Part 12 (2/2)
Sadie was curious now. She watched the screen expectantly while continuing to nibble on her yam fries. Within seconds, the screen opened up to a dark room lit only by candles and focused on a small table. Gathered around the table she could see Maeva, Rick Thingvold, and herself, holding Osbert. After some jerky movement on the table, the camera focus became Sadie.
”Oh my G.o.d.” Sadie choked on a mouthful of yam and coughed. ”That's the seance!” She turned to Gayla. ”That stupid Rosemary must've had it still on record when she put the phone down on the table! We told her to stop.”
Gayla shushed her. ”Wait. It gets good.”
Good was not exactly how Sadie would've described it. She watched the video in horror as the closet door behind her slammed open, causing her to jump in real life just as video Sadie also jumped. Then her chair was being pulled back and she could see the imprint of what could be described as long clawlike fingers around her shoulders as the chair fell and Maeva deftly lunged to s.n.a.t.c.h Osbert from danger. On the video, streaks of eerie light shaped like long arms dragged Sadie back across the floor toward the closet. Then a flash of light, which Sadie knew to be Rosemary's wand spell, and the closet door slammed shut. Before the video faded to black, there was a clear shot of Sadie flat on her back, legs sprawled out with a distinct damp stain between them. Gayla returned to the opposite side of the booth.
”Wow,” Sadie muttered. ”I am sooo sorry. I sure as h.e.l.l didn't know it was being videoed. I swear.” She shook her head slowly as boiling rage rose up inside her. ”I'm going to kill Rosemary. This time she's gone too far.”
”It's huge. Everyone's seen it,” Gayla said, downing the rest of her drink. She pulled out the wedge of lime from the bottom of her gla.s.s and began sucking on it, making loud slurping noises. ”So much for trying to solve the problems at the house so we can make a quick sale. I'm guessing this is not going to exactly improve our chance of convincing workers nothing's wrong at Halladay Street!” she hissed.
”But how do people know the address?” Sadie blinked rapidly. ”Was there something I missed?”
”Someone in the comments below the video put it together and said it was the Halladay Horror house.” Gayla waved a hand in the air to signal for another drink. ”And somebody else claimed to see something in the closet when they played it in slow motion.”
”Really?”
Sadie couldn't help but sound doubtful and she didn't know what to say about the entire fiasco. Her mind was reeling and she had a sinking feeling that things were horribly beyond her control.
”Originally I was coming here to pay you and get back the house key,” Gayla said. ”And to ask you if you'd consider helping out at the house one more time to try and solve this problem, but now . . .” She blew a long breath between her pouty lips.” Now, I'm thinking it's probably not such a good idea.”
Paying me, or just my going back to the house? Sadie wondered. But obviously she couldn't expect to be paid for turning the house into a three-ring circus, even if it wasn't her fault.
Gayla finished her next drink as quickly as the first and paid both their bills, but she did not leave a check for Sadie for services rendered. It wasn't long before Sadie was slinking back up the elevator to continue the big job ahead. She waited until she was back in the room before she picked up her phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she discovered Rosemary Thingvold's number and wasn't at all shocked when the call went directly to voice mail. Sadie left a message that would melt Rosemary's ears and then tossed the phone to the table.
Sadie was changing into casual clothes when the phone chirped that a text message had come in. The note was from Dawn.
Saw the vid. Wow! That's great promo!
”Who the h.e.l.l sent the video to Dawn?” Sadie muttered, then smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. ”Maeva!” She shook her head. ”I knew nothing good could come of those two being friends.”
Sadie was tempted to blast Maeva and send a scathing retort to her sister, but she had other fish to fry . . . or ghosts to send over. She slipped her hazmat suit over her clothes before heading into the next room.
The painfully slow and agonizing process of mopping up this particular scene definitely put her blood-borne pathogen training to work. Four hours went by without spiritual interruption. Although Sadie would've loved the opportunity to at least help Opal and Olivia move on, she'd rather not have to deal with that freaky Marlene. There was just something so . . . off about her.
Eventually, Sadie needed a break. She straightened from her crouched position, with her knees popping and her back screaming from the strain. Back in the other room, she doffed her hazmat gear, delighted to see that Bev Hummel had come through again. A fresh carafe of coffee, water bottles, and a small tray of mixed fruits and crackers were centered on the table.
Sadie nibbled while she checked her phone. She had nine missed calls; two were from Maeva, another two were from her sister, and the balance came from Detective Petrovich's number. She dialed the detective.
”I take it you want an update?” Sadie asked him as she poured strong, dark coffee from the carafe into a bone china mug.
”Yes,” he whispered. ”I'm checking in. You were going to get names.”
”Before we get into that, when will your guys be done with my car?”
”You can probably get it tomorrow. There weren't any usable prints, except for yours.”
”I had a feeling that someone who'd take the time to put an amputated finger in a baggie on my winds.h.i.+eld wouldn't pause to get all touchy-feely with my Corolla.”
”So did you find out anything at the Pacifica?”
”I'm still up to my armpits in alligators or, more accurately, maggots,” Sadie said. ”I can tell you about the two you already know, Olivia and Opal. Both missing pointer fingers. They were sisters but the strip club portrayed them as twins, and they were doing side jobs, trying to earn extra money to go to esthetician school.”
”Nothing I don't already know.”
”Here's something you may not know. They said they got a text message to meet someone at the hotel to party. Check their cell phones and see who sent that message.”
”Hold on.”
She heard him walking, probably to somewhere more private than the bull pen. The shutting of a door sounded before he was back on the line. ”There were no phones. Their purses were left, but no phones. We got their cell records and we're looking into messages. There were a couple messages from a number that traced back to an old lady who only recently noticed she'd lost her phone.”
”Any chance she could be the killer?”
”She's at least ninety and in a wheelchair. It's highly unlikely. Probably the killer lifted her phone and used it.”
Sadie frowned. ”Okay, what about the third girl?”
”There was no third girl.”
”Her name is Marlene and she's got all her fingers. She's wearing a brown skirt and s.h.i.+rt with her name embroidered on it.” Sadie sipped her coffee. ”The uniform is very close to the same one the housekeepers wear here at the Pacifica.”
”You sure?” Petrovich's voice had ramped up a notch.
”Of what? Yes, I'm sure I saw her. No, I'm not sure she's connected to the other girls.”
”If a housekeeper was murdered in the room, we would've noticed.”
”Well, what if she was killed here but her body put elsewhere?”
He sighed heavily and Sadie knew why; he didn't want to run around chasing ghosts. He needed hard, physical proof.
”I'll ask around about a Marlene who worked as a housekeeper,” he said. ”Is there anything else you can tell me about this Marlene person?”
Sadie chewed her lower lip. She didn't want to send Petrovich on a wild-ghost chase, but she didn't want to leave out anything that could help catch this killer.
”Well, she looked young, maybe late teens. She had dark hair and eyes, just over five feet tall.”
”s.h.i.+t,” Petrovich exclaimed. ”s.h.i.+t on a stick.”
”I know. It's a mess.”
”Guess I'll go back and interview that b.i.t.c.h that runs the hotel,” he grumbled.
<script>