It was hard to perform any evasive driving moves in a large, lumbering cube van loaded with supplies. However, she’d learned a trick or two riding with Zack and she knew her neighborhood well. She wasn’t about to be followed home by some loony tune who’d followed her from Auburn. As soon as she got the opportunity, Sadie took a sharp right at a light when the pickup was still a couple cars behind. Then she dodged down a lane around the corner and zipped into the back entrance of a 7-Eleven parking lot. Leaving the vehicle in the dark against the building, Sadie hopped out and went inside.
Watching from inside the store, she waited until she was convinced she hadn’t been followed. Then she got herself some peanut butter cups and headed back to the van.
A couple blocks over, Sadie opened her mouth and yawned loudly as she drove up her driveway and her yawn turned into startled squeak when she noticed someone lurking in the shadows by her front door. A flash of her brights put the man in light, and out of the shadows stepped Owen Sorkin.
“Double damn.”
Sadie pressed the button on her garage door and tucked the large vehicle in next to her smaller car. When she climbed out of the van, Owen was standing right there.
“Hi there.” He grinned his movie-star smile and Sadie scowled back in return.
“It’s two in the morning.”
“Exactly!” He folded his arms across his chest. “I might add, ‘Where have you been all night, young lady?’ But since you’re out in the company van I’ll assume you were working and not just ignoring all my calls and texts.”
“I told you I was working. I told you I’d call you in a few days.” Sadie reached into the van and snagged her purse.
“And I drove all the way up from Albuquerque to surprise you.” He opened his arms wide. “Surprise!”
Sadie tried to look annoyed, but the corners of her mouth began to turn up in a smile despite herself.
“That’s better.” Owen winked. “How about a hug.”
He stepped forward as if to hug her then quickly stepped back.
“No offense, sweetheart, but you stink.”
“I know. I smell like shit.” She nodded toward the door. “You might as well come in.”
“Did you step in dog crap or something?” Owen asked as he followed her inside. “You smell like poop and then, strangely, like tacos and peanut butter.”
“It’s a long story.”
She locked the door behind them and then scanned the house for Detective Petrovich. If he was here, he was hiding.
“Make yourself comfortable in the living room. There’s beer in the fridge,” she told him. “I’m going to shower.”
She nodded to the shower near the garage door entrance in the mudroom. When she worked, she usually stripped at the door and had a shower there so as not to transfer decomp with her into the rest of her house.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait in your bedroom? I have fond memories of that room.”
“No!” she exclaimed sharply and then softened her voice. “Wait in the living room.”
“That’s all right. Come to think of it, I have fond memories of your sofa too . . . and your kitchen counter.”
Sadie went crimson.
“I won’t be long,” she told him. Her bunny had hopped up to Owen and was twitching his nose at him. “Hairy will show you the way in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Come on then, Hairy.” Owen scooped up the rabbit and petted him enthusiastically. “You can tell me all you’ve been up to while we wait for your mistress.”
Sadie lathered up under the hot spray using industrial-strength shampoos, conditioners, and soaps to try and rid herself of her eau de toilette. The entire time she talked herself through various dialogues she could have with Owen.
Dialogue number one: Hey, you know that time you ended up staying the night and we did it in the kitchen, the living room, and the bedroom . . . ? Well, one of those times we didn’t use a condom.
Dialogue number two: I know we only had one night together and after that I told you I was going to stand by Zack and try and get together with him, but turns out, you and I will always have something connecting us.
Dialogue number three: How about we grab a tape measure and see if a baby seat fits in the back of your snazzy little BMW M6 coupe?
She decided number two was the least offensive. To be sure, she lathered herself up a third time and then rinsed and toweled off while practicing the sentence in her head. Finally she couldn’t delay any longer, and she was as de-stinkified as she could be. She wrapped a robe around her body and stepped out into the hall to find Owen standing right outside the door.
“Oh my God! You scared me!” she gasped.
“What’s this?” He held up the book on pregnancy she’d left on the living room coffee table earlier that day.
“It’s a book.” She swallowed thickly. “On pregnancy.”
“I can see that.” His eyes had darkened angrily.
“I’m going to get changed,” she told him.
When she tried to step around Owen he blocked her path.
“Are you pregnant?”
She bit her lip and closed her eyes before murmuring, “Yes.”
Tears blurred her vision but she didn’t want him to see her upset. She pushed past him and made her way down the hall toward the living room and then went straight to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and, frustrated at the lack of choices, she slammed it shut.
“Well, you and Zack must be very happy. Where is he? Didn’t he zip you off to the altar? I’m surprised he’s not at least here taking care of you.” Owen’s voice dripped with acid.
“He doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know?” He shook his head in confusion as he leaned one hip against her kitchen counter. “Why the hell haven’t you told him? Did you break up again? Is that why?”
She reopened the fridge and handed Owen a beer. He stood there dumbly holding it without unscrewing the cap. Just staring at Sadie expectantly.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Apparently I’m not as in tune with my own body as I should be. I just found out that I’m pregnant. Yesterday as a matter of fact. So, I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.”
She sat down at the kitchen table with a glass of water. He joined her with his still unopened bottle of beer.
She added in a small voice, “Besides, I thought it would be best to tell the baby’s father first.”
He blinked at her with his lips moving wordlessly and a puzzled look on his face. Sadie stared pointedly back at him, waiting for him to connect the dots. Suddenly Owen was on his feet.
“Oh no, no, no! Not me. We were careful!” he shouted. “I made sure. I always make sure!”
“Not every time,” she pointed out.
He froze, and she could practically hear the memory gears clunking into place inside his brain. Then he began to pace while waving his hands in the air.
“One time out of what . . . five?”
“Stop bragging,” Sadie joked. “It was four. And one time is all it takes.”
“Oh come on!” He sat back down with his elbows on the table, leaning his chin in his hands. A minute later he put his palms together and made pleading motions.. “This is all a joke. It’s got to be, right? I mean, when I left Seattle you told me you and Zack were together. You were going to try and make it work. We had no contact; you didn’t return a single e-mail until a couple days ago. There is no way that kid is mine.”
Sadie clenched her teeth together angrily and wished she had enough energy to throw herself into a rage. Or at least kick him in his baby-making nuts. But at the moment, the only thing that really appealed to her was the thought of throwing herself into bed. She was completely drained. It was the middle of the night and she’d busted her ass cleaning a suicide for the last few hours
while wearing poop around her neck as a guardian. She was not in the mood to have this conversation, or any other, with Owen Sorkin.
“You’re right. You got me. This is all just an elaborate prank. Ha ha,” she said, without even a hint of a smile. “You’ve been punked. Now you need to go because I’m dead on my feet.” She stood up and began making shooing motions with her hands. “I mean it. Get the hell out.”
Owen blinked at her with a confused look on his face but he walked to the door. Sadie folded her arms over her chest and waited for him to change his mind, but he just left. She watched through her blinds as he walked to his BMW parked a few houses down. Once he’d started up his car and driven away, she headed for her bedroom. Hairy followed her, his bunny toenails click-clacking on the laminate floor as he went.
Heartburn bubbled in her throat and when she opened the bedroom door she was only somewhat surprised to find Dean there.
“Well, that went well,” he said. “You couldn’t think of a better way to break it to the guy?”
“Stop eavesdropping on my conversations!”
“I hid in the bedroom. Granted that may not have been the best choice. Next time you’re bringing a guy home, you need to give me a heads-up.”
“I didn’t invite him over. He just showed up. Now get out of my bedroom. I need to sleep.”
“But I’ve been waiting all night to hear about how things went at the spa. Did you talk to the employees?”
“Yes.” She yawned. “And basically they all think you snuck in through the back exit and shot Jane while she was in relaxation mode after her massage.”
He threw back his head and moaned loudly. When he glanced back at Sadie she saw that his eyes looked utterly dejected. She couldn’t help but feel sad for him.
“The good news is that when I left I saw the masseuse, Emilio, and the owner having a heated conversation outside. So maybe there is something they’re hiding—if they’re so upset that I was asking about it.” She offered Dean a smile. “Maybe I’ll have to pay them another visit.”
“Emilio . . .” Dean looked thoughtful. “I’m positive I heard Jane talk about Emilio. Last time we talked she said Car Boy was ticked off with someone and I’m sure the name she used was Emilio.”
“Who’s Car Boy?”
“The boyfriend. The guy she dumped me for.”
“Okay.” Sadie tugged her extra-large Mariner’s T-shirt out of a drawer to wear as pj’s and then went to a second drawer and pulled out a roll of antacids. She popped one in her mouth and told him, “I got a coupon for half off a massage, so maybe I’ll book one with Emilio and see if I can get more information out of him.”
“Good idea. And I’ll try to remember the name of Car Boy. . . . I know he works selling cars. . . . The name will come to me.”
“Yeah, you think about that outside my bedroom. Good night.”
She followed Dean to the bedroom door and closed it after him. Hairy stretched out his full bunny length on a small dog bed that sat in the corner of the room. Sadie dropped her robe and pulled her Mariner’s tee over her head. She had barely tucked the blankets up under her chin when she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When Sadie woke up at the crack of noon the next day she was positively starving and nauseous at the same time. She was beginning to think that pregnancy was just an elaborate joke played on women by God. She stumbled to the kitchen and made herself a piece of toast, then ran to the bathroom and tossed it in the toilet. She showered, got dressed, and then tackled a handful of crackers and water while she checked her e-mails and played a few rounds of solitaire.
Maeva called to see how she was feeling and Sadie told her all about the surprise visit from Owen.
“So he didn’t believe the baby was his? What an asshole!”
“Yeah, except who can blame him? Half the time, I don’t even believe I’m pregnant.” Sadie clicked the cards on her computer screen. “We didn’t even have a real relationship. I helped with his haunted real estate and we ended up having a roll in the hay. For all he knows about me, I’m an accomplished liar.”
“Anybody who’s spent more than five minutes with you knows that you’re honest and down-to-earth.”
“Thanks, but as a friend you have to say that. Owen probably just thinks I’m a gold digger out to cheat him into marrying me so I can have half his bountiful riches.”
“Huh. That’s right. I forgot the guy had a few bucks,” Maeva said thoughtfully. “Well, that’ll certainly come in handy for child support.”
“Now that does make me feel like a gold digger. I don’t think I can accept any money from him.”
“Are you kidding me?” Maeva shouted. “You have no choice here, Sadie. It’s one thing for you to be stupid all on your own, but you have to think of your child here. That baby deserves to live an existence better than just scraping by because his or her mom is too stupid or too proud to accept the child support the law demands Owen to pay!”
Sadie was beginning to feel overwhelmed and not just because she was losing at solitaire.
“I’m going to have to think about it.”
“Yeah, you think about it, and while you’re thinking about that I want you to think about the luxurious, vibrating baby swing that’s set up in my living room.”
Sadie frowned. “What about it?”
“You remember how colicky and miserable Osbert was those first few months? We went through three different baby swings before we found one that soothed him long enough for me to be able to eat a hot meal. It cost over two hundred dollars.”
“What? Two hundred for a swing?”
“Not just any swing. The luxury vibrating swing that gently jostles in multiple directions to more effectively simulate the womb,” she told Sadie. “And before you say you’d never spend that much on a swing, I’ll tell you that until I’d gone a month without sleep I said the same thing. Baby stuff is expensive, Sadie.”
“You’ve made your point. I’ve gotta get back to work or the only swinging this baby will be doing is when Auntie Maeva babysits.”
Her phone remained completely void of any more texts or calls from anyone. Particularly Owen. No doubt he’d burned rubber all the way home to Albuquerque. Sadie was both relieved and sad about how things had turned out. Why couldn’t she be a normal woman with a job she hated, a husband that annoyed her, and two point five kids that drove her crazy?
Sadie played more solitaire on her computer while she delayed the inevitable. Zack had sent her a couple messages and she owed him a reply. Sadie thought she might as well scare off both men in her life and get on with the lonely, harrowing life of single motherhood that was ahead of her. She picked up her phone.
“One down. One to go,” she muttered to herself.
“What does that mean?” Petrovich asked her from the hallway.
“It means, stop eavesdropping on my conversations.”
“It’s not a conversation if you’re just talking to yourself.”
“Fine. Hold that thought while I finish this message.”
She replied to Zack’s texts about arranging a movie date by suggesting that, instead, they spend a quiet evening at her place. She even offered to cook him dinner. She hit send, and while she was walking to the kitchen to find something to alleviate her heartburn, her phone chirped Zack’s reply: Sounds great! I’ll bring the wine.
Sadie exhaled sorrowfully as she stared at his response.
“It can’t be that bad,” Dean said.
“It is,” she announced to Dean, putting down her cell phone. “I just invited Zack over tomorrow night. I’m going to feed him dinner and then tell him about the baby.”
“So he’s coming over here thinking a romantic dinner with a pretty woman might lead to getting back together, and you’re going to stab him in the back?” Dean’s eyes were huge. “Geez, there’s gotta be a better wa
y to go about it!”
“What do you propose I do, wait a few months and just tell him I’ve been consuming too many Oreos? I think he might notice I’m putting on some pounds, and if he doesn’t, he’ll definitely notice when I’ve got a baby latched to my nipples.”
“Argh! Don’t talk about your nipples.” He shook his head with revulsion. “All I meant is that this is going to be tough on a guy like Zack . . . getting slammed like that.”
“This isn’t exactly a party with Jell-O shots and confetti for me either,” Sadie grumbled. “I’m puking daily and my boobs hurt. I have stretch marks and hemorrhoids to look forward to, and don’t forget labor pains followed by twenty years of real labor raising the kid.”
“Have you thought about maybe this isn’t the best time? Lots of families can’t have kids. Maybe you should consider giving it up.”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. I remembered the name of Jane’s boyfriend—Martin. Don’t know his last name but he works selling cars at that dealership on Eighth and Blanchard. Whoever killed Jane, it was personal. They didn’t take her purse or anything, so we need to look at those closest to her.”
“You mean, like you?”
“No. Like Martin. Go talk to him.”
“And say what exactly? Sorry for your loss, but your dead girlfriend’s ex-husband is a friend of mine and I’m trying to prove it was you who killed her instead of him?”
“No. Definitely don’t say that.” He scowled. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”
“That’s why I became a grade school teacher and then a trauma cleaner instead of a cop.”
“He’s never met you and doesn’t know you from Adam. You go to where he works and tell him some kind of story. . . . You can say you’re an old friend of Jane’s and ask to buy him lunch. You’ve done this kind of thing before. You know how to get guys to talk. Just make polite conversation and pick at their relationship a bit. Maybe you can say you and Jane just hooked up on Facebook or something and that Jane hinted her relationship with him wasn’t perfect. See the kind of reaction you get.”
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