Body Movers: 3 Men and a Body. Stephanie Bond
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“I checked the hospital emergency rooms and a few places I thought he might be, but no one had seen him.”
“Hi, Coop.”
He looked up and did a double take at Carlotta’s stripe-haired friend standing barefoot and fresh-faced in her unexpectedly cuddly pj’s. “Hannah?”
She flapped her eyelashes. Hannah had a huge crush on Coop. “In the flesh. Um, this isn’t what I normally sleep in, in case you’re interested.”
Carlotta rolled her eyes as Coop smothered a smile. “Okay. Did you keep Carlotta company last night?”
“Yep.”
“Good.” He glanced at Carlotta, his gaze softening. “I was worried about you. How’s your arm?”
She squirmed. “It’s fine, thanks. How about that coffee?”
“I’ll make a pot,” Hannah said with a frown. “Yours is sludge.” When she disappeared into the kitchen, Carlotta motioned for Coop to sit down.
He lowered his long frame into a chair, then removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to throttle Wesley for making you worry so much.”
Carlotta smiled to herself—for making her worry so much? Since Coop had hired Wesley to help him move bodies for the county morgue, he’d become a mentor to her brother. Whether Wes realized it or not, he looked up to his boss. And it appeared Coop was equally fond of him. Her heart swelled with gratitude. Wesley needed a positive male influence in his life.
Heaven knew their father had fallen down on the job.
The phone rang and Carlotta dived for it. “Hello?”
“Yeah … is Wesley there?”
Carlotta pursed her mouth, recognizing the guttural voice of a person who’d lost more than a few brain cells. “He’s not here, Chance. Didn’t you get any of the messages I left for you, asking if you’d seen him?”
“No.”
She touched her forehead. “No, you didn’t get the messages, or no, you haven’t seen him?”
“I ain’t seen him since the day before yesterday.”
She exhaled. “Do you know where he could be?”
“Uh … no.”
“With his girlfriend maybe?”
“Girlfriend?”
“Come on, Chance, he’s been coming home smelling like women’s perfume. Unless you’ve suddenly started wearing Chanel No. 5, he’s been spending time with someone else.”
“I would not know anything about that,” Chance said woodenly.
Carlotta wanted to scream. “Chance, this is serious. He could be in trouble.”
“Don’t worry, my boy can take care of himself.”
She gritted her teeth at the implication that Wesley was part of Chance’s “posse.” “If you see him, will you tell him to call me as soon as possible?”
“Sure thing,” Chance said, then disconnected the call.
Carlotta sighed. “His friend Chance Hollander hasn’t seen him.”
“What’s this about a girlfriend?” Coop asked.
“I thought you might know.”
“I know he’s got a thing for his probation officer.”
“But she has a boyfriend—remember, we met him at the Elton John concert.”
Coop gave her an amused smile. “Some women have more than one guy on the line.”
A flush climbed her face. Coop and Wesley had walked in on her and Jack Terry kissing, and there had been no mistletoe—or even December—in sight. She didn’t know if Wesley had told Coop that Jack had spent at least one night in her bedroom, but Coop probably suspected as much. Coop had also met Peter and was aware of their history. All of which would have to be sorted out at another time…. At the moment she couldn’t think past Wesley being gone.
Luckily, Hannah arrived with three cups of coffee, and a box of sweet rolls left over from one of her catering gigs the previous day. Carlotta took the food gratefully, her stomach rumbling from hunger.
“Wesley has to come back,” Hannah said dryly. “Or you’ll starve.”
Carlotta stuck out her tongue, but she appreciated her friend’s attempt at humor. And it was true. Wesley did all the cooking, and had done so for years. He was pretty good, too, darn his infuriating, scrawny little ass. Her eyes watered.
“Hey,” Coop said quietly, putting his large hand over hers. “Wesley is a smart kid. If he’s in trouble, he’ll figure out something.”
Carlotta nodded and inhaled a cleansing breath. If their parents’ leaving had taught her anything, it was that tears didn’t solve a thing. Action did.
“What now?” she asked Coop.
“I know he has an appointment to see his probation officer at eleven. I’d say if he doesn’t show, then you should call the police. Considering that thug’s comment to you about Wesley having done something stupid, this might have to do with the loan sharks he owes.”
Her heart squeezed, but she had to consider worst-case scenarios. “You’re right. He wouldn’t miss his appointment with Eldora. Not voluntarily.”
“Meanwhile,” Coop said, pushing himself to his feet, “try to think of somewhere he might’ve gone, or someone who might know where he is. I’ll keep making inquiries.”
“Okay,” she said, following him to the door. “And Coop.” She squared her shoulders, but that only caused pain to shoot down her arm. “I hate to ask this, but have you checked the … morgue?”
His brown eyes filled with sympathy, and he nodded. “I did. He’s not there.”
Tears of relief filled her eyes. “Thank you for caring.”
He gave her a little smile. “I can’t seem to help myself.” Then he turned and walked to the bottom of the steps. “You have my cell phone number if you need me.”
“Yes,” she called after him, waving with her good hand until he drove away.
Carlotta looked to her left and saw their neighbor Mrs. Winningham working in her yard. They weren’t the best of friends, but the woman had called 911 a few days ago when two of The Carver’s thugs had tried to drag Carlotta into their van. So she went down the steps and crossed to the fence that separated the yards of their respective town houses. “Hi, Mrs. Winningham.”
“Hello,” the woman chirped. “And you’re welcome.”
“Pardon me?”
“I said you’re welcome for the get well card I sent to you through your brother. He said you managed to only break your arm.” The woman sniffed. “Although I must say you made a spectacle of yourself, dangling half-naked from the balcony of the Fox Theater.”
“Yes, I’m good at that,” Carlotta said cheerfully. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen Wesley yet to get your thoughtful card. May I ask when you gave it to him?”
The woman looked perturbed. “I gave it to him yesterday morning. He said he was going to meet you at the hospital and bring you home in a taxi. Then he rode off on his bike.”
“And did he seem okay to you?”
“‘Okay’ is a relative term where your family is concerned, but yes, reasonably so.”
“Thank you,” Carlotta said as pleasantly as she could manage. “I’ll let you know when I get your card, Mrs. Winningham.” Her