“Maybe I need to do another one. I’ve never been good at taking tests.”
Sadie showed Maeva the test stick with the two distinct pink lines.
“Oh, hon, I’m so sorry but it’ll be okay. You’ll see. Things will work out. . . .”
Sadie dropped onto a kitchen chair next to her friend. Her mind raced in circles and she could feel Maeva’s concerned eyes on her. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I’ve got to go.” Sadie got up so abruptly she had to stop her chair from keeling over. “I told a client I’d be out to do a walk-through at a job and . . .” She glanced at her watch. “It’s already noon.” She made shooing motions with her hands. “I’ll talk to you later. I have to get ready.”
“The land of denial is a very inviting place but eventually you’ve got to return to the here and now,” Maeva told her wisely. “I’m here for you whenever you want to talk.”
“Just be here for me somewhere else.”
Sadie walked her friend to the door. When Maeva left she made Sadie promise to call her later. Sadie locked the door and then leaned against it for a moment with her eyes closed. When she opened them Dean Petrovich was watching her from the hallway. She held up a hand.
“I do not want to talk about it.” She made her way down the hall to the mudroom that led to her garage door and slipped her feet inside her Nikes. Petrovich followed her. With her hand on the door Sadie turned to him. “Look, I know you’re hell-bent on having me help you clear your name and I’m going to be there for you any way that I can, but right now I’ve got a business to run and I need to scream hysterically in my car to clear my head.”
“Fine. I’ll just talk to you later,” he said, wisely backing off.
Sadie walked into her garage. Her Corolla was parked beside the Scene-2-Clean van. Since she was doing only an initial walk-through, she’d need only a hazmat suit and a camera, so she’d be taking the car that was already stocked with those supplies. She climbed behind the wheel and pressed the button on the garage door remote. While the door rumbled and rattled open, Sadie dropped her head to the steering wheel and cried.
She cried most of the way to her appointment. When she pulled to the curb in front of the four-level concrete building that was her destination, Sadie glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.
“Great. I look like shit.”
She got out of the car and grabbed a tote bag from the trunk that held her supplies. The air was cool and in the mid-fifties with a touch of drizzle. She took deep breaths as she walked toward the building and felt a lot calmer by the time she was pressing the building manager’s buzzer.
“Wait in the lobby and I’ll come down,” Harrison told her after he buzzed her inside.
Harrison was a tall, twentysomething redhead who looked like he was in over his head managing a building where people got murdered. He looked Sadie over and frowned.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Allergies.” She cleared her throat and rubbed her eyes.
“I hear you.” He nodded knowingly. “It’s apartment 211. Next to the laundry room.” He handed her the key and a sheet of paper. “That’s the insurance information and the contact info for the guy who owns the building. Do you need me to come inside the apartment with you?”
“No. I can take it from here.”
“Thank God.” He shook his head, relieved. “People at that end of the hall are ready to move out because of the smell. It has gotten much better since they pulled Yolanda’s body outta there, but still . . . it reeks.”
“Not for long. I’ll take care of it. I’m just doing a walk-through now to take pictures for insurance purposes and to see what will be required.” She lifted her tote bag that contained her hazmat suit and camera. “Next, I’ll gather all my equipment and start cleaning. Probably tomorrow. I promise you that by the time I’m done, it’ll smell like daisies.”
Harrison looked skeptical about the concept that body decomposition could end up smelling like fresh flowers, but he was willing to hope for the best.
“Right.” He nodded. “Have at it then.”
Sadie took the stairs up to the second floor and was out of breath by the time she reached the apartment. She had a vision of trying to do that same simple walk nine months pregnant and shook her head violently. She didn’t want to think about that now.
The distinct smell of decomp permeated the hallway. Normally it had little effect on her, but today it seemed to reach up inside her sinuses and tug on her gag reflex. She decided to use the laundry room next door as a safe zone. She stepped inside and pulled the disposable hazmat suit out of her tote bag. An older woman folding laundry in the corner eyed Sadie curiously. Sadie offered her a halfhearted wave as she slipped into gear complete with booties, gloves, and a full facial respirator. She breathed easier with the respirator blocking out the bad smell. Carrying her camera, she stepped into the hall and plugged the apartment key into the lock, turning the deadbolt.
Once inside she began snapping photos of the living room. It was clear that Yolanda’s body had rested where there was now a sticky puddle of bodily fluids and sloughed skin. Maggots were having a heyday too. Cleaning up scenes of unattended death was nothing new to Sadie. While her finger clicked the shutter button on the camera, her mind listed supplies needed to clean the mess and the number of hours required.
Once she had all the photos she needed, she turned to leave and came face-to-face with a thin black woman who looked dazed and confused. The marks around her neck told Sadie this was the ghost of Yolanda, the woman who’d been strangled in this apartment.
Abruptly, Sadie’s heart began to race and she felt a tightening around her own neck. She tried to gasp for air but it was as though a noose was around her neck. She dropped her camera as she clawed desperately at her throat. The invisible grip tightened. Her lungs burned and her eyes began to bulge. Sadie grabbed at her throat and the ghost of Yolanda tilted her head and, with openmouthed confusion, watched Sadie struggle.
In desperation, Sadie bolted from the apartment. As soon as she was in the hall the grip around her throat disappeared. She ripped off her respirator and drew in a hoarse, ragged breath and coughed repeatedly. She bent at the waist and sucked air into her lungs.
“You okay?” The woman who’d been folding laundry was in the hall with her basket of towels balanced on one hip.
“Peachy,” Sadie replied and coughed again. “Thanks.”
Sadie straightened and turned to look at the apartment door. What the hell was that all about? She’d never experienced anything like that. Her camera was in there. She needed to go back inside but she couldn’t bring herself to do it alone.
She returned to the laundry room, dug her cell phone out of her tote, and dialed Zack’s number.
“I know you’re probably really busy at that big security and safety director job you do now, but I was wondering if you got any kind of a lunch break or anything?” Sadie asked.
“Sure. I was just about to go for a bite. Are you feeling better? Do you want to join me?”
“I’m just at a job and I could use a little help.” Sadie described a little of what was going on and about being scared to go inside for her camera. Zack had worked with her. He knew about her supernatural abilities and, even though he didn’t talk about it much, he accepted it as just another weird Sadie trait.
“Let me get this straight; you’re scared of a ghost? You?” There was laughter in his voice. “My Sadie . . . the gal who deals with this kind of talking to the dead thing all the time?”
She smiled a little at his use of “my Sadie.”
“Yes. Well, maybe I’m just having a bad day all round.” She laughed herself. “As you know, I’m not feeling my best today.”
“My shoes remember it well,” Zack said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes
.”
Sadie greeted Zack at his Mustang at the curb and retrieved a hazmat suit from the trunk of her car and handed it to him.
“Oh my God. What happened to your throat?” he asked, running a finger gently on her neck. “You’re all bruised.”
Sadie opened her mouth to speak then shut it again and simply shrugged. She didn’t want to get into the fact that something had somehow tried to strangle her. As an ex-cop, Zack liked to deal with things he could see in the here and now. Although he’d come to accept her so-called talent, she didn’t like to shove his face in it and add more strain to their already tentative relationship by stating she was now having to wrestle with spirits.
They walked into the building and made their way to the laundry room, where Zack donned a hazmat suit just as Sadie had. They’d worked together for a couple years. Even though he’d left trauma cleaning for the comparative thrills of security consultation, he still knew the drill. Sadie opened the apartment door for him and Zack slipped inside. He was back in the hall only seconds later and tossed her the camera.
“Thanks!” Sadie smiled. “And sorry for taking up your lunch hour on such a stupid quest.”
“No big deal. I’m always there for you. You know that.”
Sadie felt tears prick her eyes and she nodded.
Zack lifted her chin with the tip of his finger and frowned.
“What’s up?”
She shook her head.
“Just off my game.” She offered him a brave smile. “I think I need to go home and sleep this day away and start fresh tomorrow.”
He put his hand to her forehead.
“No fever but you’re definitely not yourself.”
They walked back to their cars and he pulled her into a hug.
“Straight home to bed,” he whispered into her hair.
Sadie agreed and waved good-bye as Zack took off down the street. Once back in her car she put her Bluetooth in her ear and dialed Maeva’s number as she steered away from the curb.
“Something weird is happening to me,” Sadie started.
“It’s not weird. It’s perfectly natural. Pregnancy brings on many changes and—”
“I’m not talking about being p-p – . . .” Sadie licked her lips.
“You can’t even say it!”
“First of all, just because some dumb window on a plastic stick turned into two pink lines does not mean I have a not mean I have a human being growing inside my uterus.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what it means.”
“But I can’t be pregnant!”
“You can. We already discussed the who and the when, remember? I’m telling you like it is. Those tiny little sperm are sneaky suckers.” Maeva took a deep breath. “So . . . have you called him yet?”
“Who?”
“Owen Sorkin! Your baby’s father!”
“Oh God.” Sadie swallowed bile. “I just threw up a little in my mouth.”
“First trimester sucks,” Maeva said. “I strongly encourage you to start carrying an extra-large Ziploc bag in your purse for those times you’re feeling sick and aren’t near a bathroom.”
“Shut up!” Sadie shuddered with revulsion. “I can’t deal with that right now. Just let me tell you the real reason why I called.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
Sadie explained to Maeva about what happened in the apartment and her voice shook a little as she described how she felt like her windpipe was being crushed.
“So this Yolanda ghost attacked you?”
“Yes. No.” Sadie thought about it. “I don’t know. Actually, the whole time she just sort of stood there looking confused.”
“So it was another ghost that tried to choke you?”
“I didn’t see another ghost.” Sadie rubbed the tender marks around her throat and sighed. “It was just me and Yolanda.”
“Huh.” Maeva paused a minute. “I’ve got an idea. . . . You’re not far from my place, so why don’t you stop in for a cup of coffee and we can talk about it. Unless you’d rather I come to your place?”
Sadie thought about Dean Petrovich waiting at her place and told Maeva, “I’ll be at your house in five.”
When Sadie arrived at Maeva’s place she was immediately handed her godson, Osbert.
“Take him for a second,” Maeva said, holding her house phone to her chest to cover the receiver. “I’m just talking to my neighbor.”
Sadie looked at the seven-month-old boy in her arms and cringed. He had yellow snot running from his nose and crusted to his cheeks.
“Hello, Ozzie my boy,” Sadie cooed. “You’re looking particularly unappealing today.” She whispered to Maeva, “Is there a tissue box around here somewhere?”
Sadie followed the direction Maeva pointed across the kitchen, where a box of Kleenex sat on the counter. Sadie grabbed numerous tissues and tried to wipe down Osbert’s face, but he squirmed and cried out in protest. Pudgy arms kept blocking Sadie’s attempts to clean him up, until finally the little guy buried his face against Sadie’s chest and wiped the mess on her shirt.
“Nice. I’ll remember this sixteen years from now when you want to borrow my car.”
Maeva hung up the phone and took back her son.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been feeding the neighbor’s cat and collecting her mail while she’s out of town and she was just calling to check up on Mr. Mike,” Maeva explained.
“Mr. Mike?”
“The cat.”
“Is that the elderly neighbor whose husband just died a couple weeks ago?” Sadie asked.
“Yes. She decided to visit her daughters in Portland after the funeral.”
Maeva brought Osbert over to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap. Digging out a rag, she soaked it then scrubbed down the boy’s face while he screamed in indignation. Then she got a new wet rag out for Sadie to use on her shirt.
“Sorry, he’s got a bit of a cold and flu. It’s affecting both ends.”
“What does that mean?”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth when the putrid smell reached her.
“Oh God.” Sadie clamped a hand over her mouth and nose. “That’s coming from him?”
“Oh c’mon.” Maeva rolled her eyes. “You smell worse things than that in your line of work.”
Sadie thought about the smell of body decomp earlier in the day and felt it was a pretty close call.
Maeva handed Sadie a mug of coffee, then left the room to clean her boy. She was back in less than two minutes.
“That was fast,” Sadie remarked.
“What can I say? I’ve got it down to a fine art. You’ll be surprised how quickly you adapt.” She put Osbert down on a blanket on the floor and then sat down at the table next to Sadie and lowered her voice to a soft, empathetic tone. “Have you decided how to handle this?” She pointed at Sadie’s stomach.
“You’re wrong. I don’t feel pregnant. I think the test was a dud.”
“They’re supposed to be ninety-nine percent accurate.”
“Right. So I’m the one percent.”
“Not likely.”
“What percentage of women can see and talk to the dead? Would you say that figure is over one percent? I don’t think so.” Sadie smiled triumphantly at Maeva. “If I can be special in one way, I can be special in another.”
Sadie lifted the coffee mug to her lips, took a big gulp, and then made a sour face.
“That’s horrible.” Sadie put the cup down. “Since when do you serve bad coffee?”
“It’s organic decaf. It’s what I drank while pregnant and nursing.”
Sadie pushed the mug away. “I know you want to harp on this pregnancy thing, but I called my doctor on my way over and made an appointment for tomorrow. Until I hear it from his mouth, I don’t want to deal with it. Let’
s not use the word pregnant until then, okay?”
“Fine.” Maeva’s mouth turned up in a tiny smirk. “Let’s talk about what happened to your neck and how you got strangled by someone or something at this job.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about that.” Sadie rubbed the back of her neck. “I guess I could turn the job down. Make an excuse and refer him to another trauma-cleaning company.”
“But business has just been improving. You finally got on top of bills and are back to making a profit. Turning away work is not an easy option. Especially now that you’re—” Maeva stopped herself.
Sadie gave her a warning glance. “As my go-to expert on psychic phenomena, how do you suggest I handle this situation?”
“Well, first I think you should come with me to my neighbor’s house to feed her cat.”
Sadie offered to carry the new, cleaner version of Osbert as they walked to the small ranch house next door. Normally she’d be blowing raspberries against Osbert’s pudgy cheeks and bouncing him around. Not wanting to take a chance on either end releasing noxious substances, she opted to hold him like a sack of potatoes on her hip.
Maeva unlocked the neighbor’s front door and called for the cat.
“Mr. Mike? Here kitty, kitty!”
Sadie sat down in a nearby living room armchair with Osbert on her lap.
“What are you doing?” Maeva asked.
“Sitting.”
“Well don’t,” Maeva admonished. “Come with me in the kitchen. I, um, might need your help.”
“To open a can of cat food?” Sadie grumbled but got up and followed anyway.
In the kitchen, Maeva took Osbert from Sadie’s arms and pointed to the door to a walk-in pantry.
“Grab a can of the seafood feast. That’s his favorite.”
Sadie opened the door to the pantry and the first thing she saw was at least a dozen neatly stacked cans of cat food on the first shelf. She reached for a can of seafood feast just as a bald elderly man with large liver spots on his head appeared in the pantry with her. Inadvertently, Sadie’s hand touched the ghost and she shuddered with revulsion. Coming in physical contact with the dead gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Drop Dead Beauty Page 3
