Six Killer Bodies (10 page)

you remember?”

The woman stopped and looked Carlotta over. “Are you a

cop or something?”

“Heavens, no. I work at Neiman’s and we sold a lot of

these bracelets.” She fingered the charms. “The rumor is

that the charms tel a person’s future. I just wondered if

there was anything on your friend’s bracelet that…I don’t

know—spooked her?”

The woman scratched behind her ear. “Let’s see, there

was a bird of some kind—a chicken, I think.”

Carlotta’s pulse leaped. The fact that the kil er had taken a

charm from Shawna’s bracelet and put it in her mouth was

huge. It proved Coop hadn’t added the charm to Shawna

Whitt’s mouth when he arrived on the scene to move the

body. It was all Carlotta could do not to whip out her

phone and call Jack on the spot.

“And there was a question-mark charm,” Monica

continued, “which seemed to fit Shawna because she

usually worked the information desk.” She snapped her

fingers. “Wait. There was a charm that freaked Shawna

out a little. It was a woman asleep or something, with her

arms crossed over her chest.”

Carlotta’s mouth went dry. She picked up the corpselike

charm from her own bracelet. “Like this one?”

“That’s it! Wow, how creepy that the two of you have the

same charm.”

“I’m sure there were lots of duplicates,” Carlotta

murmured, then took a sip from her coffee cup. “The

intertwined-hands charm sounds interesting. Did Shawna

have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Maybe someone she knew from online?”

“Not Shawna. She was thinking about joining an online

dating service, but she didn’t have the chance.”

Carlotta poured a packet of creamer into her cup. “I

suppose the police came by and asked all kinds of

questions.”

Monica shrugged. “I heard a detective came in on one of

my days off, but I didn’t talk to him. I didn’t know

anything, and I was just so sad, I had to get away from

here for a few days.”

“Did Shawna mention if any customers made her feel

uncomfortable?”

Monica laughed. “If you work retail long enough, you meet

your share of weirdos. But I don’t remember her saying

anyone in particular was bothering her.”

Carlotta smiled. “Being a bookstore, you probably get lots

of loners.”

“Oh, yeah. The guys who can’t get a date on weekends put

on their toupees and cruise the aisles ogling the help.”

Monica offered a wry smile, then glanced down the

counter to see another customer waiting in front of the

pastry case. “Excuse me.”

Carlotta nodded and walked away sipping her coffee,

thril ed with the information she’d gleaned—information

that apparently Jack had missed out on due to bad timing.

She walked back through the bookstore to study the

information desk—a tall, curved counter with a phone and

computer. It was unmanned at the moment. Carlotta

imagined the plain, slender woman standing behind the

counter, offering up shy smiles to customers. Had she

gotten too chatty with a psychopath? Inadvertently ticked

him off in some way?

The last two victims, the Georgia State coeds, had been

found with book charms in their mouths. Maybe the

charms were clues to the murderer’s identity. Maybe he

was an intel ectual, or fancied himself to be. If so, it made

sense The Charmed Kil er would hang out in a bookstore.

But Michael Lane certainly didn’t fit that profile.

“May I help you?” a young man asked, stepping up to the

information counter.

Carlotta gave him a big smile. “Does your store specialize

in a certain type of book? Or is there a unique section that

would bring in a particular customer?”

“We sel more textbooks than anything else, mostly to

students, of course. But we have lots of professionals

come in to buy reference books, too.”

“What type of professionals?”

He shrugged. “Engineers, doctors, architects, you name it.”

Any one of whom might have latched on to Shawna Whitt.

Carlotta pul ed out a picture of Michael Lane. “Have you

seen this man in here?”

The man squinted. “He looks familiar, but…I don’t think

so.”

Eager to further exonerate Coop by proving he didn’t

know Shawna Whitt, she pul ed out a picture of him taken

on their road trip to Florida. In it, Coop looked tanned and

happy, a far cry from his disheveled appearance being

flashed on television and in newspapers. “How about this

man? Have you ever seen him in here?”

The clerk bit his lip, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s the white-

van guy. He’s in here a couple of times a week, checking

out the medical books. I figure he’s a med student or

something.”

The breath stalled in her lungs. “How…how do you know

he drives a white van?”

“Hard to miss, it’s so big. He parks it across the street.”

The man turned and pointed out the window at the

metered street parking. “Are you looking for him?”

She nodded, but the effort was painful. Tears pushed on

the backs of her eyebal s. “He’s a long-lost friend. Thank

you for your time.”

She stumbled to a comfortable chair in a seating area to

gather herself. So what if Coop came into the store often?

It didn’t mean he’d known Shawna Whitt.

But if he was a regular customer, wouldn’t he have seen

her at some point? If so, why hadn’t Coop mentioned

when they’d arrived to pick up the woman’s body that she

seemed familiar?

Her palms were sweating against the paper cup of coffee.

She opened the notebook and forced herself to write

down the details about Shawna and her charm bracelet,

but her handwriting was shaky. Carlotta ached to call

Hannah or Wesley for support, but she was afraid to give

voice to the questions and doubts revolving in her head.

Tel ing herself that more information about Shawna Whitt

might reveal another direction she could fol ow, Carlotta

left the bookstore and drove to the woman’s home. She

kept an eye on the side mirror, but didn’t notice anyone

tailing her. Maybe she was all wrong about Michael

fol owing her into the ladies’ room at Moody’s Cigar

Bar…or perhaps he’d simply lost interest.

She didn’t remember the exact address of Shawna Whitt’s

Berkley Heights home, so she drove through the older

neighborhood until she spotted the little house. Except for

the overgrown yard, it was a dream cottage for a single

woman—neat and picturesque. Carlotta parked on the

street and got out to stretch her legs. She glanced at the

neighboring houses. A curtain moved in the window of a

bungalow across the street.

Carlotta smiled and headed in that direction. Nosy

neighbors could be a treasure trove of information. She

cringed, thinking of all the things her neighbor Mrs.

Winningham would spil about the Wrens, if given the

opportunity.

From the looks of the bungalow, the occupant had lived

there for a while. The houses on either side looked

updated. Carlotta strode up to the door and knocked.

When she didn’t get a response, she knocked again. Finally

the door opened a few inches to reveal a woman’s

wrinkled, wary face. “Yes?”

“Hi,” Carlotta said with a smile. “My name is Carlotta

Wren. I was wondering if you could answer some

questions for me about the lady who lived across the

street.”

“The one who got murdered?”

“Yes, Shawna Whitt.”

“Didn’t know her,” the woman said.

“That’s okay,” Carlotta said. “I’l bet you’ve lived in this

neighborhood for a while.”

“That’s right.”

“And you have a nice vantage point to be able to look out

for your neighbors. You probably notice things that other

people don’t.”

“Sometimes,” the woman admitted.

“Did you see anything strange the day that Shawna Whitt

was found in her home?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

“I’m working close to the investigation,” she hedged. “I

was here the night Miss Whitt’s body was removed.” The

woman seemed satisfied with the vague identification.

“May I ask your name, ma’am?”

“Audrey Cole.”

“Ms. Cole, please try to remember. Did you notice

anything out of the ordinary that day?”

“Like what?”

“People in the neighborhood who didn’t belong? Strange

vehicles?”

“No.”

Carlotta pressed her lips together, her mind racing for

another approach. “What about the day before?”

“Now that’s another matter entirely,” the woman declared

with a smile. “I noticed a van cruising through the

neighborhood. I figured it was the phone company, or Ms.

Rosen three doors down getting new carpet. That woman

buys new carpet every eighteen months.”

Carlotta swallowed. “What color?”

“Same color every time—Sante Fe beige.”

“No, I meant what color was the van?”

“Oh. It was white.”

Her stomach rol ed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. A long, white van.”

“Did the van stop at Shawna’s house?”

“No, but it did slow down—once when it went up the

street, and again when it came back down. Like the driver

was checking for an address.”

“Did you happen to see the driver?”

“No. My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

That made Carlotta smile. “Just one more thing, Ms. Cole.

Did you tel the police about the white van?”

“I talked to a big, nice-looking man in a suit, but I didn’t tel

him about the van.”

“Why not?”

“He didn’t ask.”

Carlotta pursed her mouth. So unless another neighbor

had been as attentive as Ms. Cole, neither the APD nor the

GBI had this bit of information.

And now that Carlotta had it, what was she going to do

with it?

She thanked the woman and made her way back to her

car, her mind racing. She needed more info on the case,

and no way was she going to get it from Jack or Maria.

On impulse, she opened her phone, pul ed up a number on

her contacts list, and connected the call. The phone was

answered on the first ring, as Carlotta would’ve expected

from any self-respecting newspaper reporter who was

afraid to miss a scoop.

“Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Rainie Stephens speaking.”

“Rainie, it’s Carlotta Wren.”

“Hi, Carlotta. What can I do for you?” The woman’s tone

was equal parts curiosity and suspicion. Since Rainie and

Coop had shared some kind of relationship before Carlotta

had met either one of them, the reporter had to know why

Carlotta was calling.

Carlotta smiled into the phone. “Let me buy you lunch,

Rainie.”

10

“Salad and water,” Rainie Stephens said, handing her

menu to the waiter.

Carlotta smiled at the server. “Scratch that. Bring us an

appetizer platter and two martinis with lots of olives.”

After the man left, the curvy redhead angled her head

toward Carlotta. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Are you trying to stop me?”

“Are you kidding? So far, this is the best date I’ve had all

year.”

Carlotta laughed, then clasped her hands on the table in

front of her. “You and I made a pretty good team

recovering Eva McCoy’s stolen charm bracelet.”

“Glad to help. Although I’ve spoken to Eva and she’s

worried sick that all the media she got over her Olympic

Lucky Charm Bracelet might have set off this kil ing spree.”

“I can see why she’d be upset, but who knows how or why

the charms figure into the murders.”

“That’s what I told her.”

“So…you don’t know?” Carlotta probed careful y.

Rainie shook her head. “No.”

Carlotta didn’t know whether to believe her, but she

backed off a notch. “The Charmed Kil er case has been

good for the newspaper business.”

Rainie nodded. “It’s the kind of story that reporters dream

of…and it’s the most horrendous thing I’ve ever

experienced. I’d give anything if it had never happened. I

can’t believe that Cooper—” Her voice broke and she

fought for composure. “The past couple of days have been

a nightmare.”

“I know. I went to see Coop in jail.”

Rainie leaned forward. “How is he?”

“Not good. But I don’t believe he did this, Rainie.”

“I don’t want to believe it, either.”

“Your articles about the The Charmed Kil er murders—was

Coop your source in the morgue?”

“You know I can’t reveal my sources, Carlotta.”

“But I need your help, and so does Coop.”

Rainie squinted. “Is there…something going on between

you and Coop?”

“No.” Carlotta shifted on the chair. “I mean, there was a

time…a brief window when we might have…” She arched

an eyebrow. “Did you and Coop have a thing?”

Rainie’s smile was coy. “We had our window. I was wil ing,

but Coop was going through a rough time. It was after he’d

gotten out of jail, out of rehab—do you know about that?”

Carlotta nodded. “The woman he wrongly pronounced

dead on the accident scene?”

“Right. Everything had worked itself out by the time I met

him, but he was stil …searching. But the Cooper Craft I