The blood trail was difficult to follow on the classroom’s red carpet, but Sadie located the main cleaning location, and the area of the victim’s final demise, in the far right corner of the room. He’d been attacked in the janitor’s room but had attempted to get away. He ran and had been cornered here between the shelves of tempera paint and a row of hooks holding paint smocks. A bloody handprint was clear as could be on the wall, and then blood smeared down the wall to the floor. Maggots wriggled and danced in the bodily fluids and dried blood that formed a sticky soup on the ground near Sadie’s feet.
A thin, balding, fifty-something black man was leaning on the paint shelves. Sadie knew he was the janitor who’d been stabbed to death, and not just because he wore charcoal gray coveralls. He had multiple defensive stab wounds on his forearms, his left ear was missing, and he had a lethal jagged slice in the folds of his neck. He’d fought a good fight.
“Can you help me?” he asked. He waved his hands in front of Sadie’s face.
The very first few times Sadie saw the spirits of the dead, she’d screamed and run. It had taken months to realize she wasn’t insane but had developed a strange sort of gift. When she discovered she could actually help the spirits move over to the other side, it had given her a jubilant feeling of satisfaction. However, this time she did something she’d never done before. She ignored the spirit in front of her. Turning on her heel, Sadie walked out of the room without looking back.
12
Once out of the crime scene, Sadie doffed her gear in the area she’d designated her safe zone: Principal Tu’s office. She locked up the school and headed for home. She planned to print the pictures and fax the forms to the insurance company. After she dealt with business, she’d allow the emotional side of herself a voice too. She figured she’d pull the covers over her head and cry into her pillow.
When her cell phone rang on the drive back home, Sadie’s heart skipped a beat. When she saw it was only Maeva and not Zack, Sadie let the call go to voice mail. There was a time to cry on your friend’s shoulder and to mourn your breakup, but Sadie needed to bury herself in her work first. She couldn’t deal with Maeva’s positive thinking and emotional pats on the shoulder right now. Tomorrow she planned to seek solace in mopping up blood. Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d feel good enough to help an old janitor find heaven.
She did her paperwork and, as planned, sank into bed. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this drained. When her bedside phone startled her awake the next morning, she seriously considered throwing it across the room.
“Hello?” she mumbled into the receiver.
“Were you at the Sunnyside Avenue house last night cleaning up ghosts and other stuff?” Petrovich asked, his voice gruff.
Sadie squinted at her clock. “Dean, it’s six fifteen in the bloody morning.”
“Crime doesn’t take a vacation.”
Sadie rolled her sleepy eyes and sat up. “What’s up? Why are you asking about the Wickses’ house?”
“Somebody cleaned out an upstairs bedroom last night.”
Sadie frowned. How was that possible? “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, one of the bedrooms upstairs, one of those rooms that was floor-to-ceiling crud, is completely empty this morning.”
Sadie shook her head. She was wide awake now. How the hell had someone gotten past Mr. Ugly?
“Maybe your officers got a start on that room. Weren’t you shipping everything into a storage facility before you went through each box?”
“Of course I asked my team first. You’re not the first person I dragged out of bed this morning. Nobody was willing to go inside that house until it was, um, safe. The entire time we were shoveling out that hole of a house, nobody ever even made it upstairs.”
Sadie thought of herself telling Zack to stay away from the upstairs rooms. “If it wasn’t your guys, who could it have been?” Sadie wondered aloud.
“You, or someone else with a key.”
“It wasn’t me,” Sadie said. “What about Paula?” The woman’s name tasted sour in Sadie’s mouth.
“Her apartment is a block from my own place, so when I got no answer at her place, I headed over there and pounded on the door. She said she hadn’t been near the house, and the only ones who had keys to the house besides the cops were her mom, herself, you, and Zack. I asked Zack and—”
“You asked Zack? Did you call him?”
“No . . . um . . . I asked him in person, and . . . um . . . anyway . . . Zack confirmed that to be true.”
“He was at her apartment, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.”
So Zack had moved in with Paula. Sadie became aware that her fingers were white knuckled on the phone but she didn’t say a word.
Petrovich lowered his voice. She didn’t hear what he was saying but realized his tone was laced with pity. He was mumbling something about Zack being a fool and he’d realize his mistake. Sadie wanted to respond but she felt like she’d been sucker punched. Zack was with Paula. They were together. As a couple.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Shit happens,” Sadie replied gruffly, trying to sound like it was no big deal, but her voice cracked with emotion.
“Right,” Petrovich said, quickly switching back to cop mode. “So next stop is Mimi Wicks. I don’t see how the old woman would’ve broken out of the care center and moved a room full of crud but maybe she authorized someone else to do it. Feel like meeting me at Cedar House in an hour? I’ll bring the coffee.”
“Sure. Why not?” Sadie replied. She needed to keep busy.
Sadie stopped at the corner store before Cedar House and stocked up on a couple chocolate bars and some Jujubes. Bribery tools for Mimi.
When she pulled into the parking lot, Petrovich was waiting in his car. She parked next to him and they climbed out of their vehicles together.
“So what are we going to ask her?” Sadie asked.
“We’re not asking anything,” Petrovich said, and his eyebrows rose with his voice. “I’m doing the talking. At least about the house and who might have cleaned out that room.”
“Then why am I here?” Sadie asked as they started walking toward the building.
“You’re going to ask her if her place was haunted before she left there or if this is a new development.”
Sadie glanced sideways at him. It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “I’m sure you could just as easily ask that question.”
“Yeah, but she might be reluctant to talk to a cop about that sort of thing rather than . . .” He waved his hands at Sadie.
“A whack job like me?” Sadie finished.
“Whack job are your words. I would’ve said maybe, um, character.” He punched her good-naturedly in the shoulder and Sadie laughed in spite of the dense ball of tension in her gut.
They walked into the foyer of Cedar House, and Sadie was surprised to find the place bustling with activity even at this early hour. Orderlies wheeled clientele quickly down the hall, and dozens of residents walked this way and that, none of them heading for the visitors’ lounge. Noreen, the same large black woman as before, worked the counter, and she looked over at them expectantly.
“Visiting hours are still a couple hours away.”
Petrovich showed his badge.
“I remember who you are.” She curled up a surly corner of her lip. “You trying to impress me with your credentials isn’t going to cut any weight around here. Our residents like their schedules. You should see what it’s like if the dining room is a few minutes late with a meal. Heads roll.”
“I need to speak to Mimi Wicks,” Petrovich said.
The woman frowned and looked pointedly at Sadie. “If you’re a cop too, you should’ve told me that the other day when you came to visit.”
“I’m not a cop. I’m a friend of Paula’s.”
Friend might be pushing it, considering Sadie knew that if she saw Paula in the street, she’d probably run
her over. Repeatedly.
The receptionist turned to glare at Petrovich. “When I had a break-in at my house last year, it took Seattle PD three days to even show up. You’ve been here twice in two days.”
Petrovich didn’t respond. The receptionist sighed and waved an orderly over.
“Could you check to see if Mrs. Wicks has eaten her breakfast yet? If she has, bring her to the lounge. She has visitors.” After the word visitors, the receptionist pressed her lips together until they formed a solid line. Once the orderly had drifted off, Noreen returned her gaze to Petrovich. “She hasn’t killed someone or something, has she?”
“We’re just looking into some problems at her house. That’s all.”
“Huh. ’Cause if she was a murderer or somethin’, we’d need to know. We’ve got a lot of other residents to think about, you know. Can’t have some old lady shuffling around, waiting to stick someone for their oatmeal or somethin’. Last year we took in Mr. Hamley, who has a long rap sheet for public nudity. The relatives failed to mention that. We’ve had him flashing his wrinkled wanger all over the place.” She shook her head. “You can’t imagine how upsetting that is to the other residents.”
And thanks for the visual of wrinkled wangers now in my head.
Petrovich responded by saying, “We’ll just wait over in the visitors’ lounge.”
They walked into the open area, and Petrovich sat down on the overstuffed purple sofa in the corner of the room. Sadie chose a straight-backed chair across from him. After a few minutes, Petrovich looked over at Sadie.
“Stop thinking about it.”
“What?” Sadie asked, blinking in surprise.
“Wrinkled dicks. I can tell by the disgusted look on your face you haven’t been able to get it out of your mind.”
“It is pretty disturbing. And I had the pleasure of witnessing Mr. Hamley myself on a previous visit.”
Petrovich chuckled deeply and settled in to wait patiently. Years of surveillance had taught him the art of waiting. Sadie, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
They were not the only souls in the visitors’ lounge but Sadie wasn’t about to tell Petrovich that two old geezers, one Asian and one black, who’d obviously passed away, were playing an invisible card game at a table a few feet away. The Asian geezer was winning and he was mocking his friend.
After ten minutes Sadie began looking at her watch and blowing out huffy breaths.
“Stop fidgeting,” Petrovich growled.
“I can’t help it. I’m not used to sitting around in old folks’ homes. The place creeps me out, and the smell . . .” She shuddered. “Why do all senior homes smell like that?”
“Disinfectant and urine,” Petrovich said, then took a deeper breath. “And floral air freshener.” He cut his gaze to Sadie. “We’ve smelled worse.”
“True,” Sadie acknowledged. There was nothing worse than the smell of body decomp; it rolled into your sinuses and stayed there. Often you tasted it for weeks. It would also cling to your hair, and that was one of the reasons Sadie kept hers short.
After another few minutes of sitting quietly, Sadie began fiddling with her cell phone. Zack hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted her. Hadn’t left a voice mail message and hadn’t just hung up after letting it ring a couple times. Her phone history made her depressed.
“So what are you going to do about him?” Petrovich’s voice had softened as he cut into Sadie’s reverie.
“About who?” Sadie asked, playing dumb.
“Bowman.”
Sadie sighed. “Nothing I can do. He’s moved out. He’s on the quick road to hell, riding on Vicodin and vodka. Breakfast of champions.” Sadie’s voice hitched. “Not to mention the fact that he’s moved in with his ex-girlfriend.”
Petrovich slid forward on the sofa and reached out to put his thick, calloused hand on Sadie’s leg. “He’s an idiot but his addiction is real. You can’t fight it for him. He’s gotta pull himself out. You can open the door, but he’s still gotta decide whether or not he wants to walk on through.”
Sadie nodded sharply and took a deep breath. “I know,” she said. She looked over at Petrovich and gave him a grateful smile. She noticed again how he’d changed since his painful divorce. Not just the fact that he was taking better care of himself by losing weight and spiffing up his appearance, but she noticed his eyes were sharper and that they’d lost the ache that had dulled them for months.
“I’ve got to tell you, Dean, you’re looking good,” Sadie said. “Things must be going well.”
He held out his hand and rocked it side to side. “So so,” he said. “Better. She got married again.”
“Oh!” Sadie cringed and then felt bad for looking so shocked.
“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “It snapped me out of it. I realized that I could live alone in a shit apartment and eat crap fast food every day, or I could start living. So I’ve been going out. Not bars and stuff,” he said quickly. “But the gym and I’m taking a cooking class. I make a wicked pasta primavera.”
“That’s great,” Sadie said, and meant it.
“You still running?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Not as much as I’d like but I still put in a few miles a week. I ran the half marathon a couple months ago.” She flinched in memory. “I had blisters on my blisters. Sure not ready for the full twenty-six miles yet.”
He leaned in again. “So what kind of shoes do you find work for you? I’ve been spending a shitload on athletic gear but damned if my feet don’t friggin’ hurt every time I get off the treadmill.”
“You gotta go for a proper fitting. Go to the sports store that Sylvia Toth is running. Remember her?”
“How could I forget?” Petrovich shook his head. It had been a difficult case, a murder-suicide that Sadie had forced him to reopen.
Petrovich got to his feet and Sadie followed his gaze. Mrs. Wicks was being led into the room, the orderly guiding her with a hand on her elbow. She walked slowly, and when she reached Petrovich and Sadie, the orderly told her to sit.
“These are the folks here to see you,” he said.
“Screw off, you motherf—”
“Watch your mouth, Mrs. W. You know we don’t stand for that here,” the orderly said. To Petrovich and Sadie, he said, “She ain’t having a good day. When you’re done with her, just press the buzzer on the wall in the corner and I’ll come for her. Don’t leave her alone. She’s sneaky.”
Mrs. Wicks stuck her tongue out and blew a wet raspberry at the orderly as he left.
Sadie stared at her. The change was amazing. She was definitely not the same woman Sadie sat with before.
“What do you want?” Mrs. Wicks demanded, glaring sharply first at Petrovich and then at Sadie.
“We had some problems over at your house and—” Petrovich began.
“What house?” Mrs. Wicks demanded. “You mean my apartment on Elm and Fifth?”
Petrovich looked confused. “Your house on Sunnyside Avenue in Green Lake,” he told her.
“If I had a house in Green Lake, do you think I’d be staying at this crappy flophouse?”
Petrovich opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.
“We want to talk to you about somebody taking some stuff from the upper bedroom at the house on Sunnyside Avenue. The house where you kept all your stuff,” Sadie said. When Mimi just offered her a blank look, Sadie added, “You know, all your belongings. Boxes and boxes of things you collected inside your house. The home you lived in before coming here. The place where you raised Paula.”
Mrs. Wicks looked angry and then flustered. She began wringing her hands nervously.
“You should go. I don’t feel so well. You should go,” Mimi said, her eyes skipping around the room, looking at anything but them.
“We’ll come back another day,” Petrovich said softly.
His phone rang, and he dug it from his pocket and walked across the room to take the call. He pressed the button on t
he wall to summon the orderly as he went.
“No sweets for ol’ Sugar Bottom?”
Sadie glanced up to see that the bent-over old geezer named Marvin had come up behind her.
“Hi,” Sadie said.
Mimi didn’t respond except to keep saying, “You should go.”
“Give her a treat, if you’ve got one,” Marvin said. “It works wonders.” He clicked his dentures together.
Sadie saw that Petrovich was still on the phone, so she figured she might as well hang out with Mimi a moment longer before the orderly arrived. She opened her purse and pulled out a chocolate bar and handed it to Mrs. Wicks.
“Chocolate! Aren’t you the sweetest thing for remembering it’s my favorite,” Mrs. Wicks exclaimed. She unwrapped the bar quickly and devoured it in two huge bites, glancing furtively left and right as if she was sure someone would steal it from her.
Marvin chuckled. “That ought to do the trick. It’s not a miracle drug, but it’ll put her in a better mood.”
Sadie watched Marvin traipse out of the room and around the corner.
“When you’re feeling more like talking, I’d like to ask you about the guy haunting your house,” Sadie whispered.
For a moment Mrs. Wicks’ eyes seemed to clear, but just as quickly the look was gone.
“We should’ve stayed at the apartment on Elm Street,” Mrs. Wicks said sadly. “It would’ve been better for Paula.” She handed the chocolate wrapper to Sadie. “More?”
Sadie took out another candy bar and watched in amazement as this one disappeared into Mimi’s mouth as quickly as the first.
“Why would the apartment on Elm Street have been better for Paula?” Sadie asked.
“On account of that dumb little Carole Brant,” Mimi replied, her mouth a gaping hole of melted chocolate.
Dead and Kicking Page 15