While downing her latte, Sadie called her sister, Dawn. She needed someone to dump on about the situation.
“I’m not exactly up on ghost stuff, but if you look at the bright side, I guess it’s good that this ghost is finally talking to you, right?” Dawn said around a mouthful of her lunch.
“Yeah, but technically she’s not talking. She only wrote me a message.” Sadie let out a breath. “Sorry for taking up your lunch hour with this.”
“Hey, what are sisters for if not to talk to their sisters about conversations they have with ghosts?” She giggled. “So what’s your next step with this woman? Do you believe her message that it wasn’t Grant who killed her?”
Sadie contemplated the question while swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “I don’t even know for certain that’s what she meant.”
“About this Kent thing—let’s say he never showed up inside the house and scared the bejesus out of you. How would you handle a ghost like Trudy?”
“I guess I’d just go about my work and ignore her until she was ready.”
“What’s the difference now?”
“You’ve got a real knack for pointing out the obvious. Thanks.”
“Okay, while we’re on the topic of the obvious, you’re the only person on the planet who hasn’t congratulated me on my engagement.”
Sadie winced.
“I heard you’re only supposed to congratulate the groom and offer best wishes to the bride.”
“And you’ve done neither.”
Sadie knew now was the time to make her point about Noel but she chickened out.
“Wow, I didn’t realize the time. Can we talk about this later? We’ve both got to get back to work.”
She hung up and finished her coffee on the drive back to the Toth house, all the time dreading having to deal with Trudy. But when she reentered the house, Trudy was still gone, doing whatever it was that spirits do when they’re not looking for attention from the living.
Sadie focused on the task at hand and continued working. By close to eight o’clock, she was considering wrapping things up. Her back ached, and she seriously hoped that Zack would be back by the morning to help with the rest.
It was hard to believe she’d run this business completely on her own for the first couple of years. After that, there’d been a series of unreliable, queasy contestants for the job who’d lasted anywhere from one day to six months. Zack had made himself invaluable for the last year. Later this month, she thought, she would crunch the numbers and see if she could afford to give him a raise.
Sadie could hear the wind howling and the rain coming down harder outside. She didn’t mind the dark, drizzling winter months in Seattle—more often than not, that weather spoke to her mood. But not everyone handled the gloom the same. The Emerald City was breaking rain records this winter, and she knew that as the rains continued, some Seattleites were going to get depressed. Some would take their own lives or lash out violently toward others, and Scene-2-Clean would be called to sweep up what was left of the dead.
Sadie had scrubbed most of the spatter off the heavy granite coffee table but had been unable to lift it so she could clean where blood had oozed under its base. That would have to wait for Zack.
A side table sat to the right of the sofa, and Sadie decided that she’d call it a day after she removed the debris that marred its cherry wood. The gore had worked its way into the creases outlining a small drawer, so in order to get at it best, Sadie pulled the drawer out and dumped the contents onto a clear area of the floor. She sprayed cleansers on the table and then carefully worked a bristled brush into the cracks. Her gaze casually fell on the items she’d removed: a notepad, a couple of pens, and an address book.
The temptation was overwhelming. As soon as she was sure that the drawer and side table were spick-and-span, she snatched up the address book and flipped through the pages. The movement was awkward because she was still wearing gloves, but eventually she found the listing for Kent Lasko. The phone number penned neatly in the margin was the same disconnected one that Sadie had tried earlier and the address given was only a couple of blocks away.
Sadie looked up and gasped as Trudy suddenly reappeared, sitting cross-legged on the floor only a few inches away.
“Well, if it isn’t the great scribe,” Sadie said sarcastically. “I’m the one who has to clean up the mess, so I’d appreciate it if you’d use a pen and paper next time.”
Trudy didn’t reply, but her fingers worked nervously in her lap.
There are no defensive wounds, Sadie noticed sadly. Nothing that showed she tried to protect herself.
Sadie could visualize the woman running in terror from her husband as he angrily wielded the knife, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around someone just standing there and letting it happen. She pushed the disquieting thought aside.
“So you’re just hanging with me, then?” Sadie asked. “Just going to watch me work? I don’t usually like an audience.”
To her surprise Trudy reached out, as if to cup Sadie’s face or lift her chin. Sadie flinched and pulled away. When the dead touched her it was like fingernails on a blackboard.
Trudy shook her head, then made a strange gesture. She made a thumbs-up movement but lifted the gesturing hand with the other. She seemed to be struggling.
Maybe her hands had been cut, but Sadie couldn’t see a wound. She felt sorry for her. “Don’t worry. It isn’t necessary to enter the next dimension intact.”
Trudy covered her face with her hands and began to weep, her entire body shuddering with sobs. The sounds, the first Sadie had heard leave this woman’s lips, were heart-wrenching. Trudy disappeared from view again, and it was a full minute before the sound of her cries subsided.
“There are days I just don’t get paid enough to handle this crap,” Sadie grumbled.
For once, Sadie didn’t push herself to get the job done. A knot of tension had formed in her stomach, and she decided it was best to call it a day.
She left the majority of the supplies at the Toth house to use when she returned to finish the clean and jogged through the heavy rain to her van. She’d left her cell phone in the vehicle, and she quickly checked for messages while simultaneously turning the key in the ignition. She was hoping there’d been a call from Zack, but Dawn was the only one who’d left her a message. Sadie put the vehicle in reverse and dialed her sister’s number.
“Just wanted to let you know that Maureen called,” Dawn told her. “She found new tenants for the house on Hawkins Avenue. A nice couple. They’ll be moving in next week. Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind and want to sell the place?”
“There’s no rush to sell,” Sadie said. “Maureen does a great job as a property manager, and the place has gone up at least a hundred grand in the last few years. Nothing wrong with us banking more equity.”
“Sure, but we both know that’s not why you want to hang on to it,” Dawn said dryly. “We’ve been renting out Brian’s house for five years now. I’ve talked to Mom and Dad, and they’re fine with selling it, but if you’re still not ready, just say so.”
“I’m saying so,” Sadie snapped.
“Fine,” Dawn said in her own clipped tone.
“Remember how proud Brian was of that house?” Sadie said. “All I could see was a dump, but he saw it had potential.”
“Yeah, his idea of potential meant you and I spent a dozen weekends there patching and painting.”
“But he was right. It looked great.”
“Yeah.”
After a minute, Dawn broke the quiet.
“By the way, Chloe is throwing us an engagement party on March first. She said you haven’t replied to her messages asking whether that date works for you.”
“You’ve only been engaged a couple of days. I don’t understand why you need to have a party right away.”
“Because it’ll be fun.”
“Well, some of us have to work and don’t have time for constant fun. Besides,
I was hoping…” That you’d come to your senses and cancel your engagement, so there’d be no party. “Never mind.”
“Hoping what?”
“That you’d take things slower.”
There was a pause, and Sadie thought Dawn seemed to actually think about it, but then she realized the pause happened because the call had been dropped. When Dawn called back, she was fuming.
“Noel and I are getting married. You don’t have to be jumping up and down with joy, but it would sure be nice if you could suck it up and at least pretend you’re happy for me.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone,” Sadie said. “Let’s talk another time.”
Dawn reluctantly agreed, and Sadie made a quick excuse to end the call.
Back at home, Sadie felt restless, so after showering, she got dressed again and headed out into the rain. She took her car this time—nobody liked to see the Scene-2-Clean van in a neighbor’s driveway.
When she reached the Hawkins Avenue house, she used her spare key and let herself into the cozy split-level. Her footsteps echoed as she walked through the vacant home, flipping on only a couple of lights. She told herself that, as part owner of the property, she should do a walk-through while the place was still vacant.
After all, just because Maureen is taking care of the house, Sadie thought, they shouldn’t forget to perform their due diligence by giving an occasional visual inspection.
Brian’s old house had been vacant barely a month this time. Maureen had prepped the place for the new tenants with a fresh coat of paint. When Sadie closed her eyes and breathed deep, the smell of paint brought her back to the days when she’d helped Brian fix the place up.
She walked around the house and noticed the carpets were also newly shampooed. The house looked good, but Sadie knew Brian would’ve hated the priscilla curtains in the kitchen and the pale neutral shades. He’d loved strong, masculine colors with rich textures and deep tones.
Glancing into the backyard, Sadie smiled at the memory that Brian had wanted to build a rock-climbing wall on the side of the fence.
Sadie walked down the hallway, cut through the master bedroom, and hesitated only briefly before entering the small master bath. For a split second, she saw the room exactly as she’d found it on that morning five years ago. A rifle on the floor and Brian’s lifeless body badly decomposed in the bathtub, his blood and brain spatter painting a macabre death scene on the walls.
Sadie climbed into the bathtub where Brian had lain. Her heart twisted in painful memory. He, like many suicides, had probably thought it would be an easier clean if he did it in the tub. Most people had no idea the kind of bloodbath a small room took when a bullet exploded someone’s head.
With her legs pulled up close to her chest, Sadie waited. She knew in her heart that Brian’s spirit wouldn’t come. It never had before. Still, desperate yearning filled her with pathetic hope.
After a couple minutes she let her head drop to her knees and she moaned softly. She felt it was a cruel irony that she couldn’t talk to those who chose suicide, as though God had cursed her with her gift as a joke.
She quietly sobbed against her knees, her body shaking with the force of her grief. After a while all her energy evaporated on a whoosh of exhaled breath and nothing was left in its place but pain.
When the phone rang, Sadie thought for an instant that she was still in Brian’s bathtub instead of at home in her own bed. It took her a few seconds to reorient herself and fumble for the bedside extension.
“Hello?”
“Who’s the jokester who wrote on the walls in blood?” Zack demanded. He sounded pissed. It wasn’t a great way to wake up.
“You’re back? And you’re already at the house?” Sadie asked, swinging her legs out of bed and squinting at the clock. “Oh my God, it’s nearly noon!”
She was up and stripping out of her sleepwear as she spoke.
“Yeah. I just got in and decided to come straight here. I thought maybe you’d gotten another call while I was in Portland.”
“No, I overslept.” She never overslept. Hell, she hardly ever slept through the night at all. “How’s your mother?”
“Fine. It was a mild fracture. She’ll be good as new in a few weeks.”
“Good. Great.” She took the cordless phone into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Do I want to know about this message on the wall?”
“Probably not.”
With her hair still damp from the shower, Sadie slipped her hazmat suit over her clothes, zipping it up as she walked. Zack had left the back door unlocked, which annoyed the hell out of her.
“Anyone could walk right in here,” she sniped, thinking of Kent Lasko.
“Sorry. Thought I’d locked it,” Zack said, but he never looked up from where he was systematically cutting blood-soaked fabric from the sofa.
“You should be more careful.”
He didn’t reply but began cutting with harsher movements. She’d pissed him off.
“I’m going to finish upstairs.” She paused. “I’m glad your mom’s okay. It’s good to have you back.”
He glanced at the wall where Trudy’s message was scrawled, and Sadie answered the question in his eyes.
“It was Trudy.”
He sat back on his haunches and folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve never had one write you a note before, have you?”
She shook her head.
“I like it a lot better when they talk,” he mumbled. “When only you can hear what they say. It’s easier for me to pretend you’re just crazy.”
The look in his eyes told her he wasn’t kidding.
“Face it—you’d be bored if I was normal.”
He grumbled something about boredom not always being such a bad thing.
When Sadie got into the bedroom, it was as if Trudy was waiting for her. She greeted her with that strange thumbs-up gesture, and Sadie responded with a two-finger salute.
“You know, things will be much better for you once you let go,” Sadie said gently. “You don’t belong here anymore. It’s time to move on.”
Trudy’s only response was to walk to the corner of the room where the carpet was crusty with hardened congealed blood. She began to rub her finger in it, and Sadie’s anger spiked through her.
“No!” she hissed and moved to stop Trudy, but she needn’t have bothered. In frustration, Trudy only pounded the floor with her fists, but her ghostly hands made no sound, and then she was gone.
Sadie was glad to see her go. It would be easier getting the job done without a crazy ghost hanging around, and the sooner she could finish this job, the better. This place was getting to her.
Sadie speedily worked through the bedroom, and Trudy didn’t return to harass her. When she carried waste bins filled with carpeting downstairs, she saw that Zack had already removed all traces of Trudy’s message. For a split second it bothered her that she hadn’t thought of taking a picture, but she pushed that thought away.
The Toths had used a semigloss paint on the walls. If they’d used a flat paint, there would’ve been no scrubbing anything away and the drywall would’ve had to be cut out.
“We’ll be able to start stage two tomorrow,” Zack said as they doffed their gear in the kitchen.
“That’ll be a relief,” Sadie admitted. They both hated the awkward suits, goggles, and other gear necessary for working with blood.
In the second stage of the clean, they would need only to wear gloves to protect their skin from the harsh cleaning chemicals, and they could wear regular grubby clothes instead of the disposable Tyvek suits and face masks.
Sadie was bent over and tugging the booties off her shoes when she got the feeling she was being watched. She straightened and glanced at Zack.
“You were just totally checking out my ass!”
“Not my fault.” He put his hands up. “If you’re going to bend over like that, I’m
going to look.”
“Want to get a beer?” he asked a minute later, combing his fingers through his hair. “There’s a place a few blocks away.”
“Sure,” Sadie replied as she stretched her aching back.
They took their own vehicles so they could go their separate ways afterward. Even though the rain was still sputtering outside, Sadie rolled down her window for the drive. As she followed Zack’s car down the street, the damp, icy breeze blew in, smelling of wet earth and the fishy Pacific. By the time she’d driven the few blocks to the pub, the wind had blown death out of her thoughts.
They found a corner table in the trendy neighborhood watering hole and ordered a preppy microbrew. Most of the executive clientele had gone for the day, and the numerous televisions sounded loud in the emptiness. Sadie and Zack both turned when a newscaster began to talk about a woman’s body discovered in her home earlier in the day.
“The mail carrier reported a foul smell coming from the home and contacted the police,” the anchorman stated. “The medical examiner advised that the woman had been dead for a couple of weeks, but no foul play is suspected.”
“A dripper,” Zack commented and sipped his beer.
“Think we’ll get the call?” Sadie wondered.
“Who else they gonna call but Slime Busters?” he joked.
The next news story showed Seattle PD handcuffing some thugs. Zack frowned at the screen.
“Do you miss being on the job?” Sadie asked.
“Nah,” he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Sadie suspected he was lying, but the subject was moot. Zack couldn’t go back to being a cop any more than she could return to teaching second grade. He’d taken a bullet for his partner, a noble thing to do. But then he’d gotten hooked on painkillers, roughed up a suspect, been caught on video by a citizen, and handed in his badge before they could ask for it. He’d spent a year washing Vicodin down with whiskey, getting into brawls, and doing other things he wasn’t proud of before he snapped out of it and checked into rehab. One day he saw Sadie’s van on the news. He called her and asked for a job, and Seattle PD’s loss became her gain.
The Remains of the Dead Page 5