3 Men and a Body Page 6
He grabbed his backpack and banged the door shut behind him. He opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, but the OxyContin slowed him down a bit. Once he got outside, though, the fresh air helped to clear his head. He was unlocking his bike when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. He recognized Leonard’s hefty shadow before he could even look up. When he straightened, he half expected the guy to kick sand in his face.
“Does E. know what you do on the side?” Wesley asked, trying to look taller.
“No,” the guy said through big, gritted teeth. “And if she finds out, I know where to land with both feet, capiche?”
Wesley bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Is that all?”
“No. Got a message for you from The Carver.”
Wesley swallowed. Shit, he didn’t see that coming. “You work for The Carver?”
“Listen up, dickhead, because this is the deal of a lifetime. A way to clear everything you still owe.”
Wesley broke out in an instant sweat, exacerbated by the drug pumping through his bloodstream. Deal of a lifetime?
Something told him this was going to be anything but.
8
C arlotta checked her watch and tried to ignore the fierce itching under her cast. She’d been ready for more than an hour. Her suitcase sat next to the door and her heart pounded with nervous excitement. She was eager to get out of this house for a few days, and she was looking forward to spending time with Coop. Even though she knew he had a crush on her, she also knew he wouldn’t pressure her, like Peter, or mess with her mind, like Jack.
And when the time came, it would be easy to slip away from Coop for a few hours. She nursed the tiniest bit of guilt over using the trip as a cover to get to Daytona Beach, but no one had to know. She would locate the Holiday Inn where her father’s fingerprints had been found, and ask a few questions of her own. Maybe he was working there. If he was in disguise, Jack could easily overlook him. He could talk to him and not know it was him…her father would love that. She wasn’t even sure that she would recognize Randolph, but after her brush with him at the fake funeral, she at least knew to be looking past the obvious.
At the sound of Kiki Deerling’s name on the television, she turned her head to listen. Knowing that they would be bringing Kiki’s body back to Atlanta made her feel more connected to the dead girl. Carlotta reached for the remote control and turned up the volume.
“Fans of Kiki Deerling are still reeling from the news of her sudden death in Boca Raton, Florida. Details surrounding the starlet’s final moments are still sketchy, but initial reports are that Deerling might have suffered a severe asthma attack. Deerling’s publicist, Marquita White, issued the following statement, quote, ‘We are so saddened by the horrific tragedy of Kiki Deerling’s passing. This is an extremely difficult time for her loved ones and we ask the media to please respect the family’s privacy,’ unquote.
“Meanwhile, members of the Deerling family are not talking to the press. Here’s a clip showing Kiki’s ex-boyfriend, Grammy award-winning singer Matt Pearson, being turned away at the door of the Deerlings’ home in Boca Raton by Kiki’s older sister, Kayla. You can clearly see that Kayla has been crying. They appear to exchange angry words, then Pearson leaves, stumbling twice on the way back to his car. It’s widely known that she disapproved of her sister’s alliance with Pearson.”
Kayla Deerling was an older, brunette version of her more famous sister, except of a more normal weight, Carlotta observed wryly. She ran a restaurant in Buckhead called Diamonds, which was all the rage with the critics. Reservations were hard to come by and the menu was way out of Carlotta’s price range.
“Pearson has been arrested twice for alleged heroin use, and has been in and out of rehab in the past few months. Deerling and Pearson have not been linked romantically for over a year, and Deerling has been photographed with many other men since. Sources say that Matt Pearson wasn’t on the Boca birthday party guest list, but showed up unannounced, and Kiki herself let him in.”
Matt Pearson was portrayed in the media to be arrogant and reckless, and Carlotta had heard enough reports of him trashing hotel rooms and smashing sports cars that she was inclined to believe it was true. What was it about bad boys, she wondered, that made women overlook their wayward behavior?
“No memorial arrangements have been announced, but the Deerlings own a cemetery plot in their hometown of Atlanta, where the family has many business investments, including the flagship store for the Deerling jewelry empire, and Diamonds restaurant. Experts tell us if there’s an autopsy, it could be a week or more before Kiki is laid to rest. Despite the initial reports linking her death to asthma, rumors abound that drugs played a part in the young woman’s collapse. Stay tuned for upcoming details on the tragic death of Kiki Deerling.”
Carlotta turned down the volume, shaking her head at the pointlessness. It was a very sad ending for a woman who might have gone on to more noble pursuits, but instead would be memorialized for her excessive partying and personal humiliations played out in the tabloids.
At the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, Carlotta clicked off the TV and jumped up to look out the window. Seeing Coop’s white van, she smiled. “Wesley, I’m leaving!” she called. “See you in a few days!” She doubted if he heard her, since the fan in his bedroom was still running, but she looked toward the hallway in case he emerged. She had waited up until midnight last night before giving in and going to bed, but had left a note on his door telling him she was going on a road trip with Coop. Wesley was clearly avoiding her because he didn’t want to discuss what had happened. And she wasn’t ready to pry the truth out of Peter. In fact, she hadn’t even told him that she was going out of town.
Wesley was avoiding her; she was avoiding Peter. Round and round we go.
Maybe by the time she returned to Atlanta, Wesley would be willing to open up. Carlotta sighed in the direction of his closed bedroom door. They seemed bound and yet separated by old and new secrets. A few days away from each other would probably do them both good.
The doorbell rang. She hurried to the door and opened it, unable to suppress her smile. Coop looked handsome and fit in a black T-shirt and jeans, dressed more casually than usual, and wearing it well. Her heart tripped ridiculously, as if they were going to the prom.
“Hi,” he said with a grin, scanning her summer outfit of white pants, pink buttoned-up shirt and sandals. “You look great.”
She blushed and was struck with the sudden sensation that this trip might be laced with more sexual tension than she’d anticipated. “Thanks. But I’m so over this cast.”
He wagged his eyebrows. “I’m a doctor—I think it’s kind of hot.”
Carlotta laughed at his foolishness and took one last look into the hallway. Then she turned back with a shrug. “I thought Wesley might come out to say goodbye.”
“Are you sure he’s in there?”
“Yeah, I heard him roll in about two this morning. And the note I left on the door is gone.”
“He knows where we’re going?”
“You said it was hush-hush, so I said we were going on a road trip for the morgue, but not where or why.” She smiled. “I said that you felt sorry for me and were letting me tag along.”
Coop grinned. “Somehow I doubt he’ll buy that story.”
“I did.”
He grinned wider. “I know.”
She punched him on the arm and he faked pain, then picked up her rather large suitcase and staggered. “Whoa! You got a body in here?”
“Just a few necessities,” she sang as she closed the door and locked it behind them.
“How much room does a bathing suit take up? I should’ve been more explicit about our itinerary.” He stopped. “You did bring a bathing suit, didn’t you?”
“Several,” she taunted.
Coop groaned. “I can’t wait to get there.”
Carlotta laughed, then squashed a pang of guilt and pressed her advantage.
“I was hoping we could stop for the night in Daytona.”
“Fine with me. But what’s the interest in Daytona? You’re not going to look up an old boyfriend, are you?”
She gave a nervous laugh. “No. Um…there’s a Neiman’s there I want to visit.”
“No problem,” he said. “Daytona is about a six-hour drive. If traffic is decent, and figuring in time to stop for lunch, we should be there by late afternoon.”
She glanced toward the garage and frowned. Wesley had left the door up a few inches when he’d come home last night. “Give me a minute to close the garage door, Coop. The opener must be broken—it’s been making a grinding noise.” She sighed. Another expense.
He looked over and held up his arm. “Let me check it out.”
She followed him. After he raised the garage door, she peered into the dimly lit interior. Her blue Monte Carlo—damnable car—sat where it had been since her accident. And her beloved but broken-down white Miata convertible sat next to it. Wesley’s bike stood between the two vehicles.
“Everything looks fine,” she told Coop.
“I hope Wes doesn’t try to drive on his suspended license while you’re gone.”
“He won’t.” She smiled widely. “I have the keys.”
“Does he have the key to the garage?” he asked, pointing to the handle.
“Yes. You can lock it.”
Carlotta bit her lip, wondering where Wesley had been last night, if he’d gone to see his mystery girlfriend. Or if he’d been gambling again. Maybe he’d left the garage door up because he’d been drinking. She sighed. He certainly didn’t need another vice.
After securing the garage, Coop opened the middle door of the van and set her suitcase behind the driver’s seat. Behind the bench seat was a mesh screen separating the passenger area from the gurney at the rear. It was hard to imagine that on the way back, they would be carrying the body of Kiki Deerling with them.
Coop opened the passenger side door and helped Carlotta climb in, since she only had use of one arm. His body language was gentle and protective. Despite Coop’s flirting, she knew he’d never want to make her feel uncomfortable. But his touch on her arm and waist wasn’t unwelcome.
He helped her fasten the seat belt, his proximity sending a whiff of aftershave into her lungs. Clean and natural—like him.
“All set?” he asked with a smile, his light brown eyes crinkling in merriment behind black horn-rimmed glasses. The knowledge that he was happy being with her left her a little breathless. She needed to tread lightly here…for both their sakes.
“Yeah,” she said breezily. “All set.”
He stepped back and closed her door. She watched him stride in front of the van, his movements sure but relaxed, a man who was comfortable with himself. Her pulse quickened in response. She could see why her brother admired Coop. His quiet confidence was compelling…and sexy. Coop had promised her separate hotel rooms for the trip if she wanted, but at the moment, it was deliciously entertaining to think about the alternative.
Of course, after six hours together in this van, they might be ready to drown each other in the Atlantic Ocean.
9
“G reat day,” Coop said happily, once he settled into the driver’s seat and turned over the ignition.
It was, Carlotta conceded. Another warm summer day in the South, with an intensely blue sky and one or two puffy clouds bouncing around. She smiled up through the windshield as they pulled out of the driveway, and even waved at crabby Mrs. Winningham in her yard. As they drove away from the house, she could feel the stress draining from her body. A sigh escaped her.
“You okay?” Coop asked.
She nodded, putting on white Gucci sunglasses. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a vacation.”
He grinned. “Then I’ll have to make sure you have a good time. But first, I need to make a few phone calls. Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Why don’t you sort through the CDs in the console and pick out something you’d like to listen to?”
He turned on his blinker and merged the long van into the traffic on the I-75/I-85 connector. The multiple lanes were clogged with locals commuting to the airport and out-of-towners following I-75 to Florida. Beyond the airport, traffic thinned, but it was still a stressful stretch of road to travel for most drivers. Coop, however, seemed perfectly at ease behind the wheel of the large vehicle. He had nice hands, with long, blunt-tipped fingers. She wondered idly if he’d ever worn a wedding ring.
She opened the console between the seats and began flipping through the eclectic mix of CDs—the Beatles, Allison Kraus, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Evanescence, and some blues singers and rock groups she’d never heard of. While she loaded the CD player, she listened to Coop’s voice as he talked to the microphone on his visor. He used an economy of words, but still managed to come across as friendly and warm. The people on the other end of the line all seemed happy to hear from him—especially the women. A handsome, single physician…he must have a lot of opportunities for dates, she acknowledged.
He made sure that his pickups were covered while he was gone, and handled some business for his uncle’s funeral home that kept him on the phone for nearly an hour. He kept throwing Carlotta apologetic glances, but she didn’t mind. It gave her a chance to study him.
Cooper Craft had a nice profile, strong and interesting, with kind eyes and a well-formed nose. He had a habit of stabbing at his glasses, and he was quick to smile. He had nice teeth, the kind that came from drinking lots of milk. She imagined him sitting at a table at home eating a grilled cheese sandwich and drinking a glass of milk…alone. For all his amiability, Cooper seemed to hold himself aloof from others, carefully guarding his privacy. Most of what she knew about his past, she had heard from Jack and from June Moody, a friend of hers who owned the cigar bar she sometimes visited. They’d given her sketchy details about Coop’s fall from grace as chief medical examiner because of his drinking. Cooper seemed to have come through his personal trial intact, but wary.
She certainly knew how that felt.
He reached up to disconnect a call. “That was the last one,” he said. “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you.”
“No need to apologize. You’re still working, after all—unlike me.”
“How is your arm?”
“It’s itching like crazy,” she said, tapping the fiberglass cast. “But otherwise, it’s fine. I have to go next week for an X-ray to make sure it’s healing okay.”
“Any pain?”
“The Percocet the doctor gave me has helped.”
He nodded. “You have refills?”
“Yes, plenty, I think.”
“It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt worse. It’s lucky that Jack was there to break your fall.”
“And that you were there to take care of me until the EMTs arrived,” she added.
Coop winked. “My pleasure. I’m sorry about your friend. Have you spoken with him?”
Just thinking about her former coworker Michael Lane made Carlotta’s heart squeeze painfully. “No. I heard on the news that he’s being held in the psychiatric ward at North-side Hospital.”
“So he hasn’t been charged yet?”
“Not yet.” She fingered the seat belt and changed the subject. “Will we drive on to Boca Raton tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but we won’t pick up the body until the day after, Sunday morning. That will give us a little time for some R & R.”
“Her death is all over the news. Have you seen it?”
“Yeah. It’s sad.”
“I can’t believe how quickly the media coverage exploded.”
“Newspapers keep updated obituaries on file for celebrities, just in case they die suddenly.”
“Please be kidding.”
“Nope. Especially for someone like Kiki, who was making the news regularly for partying hard and erratic behavior.”
“Like not wearing panties?” Carlotta asked dryly.
She laughed and shook her head. It was nice to see this fun, flirty side of him. “I do feel bad, though. Hannah and I were watching an interview with her on TV the other day and I was actually feeling envious.”
“Envious? Why?”
Carlotta gave him a wry smile. “Young, beautiful, rich, with a glamorous life. Gee, I don’t know why I’d be envious.”
“You’re young and beautiful.”
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments. But please go on.”
He laughed. “And your life seems pretty exciting to me. I know my life has certainly picked up since I met you and Wesley.”
“Exciting isn’t quite the same as glamorous.”
“Neiman’s is a pretty glamorous place to work, isn’t it?”
“It has its moments,” she agreed. “But most of the time I feel like I’m on the outside looking into the lives of other glamorous people.”
“You have something better than glam,” he said. “You have strength and character. I don’t know many women who would give up everything to raise a younger sibling on their own.”
She looked at Coop and shook her head. “You give me too much credit. I didn’t raise Wesley out of a sense of nobility. My parents didn’t leave me a choice.”
“You had a choice. You could have abandoned him,” he said quietly, “like they did.”
“I’d never do that,” she stated, her voice tight.
“Exactly. That’s why you’re worth a dozen of those empty girls who have too much money and too much time on their hands.”
“But I used to be like Kiki Deerling,” she murmured. “I guess that’s why I relate to her.”
“Your parents were that wealthy?”
She nodded. “Or at least they lived like they were. Wesley and I had a British nanny. My parents bought the best of everything—cars, jewelry, art, vacations. My dad had a private plane. We even had a chef.”