Dead Suite Part 12

"She's right there!"

Sadie turned and walked toward the third spirit. Her features said she was possibly Hispanic. Her dark hair was tied back in a severe bun, and she wore a chocolate-brown skirt and blouse with the name MARLENE st.i.tched on. The uniform looked similar to the ones the housekeeping staff wore at the Pacifica, but she looked kind of young to be scrubbing toilets at a hotel. Just a teenager.

"Were you an employee of the hotel?" Sadie asked her.

Marlene glanced around furtively as if expecting evil around every corner; then she put up both hands and covered her face with them. Sadie noticed all this spirit's fingers remained intact. As a matter of fact, Sadie couldn't see a single wound on her body. Marlene turned to leave and was partway through the walls of the hotel room when Sadie called out to her.

"Stop!" she shouted through her respirator. "I need to know who you are and what happened? Were you killed with those two?"

Sadie glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Opal and Olivia vanish.

d.a.m.n.

"Do you know what happened here? Whoever is doing this has to be stopped. If you know anything at all . . . ," Sadie pleaded. "At least tell me who you are so I can help you."

The teen shook her head sadly.

"You are in great danger," Marlene said. When she spoke her voice was so distant and quiet it was as though she were talking from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

Sadie had had enough of dramatics. First the ridiculous bantering of the Climaxic Duo, and now the ominous warnings of a haunting housekeeper.

"Why couldn't this just be a simple suicide?" Sadie muttered to herself. Suicides didn't appear to Sadie because they chose to go over to the other side; their spirits rarely lingered. To Marlene Sadie insisted, "I'm fine. I do trauma cleanup and happen to be able to speak to the dead, but you don't have to worry. Whoever did this"-Sadie waved a hand to indicate the b.l.o.o.d.y carnage in the room-"he's gone. You don't have to be afraid. He can't hurt you anymore."

"No." Marlene gazed at Sadie with a heartrending sadness in her eyes. She shook her head slowly and continued to speak with a toneless voice echoing from a million miles away. "He won't stop."

Marlene stepped closer and Sadie inadvertently took a step back.

"The police will catch him. He will be stopped," Sadie insisted, a sick feeling churning in her stomach.

"He kills for you."

"No." Sadie shook her head violently. "That's impossible. How do you know this? Who is this guy?"

Her eyes still on Sadie, Marlene's shoulders slumped. She looked defeated as she took steps backward until she was against the hotel room wall.

"He is the beast," Marlene murmured, her eyes locked on Sadie's. "There is only one way to stop him from killing others."

Sadie swallowed thickly.

"How?"

Marlene leaned backward and the wall began to swallow her.

"How do we stop him?" Sadie demanded again.

Marlene's voice came on a whisper from far away.

"You have to die, Sadie Novak. The beast won't stop until he has your blood."

Chapter 9.

It was too early to crack open the minibar so Sadie buried her gloved hands in buckets of cleaning solvents, and her mind tried to find a happy place. She thought of Hairy and his squishy softness and the comical twitch of his whiskers. Then she thought of Zack and felt a stabbing pain in her heart so she returned her focus to her rabbit.

For hours she sprayed emulsifiers on hard, dried tissue that clung to every surface like old chewed bubble gum. Sadie filled large bins with strips of carpet and underlay as well as sections of mattress. Anything that could not be cleaned had to be disposed of as biohazardous waste. You didn't mess around with the thousands of diseases lurking in a single droplet of dried blood.

Eventually the afternoon crept close to six o'clock and Sadie realized she needed to go downstairs to meet Gayla in the bar as promised. She was looking forward to the break but not to spending the time with Owen's partner. When she left the room, Sadie checked her cell phone. Gayla had texted her a few minutes before to say she was on her way. Sadie replied and confirmed she'd be there. Then she called down to Bev Hummel's office.

"I'm taking a break now and meeting a client at the hotel bar," Sadie told her. "It'll be brief and you won't be billed for my time there."

"And when do you expect to be finished with your job?" Bev asked.

"It's a much larger job than I expected," Sadie said, but didn't go on to explain she had a.s.sumed she'd be mopping up after one body not three. "However, I will work until late tonight and return and do the same tomorrow, if necessary. In the meantime, you can definitely arrange to have workers ready to go for replacing drywall, carpeting, and of course, bedding and the mattress."

Bev Hummel thanked Sadie for the heads-up and they ended the call.

Quick as a bunny Sadie re-dressed in the skirt and blouse she'd worn when she arrived at the hotel. Even though she'd hurried, it was still ten past six when Sadie walked into the hotel lounge. There were a couple of businessmen with their oversized a.s.ses draped across barstools but the tables were empty. Huh. Sadie had definitely pegged Gayla as the punctual type and had expected to find her already tapping a foot with impatience.

She slipped into a booth not far from the entrance and ordered a Diet c.o.ke and yam fries. If she was working the night s.h.i.+ft, caffeine and carbs were definitely the way to go.

The fries arrived around the same time as Gayla. She looked frantic as she slipped into the booth across from Sadie, putting in an order for a vodka gimlet as she sat.

"I'm not happy," Gayla said. Her hair stuck out as if she'd been pulling it and her face was devoid of makeup.

"Okay." Thanks for the warning.

Sadie glanced pointedly at her watch but there was no I'm so sorry I'm late forthcoming. She dipped a yam fry in yogurt sauce and started the conversation with, "Sooo, how are things at Halladay Street?"

"Busy," Gayla said, narrowing her eyes. "Extremely busy. We're probably going to need traffic control of some kind."

"Why?" Sadie sipped her pop and offered Gayla a fry, but she declined.

"Because of the d.a.m.n video!" Gayla hissed.

"I don't follow."

Gayla looked at her like she was as sharp as a bag of rocks.

"The vid-e-o," she said slowly. "On YouTube."

Sadie shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh come on. Have you been hiding under a rock all day?"

"No," Sadie snapped. "I've been holed up at a crime scene and up to my elbows in blood."

The waitress arrived with Gayla's drink. She s.n.a.t.c.hed it up and took a large mouthful before getting up from her side of the booth and squeezing in next to Sadie. With a flourish, Gayla snapped open her purse and pulled out an iPad.

Sadie was curious now. She watched the screen expectantly while continuing to nibble on her yam fries. Within seconds, the screen opened up to a dark room lit only by candles and focused on a small table. Gathered around the table she could see Maeva, Rick Thingvold, and herself, holding Osbert. After some jerky movement on the table, the camera focus became Sadie.

"Oh my G.o.d." Sadie choked on a mouthful of yam and coughed. "That's the seance!" She turned to Gayla. "That stupid Rosemary must've had it still on record when she put the phone down on the table! We told her to stop."

Gayla shushed her. "Wait. It gets good."

Good was not exactly how Sadie would've described it. She watched the video in horror as the closet door behind her slammed open, causing her to jump in real life just as video Sadie also jumped. Then her chair was being pulled back and she could see the imprint of what could be described as long clawlike fingers around her shoulders as the chair fell and Maeva deftly lunged to s.n.a.t.c.h Osbert from danger. On the video, streaks of eerie light shaped like long arms dragged Sadie back across the floor toward the closet. Then a flash of light, which Sadie knew to be Rosemary's wand spell, and the closet door slammed shut. Before the video faded to black, there was a clear shot of Sadie flat on her back, legs sprawled out with a distinct damp stain between them. Gayla returned to the opposite side of the booth.

"Wow," Sadie muttered. "I am sooo sorry. I sure as h.e.l.l didn't know it was being videoed. I swear." She shook her head slowly as boiling rage rose up inside her. "I'm going to kill Rosemary. This time she's gone too far."

"It's huge. Everyone's seen it," Gayla said, downing the rest of her drink. She pulled out the wedge of lime from the bottom of her gla.s.s and began sucking on it, making loud slurping noises. "So much for trying to solve the problems at the house so we can make a quick sale. I'm guessing this is not going to exactly improve our chance of convincing workers nothing's wrong at Halladay Street!" she hissed.

"But how do people know the address?" Sadie blinked rapidly. "Was there something I missed?"

"Someone in the comments below the video put it together and said it was the Halladay Horror house." Gayla waved a hand in the air to signal for another drink. "And somebody else claimed to see something in the closet when they played it in slow motion."

"Really?"

Sadie couldn't help but sound doubtful and she didn't know what to say about the entire fiasco. Her mind was reeling and she had a sinking feeling that things were horribly beyond her control.

"Originally I was coming here to pay you and get back the house key," Gayla said. "And to ask you if you'd consider helping out at the house one more time to try and solve this problem, but now . . ." She blew a long breath between her pouty lips." Now, I'm thinking it's probably not such a good idea."

Paying me, or just my going back to the house? Sadie wondered. But obviously she couldn't expect to be paid for turning the house into a three-ring circus, even if it wasn't her fault.

Gayla finished her next drink as quickly as the first and paid both their bills, but she did not leave a check for Sadie for services rendered. It wasn't long before Sadie was slinking back up the elevator to continue the big job ahead. She waited until she was back in the room before she picked up her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she discovered Rosemary Thingvold's number and wasn't at all shocked when the call went directly to voice mail. Sadie left a message that would melt Rosemary's ears and then tossed the phone to the table.

Sadie was changing into casual clothes when the phone chirped that a text message had come in. The note was from Dawn.

Saw the vid. Wow! That's great promo!

"Who the h.e.l.l sent the video to Dawn?" Sadie muttered, then smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Maeva!" She shook her head. "I knew nothing good could come of those two being friends."

Sadie was tempted to blast Maeva and send a scathing retort to her sister, but she had other fish to fry . . . or ghosts to send over. She slipped her hazmat suit over her clothes before heading into the next room.

The painfully slow and agonizing process of mopping up this particular scene definitely put her blood-borne pathogen training to work. Four hours went by without spiritual interruption. Although Sadie would've loved the opportunity to at least help Opal and Olivia move on, she'd rather not have to deal with that freaky Marlene. There was just something so . . . off about her.

Eventually, Sadie needed a break. She straightened from her crouched position, with her knees popping and her back screaming from the strain. Back in the other room, she doffed her hazmat gear, delighted to see that Bev Hummel had come through again. A fresh carafe of coffee, water bottles, and a small tray of mixed fruits and crackers were centered on the table.

Sadie nibbled while she checked her phone. She had nine missed calls; two were from Maeva, another two were from her sister, and the balance came from Detective Petrovich's number. She dialed the detective.

"I take it you want an update?" Sadie asked him as she poured strong, dark coffee from the carafe into a bone china mug.

"Yes," he whispered. "I'm checking in. You were going to get names."

"Before we get into that, when will your guys be done with my car?"

"You can probably get it tomorrow. There weren't any usable prints, except for yours."

"I had a feeling that someone who'd take the time to put an amputated finger in a baggie on my winds.h.i.+eld wouldn't pause to get all touchy-feely with my Corolla."

"So did you find out anything at the Pacifica?"

"I'm still up to my armpits in alligators or, more accurately, maggots," Sadie said. "I can tell you about the two you already know, Olivia and Opal. Both missing pointer fingers. They were sisters but the strip club portrayed them as twins, and they were doing side jobs, trying to earn extra money to go to esthetician school."

"Nothing I don't already know."

"Here's something you may not know. They said they got a text message to meet someone at the hotel to party. Check their cell phones and see who sent that message."

"Hold on."

She heard him walking, probably to somewhere more private than the bull pen. The shutting of a door sounded before he was back on the line. "There were no phones. Their purses were left, but no phones. We got their cell records and we're looking into messages. There were a couple messages from a number that traced back to an old lady who only recently noticed she'd lost her phone."

"Any chance she could be the killer?"

"She's at least ninety and in a wheelchair. It's highly unlikely. Probably the killer lifted her phone and used it."

Sadie frowned. "Okay, what about the third girl?"

"There was no third girl."

"Her name is Marlene and she's got all her fingers. She's wearing a brown skirt and s.h.i.+rt with her name embroidered on it." Sadie sipped her coffee. "The uniform is very close to the same one the housekeepers wear here at the Pacifica."

"You sure?" Petrovich's voice had ramped up a notch.

"Of what? Yes, I'm sure I saw her. No, I'm not sure she's connected to the other girls."

"If a housekeeper was murdered in the room, we would've noticed."

"Well, what if she was killed here but her body put elsewhere?"

He sighed heavily and Sadie knew why; he didn't want to run around chasing ghosts. He needed hard, physical proof.

"I'll ask around about a Marlene who worked as a housekeeper," he said. "Is there anything else you can tell me about this Marlene person?"

Sadie chewed her lower lip. She didn't want to send Petrovich on a wild-ghost chase, but she didn't want to leave out anything that could help catch this killer.

"Well, she looked young, maybe late teens. She had dark hair and eyes, just over five feet tall."

"s.h.i.+t," Petrovich exclaimed. "s.h.i.+t on a stick."

"I know. It's a mess."

"Guess I'll go back and interview that b.i.t.c.h that runs the hotel," he grumbled.