Dead Suite Part 5

"At least Zack is trying to be responsible here. Going all the way to Portland just to work as a c.r.a.ppy security guard and part-time private investigator. I'm sure all the counselors at Whispering Groves told him he needed to keep busy so he didn't relapse. At least he's doing what he's told."

"Did they tell him not to text me regularly? And do you think the counselors also told him to avoid performing his boyfriendly duties around the house?"

"s.e.x? I doubt they'd advise against it, but it's a definite possibility they told him to take a hard look at all his relationships."

"Well, he's not looking very hard at ours." Sadie walked to the living room and sank heavily onto the sofa. "Or maybe he is and he's just not liking what he sees."

"You need to talk to him. Ask him flat out where his head's at."

"You're right." Sadie worried her bottom lip. "Next time we talk I'm going to demand to know what's up."

"No, you're not going to demand anything. You're going to share how you feel and ask how he feels." Maeva laughed. "Look at it this way. You guys were strong once, right? Sure, an accident caused by a crazy ghost hurt him and he fell back into the Vicodin addiction that caused him to lose his job as a cop. That doesn't mean he stopped loving you."

Why does it feel like it?

Osbert's shrill cry in the background saved her from having to tell her best friend that she was afraid Zack would choose to say adios instead of I love you.

Sadie shouted good-bye to Maeva over her G.o.dson's cries, then snagged her new large purse and headed to her car.

As she feared, there was no parking on Western and the garage on Lenore was also full. She found s.p.a.ce in a U-Park lot on First, but then she had to hoof it downhill, taking Virginia to Western. Her feet were holding up in the high-heeled boots but only because she was bolstered by the idea of the meal to come.

She walked into Etta's and gave Gayla Woods's name to the hostess, who showed her to a booth in front of the large picture window. A thirtysomething brunette in a business suit was chatting on her cell phone.

"You must be Sadie?" she asked, covering the phone with her hand. When Sadie nodded Gayla pointed across from her. "Have a seat. I'll just be a minute."

Sadie ordered a gla.s.s of wine and it arrived before Gayla Woods ended her call.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Business. You know how it is."

"Sure." Sadie offered her a tight smile.

"Well, no reason why we shouldn't order first and discuss work later," Gayla said brightly.

Sadie lifted up the menu and studied it intently even though she already knew what she wanted. "I haven't been here in ages and I've been craving the fishmonger's stew all day."

"Then you should have it," proclaimed a male voice.

Sadie lowered her menu to find Owen Sorkin looking down at her with a huge grin.

"Oh. h.e.l.lo." Sadie felt a flutter of annoyance that she hadn't been warned it wouldn't be just the two of them.

"When I told Owen I was meeting you, he insisted on coming along," Gayla explained, rolling her eyes.

"We are partners on the house," Owen piped up in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Of course," Gayla said. "So have a seat."

Owen sat down in the booth next to Sadie. She slid over toward the window but he only slid closer until they were sitting thigh-to-thigh.

When the waiter appeared to take their orders Owen and Gayla both ordered appetizers in addition to a main course, so it looked like there'd be little hope of getting out of the restaurant fast. Plus, she was barricaded into the booth by Owen, so it would be awkward to try to leave gracefully.

They made polite conversation, with Gayla doing most of the talking, and man oh man could that woman talk. She spouted at a nervously quick pace about renovations involving refinishing oak flooring and replacing countertops with granite. Owen put in the odd word of agreement but mostly sat next to Sadie, stealing longing glances at her cleavage and making Sadie regret her choice of a V-neck sweater.

By the time the main course had arrived and all the small talk seemed to have exhausted itself, Sadie plunged into her fish stew along with the topic everyone else had been avoiding.

"I appreciate you're in a hurry to do your renovations and now there's this issue at the house," Sadie began, blowing on a spoonful of stew to cool it off before placing it in her mouth. "But I'm sure whatever this minor setback is, the Thingvolds can take care of it. Rosemary and Rick are really very knowledgeable about . . . this kind of thing. You really don't need me."

"Ahhh, but we do need you. The ghost said so, remember?" Owen said, leaning in to whisper the comment softly in her ear.

"More accurately," his partner corrected, "someone painted that message-n.o.body said it-and although we're not entirely sure what the h.e.l.l it's all about, we're determined not to leave any stone unturned." She put down her fork and asked Sadie, "You're aware of the previous history of the house?"

"Very sad." Owen shook his head.

"Yes, a crazy mom poisoned her fourteen-year-old in a botched exorcism and then killed herself in jail."

"Obviously you've done your research. That's good." Gayla picked up her fork and resumed eating while she talked. "So you can see why the house took a long time to sell. Then we come along. All we want is to fix the place up inside and out and make sure that everybody forgets about that little mishap."

Sadie didn't agree with calling the murder of a child a mishap, but she didn't say so-mostly because her mouth was full of stew. She swallowed and then asked, "Why don't you try hiring other workers?"

"The fly in the ointment here," Owen said, picking up where his partner left off, "is simple. We need to do renovations but the workers don't want to do jobs there because they think the place is haunted. Right now, only a very few people have been inside and experienced what's going on. We want to keep it that way."

"Right," Gayla added. "If we can take care of the problem and get the place fixed, it'll be all well and good, but if the house begins to have a reputation for being haunted"-she threw her hands in the air-"then poof! There goes our profit."

"And is it haunted?" Sadie asked.

Owen snorted dismissively.

"I'm asking Gayla." Sadie narrowed her eyes in Owen's direction and he covered the smirk on his face by drinking from his gla.s.s of wine.

"Well, we had the locks changed and there didn't appear to be any sign of a break in," Gayla said, turning to Owen. "What else could it be?"

"I'm sure a couple creative teenagers could slide open those old windows without a problem," he reasoned.

"And what about the workers who got hit by paint cans and stuff?" Sadie asked, regarding him coolly. "Were those same teenagers invisible?"

"Even grown men can have active imaginations," he offered, and the way his gaze sc.r.a.ped hotly over her body Sadie didn't require any imagination to guess his thoughts.

"None of it really matters," Gayla said, waving her hand as if to wipe the slate clean. "Of course it could be kids or jokes, and we have no way of knowing for sure. Right now it's all about perception. We've told all our workers we're spending a couple weeks to ensure the house is ghost free, and if they believe all is well they're sure to come back and finish the job. We've given them deposits and we don't want to lose that money either."

"Which brings me back to what I said earlier," Sadie said, pushing her empty dish aside and dabbing her lips with her napkin. "The staff at Madam Maeva's will do a great job. You don't need me."

"Like I told you before, I heard Maeva speak at a workshop before and that's what sold me on her company."

"You attend psychic workshops?" Owen sounded surprised.

"It was open to the public and I happened to be staying at the hotel." She shrugged. "I was curious and it was fascinating information. Maeva's a compelling speaker. "But we want you. All we ask is that you go over to the house a couple times with the Thingvolds and help them out."

Sadie realized Gayla Woods was a woman who was very used to getting her own way.

"We're prepared to pay you double your usual rate."

And Sadie was prepared to take that offer.

"Are you sure?" Owen didn't appear to be on board with the extra payment, which suddenly made the deal that much more appealing. Besides, beggars couldn't be choosers and if they wanted to pay her double her rate in order to make her sit around ghost busting with the Thingvolds, she wasn't in a financial position to turn the offer down.

"You have a deal. I will work with Rick and Rosemary Thingvold in their attempts. I can't make any guarantees."

"Agreed," Gayla said, but Owen was silent.

Sadie shook hands with Gayla and then offered her hand to Owen, who reluctantly shook it.

After the meal, Owen insisted on walking her to her car since it was now dark. They walked in silence. Mostly because Sadie was huffing and puffing up the hill to the parking garage and her feet hurt.

They rounded the block and Sadie spotted her car where she'd left it parked in the lot.

"That's my car. Thanks for walking me," she said dismissively.

Owen continued walking alongside her.

"What's that on your windshield?"

Sadie narrowed her gaze but couldn't quite make it out. As they got closer it appeared that a clear bag was under her wiper.

"Trash just blew onto my window," Sadie explained.

Her heart was beating hard in her chest. It could've been because of the hike up the steep street in heels, or it could've been the fact that she was obviously attracted to Owen Sorkin, whose arm was brushing against hers. Then again it could've been because it was becoming clear the bag on her windshield contained something gruesome.

"Oh my G.o.d!" Owen called out, and they stopped short just a step from her Corolla. "Is that what it looks like?"

Sadie swallowed thickly and spoke slowly. "It looks like a severed finger."

Chapter 4.

Owen reached for the clear baggie on Sadie's windshield as if to be absolutely sure it was what they thought it was. Then he let out a girly scream, flung the bag a few feet away, and ran to wrap Sadie in a suffocating hug.

"What are you doing?" She gasped for air and pushed him away.

"I don't want you to faint again."

"Me?" Sadie said indignantly, placing her hands on her hips. "I clean up far worse than this almost every single day. I didn't faint at your house on Halladay Street because I was afraid or freaked out."

"Then why did you faint?"

Sadie frowned. "I don't know." She tugged her cell phone out of her pocket. "I gotta call this in."

Detective Petrovich showed up dressed in a three-piece suit complete with a violet-colored tie and pale blue dress shirt. Sadie noted his girlfriend, Jenny, was in the car.

"Sorry. I obviously got you away from a big date."

"More than a date. I was on my knees proposing when you called," Petrovich said, rubbing the top of his brush cut with one hand and surveying the scene with the other.

"Congratulations!" Sadie cried and then turned to offer Jenny a thumbs-up.

"I didn't wait for a response, and we left before I could pull out the ring."

"Oh." Sadie glanced again at his date and noticed she looked slightly p.i.s.sed. "Couldn't you call anybody else to help out here?"

"This is mine. If she's going to marry a detective she's gotta know this comes with it."

Sadie played with the pendant around her neck as she shot Jenny a sympathetic look.

"So where's the finger?" Petrovich demanded.

"It was under my windshield," Sadie said. "Now it's over there." She pointed to a parking spot behind her car.

"How'd it get over there?" Petrovich barked. "You know better than to mess with a crime scene." He strode over to the baggie and Sadie followed, talking to his back.

"Wasn't me that tossed it. Owen Sorkin and his partner took me out for dinner at Etta's to talk to me about a job. Owen walked me back to my car. He saw the baggie, picked it up, and chucked it before I could react."

Sadie nodded to indicate Owen, who was leaning against a dirty brick building at the side of the lot looking queasy and distinctly uncomfortable at this turn of events.

"Don't go anywhere until I get your statement," Petrovich yelled to Owen, who responded with a weak nod. Petrovich turned to Sadie. "He looks a little fancy-pants for you."

"It was a business meeting," Sadie said.

The detective crouched down to stare at the digit in the baggie. He took a small flashlight from his pocket and shone it on the ground. Sadie crouched next to him.

"It belongs to that dead hooker from the Bay Eminence, doesn't it? May Lathrop," Sadie whispered.

"Won't know for sure until we do testing," Petrovich said.

"It's got the same bright pink polish on the nail," Sadie said, playing with the necklace around her neck.

"I'm not in the business of guessing," Petrovich barked. "And neither should you." He got to his feet, turned, and waved to an unmarked car that pulled up at the curb. "But the more important question here is that if it turns out to be from a crime scene, why the h.e.l.l did this body part end up on your windshield?"

And that line of thought did make Sadie feel a little woozy.

"Not like you to get sick over a tiny bit of blood." Petrovich tilted his head at her. "You okay? You look a little green."