Six Killer Bodies (13 page)

intense eyes. “Hi, Carlotta.”

She smiled and dipped her chin. “Sergeant Moody.”

“No need to be so formal,” he said with a deadly grin.

“Did you get your leave extended?”

“By a few more days. I stil have some unfinished business

here before I head back to Hawai .”

June averted her gaze, and Carlotta wondered if Mitch was

stil trying to talk his mother into giving up the bar.

Carlotta glanced around. “Is Eva here?” Mitch had struck

up a romance with Olympic runner Eva McCoy after she’d

recovered from her ordeal of having her world-famous

lucky charm bracelet stolen.

“Not at the moment,” he said easily. “I’m going to catch up

with her later. Mom, can I have a word with you?”

Something akin to dread passed over June’s face,

confirming to Carlotta that Mitchel was stil pressing her

about her “unsuitable” occupation.

“I’l let you two talk,” Carlotta said, giving June an

encouraging wink before walking back to the bar. She

waited until a spot opened, then slid onto a bar stool and

smiled at Nathan. “How are you?”

“Good,” he said, wiping the counter. “Can I get you

something, Carlotta?”

Mindful of the martinis she and Rainie had tossed back at

lunch she said, “Just a diet soda.”

“Coming up.”

“So…June told me you knew the two coeds who were

found dead in their car.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know them. I just remember

them coming in a few nights before, trying to pass off a

couple of fake IDs.” He sighed noisily, then slid a fountain

soda toward her. “If I’d called the police about the IDs,

they might be alive.”

“You can’t think like that. Were they with anyone that

night?”

“Nah, they were making the rounds, talking to everyone,

probably trying to find someone to buy them a drink.”

She pul ed a picture of Michael from her bag. “Have you

ever seen this guy?”

“Yeah,” Nathan said, his voice full of surprise. “Different

hair, though. He’s blond now.”

Her heart thumped in her chest. “Where did you see him?”

“Right here. Last weekend, maybe.”

“Last Saturday? When I was here?”

He nodded. “Yeah…maybe. I noticed him because he was

so…pristine. Looked a little out of place for this joint. And

he was alone.”

When she was here a week ago, someone had fol owed

her into the ladies’ room. The person hadn’t spoken, but

she’d noticed the scent of a distinctive, high-end cologne

that Michael had liked.

So it had been him. Why hadn’t he talked to her?

Carlotta swallowed. Or tried to kill her?

“I have to go,” she said, glancing at her watch. “If you see

this guy again, call the police. His name is Michael Lane,

and he’s a fugitive.”

“The guy who did a swan dive into the Hooch?” he asked,

eyes wide. “Yeah, sure, I’ll cal .”

“Don’t let him know that you recognize him,” she warned.

“Michael is…a very dangerous man.”

She took a few more sips from the soda, looking all

around, expecting to see Michael in every face. Her pulse

clicked higher and her palms were moist against the glass.

While she hoped Michael would appear and end this

torment, she was terrified at the prospect of seeing him

again face-to-face. She took advantage of the environment

to smoke a cigarette, then another, but she was ever

watchful of the crowd reflected by the mirror behind the

bar.

After a half hour had passed uneventful y, Carlotta waved

to Nathan and climbed off the stool. She walked

downstairs to say goodbye to June, who was waiting on

customers, but without her usual plucky smile. Carlotta

relayed the information about Michael, and showed June

his picture.

“We’l keep our eyes open,” June said gravely. “Keep me

posted on Coop.”

“I wil . Take care.”

Carlotta hurried through the parking lot, partly because of

the dim lighting, partly because she was running late to

meet Peter for dinner. In her haste, she was almost to the

car when she remembered that she should be using the

keyless remote at a safe distance. She reached into her

purse and backed up.

Into a solid body.

Panic seized her. Michael must have fol owed her after all.

A man’s arm reached around her, and she screamed,

groping in her purse for the stun baton Jack had given her.

Suddenly the man’s grip loosened, and the body moved

away from hers.

She spun around, stun baton held high. And found Mitchel

Moody standing there in the semi-darkness, his hands up.

“Whoa. I didn’t mean to startle you, Carlotta, but I think

you backed into me.”

Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. “Sorry…I

thought you were someone else.”

“Can’t be too careful,” he agreed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

He waved. “Catch you later.”

Mitch veered off toward an SUV with a rental license plate.

Feeling sil y, Carlotta returned the stun baton to her bag,

then unlocked her car with the remote. Stil wobbly, she

climbed in and locked the doors. On the drive to meet

Peter, she called Jack to tel him that the bartender had

positively identified Michael—as a blonde.

“You’ve been sleuthing,” he chided.

“Just asking a few questions,” she said lightly.

“I’l send a uniform to cruise Moody’s, and I’l modify the

hair color on the APB. Anything else to report, Nancy

Drew?”

The other revelations of the day ran through her mind—

the fact that Shawna Whitt had a charm bracelet with a

bird charm, Coop’s connection to the bookstore where she

worked, the sighting of a white van in front of the

woman’s house, and the fact that she and Rainie were

hatching a plot to lure Michael Lane out of hiding.

“No. Nothing else to report, Jack. Bye.”

13

When Wes locked up his bike in the parking lot around the

corner from the Alpha Tau Omega house, the red phone in

his pocket vibrated. That would be Mouse, calling to see if

he’d connected with Logan. Again. He ignored the call and

fol owed a stream of students along the sidewalk. Meg

was pacing in front of the ATO house under a streetlight,

arms crossed. She did not look happy.

“Hey,” Wes said, jogging up. When she turned her green

eyes on him, his heart went boing.

“You’re late,” she accused.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to look contrite. “I was looking for a

nice shirt to wear.”

Her frown evaporated. “Oh.” She uncrossed her arms and

nodded at his blue retro-style button-up shirt. “It does

look nice on you.”

He smiled and pushed up his glasses. “Thanks. You

look…wow.”

Her blond hair was pul ed into a side ponytail, revealing

dangling earrings. She wore a black denim miniskirt and a

pink Ed Hardy T-shirt that read “Love Kil s Slowly.”

“Thanks.” She seemed pleased with his assessment, which

pleased him.

“How did the Habitat for Humanity project go?”

“We made a lot of progress.” She held up her thumb,

wrapped with a Scooby-Doo Band-Aid. “I missed with the

hammer once and nailed myself instead.”

He suddenly found it hard to breathe. Meg was the perfect

package of smarts and looks and sass. If he wasn’t careful,

he might fall for her. The kind of fall where a guy might

break every bone in his body.

“Oh, wait.” Meg reached into her purse to pul out two

plastic leis. She lifted one over her head, and held up the

other one. “Lean forward.”

“What’s this?”

“It’s a Hawaiian-themed party. If you wear a lei, you’re less

likely to be tossed out by an ATO. Frat guys aren’t keen on

having outside bucks around, you know.”

He leaned forward. “I guess this is the only lay I’m gonna

get tonight.”

“Funny,” she said, lifting the necklace of plastic flowers

over his head. “And true.” Then she stopped and sniffed.

“Is that perfume?” She pul ed back. “Were you with

someone else before you came here?”

The girl had the nose of a bloodhound. “No,” he said,

although his voice came out sounding thin and false.

“Uh…it’s not what you think.”

But of course, it was exactly what she thought and the

damage was done. Meg stepped back and lifted her hands.

“Hey, it’s fine, really. I only asked you to come tonight

because you mentioned Jett Logan. It’s not like this is a

date or anything.”

His pride kicked in, straightening his back. “Yeah, right. I

feel the same.”

He caught the pinched look around her eyes just before

she turned away. “Let’s go in. My friends are waiting for

me.”

Wes fol owed her miserably. The harder he tried with

Meg, the more he seemed to screw things up. Too late he

realized he should’ve said the perfume was Carlotta’s, but

Meg would never believe that lie now.

He was an idiot for stopping by Liz’s first, and probably a

bigger idiot for not staying. But he had to find this Logan

guy and col ect, or face the wrath of The Carver. Although

at the moment that seemed preferable to facing the wrath

of Meg.

The ATO house practically pulsated with reggae music.

Bodies spil ing out the doors and mil ing inside wore wildly

flowered shirts, bathing suits, leis, and even the occasional

grass skirt in keeping with the island theme. The guy at the

door col ecting a cover charge, donations to a charity the

fraternity supported, looked Wesley over with a frown.

“Who are you?”

“He’s with me, Charlie,” Meg said, stepping up. “Wes is my

cousin from out of town.”

Charlie gave Meg a leering glance that made Wesley want

to punch him. “Hey, Meg, go on in.” The guy stared at her

ass as she went through the door.

Wesley glared and handed over cash to cover his and

Meg’s entry, then hurried into the house, trying to keep

Meg within sight.

Even though it was relatively early, the air was already

thick with the scent of beer and perspiration. Bodies were

shoulder to shoulder, with a limbo pole going in the main

room and lots of cheering from the sidelines for the girl

shimmying underneath. Wes looked around for Meg. The

strobe lights in the next room triggered flashes of pain

behind his eyes, a sure sign the Oxy was starting to wear

off. He cursed under his breath because he knew a

blinding headache and various unpleasant side effects

weren’t far behind.

He had a couple of hits in his pocket, but he was trying like

hel to wean himself off, like he’d promised Carlotta.

He grabbed a Pepsi Max from a tub of ice, hoping the

heaping dose of caffeine would postpone the worst of the

symptoms, and kept weaving his way through the crowded

rooms. He felt conspicuous, as if everyone could tel by

looking at him that he didn’t belong. The guys all looked

thick-armed and tanned, wearing sports sandals, their hair

ful of product. When he spotted Meg, she had her back to

him, talking to a knot of people. He walked up to stand

next to her.

“Hey, I lost you.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You sure did.”

Aware that the group was staring at him, he lifted the can

to his mouth and took a drink, wishing he was anywhere

else. They were probably al Mensa-eligible, destined for

think tanks after graduating summa cum lah-de-dah.

“Everyone,” Meg said, “meet Wes—my cousin. Wes, this is

Paul, Esi, Wendy, and Seung.”

“Hey,” they chorused with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“Hey,” he returned with a nod.

“Are you a Tech student?” Esi asked.

“Uh, no.”

“Wes is working for the county morgue until he decides

what he’s going to do with his life,” Meg offered.

Wes ground his jaw. Jesus Christ, two women in one night

pressuring him about his life plans. At the disclosure of his

morbid job, he expected to see disgust on the faces of the

geniuses around him. Instead, they looked…impressed.

“Cool,” Esi said, and the others nodded.

“That’l look good on a med school application,” Paul

remarked.

“Won’t it?” Meg agreed.

“Hey, do you know that sicko who was arrested for kil ing

all those women?” Wendy asked.

“Yeah. Do you know The Charmed Kil er?” Paul asked, his

eyes wide.

Wes hesitated. His urge to defend Coop warred with his

urge to fit in with Meg’s friends. “Yeah, I know him. We

were both body movers.”

They gaped. “Is he creepy?”

“Did you suspect it was him?”

“Is he into doing corpses?”

Wes winced. “What? No. Coop’s not a ghoul. In fact, I

think the police have the wrong guy.”

Esi made a choking noise. “You mean The Charmed Kil er is

still out there?”

“Yep. It could be anybody.” He swept a suspicious glance

over the two guys. “Maybe someone you least suspect.”

The two girls cast distrustful glances at the guys and

shrank back.

“He’s teasing,” Meg said.

Wes looked at Meg. “Could I talk to you alone, cuz?”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” she asked

sweetly. “Uncle Randolph’s database records?”