2 Bodies for the Price of 1 (23 page)

“Did anyone call between the time Jack left that night and came back the next morning?”

She shook her head. “Wait—there was a phone call just before he rang the doorbell the next morning.”

“Do you remember who it was?”

“It was one of those Internet calling-card numbers.”

“Like the one Dad used to call your cell phone.”

She squinted. “How do you know that?”

“When Hannah told me that Dad had called you, I, uh, tapped into your cell phone records online.”

Her eyes bugged. “Is that legal?”

“In some countries.”

“Wesley!”

“So it was probably him that called the house that morning. When you answered, he knew you were okay, so he ignored the news reports.”

She frowned. “It sounds a little James Bond-y. Lots of people use those calling cards. It could have been a wrong number or a telemarketer.”

“It was him. Now we just wait until he calls again. You plan to stay in touch with Peter, don’t you?”

“I thought you didn’t like Peter.”

Wesley’s expression was one of pure innocence. “I never said that.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Hey, helping Dad is the least he can do to make amends.”

“You mean for dumping me?”

“Yeah.”

“So you want me to pretend to like Peter so he’ll help Dad.”

“I thought you
did
like Peter.”

“I do, but not in that way…I don’t think…yet.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just keep it in mind.”

“Okay. Meanwhile, no more secrets?”

“No more secrets.”

Carlotta went to her bedroom and closed the door. She started peeling off the costume, then used the heel of one shoe to dismantle the fire alarm and sat on the toilet to smoke two cigarettes. She managed to hold off the tears until she climbed in the shower to rid herself of the makeup on her face and neck and hands.

And then she succumbed because she felt so damned sorry for herself.

Given the choice between the wrong decision and the right one, she always managed to make the wrong one. What was it Lucas had called her in front of Jack? A charity case. God, that cut to the bone. Well, starting tomorrow she was going to get her life in order and back on track. By the time she returned to Neiman’s, she’d be ready to focus on reclaiming her spot as the store’s top salesperson.

And she was going to put her father as far out of her mind as possible. Although Wesley’s theory about why their parents hadn’t come forward made
him
feel better, she didn’t buy it for a minute. But the worst-case scenario
had
happened—her parents had rejected her even in death—and she’d lived through it.

When she emerged from her room, she felt somewhat revived. Wesley had popped corn, and they watched a dumb movie on the enormous television and laughed at the corny parts. But Carlotta kept glancing toward the kitchen where she’d become accustomed to seeing and hearing Jack. She wondered what he was doing tonight. Sharing that steak—and more—with Liz Fischer?

Later when she crawled into bed, she was bombarded with sensual images of him—the way he’d had to lie diagonally to fit on her bed, how he’d slept with his hand on the curve of her waist, the lingering male scent of him in the linens that she would wash first thing tomorrow. The memory of him standing with Liz wrapped around him was a good reminder that she simply had been a convenient fill-in. A man like Jack Terry wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship. He had told her as much and she had committed the classic female sin: thinking he would make an exception for her.

She’d be better off to turn her heart toward a man who was interested in a relationship. Like Peter.

Or maybe even Coop.

She rolled onto her back and sighed. Or maybe another man whom she hadn’t yet met….

31

S
unday, Carlotta awoke mid-morning with a headache and a craving for a cigarette. She smoked half of one while she got ready in the bathroom, then followed the scent of food to the kitchen where Wesley was already eating.

“French toast,” he said, pointing to the stove. “Oh and according to CNN, you’re alive again.”

“Thanks for letting me know. Did it come out like Lucas said, about me checking myself into a hospital for exhaustion?”

“Verbatim.”

“So instead of people thinking I’m dead, everyone thinks I had a nervous breakdown.”

“Pretty much.”

“Great. What’s on your agenda today?”

“I’m working with Coop. How about you?”

“I have so much to do, I don’t know where to start.” She glanced toward the breakfast bar where only yesterday morning Jack’s equipment had been spread out. Among the papers he’d left was her ghastly credit report. She passed it to Wesley. “Do you know anything about the accounts I circled?”

He scanned the pages and whistled low. “No…why would I?”

“Just checking. The woman who stole my identity must have opened these accounts. Jack said once I identified the bogus ones, I could file for some sort of affidavit to send to my creditors. Maybe I’ll do that today.”

“Why don’t you just file bankruptcy?”

She stabbed the French toast with her fork. “Because—starting today—we are going to be on a budget and we’re going to get all of our debt paid off, meaning
my
credit cards and
your
loan sharks.”

“At least my loan sharks don’t sell my address to junk mailers.”

“Well at least my credit card companies don’t make threatening house calls.”

“Hey, no one’s been around here in a while.”

“Yeah, for at least two weeks.” Carlotta tapped the table. “I mean it, Wesley, we’re going to get our finances in order. And that means no more surprise purchases, like massive electronic devices.”

“You seemed to enjoy the TV last night,” he said sourly.

“Sure I enjoyed it, but next time you get your hands on ten thousand dollars, we need to do other things around here. Got it? That means
no
gambling.”

He frowned. “So are you going to cut up your credit cards?”

She inhaled sharply and choked on a piece of toast.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”

“Okay, okay.” She left and returned with her wallet, from which she withdrew all of her credits cards—all thirty-seven of them.

“Jesus Christ,” Wesley said. “No wonder your credit is in the shitter.” He got up and rummaged around in a junk drawer and produced a pair of scissors. “Here you go.”

She worked her mouth from side to side. “Okay, so I need to keep a couple for emergencies.”

He picked up the Sunglass Hut credit card. “Yeah, those solar eclipses can really sneak up on you.”

She snatched up the card and cut it in two. “Happy?”

“One down.”

Carlotta stared at the pile and sulked. They were all so bright and shiny.

“Do you need for me to hold your hand?” Wesley asked dryly.

“No. I can do this.” She fished out two generic cards that she could use anywhere, then took a deep breath and began cutting like a madwoman. A few minutes later, they looked down at the colorful pile of scrap plastic.

“Wow, we could use it for mulch,” Wesley said. “If we had plants.”

She frowned. “That’s another thing. We’re going to fix this place up.”

“You just put us on a budget. Fixing the house up is going to cost money.”

“I’ll…think of something.”

She walked over to the refrigerator to get out the juice. “What’s in the casserole dish?”

“Mrs. Winningham gave it to me. It’s chicken something, I think.”

Carlotta closed the refrigerator door. “That old bat didn’t even come to my funeral.”

“Would you go to hers?”

“Probably.”

Wesley rinsed his dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “I’m outta here.”

“Isn’t Coop picking you up?”

“No…I’m riding my bike and meeting him.”

She picked up her purse. “I think I’ll go, too. I hope the trains aren’t single-tracking today.”

“When will you get your car back?”

“Who knows?”

She followed him into the living room and waited for him to pick up his backpack and jacket. Then he frowned and leaned over to pick up one of the Christmas gifts that had fallen to the floor. “Hey.” When he stood, his face was red with anger. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“You opened the gifts.” He looked stricken. “You
promised
you wouldn’t.”

She shook her head. “But I didn’t. I swear.”

Wesley extended it to her. “Well, somebody did. It’s been unwrapped and rewrapped with new tape.” He picked up another one. “This one, too…all of them.” She could tell he was holding back tears. It was the one sacred link to their parents and she’d promised never to violate it. And she hadn’t.

A ball of molten fury erupted in Carlotta’s chest as she gripped the small package.

She knew who had.

32

C
arlotta marched inside the police station, through the metal detectors and stopped at the Plexiglas window. The same woman was there as when she’d come down to find out about Wesley’s arrest—the first time she’d met Jack.

That seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Hey, I remember you,” the woman said, eyeing Carlotta’s short skirt and designer T-shirt. “Miss Too Good for the Waiting Room.”

Carlotta gave her a tight smile. “And I remember you, um…”

“Brooklyn.”

“Right. Brooklyn. I’m looking for Detective Jack Terry. Is he in?”

“What’s your name again?”

“Carlotta Wren.”

Brooklyn blinked. “The woman who was supposed to be dead?”

“That’s me—alive and kicking.” And looking for a target.

“I’ll check to see if he’s available.”

Brooklyn picked up the phone and hit a couple of buttons, then turned away from Carlotta. After a few seconds, she set down the phone. “Detective Terry is in a meeting.”

“Tell him this is important.”

“He said he’ll call you.”

Carlotta poked her tongue into her cheek. “I see.” She glanced at the woman’s hands and smiled.

“Beautiful rings.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you like jewelry?”

“Girl, who doesn’t?”

“Good point.” Carlotta fished in her purse. “Brooklyn, I have in my hand a coupon good for seventy percent off one item in the Neiman Marcus jewelry department, and it’s yours if you just open that little door over there and turn your back so I can slip through.”

One of Brooklyn’s eyebrows arched. “Hmm. Is it valid on clearance items?”

Carlotta slid the coupon under the half-moon opening. “Oh, yes.”

Brook considered the coupon, then pursed her mouth. “You’re not planning to shoot him or anything, are you?”

“No. But when I’m finished with him, he might shoot himself.”

“If you get in trouble, I don’t know you.”

“Fair enough.”

Brooklyn picked up the coupon and slid it into her pocket. “The door will be open when you get over there. Do you remember where his office is?”

“I’ll just follow the smell of a rat.”

“Good luck.”

Carlotta walked over to the door and heard a click. She opened it and stepped inside, knowing the secret of being somewhere she shouldn’t be was acting like she had every right to be there. She flashed confident smiles at everyone she passed as she wound her way back to Jack’s cubicle. He was standing in the hall talking to a uniformed officer, who was distracted by her appearance. Jack’s companion looked her up and down, his mouth forming an
O.
Jack turned to see what had the man’s attention and nearly dropped his coffee cup.

“Detective,” she said, walking up to him. “I need to talk to you.”

“How did you get back here?”

She crossed her arms. “I was hoping we could talk in private, but the hallway is fine with me.”

Jack looked at his companion. “Excuse us.” Then he shepherded Carlotta into his piled-up office and dropped into his chair. “What’s this all about?”

She leaned down until they were nose to nose.
“You opened the gifts under our tree?”

He had the decency to blanch. “I…didn’t look in them.”

“You unwrapped them, but you didn’t look in them?”

“Right.”

“You’re lying.”

He didn’t respond, only looked at her with that unreadable expression that she hated.

Her hand itched to slap him. “How dare you? I told you what those stupid gifts mean to my brother.”

“Look, by rights, those gifts should’ve been opened and searched when your parents first went missing.

They could’ve contained important information. Or maybe money for you and your brother to live on.”

“That was
our
choice to make,” she said evenly. “Mine and Wesley’s.”

“That doesn’t make sense to me.”

“It doesn’t have to.” She put her palm to her forehead. “I can’t believe I…”

“What?”

“Slept with you!” Carlotta hissed. “What was I thinking?”

He rubbed at his eyes. “Look, I tried to talk you out of it.”

“Yeah, while you were sticking your tongue down my throat.”

“Look, what’s done is done. Forget about it.”

I
have. His unspoken words hung in the air.

She gripped the shoulder strap on her purse and lifted her chin. “Well, are you going to tell me what you found inside the packages, Detective?”

Jack gave a harsh little laugh. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

She bit down on the inside of her cheek to ward off sudden tears. “You’re right. I don’t.” She removed the credit report from her purse and cleared her throat to steady her voice. “I’ve identified the accounts that I didn’t authorize. If you could point me in the right direction to get that affidavit, I’d appreciate it.”

“I can take care of it,” he said quietly.

“I’d prefer to work with someone else. I’m not a
charity case.
”

He sighed. “Carlotta, please sit down. I wasn’t trying to give you the brush-off, I really was going to call you. I have some updates, some pictures for you to look at.”

“Regarding the woman who died?”

“Yes.”

She glanced around and he quickly emptied the stack of papers from the seat of his extra chair. Carlotta lowered herself to sit on the edge. “Do you know who she is?”