugged me!”

The room spun and tilted in a frenzied whirl and Sadie tried to fight the darkness,
but it won.

Chapter 17

When Sadie woke up the first thing she did was check to make sure she had all her
fingers. The next thing she did was look for any cuts or punctures made by sharp instruments.
Her hands moved slowly and awkwardly down her body as she lay on the floor. She was
mightily relieved to find that, except for the parade of percussionists in her head,
she was entirely intact. She wanted to get up but her muscles were held down by invisible
weights. Sadie breathed in the scent of old hardwood because her face was still plastered
against the floor of the house. Thoughts came rushing back. Gayla must be the killer!
Sadie moaned softly and tried to will her body into a sitting position but it refused
to cooperate.

“Give it some time; it’ll wear off,” Gayla said, her voice sounding tired. “Unfortunately,
time is the one thing you don’t have a lot of.”

Sadie scanned the room and her foggy vision landed on Gayla, who was leaning nonchalantly
against a wall on the other side of the living room.

Sadie wanted to scream so all the world could hear, but the only sound that came out
of her mouth was a gurgle followed by a line of drool. Although she fought to keep
focused, her eyelids were weighed down by anchors that caused them to shut again.

The next time she woke up, it was because she was being dragged upstairs. Gayla had
ahold of Sadie from under her armpits and was hauling her limp form backwards and
up the hard wooden staircase to the upper level of the house.

“You’re like frickin’ wet cement!” Gayla complained as she hoisted Sadie up another
stair.

“S-stop!” Sadie tried to shout, but her voice as a strangled, guttural whisper.

Her lower back thudded painfully against the steps as Gayla yanked her up the final
stair. Sadie knew nothing good could come of her being taken upstairs, but even when
Gayla paused at the top of the steps to catch her breath, she couldn’t seem to move
her hands or feet to help herself, and she realized Gayla had bound her wrists and
ankles together.

Sadie could smell Gayla’s sweat as the usually composed woman took in huge gulps of
air. Then, suddenly, Sadie was being dragged across the floor of the upper hallway.

It took a few minutes, but they reached the far bedroom. Gayla shoved Sadie forcefully
against the wall in the corner of the room, opposite the closet.

“Stay,” Gayla muttered sharply as if she were talking to a bad puppy.

Sadie didn’t want to stay but when she tried to move she promptly slid sideways like
a rag doll. She heard Gayla’s footsteps going down the stairs. Sadie squeezed her
eyes shut and whimpered from her slouched position on the bedroom floor. She didn’t
want to die. And she certainly didn’t want to die in a haunted house.

She realized with hopefulness that Maeva and Rosemary would be wondering where she
was and would, hopefully, be looking for her. Sadie had no idea if her friends would
think to look for her at Halladay Street. She was guessing not.

Gayla returned in a few minutes with a bottle of water. She hoisted Sadie back up
to a sitting position and then crouched down so that they were looking each other
in the eye. She thrust the water up to Sadie’s mouth and she drank eagerly, but most
of it dribbled down her chin.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Gayla said.

This was probably the best news Sadie had all year.

“But, you were hired to do a job and, goddammit, you’re going to do it.”

Sadie blinked in question and formed the sounds “Wh-wh-wh . . .”

“What?” Gayla guessed. “You were hired to get rid of that stupid Iris ghost that’s
keeping me poor and stopping me from selling this damned house!” Gayla shrieked. “All
I want is to make a profit on this place so I can blow out of this country and faaar
away from that crazy hooker killer, but nooo, you couldn’t do the one thing I asked
you to do!”

Sadie was relieved that it wasn’t Gayla who was the one who killed the prostitutes.
Unfortunately, that left Owen. Her heart clenched in her chest at the realization
that she’d done the naked tango with a serial killer. She couldn’t help but wonder
why he hadn’t just killed her when she was in bed with him.

“You’ve still got one shot out of this mess, you know,” Gayla said. “Just get rid
of the crazy ghost before he gets here. That’s why I gave you my special cocktail.”
She tilted her head and regarded Sadie coolly. “Do you think you can do that?”

“You—you drugged me to help me get rid of ghosts?”

“It’s just a light mixture of Rohypnol and psilocybin. It’ll help expand your mind
and get you in touch.” She shrugged. “Lots of mediums use it these days.”

“Lots of mediums use roofies and magic ’shrooms to see ghosts?”

“Yes! When was the last time you attended a meeting or a workshop?”

“Um. Never.” Sadie slurred her words. She was having difficulty focusing.

“You should thank me, then, because this will totally help if you have any skill whatsoever,
and this is your last chance. Can you get rid of this friggin’ crazy ghost, or not?”

Sadie didn’t think so but she nodded anyway, her head bobbing limply.

“Good!” Gayla seemed immensely pleased. She got to her feet and whipped out a cell
phone. Sadie recognized it immediately as her own BlackBerry. She watched as Gayla
punched a few buttons on her phone. “You’ll be relieved to hear that Osbert is going
to be fine, whoever the hell that is.” She laughed loudly. “And before you get your
hopes up thinking your friends are on the hunt for you, I’ve texted them all to let
them know that the detective brought you back in to get a more complete statement,
and he decided to keep you at the precinct over night to keep you safe.”

Sadie’s hopes fell.

Gayla pocketed the phone and pulled out a long scarf.

“I moved both our cars to a parking garage a few blocks away. So now we’ve got the
entire night for you to fix this mess. Provided, of course, he doesn’t come here with
his favorite pruning shears and lop off your pointer finger.”

“Who—who’s ‘he’?” Sadie asked.

“An old acquaintance of yours,” Gayla said mysteriously. “You haven’t figured it out
yet?”

Gayla tossed up her hands as if all this was beyond her control and Sadie felt like
she was going to throw up. Before she left again, Gayla used the thin scarf to gag
Sadie in case she “got any ideas about screaming for help” as the drugs wore off.

“I’ll be back in less than an hour. I just need to go and get some supplies,” Gayla
explained. “I hadn’t expected to rendezvous with you tonight so I’m a little unprepared,”
she added apologetically. “I’ve been dealing with spirits and haunted houses for years,
but this one stumped me. Get Iris to vamoose out of here, and I’ll let you go.”

Slowly over the next hour, Sadie began to regain her strength. She could wriggle her
fingers and toes, but they were still bound so she had no luck using that to her advantage.
She screamed but it came out an animalistic grunt against the gag in her mouth.

The figure of the ghost formerly known as Marlene appeared briefly. Iris looked both
sad and terrified. Sadie wanted to tell her that she had no reason to be scared because
she was already dead. She pleaded with Iris with her eyes, trying to will her to help
out in some way, but the apparition disappeared. Sadie realized that if she’d been
able to grasp that the spirit who had visited her was Iris all along, she might’ve
been able to stop all this. Sometimes you couldn’t tell the ghostly players without
a program.

Sadie regained enough strength to wriggle her back against the wall and get herself
to an awkward standing position. Joyfully she realized that even with her feet bound
together, she should be able to hop out of the room, skid and slide down the stairs,
and make it out the door of this crazy old house before long! Her ankles cried out
in agony with the first awkward hop toward the door, but a couple pained ankles would
be easier to live with than death and the lack of all her fingers, so she persisted.

She made it approximately three hops and one wriggle before she heard the front door
of the house first open and then slam shut, followed by quick footsteps on the stairs.
Sadie held her breath, hoping for a knight in shining armor, but it was Gayla who
burst into the room. She stopped short when she saw Sadie was on her feet and had
made it halfway across the room.

“We don’t have time for this nonsense,” she said matter-of-factly and pushed Sadie
back to the ground. “We’ve got to get this done before he gets here, and we might
not have all night after all!”

She dropped a backpack on the floor and then bent to unpack its contents.

“I wasn’t sure what might help, so I brought a little of everything. I think I’ve
gathered all the banishing and reversing supplies I own.”

Sadie stared as Gayla laid out the contents of the bag. There was a braid of sweetgrass,
incense, a scrying mirror, a half dozen various dried herbs, and a couple of bottles
of suspicious-looking liquids, one of which was labeled
WAR WATER
. Basically, it looked like an odd collection of Wiccan convention leftovers.

“So this is how this is going to work,” Gayla announced. “First, I am going to untie
you and take off your gag.” She pulled out a knife with a long serrated blade. “And
you will behave like a good little ghost buster or I will be forced to cut you up
into itty-bitty pieces.” She glared hotly at Sadie. “Nod if you understand.”

Sadie nodded so enthusiastically her head ached when she was done.

“Oh!” Gayla exclaimed. “I almost forgot my wand.”

She reached into the bottom of the backpack and produced a foot-long tapered piece
of wood that was rubbed to a high gleam. Gayla tossed the wand to the middle of the
other products, then walked over to Sadie. Using a swift slicing motion she cut through
the twine that tied her feet and wrists and then finally untied the scarf from around
Sadie’s mouth.

She pointed the tip of the knife to Sadie’s lips and said fiercely, “No funny business!
If we can get rid of the haunting here, I’ll sell the place and be out of Seattle
for good. I talked to the realty agent and he already has an interested party.”

“Wh-what do you want me to do?” Sadie asked, her voice coming out in a tremulous whisper.

“Whatever works, obviously!” Gayla shouted. “Banish the demons! You should be able
to connect at a higher level with the drugs I gave you. When I was at that convention
where I saw Maeva speak about you, another attendee told me she drinks this cocktail
and it makes all the difference in her connection to spirits. You obviously need help
here. Lord knows I’ve tried myself, but I’m still learning. I thought this house was
going to be a cakewalk.”

She paced the room, throwing her hands up in the air. “I made a small fortune buying
houses nobody else would touch because they were haunted.” She drew air quotes around
the word
haunted
and laughed. “My investment partner is so into all this shit, so I attended a few
classes on witchcraft and dealing with the paranormal and found that it’s been easier
to get rid of ghosts than cockroaches.” She turned and stared solemnly at the closet
in the corner of the room. “But, apparently, I met my match with this one.” She shook
her head slowly. “And I lost my shirt with the housing crash. I’d make enough with
this place to start a new life and get the hell out of Dodge. We have a buyer on the
hook willing to pay cash, but he’s superstitious and won’t touch it until it’s cleared
of ghosts.”

Gayla blew out an exasperated breath. “I’d just about given up but then I remembered
your name coming up at that workshop I told you about.” She turned and smiled at Sadie.
“All it took was painting your name on the wall, and Rosemary couldn’t wait to get
you here. You should be flattered that your psychic friends think so highly of your
ability. Personally, I find the fact that you’re reluctant to even admit that you
do spiritual cleansing to be aggravating.”

“So you’re a psychic?” Sadie asked, trying to wrap her mind around what Gayla was
saying. “And you work with Owen to kill prostitutes and buy houses?”

Gayla’s jaw dropped and she looked at Sadie like she was stupid.

“You really aren’t the sharpest pencil in the box, are you?” She shook her head. “Never
mind. I don’t have time to explain it, and trust me when I say you don’t want to be
thinking about the hooker killings. Just deal with this house and I can be on my way.”

Sadie realized that Gayla did not say
we
can be on our way. She made it clear that she would be the one leaving. No doubt
Sadie would be left for Owen to deal with. But maybe she could buy a little time if
she did what she was asked, or at least made a good show of trying to get rid of Iris’s
ghost.

“Can I just ask why, if the ghost is Iris, does she wear a housekeeper uniform that
says Marlene on it?”

“Is that what you see?” Gayla frowned. “Now I’m beginning to understand why you couldn’t
get rid of her. You didn’t even know the ghost you were trying to move on. That’s
it, isn’t it?” she demanded. “I’ve met mediums before that needed to know the details
of a spirit before they could help them. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Sadie regarded Gayla’s wild stare and flinched. “Yes,” Sadie said. Which was a lie
because she didn’t need to know the spirits at all. “So you don’t see Iris in a housekeeper’s
outfit?”

Gayla shook her head. “I see a vague outline of her shape. No clothing.” She looked
thoughtful. “From what I’ve been told, Iris died wearing her theatre costume. She
was in some play.”

“At Stone Soup?”

Gayla shrugged.

“And Lester Pacheo? How is he connected to May, Opal, and Olivia?”

Gayla looked taken aback. “Lester isn’t connected to any of this! How do you even
know his name?” she demanded angrily.

Sadie began to open her mouth to say she’d cleaned up in a garage after he’d been
hanged, but Gayla was ranting.