Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (14 page)

Carlotta looked up to see Tracey Tul y Lowenstein, the

daughter of Walt Tul y, a former business partner of her

father’s, and Tracey’s trophy husband, Dr. Frederick

Lowenstein. Tracey was seated and scooting her chair up

to the table before she noticed Carlotta. The woman’s

eyes went wide.

“Carlotta, I didn’t recognize you.”

“It must be that lovely dress,” Frederick Lowenstein

offered, raking his wolfish gaze over Carlotta in a way that

made her squirm.

Tracey glared. “No, it’s not the dress. You just seem out of

place here. What brings you to the club?”

Carlotta hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms,

but the thinly veiled hostility was disconcerting. “I came

with Peter.”

Tracey wrinkled her nose. “Of course.”

At that moment, Peter returned with drinks in hand. “Hi,

Tracey, Freddy.” He set a glass of wine in front of Carlotta,

and slid his hand down her back in a proprietary fashion as

he lowered himself into the seat next to her. “Nice to see

you again.”

The last time they’d “seen” the couple, Tracey and Freddy

had crashed her and Peter’s date at an outdoor showing of

Breakfast at Tiffany’s, horning in on their blanket and their

privacy.

“Carlotta, I hope you’re not going to run out on poor Peter

like you did at the movie,” Tracey offered tartly. “You’re as

bad as Freddy, disappearing at the drop of a hat.”

“I’m on call, dear,” her husband chided.

Carlotta shifted on her chair. She’d left the movie that

night because Wesley had asked her to help him with a

body removal nearby. She’d thought she’d be back before

the closing credits rol ed, but after they’d learned the

deceased was another victim of The Charmed Kil er, that

hope had died.

Tracey lifted her bejeweled hand and snapped her fingers

at a passing server. “You, there. I need a martini, stat.”

The server’s back went rigid, then she swung around. “You

also need some manners, lady.”

Carlotta gasped. “Hannah?”

Her friend Hannah Kizer, a culinary student who also

worked for catering companies, stood there holding a tray

of empty glasses. Her goth makeup was more subdued

than usual, but one of her eyebrows that went up was

newly pierced—twice.

“Carlotta, what are you doing here?” Then her gaze landed

on Peter. “Oh—right.” Then she gave Tracey a fake smile.

“Martini, coming right up, Your Highness.” She strode

away, but Carlotta excused herself and went after her.

“Hannah!” She caught up with her friend at the bar and

touched her arm. “Hannah, why are you ignoring me?”

Hannah poured ingredients into a shaker. “Because I’m

supposed to. Servers aren’t allowed to fraternize with

guests.”

“But it’s me,” Carlotta said with a laugh. “You can’t just

pretend you don’t know me.”

“I’m doing what’s best for you,” Hannah said lightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hannah guffawed. “As if your pretentious friends are going

to welcome me into their circle.”

Carlotta sighed. “They aren’t my friends.”

Hannah glared at her. “So why are you with them?”

“Did you get the message I left on your phone? I’m staying

with Peter for a while.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Hannah’s posture relaxed a bit. “Was

Michael Lane really living in your house?”

“Yeah—crazy, huh? I have to stay somewhere, at least

until the police process the town house.”

“Is Wes staying with Peter, too?”

“No, he’s at his friend Chance’s place. The one who wants

you, remember?”

“Yeah,” Hannah said with a dry laugh. “Fat chance.”

“You didn’t return my call. Do you have a new married

lover?”

Hannah averted her gaze. “No. I’ve just been busy.”

Carlotta nodded, but again Maria Marquez’s accusation of

not knowing her friend came back to her. “Okay,

wel …don’t be a stranger. Peter has a pool.”

Hannah’s expression was suspicious. “This living with

Richie Rich—it’s really temporary?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“No. And please quit calling him that. I’l think of a cartoon

when I look at him.”

Hannah grinned. “Is he buying you nice stuff?”

“He bought me a Vespa…after I wrecked his Porsche.”

“Ouch. The scooter sounds fun, though.”

“I’l take you for a ride sometime. When can we get

together?”

“I keep hoping you’l call me on a body-moving job.”

She frowned. “I promised Peter I’d give it up for a while.”

Hannah made a face.

“Jack thinks it’s a good idea to lie low, too.”

“Because they think that Michael Lane is The Charmed

Kil er?”

“He’s the prime suspect, I think. The GBI is investigating

now.”

“Have you seen Coop lately?”

Carlotta shook her head. “I heard that he’s doing more

work with the morgue. And Jack seems to think he’s

drinking again, or is on the verge of it.”

Hannah looked concerned—she had a wild crush on Coop.

“Since he was the one who found the first charm, he

probably feels responsible somehow.”

A head server walked by and gave Hannah a disapproving

glance. She picked up the drink mixer and shook it

vigorously. “I’d better get back to work,” she said, putting

a skewered olive in the glass, then bathing it with

crystal ine liquid.

“I’l take Tracey’s drink to her,” Carlotta offered.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Carlotta said, trying to let her friend know that

she felt awkward about the role reversal.

“Wait a minute, it needs a stir.” Hannah looked around,

then put her finger in her mouth and pul ed it out, then

used it to stir the martini.

“Hannah!”

“What? The alcohol wil kil the germs,” Hannah insisted.

“Most of them, anyway. Who knows where that finger’s

been?”

Carlotta bit back a smile, then took the drink and carried it

back to the table, where two other couples had joined the

fray. Carlotta vaguely recognized the women and assumed

they were friends of Angela’s that she might have seen at

the memorial service.

“Here you are,” she said to Tracey and set the martini in

front of her.

Tracey looked surprised—and suspicious. “Thanks.” She

took a healthy drink, then introduced Carlotta to the new

people—Bebe and Wil Plank, Jada and Artie Westby—as if

Carlotta was Tracey’s pet. Carlotta greeted them and

reclaimed her seat next to Peter self-consciously. When his

hand settled on her lower back she noticed the women

exchanging knowing looks.

Tracey gestured to the charm bracelet on Carlotta’s wrist.

“Interesting choice of accessory, Carlotta. But aren’t you

afraid that The Charmed Kil er might take it as an

invitation? Or maybe you don’t read the newspaper.” She

gave her table cronies a conspiratorial grin.

Carlotta’s hand tightened on the stem of her wineglass.

“While it’s true that my having to work cuts down on my

leisure reading, I heard about the article.”

“But you chose to ignore it? Maybe you know something

that the rest of us don’t.”

Carlotta frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Daddy got a call from a GBI agent today,” Tracey said. “He

wanted to know if he’d heard from your father lately. He

said that Randolph is a suspect in The Charmed Kil er

case.”

Carlotta felt the blood drain from her face as condemning

stares turned in her direction. Peter’s hand massaged her

back. “That’s…ridiculous,” she murmured.

“Is it? Peter, you must have gotten a call, too. Daddy said

most people in senior management at the firm were

contacted.”

Carlotta swung her gaze to Peter’s profile. Her father had

called him at work out of the blue a few months ago.

Randolph had said he needed Peter’s help to prove he’d

been framed for the charges he’d been accused of years

ago. Had Peter told the GBI about the phone call?

Peter gave her an apologetic look that sent a knife through

her heart. “I did receive a call,” he said to Tracey evenly. “I

told the agent if he thought Randolph Wren had anything

to do with these murders, he was grasping at straws.”

Carlotta glanced away to gather her wits and to her

horror, saw that Rainie Stephens, the AJC reporter, was

standing within earshot. And from the expression on the

redhead’s face, she’d heard Tracey’s comments. The

woman made a movement toward Carlotta, but was

intercepted by someone else and drawn into a

conversation.

Carlotta could only guess what tomorrow’s headline would

be: Randolph “The Bird” Wren Implicated as The Charmed

Kil er.

Minus ten points.

Frederick Lowenstein stood suddenly, looking down at his

pager.

“What is it, dear?” Tracey asked.

“Looks like the Lindelhoff baby decided to come early.”

“Oh, no,” Tracey pouted, then glanced all around and

sighed. “But that’s what it’s like to be an important

doctor—he goes whenever he’s needed.”

Freddy dropped a kiss on Tracey’s cheek, then waved as he

backed away from the table. Carlotta couldn’t help

noticing that Tracey seemed to relish the attention. But at

least it had diverted the conversation from her father

being a serial kil er.

She picked up her wineglass, then looked up at Peter.

“Why didn’t you tel me about the GBI contacting you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes warm. “I didn’t want to upset

you.”

She sipped from her glass, knowing that Peter’s intentions

were good, but stil …

Dozens of servers suddenly appeared with laden trays and

began to pass out salads. Hannah served their table from a

rol ing cart, shooting lasers into the back of Tracey

Lowenstein’s head when she walked behind her and

leaving Carlotta feeling uncomfortably superior as her

friend used tongs to reach over her shoulder and place a

warm rol on her bread plate. Carlotta had been excited to

attend the fancy event, but the shine was quickly wearing

off. Even Peter’s hand at her back was starting to feel

invasive.

The host for the evening, a local weather personality, took

the microphone. To Carlotta’s surprise, he introduced

Rainie Stephens from the AJC as his cohost. The vivacious

redhead was engaging as she welcomed the crowd,

announced that the silent auction would be going on all

evening and introduced a clip about the animal shelter

that would benefit from the crowd’s generosity. The lights

were lowered as the short piece ran, showing abandoned

pets so big-eyed and forlorn that it left Carlotta feeling

guilty for wishing bad things on the stray blond Persian

that had caused her so much grief.

When the lights came up, everyone applauded politely,

then turned to their meals.

Peter leaned in close. “I noticed several vacation getaways

up for auction. How would you feel if I bid on a couple of

them?”

A bite of bread wedged in her throat. “For us?”

He smiled. “Of course for us.”

She swallowed hard to push down the dry morsel. “I—”

“My purse!” Bebe Plank was patting an empty spot on the

table in front of her. “Has anyone seen my purse? It’s a

zebra-print Prada clutch, and it was right here.”

Everyone at the table stopped to look, but to no avail.

After several minutes of searching, it seemed apparent

that the purse had been lifted.

“I say we call the police and have the waitstaff strip-

searched,” Tracey exclaimed. “Some of them look like

hoodlums, with their tattoos and piercings.” She gave

Carlotta a pointed glance. “I know who my money’s on.”

Then Tracey turned to stare at Hannah, who was refil ing

water glasses a couple of tables away.

Carlotta opened her mouth to say her friend would never

steal, but something stopped her. Hannah had always

openly disdained the country-club crowd. Carlotta

assumed her friend had endured a meager upbringing.

Detective Marquez’s words washed over her. She didn’t

know where Hannah lived, who her other friends were or

where Hannah spent her free time. In view of how little

she really knew about her best friend, could she swear

that Hannah wouldn’t steal something from someone she

might perceive as having too much?

After all, Carlotta had considered Michael Lane a friend,

and look how that had turned out.

12

Wesley looked up from playing Poker Slam when Chance

strol ed into the living room. His friend wore baggy briefs

and black socks.

“I thought you’d passed out in the bathroom,” Wesley

offered.

“I was jerking off thinking about your sister’s friend

Hannah.”

Wesley held up his hand. “Dude, please.”

“When are you going to set us up? I’m dying here.”

“I’m stil working on it, okay?”

Chance yanked on his johnson through his shorts. “Can

you lose weight in your dick? I swear it looks smaller since

I started walking on that damn treadmil .”

“Seriously, man, stop.”

“Wil you look at it and give me your opinion?”