After she used the washroom she went for a quiet jog around her neighborhood. She noticed for the first time all the moms pushing strollers, carting infants in packs strapped to their bodies, and holding the hands of toddlers.
“I can do this,” she told herself. And she almost believed it.
When she got back home she checked her phone for messages. Detective Downey had called to say that they’d be done later that day and she was welcome to return to cleaning the house on Brandon Street any time after five. That was good news. The next message was from her sister reminding her of the family dinner at her mom’s that evening. That was bad news.
She dealt with business first by calling Bill and telling him she’d be back cleaning his place later in the day.
“The detective told me any time after five, so I’ll get a few hours in this evening.”
“Better than nothing,” he grumped. “Let me know when you’re done.”
He hung up in her ear.
Sadie was beginning to hate Bill, but she didn’t have to like the guy to get paid by his insurance company. The money was the same color either way. She’d woken up with a renewed sense of energy, determined to work longer and harder right up until the time she gave birth so she could afford to take time off when the baby was born.
She wrote out a strict budget and planned to stick to it. When Hairy hopped by she told him, “Sorry, but it’ll be no-name kibble from now on.”
She felt good. So good that she took a nap so that she didn’t lose that sense of her energetic self. She woke up this time feeling disoriented and famished.
She’d refrigerated the pizza Zack brought over the night before and ate a slice cold while she checked her e-mails. Her sister called again just as Sadie was debating another slice of pizza.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie told Dawn. “I’m not going to be able to make it to Mom’s for dinner. I’ve got to work.”
“That’s a drag,” Dawn said. “We had big news we wanted to share with everyone, and now you won’t be there.”
“Oh my God. . . . You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” Dawn squealed. “How’d you guess?”
“Congratulations. You told me months ago you guys were trying for another baby,” Sadie said. “And I hear this pregnancy thing is really going around.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Sadie didn’t want to steal Dawn’s thunder. There’d be time enough for her mom and sister to freak out about Sadie becoming a single mom. Sadie felt herself wondering if she could effectively dodge family dinners for the next millennium. She became aware that Dawn had asked her a question, and Sadie asked her to repeat it.
“I was just asking how you were doing with the whole Petrovich and his ex-wife thing?”
Sadie rubbed at the crease between her eyebrows.
“Well, it would be easier if I knew the truth.”
Sadie sipped from the glass of water her at her elbow and wished it was a double shot of espresso instead.
“You mean it’s not like they’re saying in the papers? That he barged into a spa while she was having a massage and shot her?”
Dawn lived in a world where newspapers told the truth and where good girls grew up and married doctors like she did. She was quite happy living that dream.
“Just because he was seen there fighting with her and his gun was used as the murder weapon doesn’t mean he definitely did it,” Sadie stated evenly.
Although saying it out loud like that made Sadie question her own reasoning.
“I don’t know about that, but I do know that the masseuse at Jonelle’s has quite the reputation,” she said with a whisper and a small giggle.
“What do you mean?”
“One of the ladies in my yoga class says she goes to Jonelle’s once a week. She sees a particular masseuse there because if you’re a regular and he likes you, he’ll give you a happy ending.”
“What!” Sadie spewed a mouthful of water across her desk. She spent a moment coughing and then gasping for air. Once she recovered, she blurted, “But—but Jonelle’s is a hoity-toity spa, not some seedy red-light-district massage parlor!”
“I know! That’s exactly what makes this work. Husbands think their wives are going there to deal with stress, lower back pain, and enlarged pores. Meanwhile they’re also getting a little diddle and—”
“Okay, I get the picture.” In fact, she got more visual than she ever wanted, and suddenly Sadie thought she might also have a motive. “And if someone’s husband or boyfriend did find out what was happening, things could really hit the fan. A boyfriend might even feel threatened. Maybe even enough to freak out and kill them, right?”
“Freak out, yes. But kill them? That’s a little extreme.”
“Hmmm.”
They made small talk about the weather until Sadie told her sister she had to get to work.
Once she was off the phone Sadie looked up the website for the car dealership Petrovich mentioned. The website had a page that showed the grinning faces of their salesmen. Sadie clicked on the one labeled MARTIN BRUN. He was early fifties, wearing the typical salesman uniform of a dark suit with a white shirt and navy striped tie. He had tufts of brown hair on the sides but none on top and visible nose hairs. This was the guy Jane left Dean for? Sure, Petrovich was no Owen Sorkin, but at least his face wouldn’t scare off small children.
Sadie decided to take her Corolla instead of the Scene-2-Clean van, even though it would mean doubling back home later before going to work. When she pulled into the dealership, she chose a parking spot around back near the service entrance. The lot was empty of car shoppers. It was tough economic times to be in sales.
She walked inside and asked an older woman at the counter for Martin Brun.
“You just missed him. He went out for his coffee break. Can I get one of our other fine salesmen to help you?”
“I was really hoping to speak to Martin,” Sadie told her. “Does he go for coffee anywhere special?”
“Wheelhouse around the corner.”
Sadie thanked her and hoofed it a block and a half to Wheelhouse Coffee. When she opened the door the aroma of fresh espresso just about knocked her over. She began drooling like a Pavlovian dog.
She stepped forward to the counter and debated her choices.
“What can I get started for you?” asked a young, very pregnant woman in her midthirties.
Sadie stared at the woman’s enormous belly and thought, Holy crap I’m going to look like a whale!
“Don’t worry, I’m not due for a few weeks. I won’t drop the kid right here,” the woman said.
“Oh no, it’s not that.” Not just that. “I just found out I’m pregnant too, and I love coffee and don’t know what to have.”
“First, congratulations. Second, how about I make you our organic decaf?”
“Seems like a cruel joke that I’m so exhausted but can’t have caffeine,” Sadie grumbled.
“Oh hon, that’s just one of the many cruel jokes this prego trip has in store for you.” She hustled off and returned with Sadie’s coffee in a large white mug.
Sadie also ordered a slice of pumpkin banana bread. She looked around and spotted Martin sitting at a counter stool that faced the street. His head was down and his shoulders were slumped. Even from the back he looked depressed. Since Sadie had been working with Petrovich on and off for a number of years, there was the chance Jane would’ve mentioned her name to Martin, so she came up with an alias.
Sadie took her mug of coffee and banana bread then hopped up on the stool next to Martin. He didn’t even glance over until Sadie said his name, and then he eyed her critically.
“Do I know you?”
“No. My name is Liz. I’m an old friend of Jane’s. The dealership told me I could find you here. I just wanted
to say I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” He tilted his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember Jane ever mentioning anyone named Liz.”
“We reconnected recently on Facebook. I’m in California now. We knew each other in high school.”
“Wow. You look really good for someone who went to school with Jane. I don’t do the Facebook thing.”
Sadie had forgotten to allow for the fifteen-year-plus age difference.
“Yeah, well, Jane hung out with my older sisters more than me. Anyway, we’d formed quite an online friendship in the last couple months and we’d arranged to get together when I came up to Seattle, but then this, um, unfortunate thing happened.”
Martin wrapped his hands around his coffee cup and went to drink from it, then looked surprised that it was empty.
“Why don’t you let me buy you a cup of coffee?” Sadie offered. Martin hungrily eyed her slice of bread so she added, “And some pumpkin banana bread too.”
“Sure,” Martin said happily and asked for an Americano.
When Sadie returned with the coffee and treat, Martin thanked her.
“When I got the news about Jane I was just getting home from work,” Sadie told him. “It must’ve been horrible for you to get the news. Where were you when poor Jane was killed?”
“I was in my car on my way home when I heard about the shooting on the radio.”
“Did you race right over to the spa?”
“No. What’s the point? I wasn’t going to get anywhere near the place. They probably had every street a mile around blocked off.”
Sadie just frowned.
“Anyway,” Martin continued, “I went home and called Jonelle’s, but no answer, so I phoned the cops and told them who I was and they confirmed that Jane was the one hit.” He shook his head. “It was tough all right.”
“I’m hoping you can shed some light on how poor Jane was doing the last few weeks,” Sadie began. “We’d been having some long chats on Skype and she didn’t sound happy.”
“Not that it matters now, but she was definitely happier in some areas of her life than others,” he said cryptically.
Martin tore off a piece of banana bread and stuffed it in his mouth. Sadie did the same.
“What do you mean she was happier in some areas?”
Martin shrugged. “It’s no secret that car sales suck right now. Things were tight. She was earning okay money but—”
He stopped himself short and looked at Sadie hopefully. “By the way, what are you driving these days?”
“A 2005 Corolla.”
“I can put you into a newer model for pennies a day,” he said enthusiastically.
“Wish I could, Martin, but times are tough.”
“Tell me about it.” He slurped his coffee.
“Maybe we can talk about that another time.” And by “another time” she meant never. “So you were saying things were tight, but since Jane was earning good money, you must’ve been doing okay?”
“We would’ve done fine. Great even. She just liked to spend more than she earned.”
“I know she mentioned she liked to go for spa treatments,” Sadie said, dangling the bait.
“Got that right.” Martin cursed colorfully under his breath as he chomped on that bait. “You know what? Dean got it wrong. He never should’ve shot Jane. He should’ve shot that masseuse.”
“Emilio?”
His eyebrows went up. “So she even talked about him?” He shook his head. “No shame whatsoever.”
“She just told me that she enjoyed her massages and that Emilio was the name of her masseuse. From what she told me, though, I kind of thought it may have been more than a massage. Am I right?”
“If I had proof I’d shut that place down,” Martin growled, and he stabbed the countertop with the tip of his finger as he spoke. “It’s disgusting!” He lowered his voice to just over a whisper and leaned in. “I mean, if I was going and getting finished off at some seedy massage parlor people would think I was a pervert!”
“True. So how did you find out about it?” Sadie asked.
“She told me like it was no big deal. I was having, erm . . . issues in that department. Problems with my high blood pressure meds. I was working on it with my doctor but Jane said, in the meantime, she was taking matters into her own hands. So to speak. Isn’t that awful?”
Actually, Sadie thought it was pretty hilarious, but she didn’t say so. She did, however, give Jane a spiritual high five.
The pregnant woman from behind the counter came close and wiped down a nearby table. In addition to her belly, the woman’s ankles also were massive. Sadie tore her eyes away and refocused on Martin.
“You must’ve been furious with Jane for betraying you that way.” Sadie leaned in. “So how did you do it? Did you sneak in through the back door of the spa?”
Martin sat back on his stool so abruptly he had to grab the counter to steady himself.
“What are you talking about? It wasn’t me! It was that crazy detective ex-husband of hers! He killed her because she kept cashing the damn support checks to pay for her massage addiction.”
“That sounds like a pretty lame reason to kill someone,” Sadie said. “Also, Jane seemed to think you were angry enough to hurt her.”
“What! We had one big argument about it. One. I never laid a hand on her.” Martin hopped off his stool and stared Sadie down. “My break is over. Come see me if you want to buy a car.”
That sure didn’t go very well.
Sadie gave Martin a few minutes’ head start, and then she got a pumpkin banana loaf for the road.
“I couldn’t help but hear what you were saying to Marty,” Prego said to Sadie. “This Jane was a good friend of yours?”
“We hadn’t seen each other in a while, but yeah, we’d recently reconnected.”
Sadie felt awful lying to the woman. Like she was betraying some secret pregnant woman code or something.
“Well, Marty comes in here all the time. Every day. And personally, I don’t trust him. If your friend thought he’d hurt her, she’s probably right. I witnessed him having a huge argument with his old lady. It got so loud the manager had to ask them to leave.”
“Really? Wow.” Sadie grew thoughtful. “Does he strike you as the type of guy who’d kill his girlfriend?”
“I don’t know about that,” Prego said. “All I know is that day after she was shot and killed he was here sipping coffee on his break like usual. Like it was no big deal.” She shook her head. “Seems pretty cold and heartless to me.”
“You’re right. Thanks for the information.”
Sadie nibbled her pumpkin banana loaf as she walked back to her car. She began to wonder if it was time she had a chat with the detective running Jane’s murder investigation. Glancing at her watch, she decided that would have to wait because she needed to get to work on that home invasion house on Brandon Street.
When she got home she played with Hairy for a few minutes before checking her answering machine. Her heart skipped a beat upon seeing the message light blinking, but it was only Zenia from Jonelle’s Spa asking how her massage went and following up with her about the bridesmaids thing. Sadie hit delete.
Her phone chirped and again her heart did a thumpity-thump. This time it was Owen and the text said, My timing was bad. Again. Sorry for just dropping in on you. We still need to talk.
He attached a picture of himself with a taped-up nose and bruising under his eyes. Sadie flinched in empathetic pain but she didn’t reply. What was the point? Her doctor had confirmed her pregnancy and Owen would have to wait until the baby was born to do a paternity test.
She was slipping her feet into her Nikes and getting ready to leave when she decided to change out of her jeans. There was no denying the fact that the tight waistband was beginning to cut o
ff circulation to the rest of her body. It could be the first trimester of pregnancy, but it was more likely the effect of all the extra calories she’d been consuming lately. Slipping into yoga pants, she grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under her shirt, then looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the door. She groaned.
When Dawn was pregnant she had carried the baby all up front so that you couldn’t even tell she was with child if you stood behind her. But Sadie was a full four inches shorter than her sister. She had a feeling she’d very quickly look like a cross between the Pillsbury Doughboy and the Michelin Man. Especially if she continued eating the way she had been. She made a mental note to buy fresh fruit and stock her fridge with healthier choices.
“And more carrots too,” she told Hairy. “They aren’t just good for rabbits, you know.”
Sadie hit the road and was in West Seattle after an hour of sitting in extended traffic caused by a number of accidents.
When she suited up and walked in the house, she immediately returned to the living room. The wall had a much larger hole now and the money was gone. Sadie wished in this case that “finders keepers, losers weepers” would hold true, but sadly, the money would sit in an evidence locker instead of her bank account.
No cleaning fairy had come in the twenty-four hours while she was gone, so Sadie went to work. She missed the old days when a number of them would work together on a scene. Working alone sucked and took twice as long. On the upside, though, all the money came to her and she wasn’t doling out salaries. Soon that would change and she’d have to hire someone. A trauma cleaner she could trust who would run the show when she was birthing baby and doing the momma thing for a while.
As she sprayed emulsifiers on petrified gray matter on the fireplace mantel, her mind drifted to Zack, the baby, and then Owen. When her cheeks were becoming damp with tears behind her respirator, she told herself to suck it up.
It was eerily quiet inside the house. As the sun set and darkness settled in, Sadie found herself missing conversation from the great beyond. Although tempted to remove it, she kept the conjure bag around her neck. Ghosts might freak out others, but Sadie knew the real monsters were usually among the living.
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