Sadie was a block away from Mimi Wicks’ haunted home when her cell phone rang, and the ring tone told her it was her sister, Dawn. She hesitated a moment, then answered.
“What’s up?” Sadie asked.
“I’ll tell you what’s up,” Dawn said in a hushed voice. “I’ve got our mother in my kitchen babbling hysterically about you claiming to talk to the dead.”
“I thought she went to Safeway,” Sadie said. “I would’ve given you a heads-up if I thought she was going to go crying to you.”
“She says you’re pretending to talk to Dad.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“So you’re communicating with our father’s ghost and you weren’t even going to tell me?” Dawn said, her voice colored with hurt.
“I was going to tell you.” Maybe. Eventually. Sadie knew it was selfish but for once she’d hoped to keep her dad to herself.
“And what do you want me to tell Mom?”
“Tell her the truth. I talk to the dead and it’s just kind of a fluky thing that I picked up after Brian died. Try to downplay it like it’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? She wants to have you committed!” Dawn cried.
Sadie pulled onto Sunnyside Avenue, which looked none too sunny in the Seattle rain, and parked her van at the curb.
“Look,” Sadie sighed. “I know this is a shock for her, but I can’t control how she feels about it. Besides, I’m on a job, so I can’t exactly stop what I’m doing to rush over and explain myself over and over when Mom seems absolutely determined to sail down the river of denial. Chances are good that when the dust settles, if Mom does choose to believe me she’s going to be worried about one thing and one thing only, and that’s whether or not this thing is going to embarrass her. Just explain that I’m discreet about this. I do it to help people move over to the next dimension but I’m not opening a Psychic Friends Hotline or doing the talk show circuit.”
“You should tell her all that yourself. Why do I have to be in the middle?”
“Because she ran away from me when I tried to talk to her, and she went to you.” Sadie blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine. If you don’t want to deal with it, just bring her back home later and we can try to sort all this out among the three of us.”
“I’ll have to bring Dylan.”
“Okay, the four of us,” Sadie said. She noticed Detective Petrovich standing by the front door of the house. “I gotta go. I’ll call you.”
Sadie disconnected the call, grabbed a duffel bag from the backseat, and went to meet up with Petrovich.
“Are you ready to do this thing?” Petrovich asked her.
“Yup. I’m all set.” Sadie hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “I’ve got holy water, garlic, and, in case your ghost is hairier than most, I’ve brought the silver bullet I use for werewolves.”
Petrovich gave her a pained look.
“I’m kidding,” Sadie said.
“And I’m laughing. On the inside.”
He brought her around the house so she could enter from the back deck.
“Spooky stuff aside,” Petrovich began, “I don’t get people like Mimi Wicks.”
“You mean the whole hoarding thing?” Sadie asked, zipping up her blue hazmat suit.
“Yeah. I mean, somewhere along the line when they can only walk sideways through the house because the tunnels are getting tighter, you’d think they’d say, ‘Hey, this ain’t normal,’ and then do something about it.”
“It’s a sickness. A compulsion. People that do this”—Sadie waved toward the interior of the house—“I don’t think they can help themselves.”
“My ex-wife complained I was a pack rat. I’d love to drag her inside here and show her the real meaning of the word.”
Sadie chuckled at that and slipped disposable covers over her shoes while Petrovich unlocked the scene to allow her inside.
“You coming in?” Sadie asked.
“I’ll be out here. Standing guard.”
“Big strong cop is afraid of something he can’t see or hear?” Sadie smirked.
“You got it.” He nodded inside the house. “Scream if you need me.”
With that he closed the door with Sadie inside.
Even though the cops had been scared off the premises, they still had managed to make some headway. Boxes were somewhat sorted to make the pathways into actual halls. A lot had been hauled away on the lower level. Petrovich said they were using a storage facility to go through it all. Still, they were hundreds of man-hours away from getting the job done, and, in the end, probably all they’d find was that the boxes were filled with yard sale rubbish and flea market goods that might resell for a couple bucks a box.
Sadie angled around a particularly tall hill of cardboard boxes until she was in front of the stairway.
Suddenly she could see what had caused Petrovich such concern. Anything breakable in the room had been smashed to smithereens. Lamps, knickknacks, and light fixtures were shattered into shards against the wall. Her pulse quickened with fear.
“I’m guessing there’s nothing left for you to break,” Sadie commented.
“Wanna bet?” came the snarling reply, followed by an object winging its way through the air and crashing in the wall just an inch above Sadie’s head.
Sadie spun around to face the large, angry ghost who’d been causing all the trouble. His large, meaty hands were formed into fists that punched the air.
“Get away from here!” he thundered.
“Knock it off!” Sadie screamed right back.
He crossed his arms over his stained undershirt and chuckled heartily, his cherry lips a ghoulish slit. Sadie was once again struck by the sheer size of the man. She wouldn’t have wanted to anger him even when he was alive.
“Oh, right. You’re the one with the special talent.” He put special talent in air quotes and guffawed some more. “You think just because you can see me, that’ll stop me?”
“What exactly do you think you’re going to prove by throwing a temper tantrum like a two-year-old?” Sadie demanded.
“I ain’t got nuthin’ to prove. Nuthin’ except this is my shit and nobody has the right to take what’s mine.”
“This is Mimi’s house,” Sadie corrected. “And she told me I could come in here if I wanted.”
He rolled his eyes in disgust. “Mimi’s crazy. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” He used his index finger to make the cuckoo sign next to his temple.
“You’re dead and busting up a house to protect stuff you can’t use, and you’re calling her crazy?” Sadie challenged.
“I’m warning you, get out of here!” he yelled. Reaching into a box near his hip, he tugged out the first item he could find and flung it at Sadie. Lucky for her, it happened to be a stuffed rag doll.
Sadie snagged the doll in midair.
“You keep talking about your stuff,” Sadie said. “This is what you mean? Dolls and yard sale crap? Why do you even care?” She waved the doll in the air and teased, “Is this yours? Do you sleep with it?” She knew it wasn’t wise to deliberately antagonize him, but she hoped if he got mad enough he’d give her answers.
He replied by snatching a coffee mug from the same box and flinging it in Sadie’s direction. It glanced off her shoulder and she winced.
“Ouch!” She held up her hands to protect herself from anything else that might fly her way. “Listen, Moe, the police are just doing their job. They have to search the house. Don’t you think you’re acting a wee bit ridiculous?”
“Moe?” He tossed back his head and laughed like the notion was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “I ain’t Moe.” He narrowed his eyes angrily. “You think you’re so smart but you don’t even know who the hell you’re dealing with.”
“Who are you then?”
“Ask the Mouse, if you don’t know.” He sneered.
“And who is Mouse?” Sadie demanded. When he wouldn’t reply, she rolled her eyes in frustration. “Fine. You say some of
this is your stuff. Then you should know the answer to the million-dollar question. Whose baby was wrapped in newspapers and stuffed in a box?”
His cherry lips curled into a snarl. “Get out!”
“You get out!” Sadie shouted back. “Mimi and Paula both want the place cleaned out.”
“That’s what they say, huh?” He shook his head. “Trust me, Mimi don’t want you going through her shit either.”
“Look, this can’t be easy for you, and it doesn’t have to be this way. The reason I can see you is because I can help you. If you relax and stop fighting it, you can go over to the next dimension and leave this place behind and—”
“I’m not leaving!” he screamed, following up his shout by flinging more stuff at her.
Sadie dodged an incoming Christmas candle and a paperback novel.
“Oh yeah?” Sadie spit back. “What are you going to do when the cops move in here and remove every stick of furniture and crap out of the house? You think you’re going to scare them off by being a bully? All they’ll do is come back with helmets and armor! Then what will you do?”
His eyes grew huge and then he vanished.
“Good job,” Sadie muttered sarcastically to herself.
She wandered around the room a few more minutes, waiting to see whether Mr. Ugly would return, but no luck. Sadie was tempted to go upstairs and find out exactly what the pissed-off ghost was protecting, but in the end, she was just too chicken. When the Mr. Ugly failed to return, Sadie reluctantly stepped back outside, where Petrovich was anxiously waiting.
“There was a lot of yelling in there,” Petrovich commented warily.
“Yeah. Thanks for running to my assistance and all,” Sadie replied sarcastically. “You’re a real Rock of Gibraltar.”
“You were the one doing the shouting, and it sounded like you were pissed off. Not in danger.”
“Right.”
Sadie knew that Petrovich could hear only her voice and not the big ghost’s. Even though objects flying through the air would’ve scared the officers, Sadie couldn’t help but think that at least they didn’t have to see the ugly dude in green boxers doing the throwing.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t make any headway. I didn’t even get his name right. I thought he was Mimi’s brother, Moe, but apparently someone else died here. Don’t suppose you’ve got any information about that?”
Petrovich shook his head. “I’ve done some checking. As far as I can tell, nothing freaky supernatural here in this dimension ever happened at this location. At least nothing that involved cops coming to the house.” He stopped himself short and drilled his fingers through his hair uneasily. “Can I ask you something?”
Sadie shrugged.
“Is this for real . . . this thing you do?”
“Yeah. It’s real. Don’t ask me how or why, but it all started after Brian put his gun to his head and I got to clean it up.”
“So you got to talk to your brother’s ghost then?” he asked, eyeing her skeptically.
“No. For some reason I can’t see or talk to suicides. In my work I get to chat with a lot of murder victims and unattended deaths. I can help them somehow find their way over if they get lost and—” Sadie narrowed her eyes. “Stop that.”
“What?”
“Stop looking at me like I’m a lunatic. I’m the same person you’ve known for years. I run a trauma clean company and I’m good at what I do. You know I’m right. I’m a professional, and just because I have this one little thing . . . well, I won’t have you looking at me like I’ve suddenly grown three heads and sacrifice chickens.”
“It’s just a lot to absorb.”
“Tell me about it. It’s been years and I’m still trying to get used to the idea myself. Still, just because I’ve got this, um, talent doesn’t change the fact that Scene-2-Clean is first and foremost a trauma clean company, got it? I don’t want you calling me and asking me to interrogate the dead to solve crimes. Scene-2-Clean hasn’t changed its name to Ghost Busters.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about there. I pretty much plan on pretending this was all a strange, bizarre dream.”
“Good.”
They talked a little more as Sadie stripped off her hazmat suit. She heard Petrovich when he agreed that their business relationship wouldn’t change because of this one thing. She heard the words but couldn’t help feel that she’d lost his respect. If another trauma clean company set up shop tomorrow, her gut told her there was the possibility she’d lose all of Seattle Police Department’s referral business.
She snatched up her gear and began walking. Petrovich followed her around to the front of the house, where they met one of the neighbors headed up the walk. She looked to be a hard-life sixty with pruned lines around her mouth that proclaimed years of smoking. She clutched a faded blue sweater around her shoulders as she hurried up to them.
“Can I help you?” Petrovich asked, all businesslike.
“I hope so,” the woman began. “Are you working here?”
“I’m Detective Petrovich,” the detective said. “And this is Sadie Novak, who’s assisting with cleanup.”
“Detective Petrovich.” She appeared momentarily surprised and she looked at Petrovich closer before shaking her head. “Well, anyway, I was wondering how long you guys are going to be messing around in this house. I’ve been wanting to put my place on the market.” She nodded over to the tidy split level just feet away from the Wickses’ house. “It’ll be a hard sell with the Seattle Police Department traipsing in and out of the property next door.”
“Wish I could give you a definite date on that, ma’am, but this is a sensitive scene, and things will take just as long as they take,” Petrovich replied very diplomatically.
The woman sighed. “Paula told me she was finally cleaning up the dump and selling it, and I couldn’t help but be relieved. I guess I’ve waited this long, so a few more days or weeks won’t make much difference.”
“I’m sorry about that, Mrs. . . . ?”
“Bertrude. Bertrude Brant.”
“Is Carole your daughter? I met her when I came by a few days ago,” Sadie mentioned.
“Yes, she’s been staying with me while I get the place ready to sell.”
“Oh! Carole and Bertrude Brant . . .” Petrovich’s face looked like a lightbulb had just gone off in his head.
“Yes.” Bertrude Brant nodded, looking sheepish. “You might remember me from a number of years ago when my husband, Stephen, went missing.”
“Ri-i-ight.” Petrovich looked as if his mind was taking a trip down memory lane. “Last time you and I talked, I recall, you and Carole were moving out of Seattle and out to Spokane to be closer to your sister.”
“Yes, but when Carole moved back to Seattle for work, I didn’t want to be so far away so I bought this place, back in the old neighborhood,” Bertrude replied, making another nod at her house.
“Carole’s gotta be what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five?”
“She’ll be twenty-five next month.”
Sadie told Bertrude Brant it was nice to meet her and then left her and Petrovich to catch up. While she went and loaded her gear into the van, Sadie glanced up at the upper bedroom window of the Wickses’ house where Mr. Ugly’s ghost sneered down at her with his ghoulish grin. Sadie turned her back on him and sighed. She couldn’t help but wonder if she could’ve handled things better. If she’d tried coaxing him gently, maybe she could’ve gotten information. Obviously she’d slipped up with the whole Moe thing and failed to get the spirit’s real identity. It was hard to move someone on to the next dimension when you didn’t know who they were or what kept them here in the first place.
Petrovich parted company with Mrs. Brant and joined Sadie at her vehicle.
“That was one of the first cases I worked when I made detective,” Petrovich said, glancing sideways at Mrs. Brant, who was back on her own property and walking up her sidewalk. “One of those he-got-what-he-had-coming situations.”
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“Yeah?” Sadie’s curiosity was now piqued. “Mr. Brant deserved to go missing?”
“He didn’t stay missing for long. We found him dead in his car over in Discovery Park. Stephen Brant killed himself by running a hose from his exhaust into the window of his car. Nobody was overly sad to see it end that way. You would’ve probably still been teaching at the time, so I’m sure you remember the Tanya and Ashley case.”
“The two thirteen-year-old girls who went missing? Sure. I remember hearing something about them.”
“Bodies were discovered in a wooded area just across the line in Oregon,” Petrovich continued. “The coroner figured they’d been sexually tortured for days before they were finally killed. We were looking hard at Stephen Brant for that.”
“Wow.” Sadie shook her head slowly from side to side. “You had evidence? You were going to nail him?”
“We were working our asses off to make it happen. We had rumors he’d messed with a couple other girls. Tanya had a locket that was found in Brant’s car but it wasn’t enough for a warrant of the house. Because Carole went to school with the girls and Bertrude had driven Tanya and Ashley home on a number of occasions, the judge wouldn’t issue a warrant. He figured there were too many ways the locket could’ve ended up in the car innocently. The locket could’ve been lost in the car on a carpool day.”
“So the sick bastard got away with it,” Sadie replied.
“I wouldn’t say he got away with it. I like to think he’s burning in hell,” Petrovich answered seriously. “Now back to our situation.” He leaned forward. “I guess we’re on our own here since there’s nothing you can do either.”
“Your guys are just going to have to pad up if they want to remove the stuff.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’ll get the guys to suit up in helmets and body armor, and they’ll just have to deal with the stuff flying their way.”
“Yeah. Unless . . .” Sadie let her voice trail off.
“What? You got another idea?”
“Maybe I could call in backup.”
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