Dead Suite (4 page)

“Yes. I think about it every day and every night. Osbert still doesn’t sleep through
the night and refuses to take my milk from a bottle, so that means Terry can’t help
with all those late-night feedings. I spend a lot of time watching middle-of-the night
TV with a baby stuck to a boob. I’ve developed a fondness for crime shows and all
those reality programs on addiction.”

Sadie glanced down at Osbert, who had wrapped a chubby fist around her necklace and
was attempting to pull the pendant into his mouth. She unclenched his fingers and
tucked the necklace inside her shirt.

“Since when do you wear jewelry?” Maeva asked, narrowing her eyes. “Is it a gift from
Zack?”

“No.” Although she sure wished it was. “I began wearing jewelry when clients began
paying me with vintage gold necklaces instead of cash.”

Maeva got up and walked over for a closer look. Sadie slipped the necklace off from
around her neck and handed it to her friend. Maeva squeezed the pendant between her
fingers, then rubbed it softly against her cheek and pressed it to her closed eyes.
Sadie didn’t want to think about how intimate one could get with a necklace.

“Why are you trying to get something off the necklace?” Sadie asked her.

“I figured it might be worth a shot.” She sighed and slipped it back over Sadie’s
head. “The only thing that came to my mind were the words
Stone Soup
.”

“Stone soup?” Sadie’s eyebrows went up. “I’ve got some Campbell’s in the cupboard.
But probably chicken noodle.”

“I think it’s an old children’s story or nursery rhyme. This is what happens to mediums
when they become mothers.” Maeva slumped back into her chair. “And you’d better not
take payment in jewelry or you’ll end up like one of those small-town doctors that
take payments in eggs and chickens.”

“It’s better than no payment at all,” Sadie said seriously. “Look, why don’t you go
and have a nice bubble bath and then climb into my bed for a couple hours. Me and
the Ozzmeister will be just fine.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I was going to watch a little TV myself before getting a couple hours of shut-eye.
I’m not ready to sleep yet and you look dead on your feet.”

Maeva blinked back tears of gratitude and thanked Sadie profusely before taking off
at a near run down the hall.

“Now no more tears, buddy,” Sadie said to Osbert. “Auntie Sadie needs to chill out
and stop thinking about dead hookers.”

Osbert blew spit bubbles at her in agreement.

Sadie and Osbert did fine because the baby had tired himself out in the crying jag
on the way over, and he was soon asleep in her arms. Sadie gently put him down on
the sofa next to her and prayed he wouldn’t wake up. Then she resumed her early happy-hour
shift and ate her Cheetos, washing them down with beer.

Her cell phone chirped that a text came in. She tugged it from her pocket, read the
message from Zack, and released a string of curse words that would’ve increased Osbert’s
vocabulary greatly had he been old enough to speak.

Zack had picked up some extra work on the weekend so now it was going to be another
ten days before they saw each other. Sadie blinked back tears as she downed the last
of her beer.

“Screw him,” she muttered. “If he doesn’t want to be here, there’s nothing I can do
about it.”

Even as she said it, she knew that he was just trying to hold down a job and feel
useful. Sadie herself would’ve worked all weekend if a job came up, so it was unfair
to expect him to turn down work. It wasn’t the working that annoyed the hell out of
her. Things would be different if he acted like a boyfriend when he was home.

She angrily snatched up the remote control and channel surfed until something caught
her eye. The local news station was announcing another prostitute had been murdered
at a local hotel, and the anchor was suggesting to the people of Seattle that SPD
wasn’t doing enough to keep the city safe for the working girls. They’d already labeled
this as the work of the Seattle Slasher.

“Huh. Look at that,” Sadie said to sleeping Osbert. “Looks like business is picking
up. If people keeping killing each other, I might just be able to afford to get you
a Tickle Me Elmo for your first birthday.”

The news droned on and after a while Sadie felt her own eyes drifting closed. She
arranged herself on the sofa to protect Osbert in case he abruptly decided to roll
over or do handsprings off the couch while they slept. Together they dozed for a few
hours—though it felt like only five minutes had passed when the baby decided to put
an end to all sleep with an operatic high note that would’ve made Maria Callas proud.
The fillings in Sadie’s teeth were still vibrating when she picked him up and began
walking the floor while he gnawed on her shoulder.

Maeva rescued them both. She walked into the living room, pausing to yawn and stretch
like a cat, before taking Osbert from Sadie’s grasp.

“Thanks sooo much,” Maeva sighed. “I haven’t slept three straight hours in months.”

Sadie glanced at her watch and sure enough it was after four o’clock. Time flies when
you fall into a sleep-deprived zombie state.

Maeva sat in a chair to nurse the always-hungry Osbert and Sadie went to the kitchen
to fix them a late lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches. She returned to the living
room with the sandwiches and went back for drinks. Sadie took the time to position
a sandwich and lemonade at Maeva’s elbow on a corner table so she could eat while
nursing. Then she settled onto the couch with her sandwich and another beer.

“How are things going at Madam Maeva’s Psychic Café?” Sadie asked. “Are the Thingvolds
holding down the fort?”

“Well, you know how Rosemary and Rick are . . . ,” Maeva responded, taking a bite
from her sandwich.

Rosemary and Rick Thingvold were a husband and wife Wiccan revolution. Maeva had introduced
Sadie to the Thingvolds when she needed help to excise a demon from a hoarder’s house.
Maeva had referred to them as paranormally knowledgeable yet “quirky.” Sadie thought
of them simply as bat-shit crazy. They tended to attract attention wherever they went
because of their matching shaved their heads, multiple tattoos, and body piercings.
Sadie used to refer to Rosemary and Rick as Thing One and Thing Two until Maeva told
her to knock it off.

“Does that mean they’re doing good at Madam Maeva’s?” Sadie asked.

“Yes. Business is good. Very good. Rick has set up a website and a blog while Rosemary
tweets. Business is up twenty percent since I left.”

“Really? What do they blog and tweet about?”

“Everything. If one of them opens the mail or poops, they probably announce it to
the world,” Maeva said in a clipped tone.

“Well, it brings in new clients, right? Guess the advertising is a good thing. It
means you can stay home with little Ozz and you don’t have to worry about the business
tanking while you’re off.”

“Sure. It’s great.”

Sadie didn’t have to be a police detective or a trauma cleaner to pick up on the clue
that Maeva missed working.

“Look at it this way—it took two of them to replace one of you.”

“That’s true. I just wish they weren’t so damned good at it. They’re such keeners.
They’ve even taken on the occasional side job,” Maeva said, expertly switching Osbert
from one breast to the next.

“Really? What kind of side job does a psychic do? Home parties like Tupperware gone
horribly wrong?”

“The usual . . . séances and stuff. They’re actually visiting a home tonight and asked
if I wanted to come along, you know, just to keep my hand in. It was a referral from
that convention I spoke to so, actually, the business came from me.”

“Then you should go. Why not? It’d be fun,” Sadie said, taking a long pull on her
beer.

“Maybe . . . if you come along.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows in question. “Why would you want me there?”

“The Thingvolds asked for you.”

“Sorry, but that cuts into the plans I had to wallow in self-pity and reflect on the
despairing abyss that is my love life.”

“I take it you miss Zack?”

“He’s taken on another job this weekend, so now he won’t be back for ten days.” Sadie
spat the words out and was surprised at the fury she felt.

“Huh. Are you pissed because you just miss him so desperately, or is it because you
feel like he’s avoiding being with you?”

Sadie hated it when her friend nailed it with the first try. Sometimes having a psychic
for a friend sucked—even an on-maternity-leave psychic. Sadie didn’t reply except
to get off the couch and bring their dirty plates to the kitchen, where she spent
an inordinate amount of time washing the dishes and feeding Hairy some kibble. When
she returned to the living room, Maeva had Osbert against her shoulder and was gently
rubbing his back to produce a belch. Sadie sat down on the sofa and began transferring
odds and ends from her current purse to the new one from Maeva.

“Zack and I haven’t had sex since he got out of Whispering Groves,” Sadie announced.

Maeva’s eyes grew huge. “Really?”

Sadie nodded. “Before he left rehab he announced that he was going to get his own
place and that we’d start over as a proper couple. Dating and stuff. It was part of
his new life program to keep him on the straight and narrow.”

“Well, that sounds kind of sweet,” Maeva said, nodding thoughtfully. “I mean, you
met because he was your employee at Scene-2-Clean and you kind of fell into this idea
of being a couple. The idea of starting off slowly by dating is very romantic. When
does he plan to move out so you can get going on this then?”

“That’s just it. When he got back home he caught sight of my stack of unpaid bills
and said he’d stay until business picked up so that he can help chip in toward costs.
I figured, in the meantime, we’d be back to being . . . us. But we’re not us. We’re
not even the way we were before we became romantically involved. No hugs or kisses.
Brief glances at each other, and he clings to his side of the bed like he’s afraid
I might touch him. It’s just really awkward.” Sadie’s shoulders slumped. “Do you think
he’s really just waiting until I can afford my own expenses again before he breaks
up, or is he serious about starting this whole dating idea? Because when we talk on
the phone he’s all sexy and flirty but when he’s here we’re back to being horrible
roommates again.” Sadie threw up her hands.

“First of all, you should be having this conversation with him, not me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve tried. Every conversation ends with me feeling like I’ve pushed
him farther away. I also feel like I don’t want to rock the boat.”

“Well, Zack’s a complicated guy. First he was a cop who took a bullet for his partner,
then got hooked on pain pills and had to leave the force. Then he got hurt working
for you and the addiction started up again. He’s fighting his own demons, right? He’s
done his time at rehab and he’s back on track. I think, if you want him, you’re going
to have to let this happen in his own time.”

Sadie picked up her beer and took a sip. She really hoped that everything could be
solved in time.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am. In the meantime, you should keep yourself busy by coming out with me tonight.”

Sadie laughed. “Fine. I’ll go. I’ll even pick you up. What time should I get you?”

“Ten.” Maeva got to her feet, looking exceptionally pleased. Sadie was uncertain if
that was because of her decision to go to the séance tonight, or because of the loud
burp produced by the baby.

“Isn’t ten a little late to just be getting started?”

“Ten is Osbert’s best time,” Maeva explained. “He has a feeding right before and,
if we hustle, I can be out of the house without him for three glorious hours before
old Bessy has to be back in the barn for milking time,” she stated with a chuckle.

When Sadie said good-bye to her friend and godson at the door she resisted the urge
to go back to sleep. Instead she spent some time in the evening cleaning Hairy’s litter
box, catching up on laundry, and losing herself in housework. Cleaning up blood and
gore might pay the mortgage but tidying her own house made her feel normal. When a
large portion of the world viewed you as a freak, normal wasn’t overrated.

Sadie took the time to dial Hugh Pacheo to tell him she’d finished the work at his
son’s garage. A recording said the cell number wasn’t in service. Sadie double-checked
the number and it was the same she’d called him on earlier. Either Mr. Pacheo hadn’t
paid his cell bill or there was a problem with the number. She decided to e-mail him
that the job was complete.

She still had one more thing she had to accomplish. There was a certain ghost she’d
made a promise to. Sadie had put it off but she knew she’d feel better if she at least
attempted to find May Lathrop’s cash and jewelry and drop it off at WATS.

May Lathrop had given Sadie the address of a small basement suite in a house located
on South King Street near Twelfth Avenue. She had no trouble finding it, but when
she drove slowly past there was a man sitting on the front steps smoking a fat cigar.
She didn’t want to have to deal with other tenants who might call SPD and report her
for wanting to break into a dead girl’s apartment.

While she thought about what to do, Sadie decided to grab something to eat at the
Vietnamese restaurant across the street. She ordered the chicken
pho
and took the bowl of noodles to eat at a table outside. While she ate she kept an
eye on the place across the street. Eventually the man on the front stoop was joined
by a woman and two chubby middle schoolers. After some discussion out front, all four
piled into a beat-up Chevy. The car noisily backfired and chugged right past where
Sadie was sitting and disappeared up the road.

After finishing her soup, Sadie casually crossed the street and walked up the rickety
wooden steps. The front door hung off-kilter due to broken hinges, and where the doorbell
should’ve been were bare wires. Sadie rapped at the door even though she had no idea
what she’d say if anyone answered. Lucky for her nobody was home, so she took the
weed-choked sidewalk around the back of the house and found the entrance to the basement
suite.