The Remains of the Dead

by Wendy Roberts

  3

  “Sadie, you can’t just call up the police and tell them that you normally see dead people at trauma scenes but since this guy was alive, he was breaking and entering,” Zack said flatly. “Well, you could say that, but they’d probably put you in a home.”

  “I’m sure I can manage to put it a little more diplomatically than that,” Sadie replied. Truthfully, though, she didn’t know how she could word it without coming off as insane and risking her company’s credibility.

  “There’s no sign of a break-in. He could’ve had a key, but it doesn’t look like anything was taken or even disturbed. Hell, he could just be frigging morbidly curious, like half the freaks we meet.”

  Sadie nodded. “You’re right.”

  “If he took something, that would be a problem. Even if he had a key, he doesn’t have authorization to remove property from the house.”

  “I guess I’ve no proof he did anything besides walk through, either using his own key or because I left the door unlocked.”

  “But, hey, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll call Petrovich and talk to him about it,” Zack offered.

  They were sitting out on the Toths’ covered back deck. Their respirators were off, and Zack had just lit his second cigarette in a row. It had been raining for weeks; Seattle seemed to be going for a record. When the rain suddenly began to come down in torrents, the branches of a two-story-tall monkey puzzle tree in the yard started to bounce from the force. The damp gave Sadie chills—or it could’ve been apprehension. She rubbed her arms for warmth.

  “If I were you and you were me, would you tell Petrovich?” Sadie asked.

  “If I were you and spent my time talking to dead people, I’d probably just drink myself into a coma.”

  “Nice. Real nice,” she muttered.

  He chuckled and took a deep drag on his smoke, then tapped the ash over the rail onto the ground.

  “Look, if you really want to go to the SPD, then I’ll back you up, Sadie. You know I will.”

  “But?”

  “But then you’d better be prepared for the shit to hit the fan. They’re going to want to know why you didn’t call right away. If it were me, I might be tempted to leave it alone.”

  Sadie examined a chipped fingernail and gnawed on the cuticle.

  “What if he had another reason for being in the house? What if he did it, Zack?”

  “Killed these people?”

  She nodded.

  “Petrovich called it as a murder-suicide. Detectives don’t pull that decision out of thin air. He had evidence to back it up, and you can bet your ass he double-and triple-checked it.”

  Sadie was less convinced.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told him. She slipped her respirator and gloves back on and reentered the house through the back door.

  Upstairs she found Trudy Toth where she’d left her, still sitting on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth. She seemed totally zoned out and didn’t even look up or turn toward Sadie when she entered the room.

  “Did Grant do this?” Sadie asked. “Was your husband the one who killed you?”

  Trudy kept on rocking, and the motion caused a flap of skin from the long gash in her throat to lift and fall rhythmically.

  “How about Kent Lasko? Should I be worried that he was in the house?”

  No answer.

  “Well, I’ll just take your silence as a no, okay?” Sadie snapped snarkily.

  Trudy only rocked.

  “You’re a real peach,” Sadie muttered and stormed back downstairs.

  She opened the rear door and called out to Zack, “Okay, let’s mop some blood.”

  “You’re sure?” he asked, dropping his smoke and grinding it out with his shoe.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Let’s get this job done so we can get out of here.”

  It was inching up to ten o’clock when Sadie pulled in to her garage. Every muscle in her body ached, even worse than the time she got suckered into trying a Pilates class. Cleaning those bookshelves had been murder.

  The door from the garage opened into an extra-large laundry room. Sadie had had a shower installed in the room to make sure that when she came off a job, nothing from work would enter the rest of the house. The minute she was inside, she stripped and tossed everything she was wearing into the washer. Next she hopped into the shower and scrubbed until her skin was pink.

  Dripping wet, she reached into a decorative trunk that she kept filled with towels. With a thick towel wrapped around her, she exited the laundry room and headed down the hall to her bedroom where she slipped into sweatpants and an oversized T.

  A fluffy ball of white and black hopped in and stopped to watch her with vague interest.

  “How’s it hopping, Hairy?” Sadie asked her roly-poly bunny friend.

  He twitched his black nose and hopped away. Hairy was a relatively new addition to her household. He had come from a house Sadie had cleaned a few months ago. The woman who’d died had left behind no family whatsoever, no one to care for the pets, so Sadie had taken Hairy, with the idea that it would be temporary. However, weeks turned into months and she never tried to find him another home. Hairy came kitty-litter-trained, and Sadie found him to be a soft addition that helped to tamp down the harsher side of her life.

  She needed a drink, so she walked into the kitchen to see what was available. There was no beer, her first choice, nor was there any wine, her second. Double damn. Then she remembered there was vodka in the cupboard and tomato juice in the fridge, so she decided on a Bloody Mary.

  She was just stirring the mixture and adding a drop of Tabasco when she heard someone in the living room. Sadie whirled around, knocking the glass bottle of tomato juice to the tile floor with a crash. Ugh, what a mess. She stepped over the puddle of broken glass and hustled into the living room, where she found Pam.

  “Sheesh! Did you ever hear of knocking? You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Sorry,” her friend answered. “You did say we’d get together tonight.”

  “I said if it wasn’t too late.”

  “And you think it’s too late at ten o’clock? What are we, twelve?”

  Sadie laughed.

  “Okay, fine. Come into the kitchen—I’ve a disaster to clean up.”

  Pam followed, chatting away. “I had the best day today,” she said. She stopped short when they entered the kitchen and pointed to the slick red mess on the floor. “Is that…is it blood?”

  Pam covered her face with her hands. Sadie walked over and whispered two words in her ear. “Tomato juice.”

  “Huh?”

  “I dropped a bottle of tomato juice. God, you of all people—” She stopped short. “Never mind. Just go and wait in the living room until I get this cleaned up.”

  A few minutes later Sadie was sipping a strong vodka martini instead of another Bloody Mary.

  Pam and Sadie had met several years earlier at a local elementary school where Sadie taught second grade and Pam was a special ed teacher. They’d bonded over their mutual dislike of the school’s principal and all the bureaucratic bullshit involved in the school system. Pam had been recently divorced, and Sadie was going through a one-night-stand phase, so they’d quickly become friends. When Brian died, Pam was one of the few people who stuck around, particularly once Sadie decided on her new career.

  “By the way, how was Dawn’s party?” Pam asked.

  Sadie frowned. “Noel asked Dawn to marry him and she said yes.”

  “Wow! They’ve only been together for a few months, right?” Pam raised her eyebrows. “I guess if it’s love—”

  “Let’s talk about something else.”

  “You obviously don’t like the idea.”

  “You know how I feel.”

  “Oh, come on. You’re not still on about Noel looking like Brian, are you?” Pam rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Listen, Sadie, I wouldn’t mess with you.
Friends say the truth, right?”

  Sadie only sipped her drink.

  “So when I tell you that Noel absolutely does not look like Brian, what do you think?”

  “That you’re either completely blind or else you’re a good liar. Or maybe you’re trying to protect my feelings.”

  Pam looked contemplative and tapped her chin with the tip of her finger. “Maybe it’s not about Dawn. It could be all about you. You’re the one seeing Brian when you look at Noel. You’ve never properly dealt with your grief, and maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you it’s time you did.”

  Sadie glowered and her tone grew heated. “I’m warning you, Pam. Don’t analyze me.”

  “I’m a special education teacher, not a psychiatrist,” Pam said, holding her palms up in surrender. “But if I was a psychiatrist, I’d say that this is definitely all about you.”

  Before Sadie could come up with a scathing retort, her phone rang.

  “Sorry for calling so late,” Zack said.

  “It’s not late, Zack. It’s not even eleven o’clock. What am I, twelve?” She winked at Pam.

  “Okaaay. Well, I hate to do this to you when we’re just starting that double scene, but I need to drive down to Portland. It’s my mom. She fell, and she might have broken something.”

  “Oh no! Is she okay?” Stupid question. “I mean, is she at the hospital?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but my sister’s flipping out.”

  “Of course you should go.”

  “But the Toth house—”

  “Will still be there when you get back. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll save the toughest parts for you.”

  “Like what?” She could hear the smile in his tone.

  “I dunno, maybe the skull fragments embedded in the living room wall.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  She laughed.

  “I’m driving down tonight,” Zack said. “I should make it back by tomorrow night.”

  “Don’t rush. Take all the time you need,” Sadie said seriously. Although she hated working alone, she’d certainly done it many times before Zack joined Scene-2-Clean.

  She put the receiver back on the coffee table and sighed.

  “Don’t suppose Zack was calling to say he was coming over to ravish you?” Pam smirked.

  “His mother’s just had some kind of a fall, so he’s heading down to Portland.”

  “What a shame.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think his mom’s even that old. Midsixties.”

  “I meant about him not ravishing you.”

  Sadie laughed in spite of her attempt to stifle the giggle.

  “He does have a pinchable ass, but we’re friends and coworkers. That’s all.”

  “You pinched his ass?” Pam asked incredulously.

  “No, but I briefly considered it.”

  “You should’ve gone for it. One day you could invite him back here and give in to your urges. He’d probably love it. If not, you’d just end up slapped with a sexual harassment suit.” She paused. “And if you’re going down, go down big. Have rock-and-rolling mind-blowing sex. Don’t just pinch his ass.”

  “Hmmm.” Sadie chuckled. “I’m not stupid. I’m not going to mess with the first reliable employee I’ve ever had around for longer than a month.” Her face grew serious, and she blew out a long breath. “I’m not looking forward to doing that job on my own tomorrow.”

  Pam winced. “If you need to talk work, please leave out the gory bits.”

  “I’m worried about ghost stuff, or the lack thereof, not gruesome stuff.”

  “Oh goody,” Pam gushed, rubbing her hands together. “I love to hear your ghost stories.”

  That made her the only one. Pam, Zack, and Dawn were the only people who knew about Sadie’s so-called talent—not counting the dead, of course. While Zack barely tolerated it and Dawn mostly ignored it, Pam was a tad overenthusiastic. As a matter of fact, she was convinced Sadie should tell the world so she could end up making the talk-show circuit.

  Sadie told Pam about Kent Lasko’s appearance at the Toth house earlier in the day and her subsequent realization that he wasn’t a ghost.

  “On one hand I think you should call the cops,” Pam said. “But I guess it would trigger a ton of questions you’re not prepared to answer. Unless you think now’s finally the time to let the rest of the world know about your talents?”

  “I’m still holding firm against the whole freak-sideshow thing.” She waved her hand in the air and shouted to the room, “Come one, come all! See the woman who mops up blood and talks to the dead!”

  Pam giggled.

  “I just wish I knew why the guy was in the house. Then I could put it behind me,” Sadie said.

  “So call him.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Give the guy a call. How many Kent Laskos can there be in Seattle?”

  Sadie went and got her white pages, thumbed through the listings, and determined that there were in fact three listings for K. Lasko.

  “That’s not so bad,” Pam said. “You’re lucky the guy’s name isn’t John Smith. It’s a little late now, but try those numbers in the morning and you’ll have your answer soon enough.”

  “What do I say to him?”

  “Just say, ‘Hi, my name’s Sadie and we met yesterday and I was just wondering what the hell you were doing mucking around inside a murder scene.’”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  Sadie thought about it for a moment, then slowly nodded her head.

  “You’re right.”

  First thing the next morning Sadie jotted the Lasko telephone numbers down on a slip of paper. She called each of the three listings from her cell phone on her way to the Toth house. The first number turned out to be Kelly Lasko, and the woman claimed to have no relation named Kent. The second listing was for a Kirk Lasko. Sadie had a nice chat with the man, but he was at least eighty, claimed to have no familial relations with the name Kent, and ended their call by making a lewd suggestion.

  By the time she was dialing the third and last K. Lasko she was in the Toths’ driveway. That number turned out to be not in service. As a final attempt, she dialed Information and asked if there were any new listings under the Lasko name, but nope. Nada. Zilch.

  “Well, I tried,” she said to herself.

  It was time to get her mind into the mode of detachment necessary for work. She slipped through the back door of the Toth house and began to suit up. She was prepared to spend a full day there, because they hadn’t made nearly as much progress yesterday as she’d hoped.

  Sadie considered starting upstairs, but, truthfully, she knew that if Trudy was hanging out doing her bedroom zombie routine, it would disrupt the rest of her day. Instead, she set to work on the living room, where she’d left off. She managed to cover most of the circumference before she needed a break.

  A square red candle on the fireplace mantel caught her eye, and she saw a sharp bone fragment protruding menacingly from it. She snagged the candle and two-pointed it into the rubber waste bin.

  Her shoulders ached from crouching to clean the lower bookshelves for such a long time. Now that she was on her feet, she used the opportunity to bend and stretch a bit while she scanned the wall in front of her for more fragments.

  She debated going to the van to retrieve the muffin she’d brought from home. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but the acid in her stomach was building because she’d had only coffee before leaving home. She turned around and took a step—and went right through Trudy Toth.

  “Eww, yuck!” Sadie shuddered and goose bumps popped out on her arms. “I hate when that happens!” She wagged a finger at Trudy. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

  Trudy’s dark eyes were sad and filled with a pleading insistence that Sadie wanted no part of. Still, she felt her anger dissipate.

  “It’s okay to talk to me,” she said gently. She realized that it was probab
ly difficult for Trudy to hear her through the respirator, so she spoke up. “I can hear you, so go ahead and say whatever’s on your mind. Just let it out. I promise that you’ll feel much better if you do.”

  Trudy looked around the room; then her eyes fixed on the huge red stain on the sofa. Sadie realized that since Grant had shot himself after he killed Trudy, there was a good chance the woman hadn’t even known until now that her husband was dead. Sadie watched as Trudy walked around and around the room, clearly mystified.

  “This is great,” Sadie groaned. “I’ve got a ghost in shock.”

  Working a double scene alone was difficult enough. She didn’t need this kind of paranormal distraction.

  Since Trudy did not look at all like she planned on talking, Sadie decided to go with the direct approach.

  “Okay, listen up,” she began. She cleared her throat and spoke loudly. “Trudy, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you’re dead. Your spirit is stuck here because, well, I don’t know exactly why. For some reason it just happens this way sometimes. I guess you didn’t walk toward the light, or maybe you didn’t even know there was a damned light. Anyway, Grant is gone too, but I don’t see him. I guess suicides don’t hesitate. They’re prepared for the light.” Sadie shook her head to stop her rambling. “Look, you just need to let go. Your time here is over and—”

  Trudy wasn’t even acknowledging that she heard Sadie speak. Instead, the woman walked to the sofa, which Grant had chosen as his final stop. She rubbed her finger into the stain.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Sadie asked.

  Trudy walked to the wall and began to print, using the blood on her finger. Astonished, Sadie watched as the spirit repeatedly dipped her finger into the grotesque inkwell to create letters. When she was done, the macabre message on the wall said Not Grant.

  4

  After scrawling the message, Trudy simply vanished into thin air.

  Sadie followed the spirit’s lead, except instead of following Trudy into another dimension, she chose to ignore the muffin waiting for her in the van and drive to the closest Starbucks for a large latte with an extra jolt.