Drop Dead Beauty (11 page)

“Every little bottle costs me money,” Zenia stated.

When they spotted Sadie, the other employee took off to the back and Sadie walked up to the counter to pay. She offered up her coupon and then used her debit card to pay the balance, adding a twenty percent tip to Emilio.

“Can I schedule you and your sister and the other bridesmaids in for a session?” Zenia asked.

“I’ll definitely talk to my sister about it,” Sadie assured her, glancing at her watch. “Right now I’m late for work.”

“Perhaps you could book a tour or massage for your sister to try. I’m sure she’d be convinced after only a few minutes.”

Sadie smiled back and promised to talk her sister into it.

Detective Petrovich wasn’t going to be thrilled that Sadie used her massage time to actually get a massage and had the nerve to get so relaxed she fell completely asleep without getting any questions answered.

Sadie jogged through the rain to her van. She quickly stuffed the conjure bag in her purse and spritzed a light cologne she’d brought from home. Deftly driving in and out of traffic over to her client’s house, she made good time. In the end she was a mere ten minutes late from the time promised. Bill had a sterile home with modern metal and glass décor. The balding middle-aged man with a sizable paunch had invited her in, and they sat together at a glass kitchen table going over paperwork.

He grumbled as he read over the contract, underlining points and firing questions off to Sadie about everything from the legalese to punctuation. Sadie answered all his questions quickly and assuredly, but she didn’t like Bill—not one bit. Luckily she didn’t need to like a client to clean for him.

He signed the paperwork with a flourish then pushed the documents across the table to Sadie, who placed them inside a personalized file folder.

“So how do you go in and clean up such a huge mess?” Bill asked. “From what the officers told me, there’s blood everywhere.”

“Well, it’s a systematic process,” Sadie explained. “It takes a lot of cleaning products, and anything that can’t be cleaned properly has to be disposed of. There’s a very good chance your insurance company may end up having to pay to replace sections of drywall and carpeting and—”

“No. I mean how do you possibly do it all? You personally. How do you go into such a gruesome situation and just clean as if it was spilled orange juice?”

Sadie took a deep breath.

“Well, Bill, I used to be a grade school teacher. Then my brother took his own life and I found out from the police that families are responsible for cleaning up that kind of thing. It didn’t feel right to me. So I took all the blood-borne pathogens training and became a trauma-clean specialist. I like to think I’m saving people from being traumatized twice.”

“Really. Huh. How about that.”

His tone was derisive, and she could tell he didn’t exactly see her line of work as the noble calling that it was. Although, it wasn’t even Sadie’s true calling. Her real reason for doing what she did, as she found out after she started, was so that she could help answer last requests and help spirits move on. But now she couldn’t even perform that service because she didn’t want to feel the pain of their deaths. Now she was like a grotesque version of Molly Maid.

Bill gave her the keys to the house and asked when he could expect completion.

“Later today, after I’ve been through the house, I will be able to provide you with an approximate time frame. I wish I could get to it sooner, but I have another job this evening.”
The job of telling Zack about the baby and watching him burn rubber out of my driveway and out of my life.
“But I’ll get a few hours accomplished this afternoon, and I’ll call you with a time for completion. You’ll probably need to arrange for drywallers, painters, and flooring people to come in after I’m done.”

“The faster the better,” Bill grumped. “I don’t want the house standing empty longer than necessary. The longer it goes without tenants, the more money I lose.”

Sadie bit her tongue from reminding him that the tenants hadn’t exactly willingly moved out.

“I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“Good. Even faster would be nice,” he said. “I’m hoping to have the place available to show by the end of the month.”

Sadie wondered if he planned on offering people a cheaper rent for living in a house that was recently the location of a home invasion and the massacre of its four previous tenants. A bloodbath discount or something.

Sadie left Bill’s and headed straight to a fast-food outlet for a burger and shake. Back in the Scene-2-Clean van, she checked her phone when it chirped a message from Zack.

Looking forward to our dinner tonight
.

Sadie just sighed. Then she texted a reply, letting him know she had something important to talk to him about.

She wondered if she should go all out and make Zack his favorite home-cooked meal, or if she should order pizza. Her mouth watered at the thought of pizza and then just as quickly she felt a wave of nausea and had to roll down her windows for fresh air.

As she headed to West Seattle, she plugged in her Bluetooth and made phone calls. First she called Maeva.

“How are you doing?” her friend asked.

“Keeping busy,” Sadie said. “Could you get me Rudie’s phone number? I’m going to call him and thank him for the great job on the conjure bag. Went to Jonelle’s Day Spa and didn’t have to deal with Jane’s head pain. Also, I’m going to push him to see if he’s been able to come up with a spell that will only block the pain of spirits passing and not the actual spirits themselves.”

“I’m glad to hear you still want to help spirits move on,” Maeva said seriously. “I was worried you’d be too relieved about working in peace and quiet to remember your actual purpose.”

“I’m thinking my actual purpose might help to distract me from the hell that is otherwise known as my love life. Speaking of that, Zack’s coming over to my house tonight for what he thinks is a date where I’m making him dinner.”

“And you’re going to drop the bomb?”

“Yeah.” Sadie chewed the inside of her cheek nervously and let out a slow breath. “Maeva, I screwed up big-time, didn’t I?”

“No,” Maeva replied emphatically. “He screwed up. You were doing good and then when he got hurt on the job, he got hooked on pain pills and ended up shacking up with his ex. Even then you stood by him until he came to his senses, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“And then when he got out of rehab and he kept saying he needed time to get his life together, you gave him all the time he needed. But when you asked him to give you an idea about where you stood,
he
panicked and broke it off.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. It’s not your fault Owen happened to be there to catch you when you fell and to gather you up when you were feeling needy and weak from lack of sex. After all, how were you to know Zack was
ever
going to come back and want to be with you?”

“All true,” Sadie said, pulling the van to a stop at a red light. “So why do I feel like an absolute asshole?”

“Because you’re human and because you still love him.”

Sadie’s eyes filled with tears. She ended the call with Maeva as she backed up into the driveway of a small split-level house on Southwest Brandon Street. It looked like any other house in any other middle-class neighborhood where people cut their lawns, cleaned their gutters, and worked nine-to-five jobs to pay the mortgage or rent. Except this particular house was where four people had been tied up and gunned down in what the newspapers said was an attempted robbery.

Bill had given Sadie the garage door opener and she pressed it now as she unloaded her supplies. The garage would be the perfect safe zone in which to don and doff her hazmat gear and to store her supplies. As the garage door went up, a swarm of fat flies poured out. Sadie knew it was just a symptom of what was on the other side of the door leading into the house. Four bodies shot up would’ve sent out a notice of a smorgasbord to flies from miles around.

As Sadie geared up in the hazmat suit, which made her look more spaceman than pregnant trauma cleaner, her phone chimed. It was a text from Maeva passing along Rudie’s cell phone number. She decided to call him before pulling on her respirator.

“Rudie here.”

“Hi, Rudie. This is Sadie Novak. I want to thank you for the baggie you sold me yesterday.”

Just then Sadie noticed a neighbor walking his dog at the end of the driveway, and by the look on the old gal’s face, Sadie’s voice was probably amplified from inside the garage. She hastily added, “The wonderful bag of healing herbs you sold me.”

The old woman sniffed and kept walking. That sounded no better.

“You’re welcome. I presume the banishment spell worked and you’re not calling to ask for your money back.”

Sadie picked up on his sarcastic tone and ate crow.

“It’s great and I’m very sorry for ever doubting you. I am calling to see if there’s any chance you can work on the specific bag we talked about.” She lowered her voice. “One that would allow me to still see spirits and help them move on, just block out the pain they felt at their death?”

“You’re asking for something very specific and unique, and the only way I could create such a thing would be through trial and error. If you’re willing to try new spell bags and report back to me on where there needs to be improvement, then I’m willing to dedicate myself to helping you.”

“Okay. I’m willing.”

“It could cost up to double the price of your last conjure bag.”

Five hundred dollars?

“Um . . .” She cringed. “Fine.”

“The good news is that if we create this spell and herb mixture specific to your situation, it goes into the encyclopedia of spells,” he said.

“There’s an encyclopedia?”

“Oh sure. Of course it’s mostly online now,” he said. “Good news is that we could even use your name in this spell. We could call it the Sadie Pain Begone Potion.”

“Huh.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and forced herself not to say anything offensive in return. “So you’ll call me when you have something I can try?”

“Yup.”

With Rudie’s odd yet comforting assurance of her future, Sadie finished suiting up in her hazmat gear and prepared to enter the house and begin cleaning. In addition to the physical preparation with her gear, Sadie took a moment to mentally prepare. She had to slam down the door to her feelings and enter a mental state that was strictly business without emotion. It was the only way anyone could do her job. Unless, of course, you were completely crazy or devoid of human emotion—and yes, she’d met some blood-’n’-guts people who were both.

Once Sadie was inside she could’ve pointed exactly to where the bodies had been, even though the corpses had long since been bagged and tagged. The remaining sloughed skin and congealed blood pools lay testament to where the victims had dropped and remained until their bodies had been found. However, the fact that the walls were riddled with shotgun holes told her they’d tried to run. She registered none of this on an emotional level as she sprayed emulsifiers on dried tissue and brain matter that clung to walls and furniture like petrified oatmeal.

The first stage of cleaning was always the most difficult, partly because of the amount of protective gear she had to wear. It was easier to work without gloves, booties, and respirators, but bone fragments could be razor-sharp and blood carried disease-causing microorganisms. For the first time ever that realization carried with it an even higher level of fear. If she picked up a disease from her job, so would her baby. She was never careless at work but now she was infallible, exquisitely faultless, and . . . slowwww.

My God if I work any slower this job will take a week!

Sadie had been working on one end of the living room for a couple hours, and she got to her feet and stretched. She wanted a nap and food and not necessarily in that order. Glancing at a wall clock dappled with blood spatter, she cringed. She didn’t have much time before she’d have to leave if she planned on being on time for her dinner with Zack.

As she reached overhead to stretch her aching arms, she caught a glimpse to the street outside through the parted blinds. Frowning, she leaned forward and stared. A dark pickup sat across the street, the driver hidden in shadow. As she moved closer to the window and opened the blinds more fully, the truck roared to life and slowly passed by the house.

Her nerves pinged at the thought it could be the same driver that followed her from Auburn yesterday. Then again, it could also just be a curious driver and the dark pickup could’ve been one of the cajillion trucks on Seattle roads. She made a mental note that it was a newer, black Dodge Ram. That narrowed it down from a cajillion in Seattle to only a million. Hold the phone! A slight dent in the rear quarter panel with a white scrape of paint. So now she’d narrowed it down to a few thousand.

She chided herself for being paranoid and went back to work. The area where she was working was littered with significant bone fragments and blood spatter in the drywall. There’d be no cleaning away all the blood soaked into the wall or the slivers of pulverized bone. She’d have to cut the drywall and have it disposed of later as hazmat waste to be removed from her storage unit. Deciding she’d do just this one section of wall and then head home, Sadie went to work, slicing through the drywall and thinking it was a shame—because the smell beneath the odor of decomp was of fresh paint. Someone had taken the time to choose a dove-gray color for the wall and white on the baseboards and moldings to brighten the small living room.

Once Sadie’s knife had cut through a four-by-three-foot rectangle into the wall around the damage, she used the tip of the blade to pop the section of wall partway off. She tugged the piece the rest of the way and then momentarily stopped breathing at what she saw hidden away next to the insulation.

Wads of cash.

Dozens of bundles in tight bricks banded with thick elastic.

This clean job had just gotten a whole lot messier.

Chapter 8

Sadie jumped to her feet and it was a good thing her respirator muffled her scream.

Her mind raced. She knew what she had to do. Call the cops. It was a no-brainer. However, for a very brief second she considered stuffing her bra with a bundle or two to help with baby expenses. She’d never once before considered taking something valuable from a scene.

“You’re leading me into a life of crime,” Sadie murmured as she petted her stomach.

The worst part about the entire situation was that now Seattle PD would take over the house and her cleanup would grind to a halt. With resignation she left the room and peeled off her hazmat gear in the garage. Next, she plunked her tired body down onto a plastic lawn chair and called Seattle police to tell them of her discovery. Previously, the number she’d dial for police-related business was always Detective Petrovich’s. It saddened her that he wouldn’t be the one helping her out here. Her call was put through to the detective handling this particular homicide, and Sadie assured her that she’d be waiting on scene until she showed up. As she sat in the lawn chair getting fresh air from the rolled-up garage door, she saw the same Dodge Ram slowly drive by.

“And hurry please,” Sadie told the detective.

While she waited for the police to arrive, Sadie dialed Zack. She talked to him about the delay. As a former cop, he knew the situation was beyond her control.

“You can’t help it,” Zack said. “So call once you’re done giving your report to the detective and you’re on your way home. No need to worry about cooking. I’ll just pick up a pizza for us and meet you at your place.”

It was good to hear his voice. It felt natural that he was the one she’d talk to when things went wrong on a job. She’d missed that.

Zack added in a throaty whisper, “Since you’ve had such a rough day, I’ll throw in a massage once we’re done eating.”

She knew that massage implied something a lot lustier and a lot more fun than the one she’d had earlier in the day. Unfortunately, she also knew chances were slim she’d be in line for any carnal rewards once she told him about her prego situation.

“After we’re done eating, we need to have a talk,” she warned and then hurriedly ended the call.

After the Dodge Ram’s last drive-by, she’d gone to wait inside the Scene-2-Clean van for Detective Maureen Downey. The van was toasty-warm and Sadie’s body was tired, so naturally she dozed a little. When the detective arrived and rapped on the van window, Sadie nearly jumped out of her skin.

She opened the door and hopped out, with her heart still pounding in her chest.

“You’re Sadie Novak, right? So tell me again what you found on this job,” the detective asked, getting right to the point.

Sadie and Maureen Downey had never met, but Detective Petrovich had referred to her as a flaming ballbuster. Whatever the hell that meant. The detective’s streaked hair was tied back in a tight ponytail and her fortysomething face was devoid of makeup or a smile. She was business with a capital
B—the kind
that made women get called another name that started with
B
.

“I was cutting away blood-soaked drywall, and when I popped out a section in the living room, it was jammed with bundles of cash,” Sadie told her.

“Damn skippy,” Detective Downey muttered under her breath. “I’m guessing we found what the assailant was looking for.” She leveled a gaze at Sadie. “You touch the bills at all?”

“Nope.”

She punched Sadie lightly on the shoulder. “Good job, Novak.”

Sadie felt simultaneously disconcerted and strangely proud. Then Detective Downey tilted her head one way and sniffed the air, then tilted her head the other way and sniffed again.

“Gawd, what the hell is that?” She looked down at her shoes and lifted each one.

“Oh thaaat,” Sadie said hurriedly. “Neighbor’s dog took a big dump in the bushes. Just a second ago.”

“Wow. That dog must be seriously ill.” The detective rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. “Okay, just wait here a minute.”

The detective went to the trunk of her car and retrieved disposable booties, gloves, and a camera and then went inside the house. Sadie tore the conjure bag from around her neck and tossed it into her van. Then she leaned casually against her vehicle and waited. Ten minutes later the detective was back.

She let out a low whistle.

“I’m guessing there might be a couple hundred thousand there.”

“Do you think it’s drug money?” Sadie asked. “Or did the previous tenants just like to store their savings in the walls?”

“I can’t get into the details of our investigation here,” she said seriously. “But it’s been my experience that whenever someone hides cash inside their walls there’s a good chance it represents ill-gotten gains.”

“Sooo, I guess I have to leave all my equipment inside and you’ll let me know when I can return to clean up the place?”

“Leave me your business card,” the detective said. “And as soon as we’ve done our thing here, you’ll be the first to know.”

Sadie opened her van and pulled a business card out of the side pocket of the door and handed it over.

“I appreciate you calling promptly and not messing with the cash,” Detective Downey said, pocketing the card and offering Sadie the closest thing she had to a smile. “Petrovich always said you were aces, so I’m glad to see he was right.”

“Speaking of Dean,” Sadie began, unable to help herself. “What happened at Jonelle’s Spa . . . ?”

“It’s still under investigation and I’m not handling it.” She put her hands up. “And I’m thrilled I’m not the one having to work that case. It’s a dog’s breakfast.”

“It’s surreal to think a hard-ass cop and all-round rule follower like Petrovich would go nutso and just off his ex-wife at a spa, right?” Sadie pushed. “It just doesn’t sound right, does it? What’s your gut say about it? What do you personally feel happened?” Sadie asked, pressing harder. “Do you think Petrovich lost his marbles and shot his ex-wife in cold blood?”

The detective pursed her lips and rocked back and forth on her heels for a few seconds.

“Petrovich and I butted heads on investigations a lot over the years. It was no secret we didn’t always see eye to eye. If he was ever off base I’d call him on it.”

Sadie had a feeling that’s why Petrovich coined the phrase “flaming ballbuster” when referring to Downey.

“That said,” the detective continued, “I have a hard time believing he cared enough about Jane to work up a sweat, never mind a bullet, over her.”

“Thanks.” Sadie nodded, feeling somewhat relieved.

“Still, it’s like this situation here.” She nodded toward the house behind them. “Someone might say to me that the people who lived here were honest, upright citizens. Good people. Great neighbors. I would definitely take all of that into consideration when putting together my case, but in the end, the evidence speaks and the evidence doesn’t lie.”

With that hard statement, Detective Downey turned away to make a phone call. Sadie climbed into her van with a renewed sense of fatigue and a roaring hunger. She texted Zack to come over in about an hour. That would give her enough time to get cleaned up and prepare what she wanted to say.

As she drove home, she called Bill and explained to him that there was a slight delay in her cleaning of his investment property.

“I, unfortunately, uncovered some additional evidence that the police needed to collect,” she told him, being careful not to reveal anything the police wouldn’t want her to release.

“Are you kidding me?” he sputtered angrily. “But the damn cops already told me that I could go ahead and have the place cleaned!” he protested. “This is typical Seattle Police Department bullshit! They didn’t do it right the first time, and now someone I hired had to collect their evidence for them,” he growled. “That figures.”

Sadie wasn’t surprised by his annoyance, but she disliked his overheated reaction. Obviously renting the property out was a priority. Maybe he was hurting financially like half the population. Still, four people had been killed and there was such a thing as priorities.

“I don’t think the detective will hold up the job long,” Sadie assured him. “And I did manage quite a bit in the time I was there. If you want to line up tradespeople to come in after I’m done, that would be a wise idea.”

“So you don’t think they’ll be in there messing around for days?” he asked, sounding somewhat mollified.

“I’m pretty sure this is a simple thing,” Sadie said.
After all, how long does it take to remove stacks of money from a wall?
“And once I’m back in there, I’ll need about a day and a half of cleaning, and then it’ll just be a matter of leaving some air cleaners operating like fans for another day or two.”

Bill sounded okay with it and now Sadie hoped that Detective Downey would do her part and act quickly. Sadie didn’t need a pissed-off client to add to her list of troubles.

When she squeezed the Scene-2-Clean van into her garage and bolted inside the house, Sadie had forgotten about Detective Petrovich and nearly had a heart attack when he greeted her at the door.

“Zack’s on his way over,” she told him breathlessly. “I’ve got to shower, change, and somehow prepare myself to ruin his life. And possibly my own too.”

“Okay, but speaking about ruined lives,” Petrovich said dryly, “how’d it go?”

Sadie stared at him blankly.

“At the massage place? Talking to the masseuse.” He waved his hands impatiently in the air.

“Oh!” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that feels like a lifetime ago—but no, it didn’t really go well.”
Because I fell asleep immediately.
“Because apparently the masseuse didn’t see or hear anything until everyone heard the gunshot.”

“Damn!”

“There is a small bit of good news, though,” Sadie added. “I talked to Detective Maureen Downey a little while ago and she doesn’t think you did it.”

“Excuse me? You talked to that flaming ballbuster about me?”

“Calm down!” Sadie launched into a quick explanation about the cash she found at the West Seattle house and Detective Downey coming to take over the scene.

“And she just casually mentions that she doesn’t think I did it?” Detective Petrovich snorted.

“I guess because she knew we were friends, she just thought it would make me feel better.”

“Well gee, as long as
you
feel better I guess that’s what’s important.”

Sadie planted her hands on her hips and stared him down.

“Could you puh-leeease save your sarcasm and guilt-throwing for later tonight? Because I promise you that in a couple hours, Zack will storm out of here forever and I will be a weak hot mess and you can freak out all you want!” She realized her voice was shrill and she was dangerously close to sounding like she was having a mental breakdown. She put up her hands in a stopping motion. “I’m getting in the shower. When I get out, you need to be gone. You can’t hide here anymore. Find somewhere else. At least for a couple days.”

Sadie walked into her bedroom and slammed the door. She took the conjure bag and put it in her purse, then put the entire pocketbook into an airtight Ziploc bag. Next, she took a shower, blow-dried her hair, and put on a little makeup and a small touch of perfume to her wrists. Then she pulled on her jeans and changed her shirt three times as she debated how much cleavage was appropriate to show when you were about to kick a guy in the balls. She decided on a navy crewneck tee.

Sadie was just feeding Hairy when the doorbell rang.

“Wish me luck,” she told the bunny, then answered the door.

“Heey,” Zack said, holding out a Pagliacci pizza in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

Sadie gave him a huge smile and closed the door behind him.

“You sit down and chill on the couch,” he said. “You’ve had a rough day. I’ll go get a couple plates and wineglasses.”

Sadie sat literally on the edge of her seat on the sofa. Her spine was straight and her eyes were huge. Anyone looking at her through the picture window might think she was watching a horror movie on her TV, but instead, the scary scene she was watching was her life.

When Zack walked back in the living room, Sadie jumped.

“Wow, you
are
tense,” Zack commented. He flipped open the pizza box on the coffee table. “Dig in.”

It was Sadie’s favorite, the Brooklyn Bridge pizza at Pagliacci’s, but as she took a big bite the pepperoni, sausage, and mushrooms had no flavor because fear had tainted her taste buds.

“I’m just going to get a glass of water,” Sadie announced, and nearly ran into the kitchen.

As she filled her glass, she took a couple of big breaths and told herself to smarten up. Time to put on her big-girl panties, which were definitely only going to get bigger.

Back in the living room Zack spoke to her around a mouthful of pizza.

“What’s up? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this jumpy.”

He eyed her critically with eyes that had seen a lot. Even though he resigned from the Seattle PD before Sadie ever met him, he never quite lost that piercing cop gaze that could look right through you and see your spleen.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Sadie said.

She sat down and forced herself to nibble some more pizza. They ate in silence for a couple minutes and after his third slice of pizza Zack filled up the wineglasses.

Sadie just stared at the glass he put in front of her.

“You know that I’ve been working my ass off for my firm for months now.”

“Yes.” Sadie nodded, relieved the focus would be on something other than her. After Zack left his job at Scene-2-Clean as a trauma cleaner, he’d done various gigs in security and private investigation and finally got on with a big security firm. “How’s that going?”

“Good.” He grinned. “Great, in fact. Today the boss promoted me to lead background investigator for our biggest client.”

“That’s nice,” Sadie said.

“Nice?” Zack’s eyebrows went up. “It’s more than nice. It’s huge. I’ll be working a nine-to-five job. No more weekends and nights. Plus, there’s a huge leap in pay, and the benefits were already pretty good but now they’re great.”