arrangement? You choose the place.
My treat.”
“I don’t know. . . .”
“You have nothing to lose. At the end of the meal, if you still feel like you can’t
help, we’ll part company with no hard feelings.”
Sadie had a sudden hankering for some fish stew that she’d not been able to afford
on her beer budget.
“Fine. Etta’s on Western Avenue, seven o’clock,” she blurted before she could stop
herself.
“Good choice. See you then,” Gayla stated and quickly ended the call before Sadie
could change her mind.
After she hung up Sadie grumbled angrily to herself. She was ticked off that she’d
gotten mixed up in the whole Halladay mess. Then again, she had to reluctantly admit
that she needed the money, and helping the ghost of poor Iris Prior wouldn’t be entirely
a bad thing. Deciding she needed to get out and clear her head, Sadie slipped on shorts
and a T-shirt and headed out for a two-mile jog. She tried to run at least three times
a week. It was cheaper than joining a gym.
***
When she returned home she went around the back of the house and examined last night’s
damage. A heavy branch had split the doorjamb. There was a very large tree in her
neighbor’s yard overlooking her house. It must’ve been some gust of wind that forced
it through her back door.
She wasn’t exactly a carpenter, but she managed to use a drill and long screws to
hold the jamb together enough that the door would lock again. After that workout,
she headed for the shower, pausing only to text Zack good morning.
After she dressed she fed Hairy and took a toasted bagel with cream cheese to her
den to eat while she checked e-mails. There’d been no reply to the message sent to
Hugh Pacheo telling him that she’d completed the job. She tried the phone number she
had for him but, once again, the call went to an automated message saying the number
was not in service. Sadie wasn’t worried. People dealt with grief differently. Mr.
Pacheo could’ve suddenly taken off on a trip to visit family, or he could just be
hunkering down in a depressive state and not returning messages.
After lunch Sadie glared at her cell phone, willing it to chime with a text from Zack,
but the device remained sullen and unresponsive. Sometimes technology sucked. Twice
she started to dial his phone number and both times she put the phone back down.
Instead she decided to busy herself with work. She put a call in to the Hotel Pacifica,
the site of the second prostitute murder, to see if she could offer her cleanup services.
She had Googled the number for the hotel and discovered the name of the manager, then
punched in the main number and asked for Ms. Bev Hummel.
Although she answered the phone and politely listened to Sadie discuss the nature
of her call, the woman was understandably reluctant to talk about the recent murder
at her hotel.
“The comfort and security of the patrons here at Hotel Pacifica is my first and foremost
concern,” Bev Hummel said calmly. “At this time we are, of course, allowing investigators
free rein in the hotel to do whatever is necessary to solve this crime.”
“I appreciate that,” Sadie replied with an equally calm voice, intentionally leaving
out the desperation for work that penny-pinching can create. “This is merely a courtesy
call to let you know that my company is available to assist you in cleanup once the
police have done their job. Scene-2-Clean will work with your insurance company and,
also, you have my word that there will be no disruption or inconvenience to the patrons
of the Pacifica.”
“Did your company also assist at the recent unfortunate incident at the Bay Eminence?”
Sadie smiled because she had been hoping that Bev Hummel would ask precisely that
exact question.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to reveal my clientele,” Sadie stated smoothly.
“I think you just did, but I appreciate your
My treat.”
“I don’t know. . . .”
“You have nothing to lose. At the end of the meal, if you still feel like you can’t
help, we’ll part company with no hard feelings.”
Sadie had a sudden hankering for some fish stew that she’d not been able to afford
on her beer budget.
“Fine. Etta’s on Western Avenue, seven o’clock,” she blurted before she could stop
herself.
“Good choice. See you then,” Gayla stated and quickly ended the call before Sadie
could change her mind.
After she hung up Sadie grumbled angrily to herself. She was ticked off that she’d
gotten mixed up in the whole Halladay mess. Then again, she had to reluctantly admit
that she needed the money, and helping the ghost of poor Iris Prior wouldn’t be entirely
a bad thing. Deciding she needed to get out and clear her head, Sadie slipped on shorts
and a T-shirt and headed out for a two-mile jog. She tried to run at least three times
a week. It was cheaper than joining a gym.
***
When she returned home she went around the back of the house and examined last night’s
damage. A heavy branch had split the doorjamb. There was a very large tree in her
neighbor’s yard overlooking her house. It must’ve been some gust of wind that forced
it through her back door.
She wasn’t exactly a carpenter, but she managed to use a drill and long screws to
hold the jamb together enough that the door would lock again. After that workout,
she headed for the shower, pausing only to text Zack good morning.
After she dressed she fed Hairy and took a toasted bagel with cream cheese to her
den to eat while she checked e-mails. There’d been no reply to the message sent to
Hugh Pacheo telling him that she’d completed the job. She tried the phone number she
had for him but, once again, the call went to an automated message saying the number
was not in service. Sadie wasn’t worried. People dealt with grief differently. Mr.
Pacheo could’ve suddenly taken off on a trip to visit family, or he could just be
hunkering down in a depressive state and not returning messages.
After lunch Sadie glared at her cell phone, willing it to chime with a text from Zack,
but the device remained sullen and unresponsive. Sometimes technology sucked. Twice
she started to dial his phone number and both times she put the phone back down.
Instead she decided to busy herself with work. She put a call in to the Hotel Pacifica,
the site of the second prostitute murder, to see if she could offer her cleanup services.
She had Googled the number for the hotel and discovered the name of the manager, then
punched in the main number and asked for Ms. Bev Hummel.
Although she answered the phone and politely listened to Sadie discuss the nature
of her call, the woman was understandably reluctant to talk about the recent murder
at her hotel.
“The comfort and security of the patrons here at Hotel Pacifica is my first and foremost
concern,” Bev Hummel said calmly. “At this time we are, of course, allowing investigators
free rein in the hotel to do whatever is necessary to solve this crime.”
“I appreciate that,” Sadie replied with an equally calm voice, intentionally leaving
out the desperation for work that penny-pinching can create. “This is merely a courtesy
call to let you know that my company is available to assist you in cleanup once the
police have done their job. Scene-2-Clean will work with your insurance company and,
also, you have my word that there will be no disruption or inconvenience to the patrons
of the Pacifica.”
“Did your company also assist at the recent unfortunate incident at the Bay Eminence?”
Sadie smiled because she had been hoping that Bev Hummel would ask precisely that
exact question.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to reveal my clientele,” Sadie stated smoothly.
“I think you just did, but I appreciate your
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