Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (10 page)

“What do you think about my father’s claim about there

being paperwork that can prove his innocence?”

Peter took a drink from his glass. “I asked around to see

what happened to Randolph’s files.”

“And?”

“And…I was told that everything was handed over to the

D.A.’s office.”

She frowned. “But surely the firm kept copies?”

“One would think, but since Walt came around wondering

why I was asking questions, I decided not to push it.”

Walt Tul y—her father’s former partner at the firm and her

and Wesley’s godfather. In name only, since he hadn’t

bothered to check on them after their parents had

disappeared.

“Wel , I guess we’l just wait to see what dear old Dad has

in store,” Carlotta said. “He certainly likes to make

dramatic exits and entrances.”

“So your first day back to work sounded pretty

interesting.”

Grateful for the subject change, she nodded. “In all the

commotion, the guy with the cake stole Eva McCoy’s

charm bracelet.”

“That’s too bad. I’m sure it meant a lot to her.”

“Yeah, it did. She was really upset.”

“I noticed you’re wearing a charm bracelet.”

She stroked the links. “It’s one of Eva’s bracelets. Al of

them are supposed to be unique.”

“And foretell the future, I’ve heard. Let’s see what you

got.”

She put her hand over the charms. “It’s sil y, they don’t

mean anything.”

He ran his thumb over her bare ring finger. “So you wear

jewelry only if it doesn’t mean anything?”

Carlotta felt pressure building in her chest. “Peter, let’s not

go there.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He smiled. “How’s Wesley?”

She brightened. “The D.A. reduced the charges. He got off

with having to perform more community service, which is

good for him. He’s so smart, you know. He really should be

in col ege.”

“He needs to fol ow his own path,” Peter chided gently.

“I know. Stil , I can’t help but worry about him. It’s not as if

he had anyone else who cared.” She sighed. “This whole

thing with Mom and Dad leaving has affected him more

than it affected me.”

“Don’t downplay what they did to you,” Peter said, then

grimaced. “What we all did to you, leaving like that.”

“It was tough on me,” she agreed. “But Wesley was young.

He didn’t understand what was happening, or why. He

blamed himself for them leaving, and he had so many

problems adjusting. No one wil ever know how much he

suffered.” She smiled. “That’s why it’s so hard to be angry

with him when he makes dumb decisions.”

“Is he stil working for Cooper Craft?”

She shook her head. “Not since the body-snatching

incident. But I can’t blame Coop. He gave Wesley a chance

and Wesley’s stupidity put Coop’s reputation on the line.”

Peter’s eyebrows raised. “From what I heard, the doctor

did himself in years ago.”

Carlotta frowned. “Have you been checking up on Coop?”

“A Google search isn’t exactly a background check.”

She angled her head. “And what exactly did you find out?”

“That he ascended to coroner at a young age, and was

considered a wunderkind…until he started drinking. There

was something about him declaring a woman dead when

she was stil alive?”

She nodded. “Jack told me about it. He said that Coop was

driving home and came upon an accident. He’d had too

much to drink and declared the woman dead when she

was only unconscious.”

“Did she live?”

“She did, but Jack mentioned she had some lingering

medical issues. He said Coop lost his job and hit rock

bottom.”

“And now he moves bodies for a living.”

Her defenses rose on Coop’s behalf. “He doesn’t drink

anymore, and he seems at peace with himself. And he

works at his uncle’s funeral home.”

“I remember,” Peter said, then drained his wineglass.

Carlotta closed her eyes briefly—the memorial service for

Peter’s wife had taken place at Motherwel Funeral Home

where Coop worked. “I’m sorry, Peter. Of course you

remember.”

“It’s okay,” he said, then offered a rueful smile. “I’m

looking forward to the time when we can move past all the

apologies.”

She nodded. “I guess that’s how it is when two people

have a history.” But deep down she wondered if they

managed to strip away the past, what would they have

left?

Dinner was long and pleasurable, a feast for the senses.

When their plates were taken away, Peter leaned toward

her and winked. “I hope you saved room for the burnt

honey ice milk with gorgonzola. It’s one of their signature

desserts.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“I was thinking maybe we could get it to go and take it

back to my place.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know…” From her purse,

her phone rang. She reached for her bag. “Excuse me, it’s

probably Wesley. I haven’t talked to him since his meeting

with the D.A.”

“Go ahead,” he said as the waiter walked up.

She removed the phone and pushed to her feet. While

heading to the relative privacy of a potted tree, she

glanced at the caller ID screen.

Cooper Craft.

When she and Coop had last seen each other, Peter had

been carrying her away from the scene where she’d been

attacked by a would-be murderer. On the heels of an

interrupted trip where she and Coop were supposed to

have been alone, Coop seemed to concede in a parting

glance that the timing wasn’t right for them.

Carlotta connected the call and covered her other ear.

“Hel o?”

“Hey, it’s Coop.”

“Hi,” she said tentatively. “How are you?”

“Better than most,” he said breezily. “Are you busy?”

Carlotta looked around the tree to where Peter sat, giving

an order to the waiter. “I’m at Ecco, just finishing dinner.

What’s up with you?”

“Nothing quite so glamorous. I could use a second on a

body moving job. Don’t suppose you’re interested?”

Her pulse leapt with excitement. Going on a pickup with

Coop, working on the periphery of a crime scene, sounded

more intriguing than going back to Peter’s place and

worrying about the outcome.

“I am interested, but in the spirit of ful disclosure, I should

let you know that my arm is stil only about ninety

percent.”

“That’s all right. I need your pretty brown eyes more than

your muscle. Protocol requires a second person on the call

in case there’s a question later.”

Carlotta wavered. She shouldn’t leave Peter on their first

official date.

On the other hand, if she turned Coop down, he might find

someone else to replace Wesley. This way, she could at

least try to keep the door open for Coop to someday trust

her brother again.

Carlotta bit into her lip. “I could get away in, say, ten

minutes?”

“Do you want me to pick you up at the restaurant?”

“Uh, no. I’l meet you at the corner of West Peachtree and

Third.”

He gave a little laugh. “Isn’t that where the prostitutes and

shemales hang out looking for customers?”

“I’ll be fine. What are you driving?”

“The van. See you in a few.”

7

Carlotta took a deep breath and headed back to the table

where Peter sat, her mind racing.

He looked up. “Was it Wesley?”

“Uh, no. Hannah called.” Her friend had called twice

earlier in the day, so it wasn’t a complete lie. “I keep

missing her and she’s just a few minutes away from here,

so I think I’l get a ride home,” she said, pointing over her

shoulder to the entrance. “My arm is hurting again, and I

have to get up early tomorrow.”

Peter looked disappointed, but nodded. “Okay. The waiter

is bringing the check with the ice cream, so we can leave in

a few minutes.”

He so readily accepted her lie that her conscience pinged.

“Thank you for dinner, Peter. It was lovely—the food, the

wine and the company.”

He stood. “When can I see you again?”

She searched her mind for something they could do that

was less…formal. “Why don’t we go to Screen on the

Green Thursday in Piedmont Park? Breakfast at Tiffany’s is

playing.” A classic movie on a big screen with an enormous

crowd—perfect.

“That sounds good.” He looked behind her. “Here’s our

gorgonzola ice cream. Why don’t you take it for you and

Hannah?”

She balked. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

He took the bag from the waiter. “I insist. She’s a caterer,

isn’t she?”

“And culinary student.”

“So she’l appreciate it,” he said, pushing the bag into

Carlotta’s hands. “Besides, I know she doesn’t like me.

Maybe this wil score me some points.”

“Okay,” she murmured to save time. “I should run.”

Peter tossed an alarming amount of cash on the table.

“Hold on. I’l walk you out.”

“Th-that’s not necessary,” Carlotta said, backing away.

“I’m just going to the corner.”

“I’l go with you.” He caught up with her and guided her

toward the door.

“Really, you don’t have to leave,” she said nervously. Peter

did not approve of her body moving escapades and would

be wounded if he knew the reason she’d cut their dinner

short.

“Peter!”

From the bar, a woman waved wildly, until she caught

sight of Carlotta.

Tracey Tul y Lowenstein, Walt Tul y’s daughter and

Carlotta’s nemesis from high school, gave them a mocking

look. “Well, what a surprise to see the two of you here.”

The blonde hooked her hand around the arm of a dark-

haired man next to her. “Meet my husband, Dr. Frederick

Lowenstein. Freddy, this is Peter Ashford. He works for

Daddy. And this is Carlotta Wren.” She gave her husband a

meaningful look. “Carlotta’s father used to work at the

firm, too.”

Carlotta knew the second the man realized she was the

daughter of Randolph Wren. His mouth circled in an O, but

he quickly recovered and extended his hand.

“Very pleased to meet you,” Carlotta said.

“Same here,” the man said, devouring her with his eyes

and holding on to her fingers longer than necessary. She

removed her hand and immediately wanted to wash it.

“Freddy’s a doctor,” Tracey said, her expression smug.

“Yes, I believe you’ve mentioned that before,” Carlotta

said tightly. “Congratulations.”

“What kind of medicine do you practice?” Peter asked

smoothly, shaking the man’s hand.

Dr. Lowenstein glanced at Carlotta. “I’m an ob-gyn.”

Of course he was, Carlotta thought, barely containing an

eye rol .

“Join us for a drink,” the doctor urged. “Peter, there’s an

investment idea that I’ve been meaning to run by Walt,

but perhaps you could help me if you have a few minutes.”

The man’s eyes strayed back to Carlotta’s legs.

“I was just walking Carlotta out,” Peter said. “A friend is

picking her up. But I can come back.”

“No, stay,” Carlotta told him, happy for the diversion. “I’m

sure my friend is here by now. Thank you again for dinner,

Peter.”

“I’l call you,” he said, then kissed her briefly on the

mouth.

Carlotta gave him a little smile and noticed that Tracey

was taking it all in. No doubt her club friends would get a

play-by-play tomorrow at their regular martini lunch.

Tracey had been a close friend of Angela Ashford’s before

the woman had died. It was only after Angela’s death that

the woman’s sordid secrets became public. Carlotta

always wondered if Tracey knew more about her friend’s

extramarital activities than she’d let on.

“Good night,” Carlotta said, then made her way to the exit

as quickly as she could. Out on the sidewalk she stopped

long enough to switch from her high-heeled sandals to the

loafers she’d stuffed into her bag. Then she pul ed her hair

back into a ponytail and jogged the four blocks to the

corner where she’d told Coop she’d meet him.

Coop hadn’t arrived yet, but Carlotta wasn’t alone.

A knot of working girls—and guys dressed as girls—

loitered on the sidewalk, applying lipstick and walking

close to the curb when cars drove by just in case a

customer was trol ing. Carlotta realized that this

intersection of two one-way streets was a good spot for

them to work because there was plenty of room for cars to

pul over and neither the prostitutes nor the johns had to

worry about cops appearing from the opposite direction.

She nodded to a couple of the girls, then pul ed out a

cigarette and tried to light it with a sputtering lighter.

“Here you go, girl,” one of the prostitutes said in a throaty

voice, extending a cheap gold lighter. She was a painful y

skinny fortyish white woman with dark red hair and black

eyeliner that looked as if it had been applied with a Magic

Marker.

Carlotta accepted the light grateful y, then took a long

drag on the cigarette. She almost groaned in relief when

the nicotine shot into her system.

“Are you new?” the woman asked.

Carlotta blinked. “I’m not…I mean, I’m just waiting for