2 Bodies for the Price of 1 (24 page)

“Not yet, but we’re working on it.” Jack pulled a grainy black and white photo from a file and handed it to her. “Do you recognize her?”

It was a woman standing in front of an ATM, wearing sunglasses, her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail like she often wore hers.

“She looks a little like me.”

“But do you recognize anything about her? What she’s wearing maybe?”

“The sunglasses are Bulgari, the watch is a Rolex, the shirt is Ralph Lauren, and…” She looked up. “Do you have a magnifying glass?”

He opened a drawer and rummaged for a few seconds, finally producing one.

She held it over the photo. “And the earrings are Slane and Slane.” She handed back the magnifying glass.

Jack’s dark eyebrows shot up. “O—kay.” He frowned. “How’d you do that?”

“Retail is my life, Detective.”

He took a few notes. “I need for you to check your credit card receipts to see if anything she’s wearing was charged to your accounts. We got lucky—when she tried to make a second cash withdrawal after the first one, the ATM kept the card. We’re running it now for prints. And the local stations are going to air the photo and ask for phone-in tips.” He handed her a photocopied form. “This is the request that the DMV processed to issue a duplicate of your driver’s license. Do you recognize the signature?”

“It looks like mine.”

“But you didn’t fill out this form?”

“No. Where was the duplicate mailed?”

“A post office box at the mall, in your name.”

She frowned. “I don’t have a box at the mall.”

He held up another form. “Yes, you do. And who knows how many bills you have waiting for you there.

Now,
why
the thief would rent a box so close to where you work, I can’t explain—it makes no sense.” He shrugged. “Then again, she did jump off a bridge.”

Carlotta puffed out her cheeks in a shaky exhale. “This could go on and on.”

“So let me help you.”

She lifted her gaze to his and was confounded by the sincerity she saw there. Her impressions of Jack revolved through her head like slot machine wheels and kept coming up with the confusing—and losing—combination of good, bad and sexy.

“Carlotta, please. I want to.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay. I’m not in a position to say no. I’m drowning here.”

He set aside the papers, leaned forward and sandwiched her hand in both of his. “I’m sorry if you’re angry with me. But let me tell you the view from where I’m standing. I see a beautiful, sexy, intelligent young woman who’s had to fight like a tigress for everything she has because her good-for-nothing father didn’t have the balls to face his failures. I see her shrinking from men who care about her. I see what his rejection has done to her. And I want to bring this son of a bitch to justice so that maybe she can get on with her life.”

Carlotta sat mesmerized by his intensity, her heart thumping in her chest. Well, if he put it
that
way….

“Am I interrupting something?”

She looked up to see Liz Fischer standing there, holding a dress bag over her shoulder. Carlotta withdrew her hand from Jack’s and pushed to her feet.

Jack stood a heartbeat later. “No. Carlotta and I were discussing business but we’re finished.”

Liz flicked her gaze over Carlotta and smiled. “You’re looking good, Carlotta, considering I attended your funeral yesterday. Lucas filled me in this morning.” She gave Jack a sardonic look. “Although you could’ve mentioned it.”

“You know I couldn’t,” he said evenly.

She gave Carlotta a “girlfriend” eye-roll. “The man is useless when it comes to pillow talk.”

Carlotta averted her gaze. “I should be going.”

“Oh, stay,” Liz said. “Tell me what you think of the dress I’m wearing to Jack’s big awards dinner.”

“Liz, I don’t think—” Jack began.

“Jack is receiving an important award,” Liz interrupted, unzipping the bag.

“So I’ve heard,” Carlotta murmured.

Liz opened the bag to reveal a dazzling platinum-colored gown with beaded trim.

“Badgley Mischka,” Carlotta said, nodding. “It’s…stunning.” She cut her gaze to Jack. “And it’ll look beautiful with a gray tux.”

“Won’t it?” Liz gushed. “I haven’t bought shoes yet though. Maybe I’ll drop by Neiman’s and let you help me decide on a pair.”

Jack stared at the floor.

Carlotta knew when she was being put in her place. And she had no desire to compete with Liz over Jack’s “meat.” The woman was welcome to him. “Sure Liz, I’d be happy to.” She looked at Jack. “Thanks for helping me to get this all straightened out.”

He nodded, but seemed unable to speak.

“I know the way out,” she said, turning toward the exit. “You two have fun.”

33

C
arlotta couldn’t get out of the police station fast enough. No matter where she looked, the image of Jack and Liz as a couple loomed in front of her.

Since the mall was only a short distance away, she decided it was as good a time as any to drop by Neiman’s and start working her way back into everyone’s good graces. As luck would have it, the first person she ran into was Patricia Alexander, who pursed her mouth and drew herself up primly.

“Well, if it isn’t the woman whose funeral I attended yesterday.”

“I, um, am sorry about that,” Carlotta said. “I guess you heard.”

“You could say that.” Patricia glared at her. “That was some trick you pulled. People were upset and took off work on a busy Saturday to attend your service. Who knows how many sales I missed out on?”

Carlotta blinked at the woman’s intensity. “Like I said, I’m sorry. Is Michael working today?”

“Yes. I assume he had some commissions to make up, too.” Patricia turned her back and Carlotta gave her the finger, then made her way to the shoe department. Michael was helping a customer when she caught his attention. He motioned to the stock room and she followed him inside.

“You gave everyone quite a scare, missy.”

“I’m sorry…there was a mixup.”

“I know. I heard it on the news this morning. Are you feeling better?”

“Um, yes.”

“Sorry that I don’t have time to talk but I’m kind of swamped here.”

“I understand, and I heard from Patricia how everyone needs to recoup sales from being out yesterday.”

He sighed. “She’s not so bad—just abrupt.”

A worm of jealousy worked its way through her chest. Michael and that woman were becoming friends?

“I just have a question—do you happen to remember the name of the florist that delivered the roses the other day?”

“No, why?”

She gave a little shrug. “Like you said, I might have a secret admirer and I’m trying to find out who sent them.”

“Sorry, I don’t remember. When are you coming back to work?”

“Next Monday.”

“Okay, we’ll catch up then.”

Carlotta nodded and left. She couldn’t blame him for being irritated with her. He’d thought she was dead, after all. No wonder he was making a new friend.

She needed to give him some space, then try to repair the friendship that she’d neglected. Outside the mall she hailed a cab and gave the address for Moody’s Cigar Bar. She knew it would be slow with the lounge upstairs being closed on Sunday, and she wanted to thank June for lending her shoulder the last time she’d been in.

And okay, she was craving a big, thick torpedo.

Cigar, that is.

When she pushed open the door to the quaint establishment, the bell tinkled and she was greeted with the comforting tang of tobacco in the air. The gleaming ebony horseshoe-shaped counter grounded the art-deco style showroom. The deep, narrow room was lined with glass cabinets of cigar boxes, lighters, ashtrays and canisters of loose tobacco. A smoker’s paradise and the domain of June Moody, who had inherited the place from her father.

The owner herself was descending the stairs in the back of the room that led to the wine and martini bar.

She was impeccably dressed as always, her blond hair and makeup perfect. But when June saw Carlotta, her step faltered and she gripped the hand railing.

“It’s me, June. Alive and well.”

The woman’s face was a mask of disbelief. “What on
earth?
”

Carlotta smiled. “If you got a cigar, I got a story.”

June walked toward her, smiling wide. “Grab a seat at the bar. What’s your pleasure?”

“Something long and strong.”

June laughed. “Coming right up.”

Over smoldering cigars and creamed coffee, Carlotta brought her friend up to speed. “I’m sorry for deceiving everyone. I appreciate you coming to the service yesterday.”

The older woman shook her head. “Honey, you do seem to find trouble.”

“Trouble finds me,” Carlotta corrected.

June drew on her cigar and exhaled elegantly. “So what do you make of this woman who stole your identity and committed suicide?”

“I don’t know what to think. I don’t know who it could be or why she picked me.”

“Maybe because she resembled you.”

Carlotta tapped ash into a glass ashtray. “So maybe she knew me?”

“Could be. Maybe a customer? You must see hundreds of people every day, or should I say, they see you.”

“The woman rented a P.O. box at the mall in my name, so there could be a connection to my job, I suppose.”

June glanced up and smiled at someone through the window. “Speaking of long and strong.”

Carlotta looked up to see Coop walking in, carrying a cigar box. His face lit up when he saw her and she was equally pleased to see him in a situation that didn’t involve a dead body. He looked handsome and appealing in a pair of worn jeans and a faded red T-shirt that molded to his buff chest and arms—who knew that lifting bodies could result in those kinds of guns? With his lean build, he was probably a runner, she decided.

Which was good, considering he might have to outrun Hannah some day.

“Carlotta was just filling me in on all the drama,” June said. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“I thought you and Wesley were working together today,” Carlotta said.

Coop shook his head. “I wanted some time off and I thought he could use it too.”

Carlotta smiled but wondered why Wesley had lied and where he’d gone today.

So much for no more secrets.

June set a cup of coffee in front of him and reclaimed her seat. “What do you have in the box?”

“It’s for you,” he said, pushing it toward her. “For all the cigar boxes you’ve given me.”

June opened the lid and gasped. “Oh, Cooper, it’s wonderful!”

Carlotta peered inside, and her mouth fell open. “That’s this bar!”

Inside the cigar box was a miniature replica of the first floor of Moody’s bar, down to the most minute detail—the horseshoe bar, the red and black checkerboard tile floor, the lettering on the windows, even tiny cigars in the tiny cigar boxes inside the tiny glass cabinets that lined the room.

“It’s incredible,” Carlotta breathed. “How did you do this?”

“One small piece at a time,” he said.

“How long did it take?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been working on it for months, a few hours at a time.” He shrugged. “It keeps my hands busy.”

“I love it,” June said. “Thank you, Cooper. I’ll always cherish it.” She gave him a hug and a kiss, and Carlotta wondered briefly if he reminded her of the son she said was in the army. They would probably be around the same age.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes,” June said, “I’ll see to those customers.”

Carlotta looked at her watch. “Actually, I’m sorry—I should be going.”

“Already?” Coop said, his disappointment clear.

“This identity theft is wreaking havoc with my credit. I have a lot of paperwork at home.”

“Do you have your car back?”

“No, I’ll grab a cab.”

“I’ll take you,” he offered. “It’s a nice day for a drive.”

She smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”

They said goodbye to June, then Carlotta followed Coop outside into the sunshine, wondering why she hadn’t noticed before now that it was indeed a beautiful summer day, with unusually balmy temperatures and a nice breeze.

“Hope you don’t mind getting your hair messed up,” he said, stopping next to an immaculate white antique Corvette convertible with red leather interior.

“Wow, are you kidding? Coop, this is magnificent. What model year is this?”

“Seventy-two.”

“I love convertibles.”

He unlocked the door for her and opened it. “I know. I got a glimpse of your Miata inside your garage when I picked up Wesley a time or two.”

She swung inside, delighting in the compact interior. “I adore that car, but it’s been out of commission for a while.”

He closed her door, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in. “You don’t like the Monte Carlo?

It has pretty good engine pickup, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, it’s a muscle car. And it’s my own fault that I’m stuck with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I bought it when the manufacturer was having a twenty-four hour test drive offer.” She smiled wryly. “I needed something to drive for a special occasion and I had every intention of taking it back before the twenty-four hours expired.”

Coop laughed and started the engine. “Uh-oh, I think I can guess the next part.”

“I was arrested and the car was impounded and by the time I got it out, the car was officially mine.”

He laughed harder and put the car into gear. “On second thought, I couldn’t have guessed the next part.

You are one extreme woman, Carlotta Wren. Do you care if we take the long way home?”

“Not at all.” She returned his grin and lowered her sunglasses as they pulled into traffic. Coop was full of surprises and all of them so far had been good. As they wound their way around the more picturesque back roads of the city, Carlotta sneaked a peek at his profile, enjoying the relaxed way he held his body and the play of his thigh muscles beneath his jeans when he mashed the clutch.

The interior of the car was pristine down to the most tedious detail—not unlike the care he had put into the miniature vignette for June. She had heard of his exacting hobby, but hadn’t seen any of his work.