4 Bodies and a Funeral. Stephanie Bond
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clung to her face, eyebrows, chin and hair. She looked as if she’d been whitewashed.
The realization sent her running to the restroom to wash off what she could. She’d need mascara remover to get rid of the icing from her eyelashes, and a good exfoliant scrub to cleanse her pores. And she’d have to shampoo, rinse and repeat a couple of times to get the hardened mess out of her hair.
She dried her face and hands with paper towels, then checked her cell phone for messages. There were two messages from her friend Hannah, but nothing from Wesley. She dialed his phone but he didn’t answer.
“Hey, it’s me,” she said into the mouthpiece, trying to sound upbeat. “Just wondering how things went today. Call me when you can.”
She disconnected the call, hoping against hope that Wesley wasn’t sitting in jail. Surely he or Liz would call her if the meeting had gone south, wouldn’t they? Carlotta bit her lip in frustration, tasting sugary remnants of icing. Swallowing her pride, she emerged from the break room to find the shimmering Maria Marquez waiting for her.
“Jack is pulling the car around,” the detective said, gesturing to a side exit.
Carlotta nodded and fell into step next to the woman, feeling like a crusty child who was being picked up from school to be driven home.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maria asked.
“Nothing a shower won’t fix,” Carlotta mumbled. “By the way, thanks for pulling me out of that mess.”
“No problem.”
When they got to the exit, Maria held open the door, like the parent. Carlotta walked through to see Jack’s black sedan sitting at the curb. She headed for the front passenger seat, but he intercepted her by getting out and circling to the back.
“I put down something for you to sit on,” he said. From his sweeping gesture, one would’ve thought he’d rolled out a red carpet for her instead of crinkled pages of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
“Thanks,” she said as she climbed in.
“Buckle up,” he said cheerfully, then closed the door.
She fastened the seat belt and watched as the two of them slid into their seats simultaneously, then checked mirrors, visors and their radios like a choreographed dance. They seemed to be perfectly in sync with each other, she noticed irritably. When the car pulled away, they conversed in low tones, as if they didn’t want Carlotta to hear what they were saying.
“Is it true that Eva McCoy has received death threats?” Carlotta piped up.
Jack adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see her. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s all over the Internet.”
He frowned. “I thought one of the terms of Wesley’s probation is that he can’t have computers at home.”
Carlotta frowned back. “We don’t have a computer at home. A coworker told me she saw the rumor online. Is that why you two were there?”
“No comment,” Jack said.
Carlotta’s mouth tightened. He would’ve told her if Maria hadn’t been in the car. “Maria, did you notice anything special about the guy with the cake before he got away from you?”
Jack shot her a warning glance in the mirror, but Carlotta returned with an innocent eyebrow raise.
“No,” Maria replied with a smile. “Except that he left tire tracks over you.”
Jack pressed his lips together and turned his attention straight ahead.
Carlotta unbuckled her seat belt and stuck her head between their seats. “That reporter from the AJC hung around after the event. She heard Eva say that her bracelet was stolen—it’ll be all over the news.”
He shrugged. “That could help us. Maybe someone will see the bracelet and get in touch with the police. And a piece of jewelry known to be hot will be harder to resell.”
“Maybe it was just a warning,” Carlotta said. “Maybe the guy took the bracelet to let everyone know how close he could get to her. Or maybe whoever took it will ask for a ransom.”
“Maybe,” Jack said in a noncommittal tone. “Frankly, in the scheme of things, I don’t consider this to be a high-priority crime.”
“I’m with you, Jack,” Maria said. “I don’t understand all the hoopla around the charm bracelets in general. I see you have one, Carlotta.”
Carlotta covered the bracelet with her hand. “It was a gift from a coworker,” she said defensively. “Although I can see why the idea of charms appeal to women. They’re mementos of special times, and they’re jewelry—what’s not to like?”
“It just seems silly to me,” Maria said.
Carlotta frowned. “Where are you from, Maria?”
“Chicago.”
“And what brings you to Atlanta?”
The woman turned her head to look out the window. “I just needed a change.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to find the Atlanta heat a little hard to handle,” Carlotta offered.
Maria turned in her seat to smile at Carlotta. “I like the heat. In fact, I’m finding a lot of things about Atlanta that I like.” Her gaze drifted to Jack’s profile.
“The traffic is horrible,” Carlotta muttered, sitting back in her seat. When Jack gave her a chiding look, she wanted to stick out her tongue.
“Is that why you’re riding the train?” he asked.
“No.” Her shoulders fell. “My car battery is dead.”
“I’ll give you a jump when we get you home.”
His eyes met hers and she detected a flash of amusement—and desire. Her pulse betrayed her. Maria’s head turned.
“Your car, I mean,” he added, then turned his gaze forward as if he’d been a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What part of town is this?” Maria asked, looking out the window at the passing neighborhood landscape which was clearly middle to lower class.
“Lindbergh,” Carlotta supplied.
“Like the cheese?”
“Something like that.”
Jack spelled it for Maria and she pulled out a map. “I’m still trying to get my bearings,” Maria explained.
“Me, too,” Carlotta whispered to no one as they pulled into the driveway of the town house she shared with Wesley.
Jack adjusted the rearview mirror. “Carlotta, do you recognize that black SUV?”
She turned around in time to see the vehicle pull away from the curb where it had been sitting across the street. Anxiety bubbled in her stomach. “I don’t think so.”
Jack’s mouth tightened as he put the car in Park. “Do you have your car keys with you?”
“Yes.” She dug in her purse for the remote control to open the garage door.
“Please tell me that you backed into the garage when you parked.”
“Only because the only thing harder than backing into the garage is backing onto the street.”
She climbed out and depressed the button on the remote control.
Maria got out of the car, too. Carlotta noticed the woman taking in the shabby town house. She had done her best to weed and spruce up the landscaping as much as her bum arm allowed while she was off work, but there was still a lot of work to do. Now that her arm was almost healed, she was hoping she could get Wesley to help her with some painting and