Drop Dead Beauty (7 page)

“Yup.”

“Thank God!” Sadie took the pouch from around her neck and stuffed it in her purse. “Not that I don’t appreciate your hard work of course, but it won’t help my reputation for cleaning crime scenes if I smell like a cross between the worst body odor ever, rotting trash, and something a sick dog left on the carpet.”

They left the room and Sadie again thanked Rudie for his help.

“No problem, but I’ve got to get down to the little demons having the birthday.” He went to a corner of the room and picked up a large invoice pad. “I’ll give you a discount since any friend of Maeva’s is a friend of mine.”

“Wait a second.” Sadie blinked hard. “I didn’t realize this was going to cost me money.”

“Sadie . . . ,” Maeva warned. “He’s just done you a tremendous favor by seeing you on such short notice. Seeing you at all, in fact.”

“Well, sure, but you didn’t even tell me where we were going or what we were doing, so I guess I’m just surprised. . . .”

Rudie placed his hands on his hips. “No freebies. If I had a dead body to mop up I wouldn’t expect you to clean up for free, and if I wanted to get in touch with the dead I wouldn’t expect Maeva to help me at Madam Maeva’s Psychic Café for free either. Herbs cost money too. Not to mention my time and knowledge.”

“Well, I guess when you put it that way . . .”

Rudie wrote up the bill and handed it to Sadie.

“Two hundred and fifty bucks!” she cried. “I don’t even know if it works!”

Maeva and Rudie gasped together and looked so offended that Sadie immediately backpedaled.

“What I mean is that you said yourself my situation is different than yours. What if my pregnancy hormones make it go all funky and, through no fault of your own, the purse thingy doesn’t work?”

“If it requires any
tweaking
whatsoever,” Rudie said, narrowing his eyes, “then come back and I will adjust the spell accordingly.”

His hard look told Sadie that she’d better pay up and shut up, so she cut him a check. A few minutes later they were back in Maeva’s car.

“Well, that was certainly embarrassing,” Maeva grumbled as she started the car.

“I know! Can you believe that guy charging me two hundred and fifty smackers for a potion without even giving me a chance to see if it works?” Sadie shook her head.

“Are you kidding me?” Maeva’s voice went up an octave and she paused with her hand on the gearshift. “You’ve just been given a gift here! Rudie sees very few people and he
never
sees anyone without an appointment. Do you know why he saw you today?”

“I’m sorry,” Sadie began. “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I just—”

“He saw you today because I brought you. Because you were with
me
,” Maeva continued, ignoring Sadie’s hasty apology. “He knows I’m very serious about what I do. He’s been to Madam Maeva’s Psychic Café and he knows that I’m not some shyster selling pie-in-the-sky guesses, looking into a fake ball of cut glass. We’re peers. And professionals. He trusted that if I was bringing someone to him directly at the last minute without an appointment that it was important to me. He was doing
me
a huge favor.”

“And then I went and insulted him.” Sadie cringed. “I’m so-o-o sorry.”

Maeva sighed, put the car in drive, and steered away from the curb.

“I’ll cut you some slack this time because your life is in the eye of the tornado right now.”

“You mean, my life is in the toilet.” And she meant that literally since she smelled of dung.

“The hormones and nausea can make you crazy those first few months.” She cut her gaze sideways to Sadie while she turned a corner. “Would it make you feel better if we went to test-drive the potion to see if it works?”

“How will we do that?”

“I’ve gotta feed my neighbor’s cat again. You can tag along and take a look inside the pantry.”

Sadie thought that was a good idea, and fifteen minutes later they were inside Maeva’s neighbor’s kitchen and Sadie was wearing the stinky sack around her throat.

“Here goes nothing,” she announced, then walked inside the pantry. She stood inside the small space and turned around a couple times. “I’m feeling good. No chest pains.” She faced Maeva, who was standing in the kitchen outside the pantry. “But maybe he didn’t even show up this time.”

“Oh he’s there.” Maeva nodded. “Although spirits don’t appear in full shape to me, I can often see a wispy outline if an apparition is present, and I can see one now.”

Sadie left the pantry and closed the door behind her.

“Well, that was awesome.” She rubbed her hands together and smiled. “I feel like sushi for lunch.”

“You can’t have sushi. No raw fish while you’re pregnant.”

“What? That’s a rip-off!”

Sadie followed her friend back to her house, where Maeva handed her a book on pregnancy. It was open to a list of foods to avoid.

“This should help.”

Sadie looked over the list. It didn’t help at all. Now she was craving raw shellfish and unpasteurized cheeses.

“You can keep the book,” Maeva told her.

Maeva’s husband, Terry, had to head off to a catering job, so Maeva hoisted Osbert in one arm and a heavy diaper bag in the other and they headed out the door to drive Sadie home.

“Do you really need to bring that much stuff with you wherever you go when you have a kid?” Sadie asked.

She helped Maeva buckle in Osbert, who was fussing about being restrained.

“You try forgetting the diaper bag one time and that’ll be the time the kid will atomic poop up his back, all over the car seat, and all over you. Or else he’ll projectile vomit strained peas. And it’s not unusual for both those things to happen at once. That bag is a lifesaver. In there are the usual diapers, wipes, and creams plus multiple changes of clothes for both of us and the phone number to an emergency help line.”

Sadie snapped on her seatbelt.

“I think I need the number for that emergency help line,” she told Maeva.

“The help line is the only thing I was joking about.”

Just then Osbert went from fussing to screaming at an operatic soprano note meant to burst the ears of trauma cleaners. Sadie began to seriously consider if she should ask Rudie to make her temporarily deaf as well.

Chapter 6

By the time Maeva pulled up to Sadie’s house Osbert had screamed himself hoarse and then fallen fast asleep in the backseat.

“Do you want to come in for a while?” Sadie asked.

“No. I need to keep the car moving or he’ll wake up and start screaming again. He’s going through a fussy stage.”

In Sadie’s opinion Osbert had been born fussy, but usually her godson was relatively good when she was around.

“Just as well,” Sadie said. “I need to try out my ghost-banishing potion at that suicide clean I delayed. Thanks for everything. Sorry again if I embarrassed you in front of Rudie.”

“No problem. Once you become a mom you’ll realize that humiliation is another one of life’s perks.”

Oh joy.

Once inside the house Sadie dropped her purse and pregnancy book on the coffee table and then said hello to Hairy and Dean Petrovich.

“I’ve been waiting around for you for hours,” Dean grumbled.

“Sorry. Ghost problems.” She eyeballed him warily.

“What’s that smell?” He sniffed the air. “Did you step in something?”

“It’s a potion in my purse.” Sadie yawned and stretched. “Forget about that, last we talked you were going to tell me about your great idea. Tell me about it while I fix myself a sandwich. I’m starved.”

Dean followed Sadie into the kitchen. “First, let’s review what we know. My ex-wife, Jane, was shot to death, by someone who used my gun to kill her while she was getting a massage at Jonelle’s Day Spa downtown.”

“Right.” Sadie took out a loaf of bread and jars of peanut butter and jelly. “And employees of the spa saw you there having an angry conversation with Jane. Don’t leave out that part. Every reporter in Seattle interviewed spa employees about your argument and those workers were quite convincing. What were you doing confronting your ex at a spa anyway?”

“I followed her there.”

“That doesn’t exactly make you look innocent.”

“We were supposed to meet for coffee that morning but she ditched me with some excuse and then wouldn’t answer my calls,” Dean explained. “I decided to drive straight to her place and meet her in person. When I got a couple blocks from her place she blew past me going the other way. I followed her.”

“So you followed her inside a spa and yelled at her in a confrontational manner just because she canceled a coffee date?”

Sadie cut her sandwich into quarters and then got a glass of milk and brought both to the table.

“She’d been canceling out on me for months. We needed to renegotiate the amount of spousal support I was paying her and we were trying to do it without involving the frickin’ lawyers because they’d gouge us both.”

“Sounds like you wanted to stop paying support and she didn’t want to let you off the hook,” Sadie said around a mouthful of her gooey sandwich.

“The support was supposed to be only until she got on her feet. She made more than me last year!” he shouted. “She’d already agreed about the money but then she kept cashing the damn postdated checks I’d given her last year.”

“Why didn’t you just put a stop payment on the checks at your bank?” Sadie asked reasonably.

“Because it looks bad in the courts if you put a stop on alimony payments,” Dean explained. “We were meeting so she could turn over the last three checks. That was it. No biggie. But when she took off to the spa, getting her massage on my dime . . .” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Well, I admit I was pissed.”

“So mad that you blew her brains out on the massage table?” Sadie asked.

“No!” Dean said, aggravated. “That’s the thing. I didn’t do that. After I told her off in the reception area, I left the place.”

“The employees were quoted in the papers as saying they believed you snuck back inside while she was in the massage room, waited until her masseuse left the room to get more aromatic oils, and then walked in and shot her.”

“I know that’s what they said.” He eyed Sadie seriously. “Do you really think I’d kill Jane for a few hundred bucks?”

Sadie didn’t answer that question but she had one of her own. “What happened to my sandwich?”

“You ate it.” It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “You inhaled it, actually.”

“Huh. Guess I was hungry.” She got up to make another one. “I still don’t know what I can do to help. They gotta have a dozen officers working the case.”

“I think the people at the massage place know something they aren’t saying. I want you to go there and talk to the people and find out what you can. Maybe even get a massage with the same guy who did Jane’s.”

Sadie tilted her head back and sighed.

“A massage sounds great.” She smiled. Actually, it sounded divine. “But I can’t afford to be spending money wastefully. I’ve got to bank every penny for when I’m take time off work to be with my baby.”

It was the first time she’d used the words “my baby,” and her voice choked up.

“Jesus, are you going to cry?”

“No!” Sadie stuffed more peanut butter and jelly sandwich into her mouth to keep from sobbing. After she’d washed down her second sandwich with milk and felt like her emotions were somewhat in check, she started talking again.

“Look, I want your permission to talk to Zack about this. He’d know the best way to approach this and—”

“No. Absolutely not.” Petrovich shook his head violently. “He used to be a cop and if he knew I was holed up with you, he’d feel obligated to turn us both in.”

Sadie opened her mouth to say something and then shut it again.

“Plus, you promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I already told Maeva.”

“What!” Dean began pacing. “Why’d you do that?”

“Look, she’s my best friend and I’ve got lots on my plate right now. She’s not going to be telling anybody anything about you. It’s not high on her priority list right now.”

“Guess I’ll just have to trust you with that one,” he grumbled.

“How about I talk to Zack about your case in general, though? He’d probably find it odd if I didn’t talk about it. I can just ask him what he’s heard about it.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said reluctantly.

“And I’ll find a way to go down to the spa and scope things out. I can just go down and ask about their services and stuff, for a start.”

“That would be great,” Dean gushed. “You can ask about their prices and then maybe go on a tour or something and casually say you heard about what happened and—”

Sadie held up her hand.

“Just let me see what I can do. Don’t go writing me a script on what to say.”

Sadie’s new cell phone chimed. She’d been ignoring it all day. One glance at the screen told her why. Another text from Owen. She was about to tuck the phone back in her pocket when it chimed again. This time the message was from Zack.

“Sweet Jesus I can’t seem to get a break,” she muttered to herself. “I’m going out for the better part of the day to clean up a suicide,” she told Dean. “You’ll be happy to know that I’ll be taking my stinky purse with me so things should go well.”

“I don’t know what to say about that,” he replied. “Good luck, I guess.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

Sadie piled everything she needed to clean an unattended death decomp scene into her Scene-2-Clean van. Then she drove twenty minutes to Bellevue to Jonelle’s Spa. She didn’t want to pay for parking in the back public lot but she did anyway because she wanted to see the rear exit of Jonelle’s where the shooter would’ve entered. She backed the van into a slot at the very rear of the lot and then put a couple dollars’ worth of coins in a machine to cover the cost of the half hour she expected to be there.

She walked across the concrete toward the back of Jonelle’s. The spa looked like any other business from the back. There was a concrete stairway with five or six steps going up to a slate-gray metal door that had
Jonelle’s Day Spa Exit Only
in purple script. There was no handle on the outside of the door but there was a key lock. With nothing else to look at in the back of the building, Sadie walked around to the front. She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, which was her normal work attire, but Sadie felt immediately out of place when she stepped inside Jonelle’s opulent reception area. The sweet fragrance of lavender reached her nostrils as Sadie walked up to the front desk, her runners squeaking noisily on the shiny marble floor.

“May I help you?” asked a perfectly coiffed blond woman with impeccable makeup.

“I hope so, Zenia,” Sadie said, reading the woman’s red name tag on her white lab coat. “I’d like to get some information about your establishment and the services you offer.”

“Of course! I’m the owner of Jonelle’s and I’m thrilled to answer any questions you may have.”

The first question she wanted to ask was why it was called Jonelle’s if the owner’s name was Zenia. Instead, Sadie smiled in a friendly way and took the glossy brochure Zenia handed to her. The woman’s perfect little nose wrinkled up and she sniffed the air. She frowned at Sadie and Sadie blushed in return.

Damned devil’s dung!

“So, um, you sure have a lot of services.” Sadie glanced over the menu of treatments offered and wondered what the hell a detoxifying thalassotherapy bath entailed. It sounded painful.

“Yes. We have nine treatment rooms,” she said proudly. “And as you can see”—she indicated glass shelving behind her—“we have an entire line of products from shampoos and oils to fragrances all created and designed specifically for Jonelle’s.”

“Would it be possible to have a tour?” Sadie asked.

“We usually require an appointment for a full tour. . . .”

“I understand, and I’m sorry for just popping in. You see, my sister is getting married and I’m maid of honor, so I’m charged with finding the perfect spa for the pre-wedding treatments for my sister and all seven bridesmaids,” Sadie lied hurriedly. “I’ve been busy and thought I’d drop in on my way to work.”

“Well, of course. I can show you around the rooms that aren’t in use.” She smiled broadly and buzzed someone on the intercom to watch the desk.

When another slim, perfectly coiffed blonde around the same age as Zenia showed up to answer the phones, Sadie began to wonder if there was a cloning machine that produced blond estheticians in the back as well. Before they started off on the grand tour, Zenia showed off some of the product line on the front shelves. She once again wrinkled her nose and Sadie found herself wishing she’d left her purse containing the conjure bag back in her car.

“You know, before the tour I’d like to introduce you to one of our most popular products.” Zenia took down a small bright blue bottle and held it up. “It’s our signature fragrance. It has notes of peony and magnolia.”

She spritzed a little in the air and Sadie leaned in.

“That’s very nice.” But a little strong.

“May I?” She grabbed Sadie’s wrist and squirted a large amount of the perfume there and then pumped a couple more squirts on Sadie’s clothes. “Oops! Sorry!”

Sadie coughed.

Great. Now I smell like devil’s dung dipped in flowers.

“I think you’ll be quite impressed with our premises,” Zenia said, motioning for Sadie to follow her around the corner and through an etched-glass door.

They slipped down a long hallway painted in a warm brown color. Gold filigree wall sconces provided just enough lighting that you didn’t walk into a wall. The hall opened into what Zenia called the Relaxation Room, where clients waited for their treatments. The Relaxation Room was huge. There was a fountain in the center surrounded by golden-colored plush chairs. Classical music played in the background and a table in the corner held assorted dried fruits, nuts, and pitchers of filtered water with cucumber slices. A few women in white robes lounged, reading magazines. Sadie snagged a handful of nuts as they went by.

“I wanted to ask about what happened here a couple weeks ago,” Sadie said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zenia replied, her voice now at a mere whisper. “These rooms are our massage rooms.” She pointed to a row of closed doors and paused to open one. Centered in the room was a massage table draped in pristine white sheets. A pink orchid was centered on the pillow. Sadie wanted to crawl onto that table and nap for a year.

“We use aromatic eye pillows and scented essential therapy oils. You’re offered a heated pillow for your neck as well. Our massages restore balance to mind and body,” Zenia said, her voice singsong.

“I guess. . . .” Sadie added doubt to her tone. “But I’m sure that woman who was killed here didn’t exactly find balance to her mind and body.”

All of a sudden Sadie was dragged inside a massage room, and Zenia shut the door firmly behind them.

“Are you a reporter?” she hissed, grabbing Sadie by the arms and shaking her.

“N-no.” Sadie’s teeth clanged together and she pulled herself free. “My sister is getting married and I’m in charge of choosing the spa. Like I said.” Sadie cleared her throat and straightened her spine and raised her voice. “My sister
insisted
that I check out Jonelle’s as one of the options because she wants an upper-end spa; however, some of the other bridesmaids were concerned because of that woman who was shot to death while having a massage.”

“Shh!” Zenia cleared her throat and straightened the lapels of her lab coat with shaky hands. “Sorry about grabbing you. We can’t be too careful. Business is down seventy-five percent since that incident.” She patted down a few wayward strands of hair. “Yesterday I had some tabloid journalist show up as a client and she had a tiny camera hiding under her robe. People are canceling left, right, and center. At this rate, Jonelle’s will have to shut its doors.” She pinched together her perfectly pink lips and still a small sob escaped. “This place is my magnum opus!” She waved her arms around.

Sadie thought that was a high accolade to apply to a place that basically polished toenails and rubbed shoulders, but as someone who mopped blood for a living, she wasn’t about to knock Zenia’s achievements.

“I’m sure business will pick up.” Sadie patted her on the back. “After all, what happened wasn’t the spa’s fault . . . was it?”