Six Killer Bodies (12 page)

“Pel egrino okay?” she asked, withdrawing a green bottle

from the refrigerator. She topped off her own glass, then

looked up.

“Uh, sure,” he said, surprised that Liz wasn’t having

something stronger.

She fil ed another glass and handed it to him. The heavy

musk of her perfume irritated his overstimulated olfactory

nerve.

“I’d planned for us to eat in the dining room,” she said,

“but that seemed so formal. So I set the kitchen table.”

Wesley swung his head in the direction she nodded and

did a double-take at the two place settings, complete with

standing, pleated napkins. “Uh…what’s going on?”

She smiled. “I made us dinner.”

He felt his eyes grow wide. “Dinner? I thought we were

going to—” He swal owed the last word.

“Later,” Liz promised. “First, I thought we’d talk.”

His bal s sagged. “Talk?”

“Yes. Do you like filet?”

“Uh…sure. But I hadn’t planned to eat…steak.” He glanced

at his watch. “I have to be somewhere in less than an

hour.”

“You have time to eat. Besides, I wanted to chat with you

about my newest client.”

“Coop?”

“Have a seat and I’l plate the food.”

He did as he was told, lowering himself awkwardly onto an

elegant chair that was covered in a fancy striped fabric.

“Did you ever work in a restaurant?”

She looked back. “I waitressed my way through law school.

Why do you ask?”

“You said ‘plate the food.’ That’s a foodie term.”

Liz smiled. “And you’re a foodie?”

“I watch the Food Network occasionally,” he admitted

sheepishly.

“You cook?”

“Some. Carlotta is a disaster in the kitchen, so I took over

the meals a few years ago.”

Liz carried their plates to the table. “I hope my meager

skil s suffice.”

The filet was undercooked, and the mixed vegetables were

overcooked, but he appreciated the effort and

complimented her. She smiled her thanks, but picked at

the food on her plate. Liz seemed nervous, which was so

uncharacteristic, it made him nervous.

“Is Coop okay?” he asked.

“It’s hard to tell,” she said. “He’s so…self-deprecating. It’s

clear to me that he feels like he deserves to be punished

for something.”

Wes wet his lips. “Do you think Coop is The Charmed

Kil er?”

She lifted her shoulders in a slow shrug. “I don’t know. He

doesn’t behave like a man who’s been wrongly accused.

He’s not angry, he’s not defensive. I have to pul

information out of him.”

“He’s probably going through withdrawal. He’s a

recovering alcoholic, but Carlotta and I both noticed he’d

started drinking again lately.”

“I could tel he was coming down from something. I

requested that he be kept under observation in the

infirmary. Maybe when his health improves, his head wil

clear.”

But she didn’t sound optimistic. With a rueful noise, she

pushed away her barely touched plate. “So what do you

think, Wes? Is this guy a serial kil er?”

Wes swallowed a chunk of bloody meat. “No.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s not exactly a resounding

endorsement.”

He wiped his mouth with the white napkin. “From what I

know of Coop, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“From what you know,” she repeated. “Meaning you don’t

know him very wel ?”

“He doesn’t talk about his background much. You know

the circumstances of him losing his job as Chief M.E.?”

She nodded. “He told me what happened, said it was all

his fault, that he’d gotten off easy compared to the

woman who was hurt.” Liz sighed. “I hope I don’t have a

client who’s wil ing to take the fal for murder because he

thinks he wasn’t punished enough for something he did

before.”

“Is he going to plead not guilty?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Carlotta mentioned something about DNA evidence?”

Liz nodded slowly. “I can’t talk specifics, but it doesn’t look

good.”

“But Coop was on the scene of some of those murders as a

body mover. My DNA was probably there, as wel .”

“I know, and if a trial goes forward, his defense attorney

wil argue just that.”

“So you plan to only handle the arraignment.”

“As of now, yes. I don’t have the litigation experience to

try a case like this. I wouldn’t mind sitting second chair if

my schedule allows. But the hope is there won’t be a trial.”

“Have you talked to the D.A. yet?”

Liz’s mouth thinned. “Numerous times.”

“He’s out for blood, isn’t he?”

“Kelvin Lucas and I aren’t exactly friends, but I’d expect

him to pul out al the stops on this case since one of his

A.D.A.’s was murdered. I don’t mind representing a guilty

man—everyone deserves counsel. But I don’t want a client

who’s using the legal system to do himself in.”

Wes checked his watch. If he didn’t leave now, he’d be

late. He cut another piece of steak and stuffed it in his

mouth. “Carlotta and I are trying to find the real

murderer.”

Liz frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should

leave it up to the GBI.”

“But we’ve got a lot of first-hand information since we

were on the scenes. And Carlotta stil thinks that psycho

Michael Lane is to blame.”

Liz leaned forward and crossed her arms. The movement

pushed up her boobs, giving him an inadvertent eyeful

through the opening in her shirt. Wow, they looked even

bigger than usual.

“I hope she’s right. The man can’t hide forever.”

Wes swallowed the half-chewed steak and caught her eye.

“Some men can.”

She smiled and gave a nod of concession. “Speaking of

Randolph, I read in the paper that his name had come up

as a suspect in this case.”

Wes nodded, remembering what Carlotta had told him

about his father’s involvement with one of the victims.

“They’re grasping at straws.”

“Have you or Carlotta heard from your dad since he talked

to her at the rest area in Florida?”

“No.”

“Would you tel me if you had?”

“Probably,” he said. “Would you tel me if he’d contacted

you?”

“Touché. But he hasn’t.” She drank more water, then

pushed a strand of hair over her ear with a hand that

shook slightly.

“Are you okay, Liz? I mean, you didn’t sound so good

before you left town.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “I just needed a break from

everything, some time to think.”

Wes’s stomach clenched. In his experience, it was never

good when women took time to think.

“What are your plans, Wes?”

He stuffed another bite of steak in his mouth and chewed

with purpose. “A friend invited me to a party tonight.”

She gave a little laugh. “That’s not what I meant. I mean,

what are your plans for…your life?”

He blinked. “My life?”

“Are you thinking about going to col ege, getting a job?”

“I have a job…more than one, remember?”

“I know. But what about when your community service is

finished, and the undercover job is over? What do you

want to do with your life?”

The caring look in her eyes sent a tremor of fear through

his chest. “Why are you asking?”

She wet her lips. “No reason. You’re just so smart, I’d like

to see you make something of yourself.”

But her body language made him apprehensive. If he

didn’t know better, he’d think Liz was hinting that the two

of them…No, that was crazy.

She reached forward to stroke his hand. “Are you meeting

Meg at this party, the girl whose name you called out

when we were together?”

Wes squirmed. “Uh, no. I have to meet up with a guy. It’s

business for The Carver.”

“Wel , if it’s business, then why don’t you come back here

afterward? You could spend the night.”

At the prospect of an entire night’s access to her

enormous tits and open thighs, Wesley’s body screamed

yes. But at the same time his mind sent up warning flags to

counter his hardening dick. Spend the night? Since when

was Liz wil ing to risk a neighbor seeing him slip out at an

odd hour of the morning? Spending the night was an

indication that their relationship had moved beyond the

il icit quickie in the guest house. It meant morning breath

and awkward exits and…obligation.

His throat convulsed. “Uh…”

She traced little circles on the back of his hand, sending

sensations arrowing to all parts of his body. “I’ve been

thinking that maybe we should start spending more time

together, go out once in a while.”

His eyebrows practical y flew off his head. “Out? In

public?”

She gave a little laugh. “I know I’m older than you, but

you’re very mature for your age, Wes.”

“You mean us…as a couple?” He choked on the last word.

Liz pouted. “You make it sound like a sentence. We could

have a great time, Wes.” She reached forward to touch his

chest. “We could travel, and I’d pay for you to go to

col ege. I’l bet you could get into Emory without even

studying for the entrance exam.”

That made him pause. Graduating from Emory University

would be cool.

“And we already know the sex is great.” She almost

looked…pleading. But she must have smel ed his panic

because her expression softened. “You don’t have to

answer right away. Give it some thought. Meanwhile, stay

with me tonight.”

“Uh…I’l think about it,” he hedged.

“Good. I’l leave the light on.”

He wiped his mouth and stood abruptly. “Gotta run.

Thanks for dinner,” he added, even though his stomach

was already rol ing from the too-rare meat and the

unpalatable texture of the vegetables.

Liz rubbed herself against him in a ful -body goodbye kiss.

He pul ed back before his cock won the arm-wrestling

match raging in his brain. Then with Liz’s offer clanging in

his head, Wes fled as if the hounds of hell were chasing

him.

12

It was around seven-thirty in the evening when Carlotta

left the Perimeter Mall, miraculously, with no shopping

bags. And regretful y, with no proof that the silver charms

The Charmed Kil er had thrust upon his victims had been

purchased at any of the stores there.

In the parking lot she looked all around, keeping an eye

out for Michael and her hand on her stun baton while

unlocking the rental car at a safe distance. She cal ed Peter

to arrange to meet him for dinner in an hour and found

herself looking forward to it. Then, monitoring her side

mirror, she steered the rental car toward Moody’s Cigar

Bar.

Moody’s was a great little slice of old Atlanta, wel -

situated in a two-story building that retained the

architectural charm of the 1920s. A bel tinkled when she

walked in, and she was instantly met with the fragrances

of tobacco—plum, cherry, and oak. The first floor of the

shop was dominated by a black horseshoe-shaped bar that

serviced customers buying cigars and accoutrements from

glass-fronted cabinets lining the walls. The art-deco

fixtures and the piano music wafting over speakers

cinched the mood. The shop was crowded with

connoisseurs and the merely curious. Carlotta scanned for

the owner, June Moody, but she didn’t see her.

A stairway in the back led upstairs to a martini bar, with a

comfy lounging area for smokers and guests. Carlotta

ascended the stairs and waved hel o through the crowd to

Nathan, the bartender. June, a wel -preserved blonde in

her fifties, was walking toward her with a tray of empty

glasses and ful ashtrays. She smiled, then set the tray on

the bar and hugged Carlotta.

“I’m so sorry about Coop,” Carlotta murmured.

“How could this happen?” June asked, her brow furrowed.

“Jack says jail is the best place for Coop right now,”

Carlotta said, sidestepping the question. “He’l get sober in

a safe place, where he can’t harm himself or anyone else.”

“That’s a good thing,” June agreed. “And if that monster,

The Charmed Kil er, strikes again, everyone wil know it

wasn’t Coop.”

“Right.”

June squeezed Carlotta’s arm. “I feel better knowing

you’re on Coop’s side.”

Carlotta hoped her smile wasn’t as shaky as it felt. “June,

did you know the last two victims, the coeds who were

found dead in their car? I’m asking because I know the car

was parked not far from here.”

“Two blocks away,” June supplied, then sighed. “No, I

didn’t know them, but Nathan turned them away from the

bar.”

Carlotta’s pulse jumped. “That same night?”

“No, not that night, but he thought they’d been in here

before with fake IDs. I told the police.” Her expression

clouded. “I might have made things worse for Coop

because the police asked about him coming here, too.”

“Don’t you worry about it. Coop assured me that

everything’s going to work out.”

June looked past Carlotta’s shoulder and smiled at

someone approaching. “Mitch.”

Carlotta turned to see June’s son, Mitchel Moody, a

career Army man, striding up to them. He was a big guy,

tall and nice-looking, with a shaved head and shrewd,