Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (39 page)

Obviously, he’s trying to get out of being punished by

making up all these stories.”

Eva looked to Carlotta who shook her head slowly. “You

know in your heart that he’s not making sense. It’s only a

matter of time before the police have phone records and

bank withdrawals to back this up.”

“That man is lying!” Ben shouted. “He didn’t even steal

that bracelet!” Ben stopped and wiped his hand over his

mouth.

“Why not, Mr. Newsome?”

He didn’t respond.

“Because you stole it, didn’t you?”

Eva turned to stare at Ben. “You? How? Why?”

Carlotta gestured to James. “Mr. Canary told me and the

detective that while he did intend to steal the bracelet, he

dropped it after he cut it off. And when things started

getting crazy, he ran away. I suspect that Mr. Newsome

saw the bracelet on the floor and knew he had to get rid of

it for his plan to work, but he didn’t have anywhere to hide

it. So he ran into the employee break room and put it in an

empty locker, intending to come back and retrieve it later.

But when he came back the next day, our manager had

added employee ID security—he couldn’t get into the

room.”

Eva was shaking her head at Ben. “Why would you do

something like that?”

He reached for her, his expression contrite. “Because you

were just so stressed out. I thought if we got rid of the

bracelet, it would give you a legitimate reason to drop out,

and you wouldn’t have to feel so bad about it.” He

gestured around the room. “I’m only guilty of doing

something to protect my fiancée. No one was seriously

injured and Eva has her bracelet back. I think Eva and I

need to be left alone to sort things out.”

Carlotta angled her head. “Nice try, Mr. Newsome, but

there’s more.” She softened her expression. “Eva, I want

to show you some clips. Remember when you told me that

you felt as if the food poisoning incident at the Olympics

was something more?”

Eva nodded.

“Watch.” Carlotta picked up the remote control so she

could stop at different points in the Olympics DVD. “Here

is the Olympic Vil age. Note the abundance of daffodils,

the yel ow flowers. The bulbs are poisonous, by the way. If

ground up and added to someone’s food, it would cause

nausea, vomiting—all the symptoms of food poisoning.

Here are the announcers declaring that you might have to

drop out of the race and then the camera moves to the

two women who were most likely to benefit—Ruda Napor

and again, Bianca Thaler. Fast-forward to the beginning of

the race. I’d like to draw your attention to Bianca Thaler,

trying to make eye contact with someone in the audience.

And lo and behold, it’s you, Mr. Newsome.”

He scoffed. “That’s a blob—it could be anybody.”

“That’s why we blew it up,” Carlotta said, smiling. “So

there’d be no confusion.” She hit the clicker a few times

and magically, Ben’s face and body came into focus. “Note

the daffodil that Mr. Newsome is wearing in his shirt

pocket.”

Eva frowned. “What’s that all about?”

“This is speculation on my part,” Carlotta said, “but maybe

it’s some kind of signal to Bianca that he was successful in

adding the poison to whatever it was he tainted.”

Eva inhaled sharply and covered her mouth. “It was a soy

shake. I remember. It was the morning of the marathon

and I made my shake. I’d gone to grab my jacket and when

I got back, I remember Ben encouraging me to finish it.”

“You needed your strength,” he said gently.

Eva took several steps away from him. “I heard the rumors

about you and Bianca, but I never believed them.” She

looked at Carlotta. “Is Bianca in Atlanta?”

“The numbers on Mr. Canary’s phone were traced back to

a B. Thaler, female, in Norcross, Georgia.”

Eva’s faced flushed. “You brought her here? You’ve been

supporting her al along by sabotaging me?”

“You’re letting them sway you,” Ben said, his voice

cajoling. “I love you. We’re going to be married.”

“Did he tel you that diamond was real?” Carlotta asked,

pointing to Eva’s engagement ring, a nice cubic zirconia.

Eva took the ring off and threw it at him.

“Eva, obviously this isn’t in the Atlanta PD jurisdiction,”

Carlotta said, “but a physician friend told me that if you’d

had blood drawn after the poisoning, it would stil be in

the sample that was stored. The lab just needs to know

what to look for.”

Eva suddenly looked stronger as she crossed her arms.

“My blood was drawn maybe an hour after I drank that

shake. I remember because when I started feeling light-

headed, I assumed they’d taken too much.”

“Mr. Newsome,” Carlotta said. “I assume you knew when

you spiked Eva’s drink that daffodil bulbs can be fatal if

ingested.”

“That’s attempted murder,” Jack interjected. “If I were

you, Newsome, I’d run as fast as I could to a good

attorney’s office.”

Jack’s phone rang and he excused himself from the room.

Carlotta wondered if the call was about her car. When he

came back in, he looked somber and gestured for her to

join him in the hallway.

“I have to go.”

“Another body?”

He gave a curt nod. “And another charm. But this is getting

more serious. The victim is Cheryl Meriwether—she’s an

assistant D.A.”

Carlotta gasped. Every victim mattered, of course, but

people who were targeted for crimes specifical y because

of the position they held in law enforcement received

special consideration from their comrades.

“Go,” she said, touching his arm. “Let me know if there’s

anything I can do.”

“I wil .” He walked to the escalator, then turned around.

“You had Rainie Stephens print a bogus statement to back

up your story, didn’t you?”

“It’s not bogus anymore. I suspect Eva wil run in the

World Championships now.”

He gestured toward Lindy’s office. “You were pretty great

in there.”

She blushed and gave a dismissive wave. “You think I

sound like Nancy Drew.”

“No, I was thinking of the attorney with the long, dark hair

on Law & Order.”

“Which one?”

Jack grinned. “The hot one.” Then he disappeared from

view.

28

Wesley studied the photos of A.D.A. Cheryl Meriwether

that dominated the front page of the morning’s AJC. She

was prettier in the pictures than he’d given her credit

for—probably because she was smiling in them, and he’d

never seen her smile the times he’d met with her. She had

nice green eyes, too. But if he’d been asked, the only thing

he would’ve remembered about her eyes was that she had

two of them. Poor lady. He planned to attend her

memorial service if Mouse didn’t have him working all

afternoon.

He felt a pang of compassion for the woman. She’d been

shot in the back in her home and allegedly the charm in

her mouth was also a gun. She lived in northwest Atlanta,

in the suburbs. Meriwether was The Charmed Kil er’s most

high-profile victim to date. With victims ranging from

single young women to minorities to prostitutes to district

attorneys, the city was officially in a panic. CNN was

playing on the TV in the living room, airing press

conferences from D.A. Kelvin Lucas who vowed to get

justice for one of his most hardworking A.D.A’s. The old

toad even worked up a couple of crocodile tears.

The mayor had her say, as did the chief of police. Security

systems were flying off shelves. Wes looked around and

pul ed on his chin. Considering all the things that he and

Carlotta were into, a security system was probably a good

idea.

He turned to the newspaper car ads and started reading.

He’d given it a lot of thought and it only made sense to

take his nearly ten thousand in winnings (minus a little

here and there for essentials) and use it to buy Carlotta a

new car, to replace the flambéd Monte Carlo. She was

working so hard, and doing lots of nice things for him

around the house—laundry and cleaning and unloading

the dishwasher, which she normally hated.

Maybe he could pick up something small, with good gas

mileage. Then he looked up and frowned. That made him

think of Meg’s Prius. Which made him think of Meg.

They’d met in the hall yesterday and she’d made a

comment about mafioso-looking Town Cars. He’d

countered with a comment about older guys who dress

like pussies, and they’d sidestepped each other.

He had the morning off from ASS because they were doing

repairs in the building—thank God for shoddy state

government construction. He’d slept in, jacked off in the

shower (okay, okay, thinking about Meg’s pink-and-green

plaid bra), and eaten half an Oxy for breakfast. After

Carlotta’s gril ing about the one lousy pil she’d found in

the bathroom, he was trying to be more careful. Carlotta

was usually good about respecting his privacy and he

believed her when she said she was only cleaning, but if

her suspicions were piqued, she might be tempted to start

moving things in his room. That’s why he stored al of his

extra Oxy in a fake rock in Einstein’s aquarium—she’d

never go near it.

Although…his probation officer, E. Jones, had made a

surprise home visit once, and had not only lifted out the

snake like an expert, but had rummaged through all of his

hiding places inside. Luckily the piece of shit handgun he’d

hidden there had been removed by Coop when he’d come

by to help Carlotta out by putting Einstein back in his

aquarium. The python had gotten out once and had

immediately made a beeline for Carlotta’s bedroom. His

sister hadn’t been happy. Stil , when E. went looking, the

aquarium was clean.

Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t come back and

do it again.

He heard a few words on the TV that got his attention: a

headless body had been found, its major identifying mark

was one newly severed finger.

Even with the calming effect of the Oxy, Wesley’s heart

rate picked up as he walked into the living room to catch

the story.

“A decapitated body has been found in Piedmont Park.

Janitorial workers discovered the remains last night. The

body appears to be that of a white male, medium build,

age fifty to fifty-five. Police note that one of the man’s left

fingers was also severed. If you have any information

about the identity of this man, please contact authorities.

There’s a secure, anonymous tip line you can use as wel .”

The anchor gave the number and while Wesley didn’t

write it down, he did memorize it. Chances were good,

though, that the body didn’t belong to the severed finger

he’d seen in Mouse’s car trunk…even though Piedmont

Park was a favorite haunt of the big man’s. He liked to

cruise and check out young chicks in exercise gear.

Wes flipped through the newspaper for the story and

found it on page six. Nobody cared much about dead

dudes—people normally assumed they’d done something

to deserve it. He scanned the article to see if it offered

more details, but it didn’t, only that officials were

continuing the search for the head—and the missing

finger.

The red phone in his pocket rang, startling him so badly he

nearly knocked over his milk. Letting out a long breath, he

flipped it open. “Yeah.”

“You’re not working this morning, right?” Mouse said.

“That was the plan.”

“I’l pick you up in ten minutes in front of your house.”

“Man, make it a block down, why don’t you? I don’t want

my sister to get suspicious.”

“Jesus, okay.”

Wes disconnected the call and dragged himself to his room

to grab his backpack and iPod. He decided to take some

extra cash to rol up in his wallet, just because a man never

knew when he’d need a bankrol on the fly. Plus, he just

wanted to look at the money again.

He crouched down and opened his sock drawer, then

moved aside the top layer to the vintage-style striped tube

socks he liked to wear. He’d stuffed two red ones and two

green ones with all the cash.

But al the socks were gone.

Panic squeezed his lungs and he fel back. Then he forced

himself to calm down. He’d told Carlotta where he’d put

it—she’d probably taken it out and done something

“responsible” with it, like put it in an interest-bearing

account. He’d cal her later to see what she’d done with it.

She was taking a vacation day to attend the A.D.A.’s

memorial service, and was stil sleeping right now.

He left the house on a bounce and whistle, trying not to

worry about the money, trying not to worry about a lot of

things. The Town Car was waiting for him one block up. He

slid into the front seat and greeted Mouse with a “hey.”

They were spending a lot of time together and the guy

wasn’t too bad except that he had lousy taste in music and

more gas than Alaska. But Wesley was immediately

worried when he saw what was in a plastic bag in the