Dead Suite

by Wendy Roberts

  “And then what? Down the road I testify that the blood-’n’-guts cleanup girl, who talks to the dead, confirmed blood type with the victims? Jesus H. Christ!” he growled. “You’re making my head hurt. How about I do my job and you just do yours?”

  “Fine,” Sadie said sulkily.

  Before she could hang up, Petrovich stopped her.

  “Sadie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get their names.”

  Then the phone went dead in her hand.

  While she drank her coffee and nibbled a small cucumber sandwich for strength, Sadie called down to Bev Hummel. The manager wasn’t in her office so Sadie left a message explaining that the room had considerable damage.

  “Although it’s more significant than I first expected,” Sadie explained to the voice mail, “I’ll work as long and hard as I can today and even through the night.” Then she remembered her meeting scheduled with Gayla at six. “Although, I will be taking a brief break to meet with an associate at six this evening.” She ended with, “I will contact you later with an update as to my progress.”

  Once she’d ended the call she reluctantly donned her hazmat gear and prepared for what lay in the connecting room. She knew that she’d never get blood work done until she dealt with the female ghosts hogging the spotlight.

  Sadie decided she’d tackle the most pressing problem first, but when she stepped into the room, only two out of three were present. The clothed woman had vanished.

  Sitting on the blood-soaked bed and arguing viciously were two women with similar features. They were both early twenties with straight-ironed chestnut hair midway down their backs and exceptionally large, enhanced breasts. In addition to sporting multiple stab wounds, both women were missing the pointer fingers from their right hands.

  Sadie cleared her throat loudly through her respirator and the two broke off their argument to turn and look at her.

  “I told you she could see us,” one said, crossing her arms across her chest.

  “We’re dead,” the other countered. “So nobody can see us. Duh!”

  “I can see you but yes, you are dead,” Sadie announced.

  “Told you!” the first proclaimed and tried to shove the other, but her hands went straight on through.

  Then they were both shouting questions at her at once until Sadie held up her hands to silence them.

  “I do trauma cleanup and the hotel hired me to clean the mess here,” Sadie began. “I can also sometimes see and speak to the dead if they haven’t gone over.”

  “What a weirdo,” the first said to the second, attempting to elbow her in the ribs.

  “Yeah!” The second girl snorted loudly.

  Oh brother. “I can hear you. I’m right here,” Sadie announced.

  “So what? What are you going to do? Hit us?” the second girl laughed and they tried pummeling each other in a comical slap-and-tickle way but their hands just dropped through to the bed they were sitting on.

  “Hey!” Sadie called out. “I hate to break up the party, but I’ve got a job to do and part of that job is helping you move on!”

  “Who says we want to move?”

  “Yeah!” added the second, waving a hand to indicate the room. “Look how gorgeous this place is! For a year we’ve been sharing a one-room apartment with rusty pipes and a busted fridge. This place is like heaven.”

  Sadie tilted her head at the two. “But you can’t use anything here. You’re ghosts. Wouldn’t you rather move on to where you’re supposed to be?”

  The resounding reply to that question was “Nope!”

  It took Sadie a few minutes of convincing, but finally the girls reluctantly admitted that haunting an old hotel was somewhat cliché and not exactly a dream come true.

  “So, could I at least get your names?” Sadie asked.

  The girls introduced themselves as Opal and Olivia. They were sisters, Opal being one year older. The strip club had passed them off as the Climaxic Duo. The gimmick worked. Drooling middle-aged men assumed they were twins and the clientele got double wank for their buck.

  A few months ago they’d gone to the next level and had begun accepting invitations to perform services of a sexual nature above and beyond their acts at the club.

  “It was our retirement plan,” Opal stated, flipping her sheet of hair over her shoulder out of habit.

  “It was a stupid idea,” Olivia sneered. “And I told you it was crazy right from the start. We should’ve stuck with dancing.”

  “It wasn’t stupid,” Opal said defensively, giving her sister what would’ve been a hard slap on the shoulder, if her hand could make contact. “We were on track. By next year we would’ve been enrolled in esthetician school and only working part time at the club until we finished the classes.” She turned to Sadie. “You can only be an exotic dancer for so long before the younger girls crowd you out.”

  “I’m twenty and Opal’s twenty-one,” Olivia said evenly. “We had at least a few more years left dancing.”

  “They’d already hired those eighteen-year-old gymnasts!” Opal exclaimed. “They were hogging all the tips.”

  “True,” Olivia admitted. To Sadie she said, “I’m not as flexible as I used to be.”

  “And you totally would’ve rocked esthetics,” Opal told her sister.

  “True. Waxing is my life,” Olivia stated seriously.

  Near as Sadie could tell by the girl’s completely hairless body, she’d been good at it.

  “So after rent and food, we were stashing away almost all our money,” Opal said. “Last count we had nearly six thousand each and we still had four months to go in our one-year plan. We were totally on track.”

  “So what happened?” Sadie asked. “What can you tell me about the john who picked you up?”

  They offered Sadie identical shrugs.

  “We got a text message to show up at a room at this hotel to party,” Opal said.

  “Did you recognize the number calling?”

  “No, but let me check my phone,” Olivia said, glancing around.

  “It would’ve been brought in for evidence, dumbass,” Opal said. “Didn’t you learn anything from all those CSI reruns you love to watch?”

  “Oh.” Olivia looked sad. “I loved that frickin’ phone. It was new.”

  “So we were drugged up, then killed?” Opal asked.

  “Looks that way, and you’re not the first girls to end up like this. We need to stop this guy,” Sadie said emphatically. Just then the third fully-clothed female ghost reappeared. “And what about her?” She nodded her chin to indicate the other spirit who stood quietly at the far end of the room.

  The girls looked around.

  “Who?” Opal asked.

  “Her.” Sadie pointed a finger impatiently to indicate the third spirit, a fully-clothed young woman.

  “I don’t see anyone,” Olivia said.

  “Yeah,” Opal added. “Are you messing with us?”

  “That’s really uncool,” Olivia said, “trying to scare us like that.”

  “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 stitched 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, Sad
ie 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.

  Damn.

  “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 bloody 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 assumed 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 asses 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 Coke and yam fries. If she was working the night shift, 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 damn 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 snatched 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 God.” Sadie choked on a mouthful of yam and coughed. “That’s the séance!” 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 snatch 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 a
s hell 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 glass 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.