Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (8 page)

The realization sent her running to the restroom to wash

off what she could. She’d need mascara remover to get rid

of the icing from her eyelashes, and a good exfoliant scrub

to cleanse her pores. And she’d have to shampoo, rinse

and repeat a couple of times to get the hardened mess out

of her hair.

She dried her face and hands with paper towels, then

checked her cell phone for messages. There were two

messages from her friend Hannah, but nothing from

Wesley. She dialed his phone but he didn’t answer.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said into the mouthpiece, trying to

sound upbeat. “Just wondering how things went today.

Call me when you can.”

She disconnected the call, hoping against hope that

Wesley wasn’t sitting in jail. Surely he or Liz would cal her

if the meeting had gone south, wouldn’t they? Carlotta bit

her lip in frustration, tasting sugary remnants of icing.

Swallowing her pride, she emerged from the break room

to find the shimmering Maria Marquez waiting for her.

“Jack is pul ing the car around,” the detective said,

gesturing to a side exit.

Carlotta nodded and fel into step next to the woman,

feeling like a crusty child who was being picked up from

school to be driven home.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maria asked.

“Nothing a shower won’t fix,” Carlotta mumbled. “By the

way, thanks for pul ing me out of that mess.”

“No problem.”

When they got to the exit, Maria held open the door, like

the parent. Carlotta walked through to see Jack’s black

sedan sitting at the curb. She headed for the front

passenger seat, but he intercepted her by getting out and

circling to the back.

“I put down something for you to sit on,” he said. From his

sweeping gesture, one would’ve thought he’d rol ed out a

red carpet for her instead of crinkled pages of the Atlanta

Journal-Constitution.

“Thanks,” she said as she climbed in.

“Buckle up,” he said cheerful y, then closed the door.

She fastened the seat belt and watched as the two of them

slid into their seats simultaneously, then checked mirrors,

visors and their radios like a choreographed dance. They

seemed to be perfectly in sync with each other, she

noticed irritably. When the car pul ed away, they

conversed in low tones, as if they didn’t want Carlotta to

hear what they were saying.

“Is it true that Eva McCoy has received death threats?”

Carlotta piped up.

Jack adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see her.

“Where did you hear that?”

“It’s all over the Internet.”

He frowned. “I thought one of the terms of Wesley’s

probation is that he can’t have computers at home.”

Carlotta frowned back. “We don’t have a computer at

home. A coworker told me she saw the rumor online. Is

that why you two were there?”

“No comment,” Jack said.

Carlotta’s mouth tightened. He would’ve told her if Maria

hadn’t been in the car. “Maria, did you notice anything

special about the guy with the cake before he got away

from you?”

Jack shot her a warning glance in the mirror, but Carlotta

returned with an innocent eyebrow raise.

“No,” Maria replied with a smile. “Except that he left tire

tracks over you.”

Jack pressed his lips together and turned his attention

straight ahead.

Carlotta unbuckled her seat belt and stuck her head

between their seats. “That reporter from the AJC hung

around after the event. She heard Eva say that her

bracelet was stolen—it’ll be al over the news.”

He shrugged. “That could help us. Maybe someone wil see

the bracelet and get in touch with the police. And a piece

of jewelry known to be hot wil be harder to resel .”

“Maybe it was just a warning,” Carlotta said. “Maybe the

guy took the bracelet to let everyone know how close he

could get to her. Or maybe whoever took it wil ask for a

ransom.”

“Maybe,” Jack said in a noncommittal tone. “Frankly, in

the scheme of things, I don’t consider this to be a high-

priority crime.”

“I’m with you, Jack,” Maria said. “I don’t understand all the

hoopla around the charm bracelets in general. I see you

have one, Carlotta.”

Carlotta covered the bracelet with her hand. “It was a gift

from a coworker,” she said defensively. “Although I can

see why the idea of charms appeal to women. They’re

mementos of special times, and they’re jewelry—what’s

not to like?”

“It just seems sil y to me,” Maria said.

Carlotta frowned. “Where are you from, Maria?”

“Chicago.”

“And what brings you to Atlanta?”

The woman turned her head to look out the window. “I

just needed a change.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to find the Atlanta heat a little

hard to handle,” Carlotta offered.

Maria turned in her seat to smile at Carlotta. “I like the

heat. In fact, I’m finding a lot of things about Atlanta that I

like.” Her gaze drifted to Jack’s profile.

“The traffic is horrible,” Carlotta muttered, sitting back in

her seat. When Jack gave her a chiding look, she wanted to

stick out her tongue.

“Is that why you’re riding the train?” he asked.

“No.” Her shoulders fel . “My car battery is dead.”

“I’l give you a jump when we get you home.”

His eyes met hers and she detected a flash of

amusement—and desire. Her pulse betrayed her. Maria’s

head turned.

“Your car, I mean,” he added, then turned his gaze forward

as if he’d been a little boy caught with his hand in the

cookie jar.

“What part of town is this?” Maria asked, looking out the

window at the passing neighborhood landscape which was

clearly middle to lower class.

“Lindbergh,” Carlotta supplied.

“Like the cheese?”

“Something like that.”

Jack spel ed it for Maria and she pul ed out a map. “I’m stil

trying to get my bearings,” Maria explained.

“Me, too,” Carlotta whispered to no one as they pul ed

into the driveway of the town house she shared with

Wesley.

Jack adjusted the rearview mirror. “Carlotta, do you

recognize that black SUV?”

She turned around in time to see the vehicle pul away

from the curb where it had been sitting across the street.

Anxiety bubbled in her stomach. “I don’t think so.”

Jack’s mouth tightened as he put the car in Park. “Do you

have your car keys with you?”

“Yes.” She dug in her purse for the remote control to open

the garage door.

“Please tel me that you backed into the garage when you

parked.”

“Only because the only thing harder than backing into the

garage is backing onto the street.”

She climbed out and depressed the button on the remote

control.

Maria got out of the car, too. Carlotta noticed the woman

taking in the shabby town house. She had done her best to

weed and spruce up the landscaping as much as her bum

arm allowed while she was off work, but there was stil a

lot of work to do. Now that her arm was almost healed,

she was hoping she could get Wesley to help her with

some painting and other major projects.

If they could find the money.

And if he wasn’t languishing in jail.

The motor on the garage door opener made a loud,

grating sound as the door raised. It was just a matter of

time before it stopped altogether or, more their luck,

caught on fire and burned the house down. In the car she

saw Jack shake his head. He was no doubt wondering how

she and Wesley had made it this long.

He pul ed his sedan up to the nose of her car, the dark

blue Monte Carlo Super Sport that she’d accidentally

bought—yet another long story of her bad luck and il

timing—and turned off his engine.

“This is your car?” Maria asked. “I figured you’d be driving

something like that little convertible sitting over there.”

Carlotta gazed at her crippled white Miata longingly.

“Those were the days.” Coop had promised to come over

and take a look under the hood of the convertible, but

after Wesley’s betrayal and after her and Coop’s near-miss

at romance, she doubted if he’d stil offer free car

maintenance to the Wren family.

Jack got out and removed jumper cables from the sedan’s

trunk. To Carlotta’s chagrin, Maria opened the door to the

Monte Carlo and popped the hood, then lifted it to study

the offending battery. “Your battery terminals are

corroded.”

Carlotta peered inside and pretended she knew what the

woman was talking about.

“Hang on,” Maria said, then returned to the sedan and

emerged with an open can of Coke.

“Hey, I was drinking that,” Jack said.

Maria ignored him and emptied the can over the battery.

It fizzed and bubbled and ran off the sides, leaving the

battery clean enough to eat off of.

“Better,” Maria said.

Carlotta stared at her in dismay. Was there anything the

woman couldn’t do?

Jack lifted the hood on the sedan and clamped the cable

ends to his car battery. Without missing a beat, he handed

the other end of the cables to Maria, who attached them

to the Monte Carlo’s battery, then opened the driver’s

side door and slid behind the wheel.

Carlotta crossed her arms, wondering if the couple would

notice if she left.

Jack reached into the sedan to turn over the ignition, then

Maria turned over the engine to the Monte Carlo. It

caught and started, much to Carlotta’s relief. The lady

detective emerged from the car, then she and Jack

removed the cables.

“You should pul your car outside and let it run for about

twenty minutes to allow the alternator to recharge the

battery,” Maria said, clapping her hands to dust them off.

For some reason, getting advice from the luscious Maria

almost brought tears to Carlotta’s eyes. She felt

so…useless.

“Why don’t you go on inside and shower?” Jack suggested.

“I’l babysit the car and bring you your keys.”

She nodded, then looked to his tall and talented partner.

“Thank you, Maria, for your help.”

“No problem,” Maria said, as if it were of no consequence,

making Carlotta feel even smaller.

She trudged toward the house and groaned inwardly to

see her neighbor, Mrs. Winningham, standing next to the

fence between their houses. Not only was she the nosiest

woman alive, but she was convinced that the Wrens were

single-handedly eroding the property values on the street.

“Hel o, Mrs. Winningham,” she said cheerful y.

“What on earth happened to you?” the middle-aged

woman asked, eyeing Carlotta’s appearance.

“Food fight,” Carlotta offered, deadpan.

The woman squinted at her, then nodded toward Jack and

Maria. “Who are those people?”

“Friends of mine. My car battery is dead, so they gave me

a boost.”

Her neighbor’s expression turned leery. “Speaking of cars,

do you know anything about a black SUV parked across the

street off and on the past couple of weeks? I’ve never seen

anyone get in or out of it.”

“No,” Carlotta said, but her heart skipped a beat. So the

vehicle that Jack had noticed wasn’t simply passing by.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Excuse me, but I

need to go inside and get cleaned up.”

“Speaking of cleaning up,” the woman called behind her,

“your house could use a good pressure washing!”

Carlotta bit down on the inside of her cheek. “Thank you,

Mrs. Winningham.”

She climbed the steps to the town house and unlocked the

door. When she pushed it open, the air in the living room

was stale and confining. She didn’t stop to consider the

room—the small television with its warped picture tube,

the worn furniture, the pathetic little aluminum Christmas

tree in the corner, a carryover from the short time her

parents had lived there. The fact that Wesley wouldn’t let

her take it down after ten years spoke volumes about how

much their desertion had affected him.

She turned left from the living room and walked down the

hallway to her bedroom, shedding shoes and clothes as

she walked across the carpet. She stepped into the

bathroom and turned on the water for the shower. While

it warmed, she checked her cel phone on the slim chance

she’d missed Wesley’s cal , but there were no messages.

Mindful of the few minutes she had before Jack returned

her keys, she removed the flexible arm cast and climbed in

to wash away the remnants of the cake and icing. Her arm

was aching again. She’d overdone it and now she was out

of pain pil s.

Which made her think of Wesley.

Which made her think of how messed up their lives were.

Which made her think of her absent parents.

As always, all roads led back to Randolph and Valerie

Wren.

She turned off the water and toweled dry, then wrapped

her hair. She pul ed on her favorite ful -coverage chenil e

robe and was walking back through the house when a rap

sounded on the front door. She wasn’t surprised when