Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (18 page)

When she exhaled, the smoke came out in little staccato

puffs.

The phone call had obviously upset the woman. She paced

back and forth, looking off into the distance. When the

phone rang again, she tensed noticeably. She yanked out

the phone and looked at the display. Her mouth tightened,

then she murmured, “Excuse me, I need to get this.”

Carlotta snubbed out her cigarette. “I should start some

laundry.” She walked to the door.

“I’l be right in,” Maria said, turning her back. She punched

a key on her phone, then brought it to her mouth and said,

“How did you get this number? I told you to never cal me

again!”

Carlotta slid the door closed quietly, watching the

detective with concern. Maria’s body language was rigid

and angry as she talked into the phone. The ex-husband,

perhaps? Or an ex-boyfriend? Or a relative?

She knew too wel how family could make you crazy.

Since she was going to be housebound for a while, she

decided to tackle a few domestic chores. She put a load of

towels in the washer, then went to her bedroom to change

from skirt and blouse to jeans and a camisole. When she

folded the skirt, the business card that Rainie Stephens

had given her fel to the floor. Carlotta retrieved it and

started to toss it, then changed her mind and tucked it into

a corner of the mirror on her dresser.

One never knew when a contact with a reporter might

come in handy.

As she unhooked the charm bracelet from her wrist, she

studied each charm, marveling over the effect the

bracelets had on people. She stopped on the champagne

glasses charm and smiled rueful y. She knew the real

power of the trinkets was the power of suggestion. But

admittedly, there was something appealing about the idea

of predicting one’s future.

Then she gave a dry little laugh. The only thing in her

immediate future was ammonia fumes. She gathered

cleaning supplies, and headed to the kitchen for rubber

gloves.

Maria came inside a few minutes later, her gaze averted

and her mood brooding. She reclaimed the stool at the

breakfast bar and worked on her laptop. Sensing the

woman didn’t want to talk, Carlotta tuned into a light rock

music station on the television to fil the silence, then

threw herself into her chores. It took her thirty minutes to

clear her bed of the clothing and accessories she’d tossed

there, and another thirty minutes to clean her bathroom.

Feeling generous, she went into Wesley’s bedroom to

clean his bathroom, too.

Carlotta only glanced at the fifty-gallon aquarium in the

corner that held his black-and-gray spotted axanthic ball

python to make sure it was stil in captivity. Who knew

when Wes had begged for the reptile when he was

fourteen, that it would grow to be six feet long? It had

escaped from its home only once, but that in-bed

encounter was burned into Carlotta’s nerve endings. Just

the sight of the python made her shudder.

She took in Wesley’s hastily made bed as she walked into

his bathroom, thinking she was lucky her brother was

halfway neat and had always pitched in around the house.

When he was twelve, God love him, he’d pretty much

taken over all the kitchen duties, developing into a better

cook than she could’ve ever been.

But it had been ages since they’d sat down to dinner

together.

She snapped on yel ow rubber gloves and raised the

commode lid for a good scrubbing. She’d never once seen

her mother clean a commode, and wondered wryly if

Valerie had ever learned.

While she was leaned over, she spotted something on the

tile floor—a pale-colored pil with a group of letters and

numbers imprinted into it. She stripped her glove and

picked up the tablet, frowning. It wasn’t one of the

Percocet pil s from her prescription bottle. It could be

some kind of over-the-counter medication.

She pressed her lips together. Or not.

Tel ing herself she wasn’t being a snoop, she opened his

medicine cabinet, and a package of condoms fel out onto

the vanity. Carlotta shook her head—at least he was being

careful.

With Liz Fischer, who was almost old enough to be his

mother.

The cabinet contained typical fare: Band-Aids and alcohol,

Q-tips and lotion, disposable razors and shaving cream.

She smiled to see a can of one of those teen male body

sprays that were touted as making women want to attack

you. The seal was stil on the can.

She found aspirin and a bottle of vitamins, neither of

which matched the pil she’d found. She returned the

condoms and closed the medicine cabinet, then tucked

the tablet into her pocket. She’d decide what to do about

it later.

After all, her body was growing accustomed to a baseline

of stress that she felt obligated to maintain.

When she emerged from Wesley’s room, she was

surprised to see that it was growing dark outside. She

flipped on a couple of lights as she made her way back to

the kitchen where Maria was working. The detective was

just closing her cel phone.

“That was Jack, he’s on his way.”

“Any news on Michael?”

“Afraid not.” Maria wasn’t making eye contact, fussing

with her laptop and putting away files she had spread on

the breakfast bar. She stil seemed distracted, perhaps

preoccupied with her previous call. Her phone sat on the

counter. She kept looking at it as if she was afraid it was

going to ring.

Carlotta ran her thumb over the tiny bump in her pocket

and considered showing the pil to Maria to see if she

could identify it.

But what if it was something il egal? She’d be forced to say

where she’d gotten it, and heaven knew that Wesley

didn’t need any more legal problems at the moment.

Besides, she really didn’t want the woman to know that

much about her personal business.

“Would you like something to drink?” Carlotta offered.

“Iced tea?”

“No, thank you,” Maria said, without looking up. “Did

Michael Lane have a girlfriend?”

“Boyfriend,” Carlotta corrected. “And not that I know of.”

“Do you know if he was taking any kind of medication?”

“I don’t.”

“Any unusual hobbies?”

“Other than murder?” Carlotta asked drily. “I honestly

don’t know.” She sighed and returned the cleaning

supplies to the cabinet under the sink. “I guess one of the

things that upset me the most about the whole situation

was realizing how little I knew Michael. How can you work

with someone so long and not know what they’re capable

of?”

“It happens,” Maria said, then looked up, her striking eyes

leveled on Carlotta. “Do you have any truly close friends?”

Carlotta straightened. “Of course I do. Hannah Kizer is my

best friend.”

“What’s she like?”

Carlotta knew that Maria was trying to psychoanalyze her,

but she was determined to demonstrate to the woman

that she was normal. “Hannah is smart and eclectic. She’s

a culinary student. She gets me into all kinds of interesting

events.”

“Jack told me you were an expert party crasher.”

Carlotta blushed. “It comes in handy sometimes.”

“Your friend Hannah—is she married?”

“No, but she dates, um, married men.”

Maria smiled. “Does she have a good family life?”

Carlotta stopped. “I…don’t know. She doesn’t talk about

her family, and I’ve never met them.”

“She’s not from around here?”

“Um, actually I think she is.”

Maria frowned. “How long have you been friends?”

“Hannah is a very private person,” Carlotta said, annoyed.

“Is that why she’s friends with you? Because you don’t

care enough to ask questions?”

Anger whipped through her. “What? Don’t try to

psychoanalyze me, Detective. I’m not that complicated.”

“I didn’t say you were complicated,” Maria said lightly,

closing her laptop.

Carlotta’s mouth tightened, but before she could respond,

the doorbel rang. She marched to the door and checked

to see that it was Jack before she flung it open. When she

did, she was surprised to see that he had his gun drawn.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his expression taut. He

craned to look past her into the house.

“Sure,” Carlotta said, perplexed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

He sighed and reholstered his gun, then pointed to the

outside doorknob.

Hanging from it was a plastic Northside Hospital bracelet

bearing the name LANE, MICHAEL.

13

Carlotta sat on the couch and watched Maria and Jack

square off. He’d called the precinct and arranged for a

sweep of the neighborhood and the surrounding area, but

frustration rol ed off him in waves.

“You didn’t hear or notice anything?” Jack demanded of

his partner. In his hand was an evidence bag, the hospital

bracelet inside.

Maria crossed her arms. “If I’d heard or seen something,

don’t you think I would’ve responded?”

“How could he get this close to the house and you not see

him?”

“Jack, I didn’t realize you wanted me to do surveil ance. I

thought you wanted me to keep Carlotta safe, which I

did.” She leaned in, but Carlotta could stil hear her say,

“You know this is already more than protocol cal s for.

Most people in her position would get a beeper number,

not a watchdog.”

His face went stony. “There are things going on here that

you don’t know about.”

Maria laughed. “You’re joking, right? I know exactly what’s

going on here. And don’t ask me to babysit your girlfriend

again.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” Carlotta said at the same time.

Maria held out her hand. “Give me the keys. I’l come to

pick you up in the morning. Do you want me to send a CSI

team to lift prints?”

“Why do we need prints?” Jack lifted the bag holding the

bracelet. “The guy practically left a calling card, for God’s

sake.”

Maria lifted her hands. “Your case, your call. I’m gone.”

Jack grunted. “At least tel me what you think Lane meant

by leaving the bracelet.”

“It’s a warning,” she said over her shoulder. “He wanted to

let Carlotta know he could get close to her.”

The woman knew how to make an exit, Carlotta conceded.

She left in a blur of nice suit, nice butt, nice perfume. She

didn’t touch the doorknob on the way out, yet stil

managed to slam the door effectively.

Jack pul ed his hand down his face. “Why I thought having

a female partner was a good idea, I don’t know.”

Carlotta stood and fingered the lapel of his jacket. “I think

you like her.”

He frowned. “I do like her—she’s my partner.”

“I have eyes, Jack.”

He lifted his hands. “She’s pretty, yeah, I noticed. But I

don’t dip my ink in the company wel .”

“She turned you down, didn’t she?”

He frowned. “This conversation ends now.”

Carlotta angled her head. “Did I hear right—are you

spending the night?”

“Do you have a better idea?” he boomed. “What if this guy

comes back? I swear, Carlotta, you and Wesley—” He

wiped his hand over his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes. “Me and Wesley what? Is there

something about Wesley that you’re not tel ing me?” The

unidentified pil came to mind, but she didn’t dare show it

to Jack in case it further incriminated Wes.

“No. What I was going to say is that you and your brother

have both crossed paths with some pretty dangerous

people, and neither one of you realize what easy targets

you are for anyone who wants to retaliate.”

“We can’t live like prisoners, Jack.”

“Fine,” he said, jutting his head forward. “But install a

damn burglar alarm, how about it? Or get a guard dog.

And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…you need to learn

how to use a gun.”

Her laugh was incredulous. “Me? A gun?”

“Believe me, it’s the stuff my nightmares are made of, but

you should consider it.”

She smiled. “Wil you teach me?”

He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “Of course I wil .”

He leaned over to pick up the small black duffel he’d

carried inside. “Meanwhile, I picked up a couple of

gadgets—some battery-operated motion detectors, and

this.” He held up what looked like a short black curling

iron.

“A vibrator?” she asked. “Thanks, Jack, but I already—”

“It’s not a vibrator,” he cut in with an exasperated sigh.

“It’s a stun baton.”

“Like a taser?”

“Yeah, except it expands,” he said, demonstrating the

telescoping tip. “You don’t have to be as close to someone

to use it as you do with a taser.”

“Well…thanks,” she said, taking it in her hand and hefting

its weight. “What do I owe you?”

His mouth flattened and he looked away. When he looked

back, he reached forward and hooked his arm around her

waist, pul ing her body up next to his. “You don’t owe me

anything. Christ, just be more careful, okay?”

She lifted her mouth and accepted his brief, hard kiss. She