Six Killer Bodies (30 page)

housekeeping cart.

“Excuse me,” she said to the maid, who was writing on a

form on a clipboard. “I’m so sorry, but I went to get ice

and I locked myself out of my room.” She held up the glass

of ice as proof, then pul ed the robe tighter around her. “I

can’t go down to the lobby looking like this. Can you help

me?”

The housekeeper looked dubious.

“It’s room 535, Garza,” Carlotta said, pointing to the

clipboard. “Please?”

The woman checked, then looked back and nodded.

“Oh, thank you. I’m so embarrassed,” Carlotta gushed. She

stealthily snagged a pair of latex gloves from the cart and

stuffed them into the pocket of the robe before fol owing

the maid to the room.

The woman unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Carlotta held her breath, hoping that Garza wasn’t there,

but the bed was made and the room was silent. She

thanked the woman profusely, then elbowed her way

inside, taking care not to touch the doorknob. She didn’t

want to leave fingerprints.

Once inside, she set the glass of ice on a table and pul ed

on the latex gloves. Then she set about snooping, not sure

what she’d find, or if she’d find anything at all, but

systematically opening drawers and cabinets.

Mr. Garza had gone shopping, she noted, fishing through

bags from Hugo Boss, Versace, and Gucci. Not exactly the

behavior of a grieving man, although she begrudgingly

admitted he had good taste.

In the bathroom, the vanity was crowded with

moisturizers and creams. The man was a bit of a

metrosexual who was obviously in preservation mode. She

picked up a bottle and made a face. She wondered if

Garza’s fellow police officers knew he used a pore

minimizer.

Carlotta opened his toiletry bag and sorted through razor,

tweezers, nose-hair clippers, and a manicure set. She was

about to move on when she spotted the glimmer of a

silver chain in the corner of the bag. She grasped it

between two gloved fingers and pul ed it out.

Then almost dropped it.

It was a charm bracelet featuring “girly” charms—a purse,

a high-heeled shoe, a hat, a hairbrush…and a noticeable

gap where a charm was missing.

A lipstick?

Her hand began to shake.

The bastard had done it. He’d kil ed Maria and blamed it

on The Charmed Kil er.

From the other room, she heard the sound of a card key

being inserted in the door. Alarm seized her. She dropped

the bracelet back into the toiletry kit and weighed her

options: Hide or get caught.

She hid.

In the shower. She barely had time to pul the curtain

closed before the bedroom door opened, and the sound of

upbeat whistling reached her ears.

She gritted her teeth. He’d just kil ed a woman and he was

whistling?

Because he thought he’d gotten away with it.

As he moved around the room, she closed her eyes and

prayed she’d get out of there alive. She was starting to

think that hiding in a bathtub from a man who’d just

drowned a woman in her bathtub might not have been the

smartest move. She thought wistful y of the stun baton in

her purse—why hadn’t she brought it with her?

Then she remembered she had her phone. She couldn’t

make a phone cal without being heard, but she could text.

She pul ed out the phone and frantically typed a cryptic

message to Hannah: urgnt cl 4 seasns get man out rm 535.

She hit Send and prayed Hannah was available and that

she understood.

The whistling grew louder and to her horror, Rueben Garza

came into the bathroom and proceeded to take a leak. She

held her breath, but was sure he could hear her sweating.

Through a sliver in the shower curtain, she could see his

reflection in the mirror. He was tall and dark-skinned. He

wore swim trunks and fussed with his blue-black hair with

the hand that wasn’t holding his dick.

Nestled in his chest hair was a gold medallion—maybe a

St. Christopher medal.

The same size and shape of the metal ic flash she’d seen

from the tree line outside the restaurant. Blood rushed in

her ears.

Garza finished and shook himself off, then flushed the

toilet and walked back into the bedroom.

She exhaled and wondered how long she could stay in

here. What if he decided to take a shower? How would she

explain her presence in his room, in a robe?

From the next room she heard him scoff. “What the—?”

Then she heard the sound of ice clinking in a glass. She

winced—he’d found her glass.

He walked back into the bathroom. “Damn maid,” he

muttered, then he reached inside the shower curtain and

dumped the ice.

On her bare feet.

She swallowed a gasp, but when he twisted the knob to

turn on the shower, she nearly swallowed her tongue.

The icy spray blasted her in the face. She stood stock stil ,

but her mind raced. Her only hope was to wait until he

was naked, and then he might not run after her—if she

could make it to the hallway. Her heart stampeded her

lungs.

She could hear the sounds of him pushing down his swim

trunks. And then from the other room, the sound of the

ringing phone.

The cavalry.

Garza cursed.

Answer it, she silently begged. Answer it.

He stomped into the bedroom and answered the phone.

She could hear him arguing with whoever was on the

other end. She thought about making a run for it now, but

then remembered she needed that glass—her fingerprints

were al over it.

He slammed down the phone and came back to get his

trunks, grumbling, then reached in and turn off the

shower. The sudden absence of the water was more

shocking than the initial spray. Her robe, cold and sopping

wet, clung to her and weighed a ton.

She heard more shuffling, then the blessed sound of the

room door opening and closing.

Carlotta shoved aside the shower curtain and jumped out

of the tub as fast as the sodden robe would allow. She ran

into the bedroom, leaving a trail of water, scanning for the

glass. When she found it, she shoved it in her pocket and

dashed to the door. She opened it and slipped out into the

hall, smiling at the couple coming down the hall toward

her. They squinted at her drenched appearance and

hurried into their room. Carlotta sprinted back to the ice

machine room and yanked out her purse. She made a split-

second decision that putting her clothes on over wet

underwear would draw more attention than if she wore

no underwear at all, so she stripped naked and redressed.

Then she pul ed out her phone and wallet—now

waterlogged—and stuffed the wet robe in a trash can.

She took the stairs down to give herself a few minutes to

repair her appearance. She skimmed her wet hair back

into a ponytail and removed mascara streaks with a tissue.

By the time she walked out into the lobby, her sunglasses

and attitude were back in place. Rueben Garza stood there

dressed in swim trunks, T-shirt and sandals. When she

passed him, he ogled her in between shooting exasperated

glances at his watch as he looked for someone who hadn’t

yet shown up.

Carlotta walked quickly to her car, unlocking it from a safe

distance. Just as she opened the car door, Hannah’s van

pul ed up and the window zoomed down. “I had to come

see.”

Carlotta’s shoulders fel . “How did you get him out of the

room?”

“I told him he had to come to the lobby to sign for an

ostrich egg.”

“What?”

“I panicked…it was the only thing I could think of. You

didn’t give me a lot to go on.”

“It worked. You saved my life.”

“What happened?”

“I’l tel you in a minute. Can I use your phone? Mine took

a shower.”

Hannah handed over her cel . Carlotta punched in Jack’s

number.

“Terry,” he barked after the second ring.

“Jack, it’s Carlotta.”

“Carlotta, my plate is pretty ful right now.”

She frowned. “This is important. Before you dismiss me or

hang up, promise me you’l hear me out.”

He sighed. “I’m listening.”

“Maria’s ex-husband murdered her.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?”

“Maybe, but that’s beside the point. Rueben Garza kil ed

her and he made it look like The Charmed Kil er did it.”

He made a disbelieving noise. “Have you been drinking?”

“Jack, shut up for a minute and think about it. Maria knew

he was stalking her. That’s why she asked you out to

dinner, because she expected a confrontation and knew

you’d protect her. It was Garza watching us from the trees

that night, I know it. He knew Maria smoked and that she

would come outside eventually. The charm is all wrong,

Jack—it’s feminine, not like the others. Besides…I know for

certain he kil ed her.”

“How’s that?” he asked. But the absence of sarcasm

meant he was, at least, listening.

“I found proof in his hotel room.”

A strangled noise sounded over the phone. “You what?”

“A charm bracelet, missing a charm. He did it, Jack. So you

should be able to find evidence other than the charm

bracelet, proof that he was in town the night the murder

occurred, that there’s a history of violence, something. But

he’s checking out tonight, so you’l need to move fast.”

“I can’t believe you!” he bel owed. “Have you not heard a

single word I’ve said about staying out of police work?”

“Okay, before you have an aneurysm, I have something

else to run by you.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I can stop you from

tel ing me?”

“No. I’ve been wracking my brain thinking about how

someone could’ve framed Coop for these murders.”

“Carlotta, don’t.”

“Just listen, Jack, please. If someone wanted to incriminate

Coop, they would’ve had to know where he goes—the

bookstore where Shawna Whitt worked, the block where

Pepper hung out, the gym Cheryl Meriwether belonged to,

the grocery store where Marna Col ins shopped, the cigar

shop. And when I started thinking about how you tracked

down Wes, it occurred to me—maybe there’s a GPS chip

on Coop’s van somewhere.”

“You can’t honestly believe—”

“The van has probably been impounded, right?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Then can’t you wave a wand over it or something to find

a chip if there is one?”

“Yes, I’ll get out my magic wand,” Jack said dryly. “Are you

hearing yourself? This is crazy talk, even for you.”

Carlotta bit her lip to stem tears of frustration. “Okay, Jack,

don’t do it for me. Do it for Maria and for Coop. If I’m

wrong, I’m wrong. But what if I’m right?”

He expel ed a burdened sigh. “Oh, wel …I wasn’t planning

to sleep tonight anyway.”

28

Wes was awakened early Sunday morning by his ringing

cel phone. He cracked an eye at the clock—6:15 a.m.—

and brought the phone to his mouth. “This had better be

Jesus.”

“Wes, man, it’s Kendall. Where have you been?”

Wes winced. “I’ve been sick. Dude, it’s not even dawn. Go

back to sleep.”

“That’s the problem,” Kendall said, his voice small and

squeaky. “I can’t sleep. I have nightmares. I don’t think I

can do this job anymore, Wes. I’d rather work with

roadkil .”

Wes rubbed his eyes. “Moving bodies isn’t for everyone.”

“So why do you do it?”

Wes sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the

mattress simply because the idea of lying in bed talking on

the phone to another guy weirded him out. He sighed. “I

used to do it because of Coop. He made it interesting, he

made it seem…I don’t know—like we were doing

something that mattered.”

“You miss him, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” More than he would ever admit to

Gomer. “Dude, did you call for a reason or are you just

PMSing?”

“Wil you help me tel my uncle?”

“Tel him what?”

“That I’m just not cut out for this job. I’ve tried so hard to

make him proud of me, but…I miss my squirrels.”

“Squirrels?”

“It’s hard to explain, but there’s just something really

beautiful about them when they’re all flat. Did you know

that most of them die in a perfect silhouette?”

Wes squinted. “Uh…no.”

“Their tails bush out—”

“Dude, no offense, but I couldn’t be less interested.”

“Aw, okay. Can you help me make some pickups today?”

“You mean after the sun comes up?”

Kendall laughed. “Good one. I can pick you up at noon.”

Wes gave him the address. “Wear a coat and tie, how

about it?”

“Why?”

“Just do it,” Wes said, remembering the lecture Coop had

once given him about professionalism. “And Kendall?”

“Yeah?”

“I’l go with you to talk to Dr. Abrams if you want, just let

me know.”

“Okay. Thanks, man.”

Wes ended the call and shook his head. There was

something wrong with that boy.

He lay down and tried to go back to sleep, but his mind

was wide awake—the one downside of being clean of the