Bond, Stephanie - Body Movers 05 (35 page)

He nodded. “Sure. See you tomorrow.”

Frederick Lowenstein, obviously eavesdropping, leaned in

with an arrogant smile. “No offense, Wren, but I don’t

think you’re Eldora’s type.”

Wesley set his jaw at the deliberate put-down. “Hey,

Freddy, I got one word for you—dankeshein.” He stuck

around long enough for outraged recognition to dawn on

the man’s cheesy face, then he split.

He shoved the front door so hard, he practical y fel

outside. He was eager to escape the party…to escape Meg.

She was probably laughing at him.

What an idiot he was.

Inside his jacket pocket his phone rang. He pul ed it out

and was almost relieved to see it was Kendall Abrams

calling. He connected the call. “Yeah, Kendall, what’s going

on?”

“We got a crispy critter near the Lenox Square Mall. Can

you make it?”

“Whoa—slow down. What?”

“A burned body. My uncle wants me to take it. Apparently

it’s another one of those charm deals.”

“Can you pick me up? I’m not too far from there.”

“Sure. Oh, I almost forgot. I’m supposed to tel you that

your sister ran over the body.”

31

“You didn’t have to stay home with me, Peter. I’m sore,

but I can take care of myself.”

Peter’s face darkened with the same intensity he’d shown

when he’d arrived on the accident scene last night to take

her home. “There’s no way I’m leaving you at home by

yourself today.”

It had been a long evening. After the paramedics had

checked her over and pronounced her wel enough to go

home, GBI agents Green and Wick had questioned her for

over an hour. Their presence—and persistence—

confirmed a charm had been placed in the victim’s mouth,

but they didn’t share any information with her. And she

didn’t have much information to share with them.

She couldn’t identify the vehicle that had dropped the

body.

She couldn’t identify the driver of the vehicle.

And she didn’t know why she’d been the person who just

happened to drive over the body. Barring extreme

coincidence, she had probably been targeted. But by

whom?

Michael Lane? Her father? Someone else?

“Are you comfortable enough?” Peter asked.

“Oh, yes.” She stroked the leather of the couch where she

lay in the great room, thinking two days ago Angela had

been lying on the couch. And on the table. And the lamp.

Carlotta darted a look to the lidded urn just to make sure it

was stil intact. “I’m so sorry about the Vespa.”

He waved off her concern. “I’m just glad you’re in one

piece. I hope they catch this monster soon. It has to be

Michael Lane. Who else could be trying to involve you in

the crimes?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured.

Peter was sitting in an adjacent chair, leaning close. She

appreciated his thoughtfulness, but he’d been hovering

since they’d arrived home last night. He hovered over her,

and the Persian hovered over Peter. She was starting to

feel claustrophobic.

“Are you sure you can afford to take the day off?” she

asked Peter.

“Absolutely. In fact, I have a lot of vacation time accrued.

And I was thinking…maybe we should go ahead and take

that trip to Vegas that I bought at the charity auction.”

Carlotta swallowed. “Now?”

“As soon as you’re feeling better. In light of all that’s going

on, I can’t think of a better time to get away. And maybe a

change of venue would be good for both of us.”

With a jolt, Carlotta realized she hadn’t considered that

Peter’s sexual glitch might have something to do with

making love to another woman in the house he’d shared

with Angela.

The doorbel rang, saving her from answering.

“Wonder who that could be,” Peter said. He pushed to his

feet and walked to the front door. The cat trotted after

him.

Carlotta watched from the couch. He glanced through the

window, then opened the door. On the threshold stood a

teenage girl, who said a few words to Peter, then looked

down and threw her arms open to the cat. And the cat

actually went to her!

Peter beckoned the girl inside and walked into the great

room smiling. “Carlotta, this is Vicki O’Del . Vicki lives in

the neighborhood next to ours and her family owns the cat

you found. Isn’t that great?”

There weren’t words. “Yes, I’m relieved. What’s her

name?”

“Sheba.” At the sound of her name, Sheba meowed loudly.

“She’s so…humanlike, we knew she had a home

somewhere.” Carlotta chastised herself for imagining that

the cat was Angela reincarnated. The beast had gotten to

her. “I guess you saw the flyers?”

Vicki nodded. “I babysit in this neighborhood occasionally,

but this is the first time I’ve been around in a few days.

Thank you for taking care of Sheba for us.”

“You’re welcome,” Carlotta said. And good riddance.

When the girl turned to go, her zebra-print clutch purse

tripped a memory in Carlotta’s mind. “What a great

purse.”

The girl looked at it and flushed. “Isn’t it? I could never

afford Prada on my own, but the lady I babysit for gives

me her hand-me-downs.”

Carlotta sat up. “Do you mind if I ask who you babysit

for?”

“Not at all—Bebe Plank.”

“Bebe?” Carlotta’s mind raced. “Vicki, I don’t mean to pry,

but this is very important. When did Bebe give you that

particular purse?”

“Let me think. She gave it to me the last time I babysat, so

that was…last Thursday.”

Carlotta’s heart skipped a beat. Thursday was the day after

Bebe’s zebra-print Prada clutch had been “stolen” from

the club. “How long have you been babysitting for Bebe?”

“For about a year now. I think she’d give me a good

recommendation if you called her.”

“I’m sure she would,” Carlotta agreed idly. “In the year

that you’ve been working for Bebe, how many purses has

she given you?”

“Gee, I don’t know. A lot—maybe twenty or so? But don’t

worry. It’s not something I expect. Bebe is really

generous.”

With other people’s purses…and at least one of her own.

To throw everyone off track, maybe? No one would ever

suspect a woman whose own purse had been stolen.

“Vicki, you might want to call your parents. I’m afraid the

police wil want to ask you some questions about those

purses Bebe gave you.”

Peter cal ed the police and a few minutes later, the girl’s

parents arrived with shopping bags ful of purses. When

another doorbel ring admitted Jack, Carlotta was

surprised. And Peter looked irritated.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Wel , technically, for as many purses and the amount of

money that’s been stolen, this is considered a case for the

Major Crime Division.” He scowled. “And I’m the only

Major Crime detective available at the moment. How are

you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Just a few scrapes and bruises.”

His gaze swept over her, as if to ascertain for himself that

she was okay. He started to say something, then he turned

to Peter and asked if he could borrow a more private room

to question the teenager with her parents. As Peter was

showing the O’Dells into the office, Jack leaned over closer

to Carlotta. “How are you really?”

“I’m okay. Shaken up a little, I guess, when I think about

how lucky I was. Have they identified the burned body?”

“They wouldn’t tel me if they had, but I know from

experience that it’l take a while for the M.E. to make an

identification.”

“It has to be Michael doing this, doesn’t it, Jack? Who else

would’ve dropped a body in front of me? I mean, he did

this on purpose, didn’t he, Jack?” Tears fil ed her eyes.

“Why would Michael do this?”

Jack’s jaw hardened. “We’l get whoever did this…I’ll get

whoever did this.”

She sniffed, then nodded. Even if he wasn’t officially on

the case, she had every confidence that Jack would track

down The Charmed Kil er. “What about the charm? That’s

why the body had a piece of tape over the mouth, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” he admitted. “But I can’t tel you about the

charm. Sorry, darlin’.”

“Jack!”

“Hey, I’m not even supposed to know. I’m not going to

play fast and loose with the info I do manage to eke out.”

He pul ed his hand down his haggard face. “By the way,

have you seen Coop?”

Carlotta frowned. “I saw him in the morgue lab yesterday.

Why?”

“He’s…missing.”

“What do you mean, he’s missing?”

“I mean he didn’t show up for work today, he’s not at

home, his van is gone and no one knows where he is.”

“Should I be worried about him?”

His mouth twitched downward. “I’m afraid so.”

32

Meg was waiting for Wesley the next morning in front of

the government building by the bike rack. She was wearing

tight white slacks, a buttoned-up blouse and a glare meant

to laser holes through him. But he’d eaten an Oxy tablet

when he’d rol ed out of bed, so he was stil feeling good.

Screw her and her rich parents and her plaid-wearing pals.

He braked, then jumped off the bike and locked it up,

ignoring her.

“You’re not even going to talk to me?” she asked, arms

crossed.

“Hi, Meg,” he offered.

“That’s it? Hi, Meg? Not I’m sorry for ditching you, Meg?

I’m sorry for humiliating you in front of your parents,

Meg?”

“Oh, cut the crap. I ran into your dad in the john and he

set me straight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you knew your father had

me tailed by a private investigator, that the only reason

you asked me to go to that party was that you knew it

would drive Daddy crazy.”

He had to hand it to her—she looked surprised. “A private

investigator? I think your drug habit is making you

paranoid.”

“Whatever,” he said, swinging his backpack over his

shoulder.

“I saw you talking to that woman.”

He turned back. “What woman?”

“That woman in the yel ow dress, the one you said was

your friend. But it was clear you weren’t friends.”

“You mean E.?”

“I saw you heading toward the door, but I thought you

were just going out for a smoke. Did you make plans to

hook up with her?”

Wes studied Meg’s face, her body language. Everything in

her and about her spoke of money and privilege and

success. She could have any kind of life she wanted. But

not with someone like him. Never with someone like him.

“Yeah, that’s what happened. She and I hooked up, seeing

as how you don’t put out on the first date. So what?”

Meg’s mouth fel open, then her eyes got all hurt

looking…like she cared. She turned and stalked away from

him.

For a heartbeat, Wesley was sorry he’d lied. Then he

decided it was for the best.

33

“Wow, The Great Purse Caper made page two of the AJC,”

Peter said from the table where he was reading the paper

and having breakfast.

“It would’ve been on page one if not for The Charmed

Kil er,” Carlotta murmured, staring at the cloisonné urn.

“It says here that according to the D.A.’s office, Bebe Plank

wil definitely do jail time.”

“She should,” Carlotta said. “Stealing from her own friends

and neighbors, that’s pretty low.” But not as low as

desecrating the ashes of a person’s loved one.

“I guess this means Hannah wil get her job back.”

“Probably, if she wants it. Did the paper mention anything

about evidence in The Charmed Kil er case being

processed at the state crime lab?”

“No. Are you saying that the kil er left DNA at the scenes?”

“I’m not sure what was left, but I was told something was

being processed, and it was due back any day.”

“Good. Let’s hope the GBI gets this guy before anyone else

gets hurt. It’s unbelievable the things that people do to

each other.”

“I knocked over Angela’s ashes,” she blurted, pointing to

the urn.

He jerked his head up. “What?”

Her throat convulsed. “It was an accident, I swear.

Actually, the cat knocked over the urn, but the ceiling fan

sent the ashes everywhere.”

He steepled his hands. “Everywhere, huh?”

“Hannah and I gathered them back up as best we could,

but I stil feel so guilty about it, I had to tel you. Can you

forgive me, Peter?”

He stared at her for so long, she was sure he was going to

tel her to get her things and get the hel out. “There’s

nothing to forgive,” he said finally. “Angela’s ashes aren’t

here. They’re in the cemetery.”

She gasped, her shoulders dropping in relief. “Then what’s

in the urn?”

“Sand from where she and I honeymooned. I’ve actually

been meaning to get rid of it, but the urn is top heavy if it’s

empty, and I prefer the vase on the table over the silk

flower arrangement that was there before.”

Carlotta laughed through her fingers. “I’ve been worried

sick you’d find out and hate me.”

Peter reached over and covered her hand with his. “I could