Drop Dead Beauty (5 page)

Sadie blushed to her roots just listening to his voice. He wouldn’t sound nearly so happy-go-lucky when she told him their little romp around her house had slipped one by the goalie. She hung up the phone and sighed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re awake because I’ve been thinking about how you can help me clear my name,” Petrovich told her. “I’ve got the perfect plan.”

Sadie cringed at the idea of doing detective work, but truth was, she owed it to the detective. She placed Hairy back on the floor and then got up from her bed.

“Fine. I’ll listen to your plan, but can I shower first?”

She didn’t wait for his response but snagged her housecoat from the hook on the back of her bedroom door and walked to the bathroom. Stripping off the clothes she had fallen asleep in, Sadie stepped into the hot spray. She lathered shampoo into her hair, rinsed, and squirted on conditioner. While she waited for the conditioner to fix what a hundred dye jobs had damaged, she began to think about Zack. Then Owen. Her hand went protectively to her stomach and she burst into tears.

When she got out of the shower her face was puffy and her eyes were pink and red-rimmed. Wrapping the housecoat around her body, she opened the bathroom door and shrieked in surprise.

“Oh my God! You scared the shit out of me!” Sadie cried at the sight of Maeva standing outside the hall. “We really need to talk about the proper use of an emergency spare key.” She waggled a finger in Maeva’s face. “Here’s a hint: It’s for
emergencies
.”

“This is an emergency,” Maeva exclaimed with hands on her hips. “I’ve been calling your cell and home phone all night and you haven’t answered either! You promised to call me after your job last night. I’ve been worried sick!”

“Oh.” Sadie dragged her fingers through her wet hair. “Sorry about that. I fell asleep. Before that my cell phone ended up in a McDonald’s toilet somewhere near Auburn.”

Sadie made her way to the kitchen and poured herself some orange juice. Maeva helped herself to a glass of water and they sat together at the kitchen table.

“So, apparently, my new so-called talents aren’t giving me a free ride with suicides either,” Sadie grumbled as she slurped her juice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, usually it’s a quiet cleanup time for me around a suicide clean. You know that. But this time, I began getting woozy and feeling stoned. Luckily I got the hell out of Dodge before the victim’s overdose totally did me in.”

“Oh no.” Maeva looked seriously at Sadie. “I guess that settles it. You’re off work for a while.”

Sadie tilted her head and regarded her friend coolly.

“Maeva, in a few months I’m going to be a single mom. If anything, I need to be working my ass off just to be able to afford a couple months off.” She put her glass down.

“Then we definitely need a plan,” Maeva announced firmly. “Have you done the math?”

“In my head. I last had sex ten weeks, two days and four hours ago.”

“You did that in your head?”

“What can I say?” Sadie shrugged. “I’ve been in a bit of a dry spell and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. My doctor appointment is in an hour.”

Maeva’s phone chirped and she glanced at the text message.

“I should’ve thought of this before,” she said, hitting her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I should take you to see Rudie.”

“Who’s Rudie?”

“Rudie Hernon. He’s a friend of mine and also kind of a mentor to Seattle psychics and mediums.”

Sadie walked over to the cupboard and took out Hairy’s kibble. She filled his bowl with food and his other with fresh water. Hairy hopped over and sniffed his food but seemed less than impressed.

“How come I’ve never heard you mention him before?”

“Well . . . Rudie is different. Kind of an odd duck. Still, if anybody will be able to help you, it’ll be him.” Maeva made shooing motions. “Go get ready and I’ll make you a piece of toast to munch on the way.”

Sadie thought about all of Maeva’s misfit friends and associates, and now she was extremely curious to see what kind of person Maeva considered to be an “odd duck.”

Sadie left Maeva in the kitchen and made her way to her bedroom, followed by Hairy. When she entered the room Dean appeared shortly after, looking pissed.

“I wanted to talk to you about the idea I had for helping me get out of this mess,” he said.

Sadie opened drawers and pulled out jeans, a T-shirt, and under things.

“I know, but Maeva has an idea for someone who can help me with my situation.”

“You’re not going to see some back-alley doctor, are you? I mean, I’m all for women’s rights and all but—”

Sadie frowned at him.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Her hand went protectively to her belly. “Since this new hormonal situation has developed, I’ve had difficulty speaking to the dead, and actually, I physically experience the pain of how the person died. When that feeling takes over, I can’t communicate with the dead and I can’t help them go over.”

“That’s weird.”

Sadie sighed.

“My life is weird.”

“So given your current state you couldn’t even go to that Jonelle’s Day Spa and talk to Jane, could you?”

“I don’t see how I can talk to your dead ex-wife in my current state,” Sadie admitted. She put a fist to her stomach as acid crawled up her throat.

Hairy was hopping around Dean, obviously wanting some attention.

“Fine.” He nodded. “You go and try and fix that and I’ll share my idea with you when you get back.”

“She’s also bringing me to my doctor appointment—afterward you can tell me about your idea. Meanwhile, share your idea with Hairy. He’s a real good listener.”

Dean glanced down at the rabbit with a pained look on his face.

“This is what things have come to. I’m hiding out in a psychic’s house while wanted for the murder of my ex-wife and the only one I have to listen to me is a bunny rabbit.”

Sadie did feel sorry for Dean, but at the moment her life wasn’t exactly rainbows and buttercream frosting either.

After chomping down some antacids, Sadie left the house. Maeva drove with Sadie in the passenger seat nibbling peanut butter on toast and wishing it was birthday cake.

“There’s a lot of pressure to eat right when you’re pregnant,” Sadie said, eyeing the last bite of toast critically. “How do you totally change your habits for nine months?”

“If you’re nursing, it’s even longer than nine months,” Maeva remarked, stopping for a red light.

Sadie groaned. “I never thought of that. How did you do it?”

“You just keep telling yourself that you’re growing a little human being inside your body and that everything you consume has to help them grow.”

“You kept telling yourself that and it worked?”

“Not all the time, but Terry was really supportive too. Being a caterer, he would make me tons of really healthy meals. Sometimes I’d fall off the wagon and I’d tell Terry I was on my way to visit you, but I’d drive to 7-Eleven instead. I’d sit in my car drinking a Slurpee and devouring M&M’s and an entire canister of Pringles by myself.”

“So you screwed up once in a while. You’re still pretty perfect.”

“It was a weekly ritual.” Maeva steered into a parking spot in front of Sadie’s doctor’s office and put the car in park. “Sometimes twice a week.” Maeva nodded toward the door to the building. “You ready?”

Sadie thought she was ready, but by the time she’d finished the physical examination by her doctor she felt like he owed her dinner at a French restaurant. Also, she had so much information in paper form in her hands and floating around inside her head that she thought she was going to explode.

“It’s a lot to absorb at first,” Maeva told her when they got back to her car. “But it’ll all be fine. You’ll see.”

Next, Maeva took Sadie to the mall.

“Before we visit Rudie, we need to replace your cell phone so you can join the rest of dysfunctional society.”

Half an hour later they left the mall with her new phone set up under her old account. Text messages and e-mails began to roll in, and as Sadie buckled up into the passenger seat, she cursed.

“That’s another thing you’ll have to give up,” Maeva pointed out. “Swearing is a big no-no. Good thing you have a lot of time to change your vocabularly before the baby starts to talk. You can wait a year or so before you start replacing
shit
for
ship
.”

“I’ve got three missed calls from Owen,” Sadie said.

“Shit,” Maeva said. “You’d better call him.” She began to drive toward their next destination.

“I can’t just call him up on the phone and say, ‘You know that time you came over and we had sex multiple times? Well, remember that one time you didn’t use a condom?’”

“Just start by calling him up and asking when he’s coming into town next, and then you can decide exactly how and when to tell him.”

“Good plan. But I’ll just text him instead of calling.” Sadie began texting away and then hit send.

“So what did you say?” Maeva asked.

“I said I’m really busy with work this week and I’ll talk to him in a few days.”

“Chicken.”

“Got that right.”

Sadie’s phone chimed twice and Maeva raised her eyebrows.

“One message is from Owen saying he’ll call me later. He’s very persistent.” Sadie sighed. “The next message is from Zack saying he’s looking forward to our movie date and asking if I’ve decided on a show yet.”

“You can’t be dating Zack while you know you’re pregnant with another man’s baby!” Maeva shouted. Then she added in a calmer voice, “You need to tell him immediately; then give him time to absorb the news before you go on another date with him.”

“So who gets told first then? Zack or Owen?”

“Both. Preferably in the next twenty-four hours.” She accelerated into traffic and shook her head. “Today we’re going to see what we can do to help out with your psychic dilemma, and tomorrow I’m going to help you to tell people. And when I say
people
, I mean everyone: Zack, Owen, your sister, and your mom.”

“What!”

“This is a rip-the-bandage-off-quick situation,” Maeva advised wisely. “You’ll feel better once everyone knows.”

Sadie used up every curse word in her vocabulary and then said, “I doubt that’ll make anything better.”

Soon Maeva steered her car to the curb near the corner of Thomas Street and First Avenue downtown. They got out of the car and Sadie glanced warily at the sign.

K
ING
C
ITY
P
OTTERY
H
UT
. Underneath in script it said,
Unleash Your Creativity!

“I really don’t need anything ceramic. The last time I tried to make something out of clay it was an ashtray in first grade that looked more like a deformed pancake.”

“We’re not here for pottery,” Maeva replied. “Rudie Hernon owns this place and he’s someone who might be able to help you. He helps all kinds of psychics, mediums, and sensitives when they’re having skill troubles.”

“How does he do that?”

“Every case is different.”

Once inside Sadie and Maeva stopped short. There were five or six rectangular tables crammed with a couple dozen shrieking ten-year-olds. The room smelled of wet clay, paint, and the sweat of prepubescent youths. The noise level was deafening.

Maeva waved to someone across the room. When she headed in that direction Sadie followed. They stopped at a wall of floor-to-ceiling shelving where a very short man was stocking vases in various colors.

“Rudie,” Maeva called out over the sound of children’s squeals.

The guy straightened to his full height, which was about four foot eleven. He wore Coke-bottle-thick glasses and had a black mole on his cheek that had a long thick hair growing from it.

“Maeva!” the man exclaimed. He stepped forward and hugged Maeva around the waist and then reached up and punched her playfully on the shoulder. “You were supposed to bring little Osbert here so I could meet him. I’ve only seen the pictures you’ve posted on Facebook.”

“I’ll bring him by soon,” Maeva promised. She turned and introduced Sadie and had to raise her voice to be heard over the excited squeals from the tables behind them.

“My friend’s been having some trouble and I told her you're the man,” Maeva explained to Rudie.

“As you can see”—he waved his stubby arms at the mass of children—“right now I’m a busy man. You should’ve made an appointment.” Over his shoulder he shouted, “No throwing clay!” And then to an older woman chatting on her cell phone in the corner, he added, “Hey! Supervise them, will ya?”

Sulkily the older woman stuffed her phone into the pocket of her stretchy pants and snapped a wad of gum as she shuffled over to the kids and did her best to keep them under control.

“You’re absolutely right,” Maeva agreed. “And we wouldn’t’ve bothered you if it wasn’t an emergency.”

“This is your emergency?” He eyed Sadie up and down.

“Yes, that’s her.”

Sadie shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other while Rudie looked her over. Abruptly the short mole man snaked his hand out and grabbed Sadie’s fingers in his. He enveloped one of her hands in both of his, which were cool, clammy, and covered in bits of clay. At least Sadie hoped it was clay and not some kind of flaking skin infection. She shuddered.

“Let go of her hand, Rudie,” Maeva instructed.

“It’s okay,” Sadie said. “If he needs to hold my hand to get some kind of a reading off me, I’m okay with it.”

Rudie still held her hand in both of his and was staring up at her intently. Sadie looked down into his eyes and tried not to stare at the hairy mole.

“Rudie doesn’t read people. He’s just getting his rocks off by holding your hand,” Maeva said dryly.

“Eww!” Sadie squealed, retracting her fingers.

“It was worth a shot.” Rudie shrugged.

Rudie took off to the other side of the room, weaving between tables of giggling kids to reach the old lady. He talked to her a minute and she looked over Rudie’s shoulder toward Maeva and Sadie and offered them a curious stare.

“That’s Rudie’s mother,” Maeva said quietly. “She works with him here.”