Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (14 page)

though, on the third ring.

“Hel o?” His voice sounded thick and groggy.

“Coop? It’s Carlotta. I’m sorry—I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Although I confess this isn’t the

way I’d hoped you’d wake me some morning.”

She smiled into the phone. “Late night?”

“Yeah.”

She heard rustling in the background and imagined that he

was pushing his long body out of bed. “What did you do

after you dropped me off?”

“I went back to the morgue. They’re way behind. I thought

I’d pitch in and help with some paperwork.”

She pursed her mouth. If he was covering for a binge, it

was a pretty uninspired alibi. “Paperwork, huh? Did you

find out anything more about Shawna Whitt?”

“Won’t know anything until the autopsy. I heard Dr.

Abrams assure Jack over the phone that he’d handle it

himself.”

“I didn’t see or hear anything about the murder on the

news this morning.”

“I think Jack wants to keep things hush-hush for now.”

In the background, Carlotta could hear the sounds of

coffee-making—beeping, the scrape of stoneware, a

gurgle and a trickle of liquid. Was he simply having his

morning coffee, or trying to neutralize a hangover?

“Not that it isn’t good to hear your voice,” Coop said, “but

did you call just to get an update on our body from last

night? You know how Jack feels about you getting involved

with cases.”

“I know.” She squirmed in her seat. “Actually, I cal ed

because last night you seemed…I don’t know, a little out of

sorts. I was just checking on you.”

“Oh. Wel , thanks, but I’m fine.”

He sounded surprised, even perplexed. Carlotta narrowed

her eyes. Or maybe evasive? “Good,” she replied.

They lapsed into an awkward silence and she wondered if

he, too, was thinking of bad timing and missed

opportunities.

Carlotta cleared her throat. “Although…don’t you find it

strange that on the same day Eva McCoy’s charm bracelet

is stolen, a woman is found dead with a charm in her

mouth?”

“Uh-oh, here we go.”

“I’m just saying.”

He sighed. “Could be a coincidence.”

“I suppose so,” she groused.

The sound of him sipping from his coffee cup filtered over

the line. “Carlotta, don’t go looking for trouble.”

“Now you sound like Jack.”

“Maybe I’m trying a new tact.”

“On that note,” she said brightly, “I’l let you go.”

“Okay,” he said, as if he didn’t want to hang up.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“Hey, it’s our thing.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

He laughed, his voice gravel y. “You get me up, then leave

me hanging.”

She sighed. “Coop—”

“I’m not complaining. Call me anytime.”

“Same here,” she said, then remembered her promise to

Peter and added, “if you need someone to go out on a

pickup with you.”

He made a rueful noise. “I’d probably get in big trouble if I

went out and offed somebody just to create work, but

with you on standby, it’s tempting.”

She rol ed her eyes. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Me, too. Bye.”

Carlotta disconnected the phone call reluctantly, thinking

about her original reason for calling Coop. If he was on the

verge of drinking again, would he tel someone?

She could only hope.

Her mind turned back to Shawna Whitt and what had

happened to the young woman. Coop’s warning not to get

involved sounded in her head, but could she help it if she

was curious?

Traffic was amazingly light today, she realized, glancing at

her watch. In fact, she even had time to stop at the public

library.

Where curiosity was encouraged.

A few minutes later she pul ed into the parking lot of the

strikingly modern building in Buckhead. When she walked

in, a lady at the information desk looked up and smiled.

“Hi. I remember you. You came in looking for information

on strangulation a few weeks ago. I’m Lorraine.”

“Hi, Lorraine. You have a good memory.”

“How’d that information work out for you?”

Carlotta nodded. “Pretty wel for all parties concerned, I

think.”

“How is your arm?”

“Almost healed, thanks.”

“What can I do for you today?”

“I need to look up someone on the Internet.”

Lorraine smiled. “Checking out someone you’re dating?”

“Uh…close.”

“Smart. And relatively easy. Right this way.”

Within a few minutes, Lorraine had her seated in front of a

computer with a search engine on her screen.

“Just type in the name and if there’s anything public about

the person, it’l pop up.”

“Such as?”

“Mentions in articles, Web sites, al the community social

networks like Facebook. And if you want to print out

anything, just hit the print button and it wil go to that

machine,” she said, pointing toward a printer in the

corner.

Carlotta thanked her, and after Lorraine walked away,

Carlotta typed in “Shawna Whitt.”

There were pages and pages of returned hits, but most of

them were for celebrities named Shawna or information

on family trees for Whitt. She remembered a tip that

Wesley had given her about putting quotes around two

words you were looking for to appear together, so she

tried that and got a few hits, but they were on Shawna

Whitts in other parts of the country, and the world. But

nothing on Shawna Whitt of Atlanta or Berkeley Heights.

Then for lack of anything better to do, Carlotta typed in

combinations of the words Shawna, Whitt, charm, and

ATL. She got a hit on a Web site that she recognized as one

of the sites set up for the group cal ing themselves

Charmers, fans of the charm bracelets promoted by Eva

McCoy. The site featured the story on Eva McCoy, and

video footage of her renowned comeback. Visitors could

order their own Lucky Charm Bracelet, although they were

currently on back order. And under a community chat

area, Charmers could post first-person accounts about

their experiences with their own charm bracelets and

whatever bits about their lives they wanted to share.

Among them were several entries by an SWHITT in ATL.

Carlotta’s pulse pounded. Was it the same woman?

She couldn’t access the content of the entries unless she

registered as a member of the Web site, which took a few

minutes, especial y since her keyboarding skil s weren’t

stel ar and her arm twinged at being held at a typing angle.

By the time she’d completed the registration process, she

only had time to print the entries and stuff them in her

purse before waving goodbye to Lorraine and running back

to her car.

When she turned the key, the engine ground, sending

alarm through her, but it finally caught and turned over.

She goosed the gas pedal, frowning at the whuppa,

whuppa, whuppa sound of the muscle car’s big, loud

engine.

When she’d “bought” the car on a lark to take to a party

she was crashing, she’d intended to return it within the

twenty-four-hour period al owed for a test drive. Only, she

hadn’t planned to be implicated in a murder and to have

the car impounded past the time limit.

Like it or not, the car was hers. And since she owed more

on it than it was worth, the Monte Carlo would remain her

ride into the foreseeable future.

The drive to the Lenox Square mall was uneventful, thank

goodness. She parked and jogged to Neiman’s, noting with

relief that she was only a few minutes late. She slid toward

the employee break room to stash her purse, but as luck

would have it, Lindy was standing outside the door with a

clump of workmen who were affixing some kind of device

to the door.

Lindy saw her and glanced at her watch with a frown. “I

hope this tardiness doesn’t become a new habit of yours.”

“It won’t,” Carlotta said. “What’s going on?”

“I thought it best to install a card reader so that only

employees have access to the break room. After

yesterday’s incident, I’m not confident that an Employees

Only sign wil keep people out. But this means that

everyone wil need to keep their employee ID with them at

al times.”

Carlotta nodded. It would be less convenient, but safer.

She went inside and stowed her purse in her locker, her

mind swirling over the previous day’s incident, which was

all over the morning news. The public reaction was an

outpouring of support for Eva McCoy. The networks

replayed clips from the Olympics showing Eva in her

legendary run. There were rumors that Eva herself was

devastated by the loss, that she had cancel ed her cross-

country publicity tour in order to stay in Atlanta, and that

a reward would be offered for the return of the charm

bracelet. The overriding question that everyone kept

asking was who would be low enough to steal something

with such sentimental value? Although granted, Michael

Lane’s empty locker was a stark reminder of just how

unstable people could be.

When she emerged from the break room, her boss was

talking to Ben Newsome, of all people, and it seemed as if

his mood had not improved much from the previous day.

It was obvious he was asking about developments in the

case of his girlfriend’s missing bracelet. Lindy shook her

head and made comforting gestures, but he looked

unappeased.

Carlotta slid past them and went to her station, then

threw herself into her work. The store was crowded with

customers, so she was able to rack up some impressive

sales before lunch even though her mind kept wandering

back to the unread pages of entries from SWHITT on the

Charmers Web site.

She considered calling Jack to tip him off to the Website,

but she decided to wait to see if the contents were

relevant. Especially since Jack was so touchy about her

poking her nose into police business.

Hateful man.

It was especially hard to stay focused on work because

everyone was abuzz about Eva McCoy’s stolen charm

bracelet. The jewelry department had been besieged with

customers clamoring to reserve as many of the

backordered Lucky Charm Bracelets as they could afford.

Patricia Alexander came stamping up to Carlotta, her

posture rigid. “What does it say about the police

department that they stil haven’t found the man who

stole Eva McCoy’s bracelet?”

Carlotta arched her eyebrows. “Maybe that they have

more important cases to solve—like armed robberies and

homicides?”

“I’m just saying that people should be safe when they

shop, for God’s sake.”

“And we are…ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time.

If this guy wanted to get close to Eva McCoy, he was going

to do it somewhere, somehow. It just happened to be

here.”

Patricia harrumphed. “All this attention—it’s ridiculous.

You should see the mob in the jewelry department.”

“I have.” Just as she suspected, Patricia was envious of the

commissions being racked up that weren’t falling her way.

“How’s it going in Shoes?”

“Slow,” Patricia said with a sigh.

“It’ll pick up,” Carlotta said. “It always does. Meanwhile,

I’m glad you got us both bracelets.” She held hers up and

jingled it. “They’re the hottest accessory around at the

moment.”

Patricia fingered hers, looking dubious. “Maybe I should

put mine on eBay.”

“Give it a chance,” Carlotta said. “You never know what’s

around the corner.”

“Wel , everyone knows what’s around your corner,”

Patricia said in a sly tone.

Carlotta frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I talked to Tracey Lowenstein last night. She said she and

Freddy ran into you and Peter having a romantic dinner.”

Carlotta tried to sound casual. “We were having dinner,

that’s true.”

“So…has Peter proposed?”

A shocked laugh escaped her. “No.”

“Everyone thinks he wil .”

Carlotta set her jaw. “It’s not everyone’s business.”

“Maybe that’s what the champagne glasses on your charm

bracelet are for.”

She looked down and fingered the charm absently. The

detail was remarkable—two flutes touching, overflowing

with bubbly, but the implication…

“I need to get back to work. See you later.” Carlotta

walked away, stopping at a rack to straighten clothes that

didn’t need to be straightened. She didn’t like being grist

for the Buckhead gossip mil .

Although she had to admit that it gave her a little gloating

thrill knowing that Tracey Tul y Lowenstein was probably

losing sleep over the thought of Carlotta Wren once again

moving in her social circle.

Thankful y, the next few hours were so busy, she didn’t

have time to think about Tracey Lowenstein. And heaven

knew she needed the commissions to start paying down

some of her accumulated debt. She finally managed to

take a break in the early afternoon. Her heart tripped in

anticipation of reading the online entries she’d found.

After downing Advil for her aching arm, she grabbed her