He rushed off to his small truck and took out a small rectangular box.
“This has been in my family a long time.” He opened the box and took out a gold necklace. Dangling from the chain was a two-inch flat disc pendant with a sun design that was faded with wear. It was obviously antique, and when he handed it to Sadie she stepped back.
“Oh, I can’t possibly take that, Mr. Pacheo.”
“It’s not a gift,” he insisted as he walked toward Sadie. “I want you to keep it in good faith until I can pay you for your work.”
Sadie shook her head no but then Hugh Pacheo just said, “Please. I’m a proud man, Ms. Novak, and I can’t in good conscience ask you to do a job for me without giving you something in return until I can pay you. It would make me feel better to know you had this small token of thanks until I can give you a check.”
It was an odd request but certainly not the strangest she’d ever had. Sadie agreed.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll hang on to it until you can pay me.” She was already thinking she’d charge him just the barest, most minimal cost for the job.
“You must wear it,” he said.
He held up the pendant and turned it over to show her an engraving so worn the words were difficult to read, even if Sadie had studied Latin. He read, “Carnalem concupiscentiam est insatiabilis.” With a chuckle and a shake of his head he continued. “I forget the exact translation but basically it means good luck will come to those who wear it, so please promise me you’ll wear it until you give it back. Somebody in your line of work could probably use a little luck in their life.”
Ain’t that the truth.
His eyes twinkled and Sadie couldn’t help but smile back. He was an odd duck, but the guy just lost his son. It wouldn’t hurt to give in to a grieving man’s quirky request.
“Sure. Why not.”
She fingered the long chain that hung around her neck. The vintage necklace rested warmly against her skin. She wasn’t much for jewelry but it certainly wouldn’t be a hardship to wear a nice gold necklace.
“I’ll be off now,” he said, starting to smile and then quickly readjusting his features as if remembering the real reason they were here. “And thanks again.”
Sadie waited until Mr. Pacheo was gone before she popped her trunk and dug out a hazmat suit along with her camera. Even though the pictures wouldn’t be going to an insurance company, she kept the before and after shots for file records on every job she took. As she walked toward the garage, she rolled her head on her aching shoulders as fatigue once again began to settle in. She planned to take photos now and come back tomorrow to complete the work.
It took her only a few minutes to take pictures inside the garage. There really wasn’t going to be a lot of significant cleanup involved; only a minimal amount of bodily fluids needed her attention. Since it was a suicide, she’d also be free of bothersome ghosts. The spirits of suicide victims never appeared to Sadie, and she’d always believed that the reason was because they’d made their choice to go over willingly to the next dimension and so they had no ties to the here and now.
Once Sadie had taken the pictures and looked around, she changed her mind. It seemed silly to hold off until tomorrow to do a job she could accomplish quickly right now. Rather than heading straight home to nap, Sadie went back to her car and unloaded basic cleaning supplies and brought them into the garage. No time like the present. Within a couple hours she was done, and since it was such a speedy job she felt better about the fact that she’d made up her mind to charge the kindly father, Hugh Pacheo, only a minimum labor charge after her expenses.
Sadie held up her camera to take a few after photos of the garage, and a sudden blur of movement appeared in the corner of her eye, startling her. She fumbled and nearly dropped the camera but when she looked up there was nothing there. Slowly she scanned the tidy garage. There were a few boxed items and a workbench and tools that had been there all along, but nothing was amiss. She spun on her heel for another quick look but she was alone. Lack of sleep was causing her to see things. Definitely time to go home and have some rest.
When she got back to her place Sadie desperately needed to unwind a bit before sleeping. She’d just settled herself onto her sofa with a bowl of Cheetos, the remote control, and a bottle of Red Hook Wit beer when the doorbell rang. Sadie reluctantly hoisted her tired body off the couch.
When she opened the door, her friend Maeva stormed inside with a wailing baby strapped to her chest in one of those infant wraparound thingamajigs.
“I need you to hug me!” Maeva exclaimed with a shrill scream that was a small decibel higher than that of the writhing cherub strapped to her body.
“Oh no you don’t!” Sadie jumped back. “Are you having some kind of postnatal breakdown or something?”
“I’m dead serious. I need to see if I’ve still got it!”
“Don’t you remember how touch-sensitive you are?” Sadie shouted over the baby’s cries. “Since I can communicate with the dead on a different level than you, touching me causes you vomiting and stomach pains. Like that time you ate the green yogurt at the back of my fridge.”
“I thought it was supposed to be that color.”
“Nothing is ever supposed to be that shade of green.” Sadie shook her head. “I’m not going to hug you, but I will take my godson.”
“I used to get sick when you touched me but that was when I had my powers. Now my abilities are gone! I have no sensitivities whatsoever. Osbert is nearly four months and still my clairvoyant talents haven’t returned.” Maeva’s chin flopped to her chest and she sobbed as she lifted the bawling baby from the sling and handed him to Sadie.
Immediately the child stopped crying.
“And I think Osbert hates me,” Maeva sniffed.
“Probably because you named him Osbert.” Sadie lifted the baby to her face and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“Osbert means divinely brilliant.”
“It means he’ll be picked on in school,” Sadie countered. “Isn’t that right, Ozzie?” Sadie managed to coax a toothless smile out of the child’s face. To Maeva she said, “I’m sure your medium talents will return eventually. You said that it’s not unusual for a psychic to lose their ability during and after pregnancy. Before long you’ll be back to running Madam Maeva’s Psychic Café and telling people they’ll go on long vacations or meet someone tall, dark, and handsome.”
“Now you’re just making fun of me.” Maeva reached into an impossibly huge diaper bag and pulled out a brown leather purse. She tossed the purse to Sadie. “You can have it.”
Sadie caught the purse and frowned. “But you love this purse.”
“You love it too. Remember when we argued over who’d get the last one at Nordstrom’s? Well, since I’m relegated to carrying a diaper bag for a couple years, someone should be using this purse. No sense in letting a good handbag go to waste.”
Sadie stroked the soft leather. “You’re right. It’s a great purse and it hardly looks used.”
“I used it once when I attended that convention last month.”
“See, you are still working,” Sadie reminded her. “Didn’t you give a long speech to a large crowd about helping spirits move on to the next dimension?”
“Thanks, but even that wasn’t my stuff. It was all your information I talked about. I don’t help spirits move on. I try to contact those who’ve already moved on when their families want to reach them. Even that, I couldn’t do without your help.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” She pointed to a chair. “Come in, grab yourself a cold one from the fridge, and then sit down and relax.” Sadie returned to the sofa to collapse with Osbert on her lap.
Maeva plunked herself heavily into a chair across from them.
“I’m no
t thirsty.” She eyed the beer and junk food on the coffee table. “It’s only one o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. Why are you partying like a frat boy?”
“I pulled an all-nighter at work and then ran out to do another job already today. This is my happy hour.” Sadie balanced the baby in her arms as she leaned in to retrieve her beer and take a long drink. “Ahhh . . . nectar of the gods.”
“You’re just teasing me since I still can’t drink because I’m nursing,” Maeva grumped.
“One sip wouldn’t kill you, or him.” Sadie indicated Osbert with her chin and held the bottle out to Maeva.
Her friend shook her head. “You’re wrong. One sip will lead to me gulping down every bottle in your fridge and then I’ll go home and gobble everything in our liquor cabinet. Next I’ll be seeking out heroin and crack on the streets and Terry will divorce me. I’ll end up a toothless, homeless woman begging for change in front of Pike’s Market.”
Sadie stared openmouthed at her friend. “Wow. You’ve given this a helluva lot of thought.”
“Yes. I think about it every day and every night. Osbert still doesn’t sleep through the night and refuses to take my milk from a bottle, so that means Terry can’t help with all those late-night feedings. I spend a lot of time watching middle-of-the night TV with a baby stuck to a boob. I’ve developed a fondness for crime shows and all those reality programs on addiction.”
Sadie glanced down at Osbert, who had wrapped a chubby fist around her necklace and was attempting to pull the pendant into his mouth. She unclenched his fingers and tucked the necklace inside her shirt.
“Since when do you wear jewelry?” Maeva asked, narrowing her eyes. “Is it a gift from Zack?”
“No.” Although she sure wished it was. “I began wearing jewelry when clients began paying me with vintage gold necklaces instead of cash.”
Maeva got up and walked over for a closer look. Sadie slipped the necklace off from around her neck and handed it to her friend. Maeva squeezed the pendant between her fingers, then rubbed it softly against her cheek and pressed it to her closed eyes. Sadie didn’t want to think about how intimate one could get with a necklace.
“Why are you trying to get something off the necklace?” Sadie asked her.
“I figured it might be worth a shot.” She sighed and slipped it back over Sadie’s head. “The only thing that came to my mind were the words Stone Soup.”
“Stone soup?” Sadie’s eyebrows went up. “I’ve got some Campbell’s in the cupboard. But probably chicken noodle.”
“I think it’s an old children’s story or nursery rhyme. This is what happens to mediums when they become mothers.” Maeva slumped back into her chair. “And you’d better not take payment in jewelry or you’ll end up like one of those small-town doctors that take payments in eggs and chickens.”
“It’s better than no payment at all,” Sadie said seriously. “Look, why don’t you go and have a nice bubble bath and then climb into my bed for a couple hours. Me and the Ozzmeister will be just fine.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I was going to watch a little TV myself before getting a couple hours of shut-eye. I’m not ready to sleep yet and you look dead on your feet.”
Maeva blinked back tears of gratitude and thanked Sadie profusely before taking off at a near run down the hall.
“Now no more tears, buddy,” Sadie said to Osbert. “Auntie Sadie needs to chill out and stop thinking about dead hookers.”
Osbert blew spit bubbles at her in agreement.
Sadie and Osbert did fine because the baby had tired himself out in the crying jag on the way over, and he was soon asleep in her arms. Sadie gently put him down on the sofa next to her and prayed he wouldn’t wake up. Then she resumed her early happy-hour shift and ate her Cheetos, washing them down with beer.
Her cell phone chirped that a text came in. She tugged it from her pocket, read the message from Zack, and released a string of curse words that would’ve increased Osbert’s vocabulary greatly had he been old enough to speak.
Zack had picked up some extra work on the weekend so now it was going to be another ten days before they saw each other. Sadie blinked back tears as she downed the last of her beer.
“Screw him,” she muttered. “If he doesn’t want to be here, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Even as she said it, she knew that he was just trying to hold down a job and feel useful. Sadie herself would’ve worked all weekend if a job came up, so it was unfair to expect him to turn down work. It wasn’t the working that annoyed the hell out of her. Things would be different if he acted like a boyfriend when he was home.
She angrily snatched up the remote control and channel surfed until something caught her eye. The local news station was announcing another prostitute had been murdered at a local hotel, and the anchor was suggesting to the people of Seattle that SPD wasn’t doing enough to keep the city safe for the working girls. They’d already labeled this as the work of the Seattle Slasher.
“Huh. Look at that,” Sadie said to sleeping Osbert. “Looks like business is picking up. If people keeping killing each other, I might just be able to afford to get you a Tickle Me Elmo for your first birthday.”
The news droned on and after a while Sadie felt her own eyes drifting closed. She arranged herself on the sofa to protect Osbert in case he abruptly decided to roll over or do handsprings off the couch while they slept. Together they dozed for a few hours—though it felt like only five minutes had passed when the baby decided to put an end to all sleep with an operatic high note that would’ve made Maria Callas proud. The fillings in Sadie’s teeth were still vibrating when she picked him up and began walking the floor while he gnawed on her shoulder.
Maeva rescued them both. She walked into the living room, pausing to yawn and stretch like a cat, before taking Osbert from Sadie’s grasp.
“Thanks sooo much,” Maeva sighed. “I haven’t slept three straight hours in months.”
Sadie glanced at her watch and sure enough it was after four o’clock. Time flies when you fall into a sleep-deprived zombie state.
Maeva sat in a chair to nurse the always-hungry Osbert and Sadie went to the kitchen to fix them a late lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches. She returned to the living room with the sandwiches and went back for drinks. Sadie took the time to position a sandwich and lemonade at Maeva’s elbow on a corner table so she could eat while nursing. Then she settled onto the couch with her sandwich and another beer.
“How are things going at Madam Maeva’s Psychic Café?” Sadie asked. “Are the Thingvolds holding down the fort?”
“Well, you know how Rosemary and Rick are . . . ,” Maeva responded, taking a bite from her sandwich.
Rosemary and Rick Thingvold were a husband and wife Wiccan revolution. Maeva had introduced Sadie to the Thingvolds when she needed help to excise a demon from a hoarder’s house. Maeva had referred to them as paranormally knowledgeable yet “quirky.” Sadie thought of them simply as bat-shit crazy. They tended to attract attention wherever they went because of their matching shaved their heads, multiple tattoos, and body piercings. Sadie used to refer to Rosemary and Rick as Thing One and Thing Two until Maeva told her to knock it off.
“Does that mean they’re doing good at Madam Maeva’s?” Sadie asked.
“Yes. Business is good. Very good. Rick has set up a website and a blog while Rosemary tweets. Business is up twenty percent since I left.”
“Really? What do they blog and tweet about?”
“Everything. If one of them opens the mail or poops, they probably announce it to the world,” Maeva said in a clipped tone.
“Well, it brings in new clients, right? Guess the advertising is a good thing. It means you can stay home with little Ozz and you don’t have to worry about the business t
anking while you’re off.”
“Sure. It’s great.”
Sadie didn’t have to be a police detective or a trauma cleaner to pick up on the clue that Maeva missed working.
“Look at it this way—it took two of them to replace one of you.”
“That’s true. I just wish they weren’t so damned good at it. They’re such keeners. They’ve even taken on the occasional side job,” Maeva said, expertly switching Osbert from one breast to the next.
“Really? What kind of side job does a psychic do? Home parties like Tupperware gone horribly wrong?”
“The usual . . . séances and stuff. They’re actually visiting a home tonight and asked if I wanted to come along, you know, just to keep my hand in. It was a referral from that convention I spoke to so, actually, the business came from me.”
“Then you should go. Why not? It’d be fun,” Sadie said, taking a long pull on her beer.
“Maybe . . . if you come along.”
Sadie raised her eyebrows in question. “Why would you want me there?”
“The Thingvolds asked for you.”
“Sorry, but that cuts into the plans I had to wallow in self-pity and reflect on the despairing abyss that is my love life.”
“I take it you miss Zack?”
“He’s taken on another job this weekend, so now he won’t be back for ten days.” Sadie spat the words out and was surprised at the fury she felt.
“Huh. Are you pissed because you just miss him so desperately, or is it because you feel like he’s avoiding being with you?”
Sadie hated it when her friend nailed it with the first try. Sometimes having a psychic for a friend sucked—even an on-maternity-leave psychic. Sadie didn’t reply except to get off the couch and bring their dirty plates to the kitchen, where she spent an inordinate amount of time washing the dishes and feeding Hairy some kibble. When she returned to the living room, Maeva had Osbert against her shoulder and was gently rubbing his back to produce a belch. Sadie sat down on the sofa and began transferring odds and ends from her current purse to the new one from Maeva.
Dead Suite Page 3