Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (32 page)

waiting to have a charm bracelet signed. While they

waited, Mitchel had snapped a couple of candids of

Carlotta as she worked with Eva. In one, she was laughing

at something, and although she’d never considered herself

particularly photogenic, she was surprised that it was a

decent photo—flattering even.

Coop smiled and picked it up. “Can I have this?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

He lifted the lid of one of the empty cigar boxes and

dropped the photo inside. “Did Peter leave?”

“No, he’s upstairs with a col eague.” She put the rest of

the photos back in the envelope and shoved them into her

purse, talking around her cigar. “Jack called and said he

needed to talk to me about something, that he’d meet me

here.”

“Maybe they’ve found Michael Lane’s body,” Coop said.

“Maybe,” she agreed, then looked at June. “Does the

name ‘Alicia Sil s’ mean anything to you?”

She noticed Coop stiffen.

June frowned. “The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Could she be a customer?”

“Carlotta,” Coop said, his tone a warning.

“Wait a minute,” June said. “Isn’t she the woman I read

about in the paper—the one they think is a victim of The

Charmed Kil er?”

Coop looked away as if to say he wanted no part of the

discussion.

“Uh…is she?” Carlotta said.

June frowned. “Why would you think she might be a

customer of mine?”

Carlotta bit her lip.

“Never mind,” June said, lifting her hand. “I don’t need to

know why. Let me check.”

When June walked away, Coop gave Carlotta a pointed

look. “Jack would crucify you if he knew you were asking

questions about his case.”

“What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Coop’s expression suddenly changed and he turned in the

opposite direction.

“What don’t I know?”

She whirled around to see Jack standing there. And even

though he was wearing a different shirt, from the haggard

lines on his face, it was clear he stil hadn’t been to bed.

“Uh, nothing.”

“I know nothing?”

“No—you know everything, Jack,” she said breezily.

June came back and leaned over the counter. “Carlotta, I

didn’t find Alicia Sil s’s name in my customer database.”

Next to her, Carlotta could almost hear the blood vessels

bursting in Jack’s head. “Thanks for checking, June.” She

turned and flashed her brightest smile at Jack.

His face was nearly purple. “I told you not to talk about the

case!”

“Relax. June doesn’t know why I was asking. And now you

can cross a possible connection to Moody’s off the list.”

His mouth tightened. “No one confirmed that the second

charm is what you think it is.”

“It was a cigar, Jack. I saw it with my own eyes. And you’re

welcome.” She crossed her arms. “Now, what did you

want to talk about?”

He pul ed his hand down his face and appeared to be

counting to himself. When he looked around, apparently

to make sure no one was within earshot, she started to

worry. “What is it, Jack?”

“Your father’s name came up as a possible suspect for our

serial kil er.”

Her mouth opened. “What? How?”

“His name was spit out of the system. He fits a profile.”

“Maria’s profile?” she asked drily. “The same one that I

fit?”

He glared. “The one you fit wasn’t for a murderer, just a

meddler. Which you are.”

“Why would my father be flagged as a possible suspect?”

“Because he has a record…”

“And?”

“And he was known as a bit of a…womanizer.”

She set her jaw. “I know. What else?”

“He might have known Alicia Sil s.”

Her eyes went wide. “How?”

“She used to work in the same building where your father

worked.”

“Jack, there are thousands of people working in that

building on any given day.”

“I know, but there are also the charms.”

She frowned. “What about them?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “You have to promise me not

to repeat any of this to anyone.”

She swallowed hard under his piercing gaze. “Okay.”

“Goddammit, I mean it, Carlotta.”

“I said okay.”

He looked dubious, then sighed. “There’s a theory that the

charms might have something to do with the identity of

the murderer.”

“I’m confused. What does that have to do with my

father?”

“When your father disappeared, he got the name ‘The

Bird’ from his last name.”

“And for flying the coop,” she added. “I know—I heard it

all. So they think the bird charm has something to do with

my dad?” She made a face. “That’s a stretch.”

“Carlotta, two women are dead. The department is pul ing

out all the stops here. Do you remember if your dad was a

cigar smoker?”

Her thoughts went to the box of cigars still sitting on his

nightstand in the bedroom at the end of the hall. They’d

dried out long ago, but she stil smel ed the scent of

tobacco the few times she’d gone in to dust or run the

vacuum. “Yes, he was.”

“And what about the charms themselves?” he asked.

“Does that mean anything to you? Did your dad ever buy

them or did your mother have a bracelet?”

“No, Mother didn’t have a charm bracelet,” she said. “But I

do.”

“Where did you get it?”

She hesitated, then said, “Dad bought it for me.”

“Do you stil have it?”

“It’s buried in my jewelry box somewhere.”

“Find it. I’m going to need to see it.”

She nodded. “Of course.” Unbidden tears fil ed her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently, leaning in. “I’ve told you before

that I can’t take the tears. This is just a theory. Don’t get

worked up about it.”

Carlotta sniffed and blinked rapidly. She looked up to find

Coop watching her from a few feet away. He looked

concerned and walked toward them.

“Is everything okay?”

She nodded.

“What’s going on here?”

At the sound of Peter’s voice, she turned around to see

him flanking her as wel . “Nothing, Peter…I’m fine. I was

just leaving.”

“I’l drive you home,” the three men said in unison, then

exchanged frowns.

“No,” she said loudly, chopping the air with her hand. “I’l

drive myself home. Good night.”

Carlotta left, suddenly nursing a headache, her throat

aching from unshed tears. In the space of one day she’d

gone from having someone tel her that Randolph was a

great guy to hearing that he might be a serial kil er.

She couldn’t bring herself to think of her father as a

murderer, someone who kil ed for kicks…but then again,

how wel did she really know Randolph? Who knew what

crimes he might have committed in the ten years he’d

been gone? Jack was wil ing to dismiss the idea of her

father committing the armed robbery at the hotel in

Florida based on the fingerprint match algorithm. But she

had the benefit of knowing that Randolph actually had

been in the area.

Which greatly improved the odds that he was the culprit.

Even though it was relatively early when she arrived home,

Wesley was already in his room, the door closed and the

fan running. With the pil in her purse stil weighing on her

mind, she lifted her hand to knock, but changed her mind.

She couldn’t take any more confrontations today, and she

needed to talk to him when he wasn’t half-asleep. She

opened the door just enough to make sure he was in bed

and okay.

Wesley looked much like he had when he was little,

sleeping on his back, with his arms thrown wide, his chest

moving up and down. It was hard sometimes to believe

that he was nineteen, a ful -grown man as everyone liked

to remind her. And she had to admit that even if she

couldn’t share all her worries with her brother, having him

in the house was a comfort to her.

She closed the door and traipsed to the kitchen to grab a

carton of yogurt from the fridge, then crawled into bed

and went to sleep watching celebrity news. Idle

entertainment was a welcome escape from the drama of

her life. She dozed and slept fitful y, dodging nightmares

about her father. In her dreams she searched for him, but

he was always out of reach. Yet somehow he always

hovered over her, God-like, pressuring her.

Carlotta awoke with a start to a dark room. Her pil ow was

wet from tears and she had an eerie feeling lingering from

her dreams that she was being watched. She longed for a

warm body next to her, someone to reassure her, and she

reminded herself that any one of her three men would’ve

been wil ing to oblige tonight.

Yet as long as she put off making a decision, she was

destined to wake up alone…and lonely.

22

When Carlotta rol ed out of bed the next morning, her arm

twinged with pain and her head stil throbbed. She

downed a couple of Advils and took a quick shower,

hoping to catch Wesley before he left the house so she

could talk to him about the OxyContin tablet. But when

she emerged from her bedroom, he was already gone. He

had, however, made coffee, as wel as washed, dried and

folded a load of laundry. The simple domestic chores

demonstrated the paradox of her brother’s personality—

he could be so reckless one minute, so thoughtful the

next.

Then again, one of the symptoms of oxycodone addiction

was mood swings. How long had this been going on under

her nose? All the trouble he’d gotten into over the past

couple of years—the gambling debts, the arrest for

hacking into the city computer system, even conspiring to

have a body stolen during transport—paled in comparison

to the danger of this new threat. Something was definitely

up because he was avoiding her. She felt sick to her

stomach just thinking about the confrontation, but it had

to happen. Carlotta picked up the phone and dialed

Wesley’s cel phone number. When he didn’t answer, she

hung up, frowning in puzzlement. Where could he be?

Then she smiled in realization—of course! He’d probably

started his courier job today.

Feeling much relieved, she walked to the table where the

clothes had been neatly stacked. She lifted a snowy-white

handkerchief from the pile and pressed her face into it. It

was Jack’s. Like every good Southern boy, he always had

one in his back pocket to attend to whatever emergency

presented itself, be it a bloody nose or a crying woman.

Single-handedly, she’d probably depleted most of his

inventory—she had a laundered stack of them in her

dresser drawer. She’d have to make a point to give them

back to him sometime.

Now that Jack had decided that she should marry Peter,

she could clean up her messes with his

handkerchiefs…which were probably monogrammed.

The image of Peter’s face tugged on her heart. He’d been

so kind last night—his offer to help her figure out whether

or not her father had been framed went beyond generous.

The fact that he was wil ing to put his career on the line to

help her find answers to the questions that had plagued

her all her adult life meant more than she could express.

Something had changed between them last night. She had

felt herself warming toward Peter, could feel it even now.

It was as if they were drifting back together…or rather, she

was drifting and he was calmly moored, waiting for her. It

made her feel…hopeful.

On impulse, she called Peter, and soon his muffled voice

came over the line. “Hello?”

“It’s Carly. I’m sorry I’d forgotten it’s Saturday. Were you

sleeping in?”

“No, I’m up,” he said sleepily. “How are you today?”

“Good. Better. I’m sorry I left the cigar bar so abruptly last

night. Jack had some upsetting news and I needed to be

alone.”

“I asked him what you’d talked about, but he wouldn’t tel

me.”

“You’re not going to believe this. My dad’s name came up

as a possible suspect in The Charmed Kil er case.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“I thought so, too, but Jack’s new partner is a profiler, so I

guess they’re tackling this one by the book. I know Jack’s

just doing his job.”

Peter made a sound that implied he didn’t give the man

that much credit. “Are you working today?”

“No, it’s my day off. But I have errands to run and there’s

plenty to be done around here.”

“Can I see you tonight?”

She smiled into the phone. “That sounds good. Dinner?”

“Great. Pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date,” she said, realizing she was truly looking

forward to spending time with him. “See you then.”

She hung up the phone and carried Wesley’s folded

clothes to his room, setting them on the foot of his bed. All

the while, she kept one eye on the thick python coiled up

in the aquarium. The reptile was motionless as a little

white mouse crawled al over it, cavorting and twitching,

oblivious to the fact that as soon as the snake either got

hungry or annoyed, it was lights out. Carlotta shuddered,

left the room and closed the door behind her.