3 Men and a Body (11 page)

“Where could I find Karen?”

He handed the picture back. “She quit. Can’t blame her.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Nope. She kept to herself.”

Someone at the other end of the bar whistled.

“I gotta go,” the bartender said. “Hope you find your

bosses.”

“If you ever see Karen or this man,” Carlotta said,

scribbling on a napkin, “here’s my number.”

He grinned. “Sure thing.”

He walked away and she dialed Information. No Karen

Wel s was listed in Daytona. Carlotta hung up and gulped

the martini for courage. She had to get her hands on Karen

Wells’s employee file.

She left the bar and headed to the ladies’ room to rifle

through the various kinds of undercover garb she

crammed into her beach bag. A woman had to be

prepared for anything, after all. She painstakingly removed

her cover-up, then changed into the blue scrubs that so

many housekeeping staffs wore these days, and white

tennis shoes, even though she had to stuff the laces into

the sides because she couldn’t tie them.

She shoved her cover-up and sandals into the beach bag

and smoothed her long hair back into a ponytail. Then she

careful y pul ed aside the white lining of the trash can to

find what she’d hoped—a stack of more trash bags at the

bottom to make changing them easier. She removed one

of the white liners and put her beach bag inside. Then she

left the bathroom carrying the bag of “trash” and the extra

liners.

From a marquee, she learned that the manager’s office

was on the second floor. She took the stairs and found the

office, then glanced around. On a table by the elevator

was a house phone. She picked it up and the operator

answered.

“Yes, I’m a guest of the hotel and my purse was just

snatched. I want to see the manager in the lobby

immediately.” She slammed down the phone, then jogged

back to the manager’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

She stuck her head inside to find a young man in a suit

standing at a file cabinet. “I’m here to take out the trash,”

she announced.

“Go ahead,” he said with barely a glance.

His phone rang and he answered. After a few words, he

hung up the receiver. “Please close the door when you’re

finished,” he said, then left, pul ing it shut behind him.

Carlotta went to the file cabinet and with her one good

hand, clumsily searched for employee records, her palms

sweating profusely. She found what she was looking for in

the bottom drawer, and as quickly as she could, flipped

through to the Ws. When she found a folder marked Karen

Wel s, she pul ed it out, her blood pounding in her ears. A

three-page application listed home address and phone

number, plus references.

Plus ten points.

With her good hand shaking, Carlotta placed the

documents on the copier, constantly looking over her

shoulder to the door. The manager was probably on his

way back by now. Cursing her cast, she awkwardly stuffed

the originals back into the file and the folder back into the

drawer.

She heard voices outside the door. With her heart

hammering against her breastbone, she slammed the

drawer and shoved the duplicate records into the trash

bag holding her clothes just as the doorknob turned. The

manager walked in, talking to someone behind him.

Detective Jack Terry.

12

When Carlotta’s gaze met Jack’s behind the back of the

hotel manager, she swallowed a yelp. His expression went

from disbelief to outrage to fury in the space of two

seconds.

Carlotta tried to look contrite. “I was just leaving,” she

murmured, and scurried out into the hall.

“Give me a minute,” she heard Jack sputter to the

unwitting manager.

She broke into a sprint toward the stairs, and heard him

pounding behind her. “Goddamn it, Carlotta, stop or I’l

shoot!”

She veered off toward the women’s bathroom and ran

inside, barricading herself in the handicapped stal . He

came crashing in behind her and rattled the stall door.

“Carlotta, open this door!”

“I’m changing,” she shouted, pul ing off the scrubs.

The door shuddered, then the flimsy lock bar failed under

the pressure. The door flew open and Jack stood there,

breathing like a bul who’d been poked with a sharp stick.

Carlotta gasped, not because she was afraid of him, but

because she didn’t want to explain her presence. Instead,

she feigned modesty, using her good arm to cover her

bikini. “I’m changing!”

“Cut the crap,” he said. “I’ve seen everything you have,

anyway.”

She shook her finger in his face. “If you don’t leave, I’l

scream.”

He wrapped his hand around her finger and pul ed her

against him. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Scream.”

She opened her mouth and inhaled in preparation, but he

covered her lips with his, kissing her hard. For a split

second her body betrayed her, responded to the

familiarity of him. The scream died to a moan, then she

wrenched away and covered her mouth with her hand.

“What was that?”

“A way to get your attention.”

She set her jaw. “You have it.”

“Good. Then what in hel are you doing here?”

“I’m on vacation.”

His look was lethal. “I’m not kidding, Carlotta. You’ve got

three seconds to start talking, or I’m going to arrest you

for trespassing and obstruction of justice.” He pul ed out

his handcuffs and looked at his watch. “Three—”

“You don’t scare me, Jack. I’ve been in those handcuffs

and I wasn’t under arrest at the time.”

“Two—”

“Where’s your expandable baton? We had fun with that

big boy, too.”

“One!”

“Okay, okay,” she said, relenting. “But you already know

why I’m here.”

“You’re trying to sabotage my case.”

“No! I…just wanted to look around.” She sighed and

leaned against the back wall. “I don’t know. I thought

Randolph might be here. I just wanted to see for myself.”

She watched the anger drain out of him, replaced by

frustration and sympathy. He returned the handcuffs to his

belt. “Okay, what did you find?”

“What makes you think I found anything?”

He rol ed his eyes. “Are you going to make me say it?

Because you’re good at being devious.”

She angled her head and grinned. “Did you just pay me a

compliment?”

“No. And quit yanking my chain.”

She glanced at his crotch for effect, then relayed her

conversation with the bartender. “And here are copies of

Karen Wel s’s employee records.” She withdrew papers

from the trash bag and extended them to him.

But Jack held up his hands. “I can’t take those. They were

stolen.”

“Okay, I’l keep them.”

He yanked them from her. “You can’t keep them either,

Nancy Drew.” He pul ed out a lighter and held a flame

under the corner of the pages. He let them burn up to his

fingers, then dropped the charred mess into the

commode. “I can get copies legitimately.”

“Now that you know what direction to go in,” she taunted.

He scowled. “I would’ve asked for employee records for

the clerk who was robbed, anyway.”

“If you let me watch the surveil ance tape, I could tel you

if the voice is his.”

“That’s why Liz came with me.”

“Oh, wel .” Carlotta made a shooing motion with her hand.

“Now that you’ve given me a spanking, you can get on

with your investigation. By the way, where is Lizbo?”

“She’s at our hotel, making phone calls.”

“At the spa, huh?”

He crossed his arms, legs spread wide. “You can’t drive

with a broken arm. How did you get to Daytona?”

“Coop invited me to ride to south Florida for a job, and I

suggested that we stop here for the night.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Coop?”

“That’s right. It’s a business trip.”

“I take it he doesn’t know about your little detour?”

“Um, no. I told him I was going shopping.”

“Wel , I guess it’s comforting that I’m not the only man in

your life that you lie to.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You can go now.”

“Uh, no. Get dressed. I’l be escorting you out.”

She held out the swimsuit cover-up. “Would you mind

helping me? This cast is such a pain.”

He tightened his mouth, then held the flimsy garment over

her head. She lifted her good arm and shimmied as he

pul ed it down over her head and helped ease it over her

shoulders, her breasts, her cast. She moved slowly,

undulating into the garment. When it fel into place she

looked up to find his golden eyes hooded and smoky.

She smirked at him. “Is that chain stil dangling?”

He sighed. “You are so bad.”

Carlotta pushed her feet into the jeweled sandals. “Oh, no.

You said I was good. I heard you with my own ears.” She

shouldered her beach bag, plopped her big hat on her

head and marched past him.

“I said you were good at being devious,” he said, fol owing

her out.

She stopped to allow him to open the outside door for her,

and walked through when he obliged. “You heard one

thing, I heard something else.”

They walked to the elevator together and Jack stabbed the

down button. “So…this business trip of yours.”

“What about it?”

“Are you and Coop sharing a room?”

She raised her eyebrows, then said, “Right back at you,

cowboy.”

“Liz and I are just friends.”

“Uh-huh. I hope your shots are up-to-date.”

“Meow.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She walked in

and he fol owed. When they closed, he asked, “What does

Ashford think about your weekend fling with Coop?”

“I didn’t ask. Peter doesn’t own me.”

Jack shook his head. “One of these days, Carlotta, you’re

going to have to decide what you want.”

“Are you throwing your hat in the ring, Jack?”

He looked at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You know I

can’t.”

“One of these days, Jack, you’re going to have to decide

what you want.” She squared her shoulders, which sent a

pain shooting down her arm. “Meanwhile, I’ve been alone

for a long time, looking after Wesley, hanging on by a very

thin thread. Forgive me if I want to explore my options and

maybe even, God forbid, have a little fun before I dry up

and blow away.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

“You’re right. I guess I’m regretting not allowing you to

come down here with me. You have a way of making me

say things I don’t mean.”

“It’s a gift,” she murmured.

The elevator doors opened and they walked through the

lobby in silence, his hand at her waist.

He signaled a taxi, and when it pul ed up, he opened the

door for her, then handed the driver a twenty-dol ar bil .

“Take the lady back to her hotel, please.” He looked at her.

“See you in Atlanta.” Then he shut the door.

Carlotta rol ed down the window. “Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“If you find Randolph, wil you at least call me before you

call the D.A.?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Count on it.”

He stepped away from the taxi and she lifted her hand in a

wave, feeling oddly comforted that Jack was on the case

despite their conflict. No matter how much he blustered

and pounded his chest, she trusted him to do the right

thing. Carlotta settled back.

Then she withdrew the extra copy of Karen Wel s’s

employee record that she’d made.

What was the old political saying? Trust…but verify.

13

“It’s about time,” Coop called, waving from the big straw

mat where he and Wesley sat playing cards amid hundreds

of other beachgoers. Carlotta waved and smiled, but when

Coop stood to brush the sand off his trunks, the breath

caught in her throat.

Plus ten.

His torso was bare, his shoulders wide, his arms and chest

surprisingly muscular. His skin was already brown, perhaps

from those weekly hikes he referred to…which might also

explain his long, lean legs.

The man was gorgeous.

As witnessed by all the women who had positioned their

blankets and towels close to the men’s mat in the late

afternoon sun. Despite his bandaged arm, Wesley didn’t

look too shabby, either, in his long surfer trunks. With his

sharp bone structure, he resembled a young Leonardo

DiCaprio. But if he was aware of the women looking his

way, he was too shy to act upon it.

She was betting that both men were clueless as to the stir

they were causing.

“Hi,” she said after threading her way through female

bodies to get to the edge of the mat. “Having fun?”

“Coop is one of the best poker players I’ve ever seen,”

Wesley said excitedly.

“Is that so?” she asked, eyeing Coop.

“We’re not betting,” he stated quickly. “Did you have fun

shopping? We were getting worried about you.”

“Coop was getting worried,” Wesley corrected. “I told him

that you could shop for days, like a camel.”

Carlotta dropped her beach bag on her brother’s foot.