Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (26 page)

Kil er. Coop had been the first to notice the foreign object

in the woman’s mouth. He had asserted the charm had

been placed postmortem, but no one had believed

him…until the second victim was discovered.

Carlotta bit her lip. How maddening would it be to possess

so much knowledge, but be dismissed due to past

mistakes? Is that why Coop had fallen into a funk? When

she’d seen him at the memorial service for A.D.A. Cheryl

Meriwether, he’d seemed a bit unkempt and withdrawn.

Even before that, when she’d sought his help in

uncovering a conspiracy against Olympic marathoner Eva

McCoy, he’d made a strange comment to her.

No matter what happens to me, no matter what I might do

or say, I don’t regret a minute I’ve spent with you.

At the time, she’d pressed him to tel her what was wrong,

but he’d sidestepped the question by saying it was nothing

she’d done. Only days before that, he had stopped by the

town house after midnight to talk to her. He had seemed

desperate, but it was the same day the police had learned

that Michael Lane had escaped, and Jack had been playing

bodyguard in her living room. Coop had acquiesced to her

request to spend the night in Wesley’s vacant bed, but

whatever he’d been on the verge of telling her had gone

undisclosed.

On a whim, Carlotta called Moody’s Cigar Bar and asked

for June, the owner. A few minutes later she came on the

line. “Hel o?”

“June, hi—it’s Carlotta. Have you by chance seen Coop?”

“It must be fate.”

Carlotta frowned. “What?”

A sigh sounded over the phone. “I’ve been wanting to call

you for days, but Coop wouldn’t let me.”

Alarm shot through her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Coop is drinking again. Not a lot, but I’m

worried. He asked me not to say anything to you and I

went along with it because I didn’t want him going

somewhere else to drink. At least here, I can keep an eye

on him.”

“Is he there now?”

“Yes, he’s upstairs in the lounge. I don’t suppose you could

stop by and make it look unplanned?”

“I could arrange to meet a friend there.”

“Please do. My son Mitchel is here, too, and Eva.”

“Eva McCoy?”

June made a happy noise. “That’s right. I wish Mitch could

extend his leave from the Army—I think something could

develop between them.”

“Good for them.”

“So I’l see you later?”

“I’l try to be there within the hour,” Carlotta promised. “If

Coop leaves, wil you cal me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks, June.”

Carlotta disconnected the call, then pressed her lips

together hard. Jack had warned her not to take ownership

of Coop’s problems, but she felt like a failed friend for not

being there at the time Coop might have confided in her.

She called Peter and he answered on the first ring.

“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” he said. “What do

you want to do tonight?”

Irritation niggled at her that he’d expected they would

spend the evening together, but she tamped it down. She

was living in his house, after al .

“I’m just leaving work. Want to meet me at Moody’s for a

drink? We can get dinner afterward if you like.”

“Sounds good. Why don’t I pick you up. We can put your

Vespa in the back of the SUV.”

Except she was hoping to talk to Coop before Peter got

there. “I have an errand to run near the bar,” she lied.

“Why don’t I meet you there, and we’l ride home

together.” She winced when she realized she’d used the

word home to refer to his house.

“Okay,” he said happily. “See you in a few.”

She closed her phone and waited for a break in foot traffic

to step off the sidewalk. Two immaculately dressed

women walked by her, deep in conversation.

“The Charmed Kil er could be anywhere. I’m scared all the

time.”

“You should buy a handgun,” her companion said. “David

bought one for me and I keep it by my bed.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I wonder if you can buy a gun at the

mall?”

Carlotta watched them walk away, acknowledging that

fear had truly permeated the city if socialites were talking

about packing heat. Valet service at the mall had increased

exponentially because people didn’t want to walk to their

cars alone or with their arms ful of packages. And while

her car explosion had been reported by police as “an

isolated incident,” employees and customers who’d heard

about it weren’t taking chances.

As Carlotta stowed her cel phone in her purse, she

touched the comforting heaviness of the stun baton that

Jack had given her. Spooked, she hurried to where her

scooter was parked, glancing around as she unlocked the

storage compartment and removed her helmet. The latest

murder, which had almost gone undetected because the

victim had swallowed the charm, had been splashed on

the front page of this morning’s AJC in a titil ating

headline: NUMBER SIX AND COUNTING.

The victim, Wanda Alderman, had been relegated to a

number. Worse, Rainie Stephens’s headline inferred that

there were more deaths to come.

The reporter was probably right.

Carlotta drove the Vespa to Moody’s Cigar Bar and pul ed

in to the crowded parking lot just as the sun was setting.

She was relieved to see Coop’s vintage white Corvette

convertible parked nearby, which meant he was stil at the

bar.

Moody’s Saturday crowd was light on the regular business

patrons who came after work for a cigar and a drink, heavy

on single guys and couples. She didn’t see Coop around

the horseshoe-shaped cigar bar on the first floor, so she

headed upstairs to the lounge just as June Moody was

descending. The owner of the establishment looked

striking in a brown pencil skirt and a pale yel ow starched

dress shirt. She touched Carlotta’s arm and pointed

upstairs to indicate Coop’s whereabouts. Carlotta nodded

and continued her ascent to the second floor.

At the top of the stairs and to the right sat the bar, which

was packed five people deep. Nathan, the bartender, gave

her a wink hel o without pausing from drawing a beer. She

scanned the area for Coop, but he wasn’t seated on any of

the bar stools. As her vision adjusted to the low lighting,

she recognized Eva McCoy waving to her from the couch

where she sat next to Sergeant Mitchel Moody, June’s son

who was visiting on military leave. He was a big guy, good-

looking, with a shaved head and the sharp edge of a career

Army man. Eva was a pretty brunette with the slender

build of an elite marathoner. She looked vastly different

from the woman she’d been only a few days ago, racked

with self-doubt and paranoia—rightful y so, as it turned

out. But her stalker was now behind bars.

Carlotta walked over with a smile and leaned in close to

speak to them over the noise. “Hello. How are the two of

you?”

“Good,” Eva said, then she and Mitchel shared a smile. His

arm was settled possessively around the woman’s

shoulder.

“Hi, Carlotta,” Mitchel offered.

She returned the greeting, tel ing herself that it was none

of her business that Mitchel was being a hypocrite,

enjoying the bar while giving his mother a hard time. He

deemed owning such an establishment as inappropriate

for a proper Southern woman of a certain age. Carlotta

itched to tel him he was lucky to have a mother so warm

and caring, but she didn’t want to get in the middle of

someone else’s family drama.

Carlotta noticed that Eva’s wrist was bare. “You’re not

wearing your charm bracelet.”

Eva touched her arm where she’d worn the infamous

bracelet that she’d credited with her Olympic win, and her

smile faltered. “With all the publicity surrounding The

Charmed Kil er, I thought it was inappropriate.”

“I told her I’d protect her,” Mitchel said, giving her a

squeeze.

“Stil ,” Eva said, looking uncomfortable.

Carlotta nodded, then caught sight of Coop across the

room. “Excuse me, there’s someone I need to talk to.”

She made her way through the crush of bodies toward

Coop, her heart in her throat. He was sprawled in an

oversize chair, a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other.

Dressed in holey jeans and a T-shirt, he looked relaxed

with his long sideburns and his tousled hair. He wasn’t

wearing his glasses, which might have accounted for the

reason he squinted when she walked up to him.

“Hi, Coop.”

He straightened slightly. “Hi, Carlotta.”

“I left you a few messages, but I haven’t heard back from

you.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said, then punctuated his sentence by

taking a drink. She could tel from the burning scent of

alcohol that there was more in his glass than tonic. And

she could tel from the slight slur in his voice that it wasn’t

his first drink.

Her stomach clenched. “Are you sure you want to do this,

Coop?”

A blonde wearing a minidress brushed past Carlotta, then

settled into the chair beside Coop, draping one long leg

over one of his.

He smiled at the heavy-lidded woman, lifted the cigar for a

puff, then exhaled slowly as he looked up to Carlotta. “Oh,

yeah. I’m sure.”

The blonde twisted and kissed him hard on the mouth, and

Coop didn’t object.

Carlotta inhaled sharply against the pain that stabbed

through her chest. Myriad emotions slammed into her,

sending her stumbling backward. She caught herself, then

turned on her heel and walked blindly across the room. A

hand reached out to grab her and she cried out.

“Hey, it’s me,” Peter murmured.

She looked up and registered Peter staring down at her

with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she managed to say, then relaxed. “You startled

me, that’s all.” She gently disengaged her arm from his

grasp.

He lowered a quick kiss next to her ear. “Sorry. Have you

ordered a drink?”

“No, not yet.”

“What can I get for you?”

She said the first thing that came to mind. “A Cosmo.”

“Coming up.”

Carlotta touched her forehead. “Peter, I’m going to the

ladies’ room. I’l be right back.”

“Okay, I’l meet you here.”

She turned and walked into a rear hallway that led to the

restrooms. The ladies’ room consisted of two generous

floor-to-ceiling stalls and a mirrored vanity befitting any

movie star from the Hol ywood glam era. The bathroom

was empty, so she went into a stall and locked the sliding

bolt. The toilets were dark pink, sitting atop one-inch

black-and-white tiles. The wooden stal s were lacquered

white with geometric moldings and louvered doors.

Carlotta lowered the commode lid and sat, trying to gather

her wits. She pul ed out a cigarette and lit it, then took a

deep drag and exhaled.

It was none of her business what Coop did and who he did

it with…She’d had her chance with Coop and had allowed

it to slip away so she could be with Peter. It was just

jarring to see Coop in a state that was natural for other

men—drinking and womanizing. With a start, she realized

maybe it had been a natural state for Coop before she’d

known him. She pul ed on the cigarette and analyzed her

reaction, trying to sort through what bothered her the

most—seeing Coop with a drink in his hand, or seeing his

hands ful of another woman.

Carlotta couldn’t decide.

The outer door opened, ushering in noises from the

lounge. Footsteps sounded on the floor, then the woman

went into the other stall and closed the door. Carlotta took

another deep drag on the cigarette, thinking she should

hurry, that Peter would be waiting for her.

But the cigarette tasted so good, she couldn’t bear to

waste any of it. She inhaled deeply and exhaled luxuriously

until the cigarette was spent down to the filter. She stood

and opened the toilet lid to drop in the butt, then

suddenly realized that the woman in the stall next to her

hadn’t made a sound.

“Are you all right over there?” she called.

There was no response. Carlotta frowned, then strained to

hear if the person was talking on their cel phone. Silence

buzzed. A finger of alarm tickled her spine. “Hel o?” she

tried again. “Are you all right?”

Now that her cigarette had been extinguished, a

magnificent scent reached her nose, a complicated blend

of spices and fruits, plus sandalwood and other aromas

she couldn’t identify. Even though she felt sure she’d

smel ed the combination somewhere before, she couldn’t

place the scent. But it meant the woman was stil there.

“Ma’am? Are you il ? Do you need help?”

The other stall door opened and footsteps sounded. But

strangely, it seemed as if the woman had stopped just

outside Carlotta’s stall. She could see the person’s shadow

through the louvered door.

Fear swirled in her stomach. Something wasn’t right.