Dead Suite Part 11

"Thanks for everything, Bev," he called over his shoulder. "Let's do lunch soon."

He hustled away down the hall, and Sadie poked her head inside the office.

"Ms. Hummel?" Sadie said in a tone that faltered just a little after having been startled by seeing Herbert.

"Come in, come in!" she called, waving her over to the desk.

Bev Hummel was exactly how Sadie had pictured her on the phone. She was the other side of fifty with gray frosting her temples and otherwise dark hair. She smiled at Sadie but her eyes and the gray wool suit she wore both said she was a serious woman and the smile was automatic politeness.

Sadie reached across the ma.s.sive mahogany desk and shook her hand.

"I guess you saw Herbie on your way out?"

Herbie? Seriously?

"Um. Mr. Sylvane? Yes."

"Sit." Bev indicated a stiff-backed chair that looked just about as comfy as the stilettos Sadie wore only once.

"The hotel business is surprisingly tight-knit. When I called to check your references we got to talking about other hotels we've worked at. Our paths have crossed frequently over the years." She smiled warmly. "He's dealt with serious security issues in hotels before, so I decided to invite him here so I could pick his brain, so to speak, and compare notes on how to make things safer."

"I'm sure you both find it concerning that these women were killed at your hotels," Sadie responded. She wanted to tell her that no amount of beefing up security would stop someone from cutting up a hooker in their room, but she didn't go there. People needed to believe that they had control over these kinds of things when, usually, they didn't.

"Thanks for your quick e-mail," Sadie added. "I've already contacted the insurance head office and will send them photos as well as my estimate as soon as I get an idea of what exactly we're dealing with. Speaking of that, I should probably just head upstairs." Sadie looked pointedly at her watch. "Your staff will have already brought up my equipment from my vehicle. I know you want this completed as soon as possible, so if I can get the room key from you, I'll get started."

"Of course." Bev opened her desk drawer and handed Sadie two slim key cards. "I've taken the liberty of having your room stocked with refreshments."

Sadie thanked her and then made her way back across the ornate lobby, rolling her suitcase behind her. The elevator was small and slow but Sadie took a moment to get herself in the right frame of mind. She was walking into a bloodbath and, although this was her bread and b.u.t.ter, she still needed to be mentally prepared.

Once inside the cozy room that connected to the crime scene, Sadie admired the plush duvets and heavy ornate draperies. A little much for her taste, but Sadie could be comfy here for the night. If ever money was no object. She glanced at the corner table that was heavily laden with the refreshments the manager had mentioned. Bev had arranged for a fine array of fresh fruit and finger sandwiches along with bottled water and a ma.s.sive carafe of coffee. Although briefly considering it, Sadie knew it wasn't wise to give in and take a coffee break before actually doing any work.

The hotel staff had delivered a heaping stack of her gear and piled the bins, ozone generator and cleaning supplies in one corner. Sadie went over to the pile and checked to make sure she had everything she'd probably require.

The first thing Sadie needed to do was to take photos of the scene for files and for the insurance company. She slipped her suitcase onto the bed and pulled out her hazmat gear and comfortable sweats and T-shirt. Once dressed from the top of her head (respirator) to the tips of her toes (shoe covers), Sadie snagged her camera and slid back the dead bolt that separated the room she was in from the crime scene beyond.

In addition to being mentally primed for the homicidal carnage inside, Sadie was also prepared for the likely possibility there would be a female ghost missing her finger. Even with all that emotional readiness, Sadie was staggered by what greeted her when she walked inside.

Welcoming Sadie were three female ghosts. One fully clothed and two naked and in various forms of decay and dismemberment.

Chapter 8.

Sadie ignored them. Not easy to do when you have a couple of excited, naked women vying for your attention. Even though they were dead, they were very much in Sadie's face, and there were some things you just couldn't unsee once they were burned into your retinas. Silicone-enhanced b.r.e.a.s.t.s covered in blood was one of those things.

Sadie snapped the photos of the ma.s.sacre that she needed for her records and to send off to the hotel's insurance company. She surveyed the scene as a person well trained in disinfecting blood-borne pathogens. There was considerable damage caused by the substantial amount of blood. She realized immediately she was bound to be short on supplies, and her mind went to work calculating all that would be required. Not long ago she would've had at least two other Scene-2-Clean employees helping her on a scene like this one. Now, thanks to the economy and Zack, she was flying solo.

Absently, she shooed flies away from her respirator as she worked. A fly can smell dead flesh from over a mile away and one fly can lay about fifty eggs, which hatch within twenty-four hours. Those hungry maggots were writhing and wriggling at a buffet of blood soup at Sadie's feet. Soon they'd end their lives in her vacuum bag.

Once she had the photos she needed, there was an overwhelming sense of the job that lay ahead of her. The physical sweat would be difficult but the emotional toil of dealing with multiple ghosts was bound to be draining. She'd have to reach inside for the tricks she once used to control a cla.s.sroom as a primary school teacher. Except a couple of these students had bits of flesh hanging off them and were naked.

Sadie headed back into the other room, a.s.signed as her safe zone. She doffed her gear and poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe. Then she called Detective Petrovich.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me there were multiple victims at the Pacifica!" Sadie said, exasperated.

"Who told you that?"

"n.o.body told me." She sipped her coffee. "I know it's easier if you just pretend I don't do anything beyond crime-scene cleanup, and Lord knows it's easier on me that way too, so let's just say a little birdie told me."

He paused. "I can't talk about a scene with you, but why don't you tell me what you know."

"What I know is there are three women in that room and a h.e.l.luva lot of blood."

"Three? You're sure?" he barked.

"Unless there was someone under the bed or in the closet, then yes, I'm pretty d.a.m.n sure the magic number is three," Sadie snapped in return. She rubbed the back of her neck as the reality of Petrovich's question sunk in. "You didn't find three bodies, did you?"

"No." She could hear the frustration and lack of sleep in his voice. "There were two."

"Either one of them belong to the finger on my windshield?" Sadie asked.

"DNA is being rushed but it's still got a couple weeks to go. The room was a bloodbath."

"You're telling me?" Sadie remarked dryly. "I get the job of mopping it up."

"I'm just saying we took samples everywhere."

"So you found two girls and I'm expecting you'll come back with three types of DNA. You want I should go in and ask the girls what their blood type is? Would that help?"

"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 cuc.u.mber 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 a.s.sociate 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 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 n.o.body 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 cliche 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 pa.s.sed them off as the Climaxic Duo. The gimmick worked. Drooling middle-aged men a.s.sumed they were twins and the clientele got double w.a.n.k for their buck.

A few months ago they'd gone to the next level and had begun accepting invitations to perform services of a s.e.xual 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 cla.s.ses." 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, dumba.s.s," 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."