3 Men and a Body (23 page)

alive.

By the time she finished cleaning the room, she felt

better…and hungry. For lunch she heated a can of soup,

grabbed some mini carrot sticks from the veggie drawer,

and sat down in front of the TV to relax while she ate. She

channel surfed, stopping on an al -news network showing

the crypt in which Kiki Deerling’s body had been placed, in

her family’s cemetery plot.

The white stone structure sat on a raised platform,

ornately carved with birds and flowers, surrounded by a

tal , black, wrought-iron fence. Fresh flowers lined the

fence in tribute. Carlotta understood that crypts were a

comfort to family members who couldn’t bear the thought

of putting their loved one in the ground, and in this case, it

was grander and safer than a simple headstone,

considering how many and what type of people would

likely visit the grave site.

“Kiki Deerling’s ex-boyfriend, Matt Pearson, is said to be

taking the starlet’s death particularly hard,” the news

announcer said. “Close friends say he is devastated, which

seemed evident when Pearson broke down yesterday

while singing at Deerling’s funeral.”

Film of the funeral rol ed, showing the young man

stopping to compose himself before continuing, the image

then switching to that of a white multistory building.

“Word is that Matt Pearson is holed up in this Buckhead

hotel, grieving for Deerling. An unconfirmed report has

Pearson on suicide watch. Even though a medical

examiner ruled that Deerling’s death was caused by a

severe asthma attack, rumors persist that the night she

died, she was partying hard with Pearson, who has a

history of substance abuse.”

Carlotta frowned, her mind churning as she changed the

channel. Kiki Deerling was stil everywhere. The local talk

show Atlanta & Company was replaying the interview that

Carlotta and Hannah had been watching live when Kiki

promoted her camp for troubled teens. Carlotta studied

the young woman’s throat. Because of the leopard-print

scarf wrapped around her neck, Carlotta couldn’t tel if Kiki

was wearing a necklace. At the end of the interview,

Carlotta spotted a flash of gold, but it was stil

unidentifiable.

“This was Kiki Deerling’s last known interview,” host Hol y

Firfer said, then shook her head at her cohost. “I stil can’t

believe she’s gone. Just a few days ago, she was sitting on

this set talking to me, happy and laughing.”

Carlotta pursed her mouth and glanced at the clock. She

could make it down to the affiliate studio before the show

ended. Why not talk to one of the last people who’d talked

to Kiki?

The cohost of Atlanta & Company was unmistakable in the

lobby of the TV station; blond and bubbly, she walked with

the same energy that came across on-screen. Carlotta

watched as the receptionist stopped her and pointed in

Carlotta’s direction. Carlotta stood and smiled as the

woman approached.

“Hel o, I’m Hol y Firfer.”

“I’m Carlotta Wren, a big fan of your show.”

“Thank you.”

“And…I was wondering if I could have five minutes of your

time.”

“What’s this about?” Hol y asked.

Carlotta hesitated. “This is a little awkward, but I’m

investigating the death of Kiki Deerling. I know you were

one of the last people to talk with her. I wondered if you

could tel me if she was wearing a necklace when you

interviewed her.”

Hol y looked dubious. “You’re a police officer?”

“No. I work for the morgue. I believe the proper term is

‘body hauler.’ I went to Boca Raton to pick up her remains

and brought them back to Atlanta.” Carlotta showed her

the morgue ID she used when she worked with Coop.

The blonde winced, but nodded. “What’s this about a

necklace?”

“We’re trying to verify that al of Ms. Deerling’s personal

effects are accounted for. It’s been brought to our

attention that she might have been wearing a necklace

when she died. Since you talked to her only a few hours

earlier that day, I wondered if you remembered seeing

one.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please try to remember. It’s not apparent on camera. She

was wearing a leopard-print scarf around her neck.”

Hol y’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. She was wearing a

pendant. I remember her toying with it before we went on

air.”

Carlotta’s heart rate increased. “Can you tel me what it

looked like?”

“It was a circle of diamonds. I remember she had her

finger through it, sliding it back and forth on a short

chain.”

“Do you remember how big it was?”

Hol y made a circle with her finger and thumb to indicate

the pendant had been about an inch in diameter—the

same size as the reddish circular imprint on Kiki’s

col arbone.

“Thank you. That helps a lot.”

“It’s such a tragedy,” Hol y said. “She was so young. I

couldn’t say this on air, but the worst thing is that after the

interview, I overheard Kiki and her publicist arguing about

her inhaler.”

“Arguing how?”

“Her publicist asked if she had her inhaler with her. Kiki

said yes, then remarked that the woman was only

concerned because she had the most to lose if something

happened. In hindsight, it’s kind of eerie.”

Carlotta nodded. “Just one more thing. Was there a crowd

here when Kiki did the interview?”

“Yeah, fans gathered in front of the building. But Kiki was

nice about it. She even stopped to sign autographs.”

Carlotta pul ed out a photograph she’d clipped from the

entertainment magazine that best showed the face of the

redheaded man. “Do you remember seeing him?”

Hol y studied the photo, then nodded. “Yeah, he was here.

But he was apart from the crowd. I wondered if maybe he

was on Kiki’s security detail.”

“Thank you,” Carlotta said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“I’m glad,” Hol y said with a smile and a wave. “I hope you

find the necklace.”

“Me, too,” Carlotta murmured as the woman walked

away. She pul ed out her cel phone and dialed Coop’s

number.

“Coop here.”

“Coop, it’s Carlotta.”

“I came up to check on you yesterday before the service

ended, but you’d disappeared.”

“Remember the redheaded guy pretending to be a priest?

I saw him in the crowd outside.”

A sigh sounded over the phone. “I take it you confronted

him?”

“I tried, but he got away. Coop, I found out that Kiki was

wearing a pendant the day she died, one that matches the

impression I saw below her neck.”

“How did you find that out? No, wait. I don’t want to

know. Besides, it stil doesn’t prove anything.”

“Can you call the medical examiner in Boca and find out if

there was a pendant in her personal effects?”

His hesitation told her he didn’t want to.

“Please, Coop?”

“Only if you promise me that if there was no pendant in

her personal effects, you’ll let this go.”

Carlotta crossed her fingers behind her back. “I promise.”

25

“Hey, Wes—”

Wesley startled in his chair and hit a button on his

keyboard to replace his current screen. He turned in his

chair, frowning at Meg. “What?”

She made a face. “You’re awful y jumpy. And secretive.

What are you working on?”

“Reports on the databases I’m encrypting. McCormick said

to be careful with the data.”

“Is that why you got your own dedicated printer?” Meg

asked, gesturing to the newly added machine.

“Yeah.”

“And shredder?”

“Yeah.”

She walked to her own workstation and sat down. Wesley

turned back to his computer, perturbed at the

interruption.

“You on something?” she asked.

He jerked his head around. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, I’m not on something.”

She shrugged. “You’ve got the look.”

Wesley raised his eyebrows. “What look is that?”

“Jittery, moody, irritable. And you never eat.”

“I’m just a skinny dude.”

“I noticed,” she said dryly. “And smart. You should get

your bony ass in school.”

He sat back, both irritated and intrigued. “And do what?

Become a doctor?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not me,” he said, looking back to his screen.

“Why? What do your parents do for a living?”

He looked up. “None of your business.”

She blanched. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

Wesley felt contrite. “Just drop it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Listen, the guys and I are going to get a

sandwich around the corner for lunch. You wanna come?”

He was tempted—Meg was hot. Today she had traded her

GA Tech sweatshirt for a Curious George tee that hugged

her in a way that explained why George’s curiosity had

been aroused. But she also had that crazy-cool demeanor

that screamed privilege. Her parents were bril iant

scholars. She probably lived in a mansion, dined with great

thinkers all over the world. He’d never measure up.

“No, thanks,” he said. “I have to be somewhere.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

He watched her walk away, feeling depressed and for good

reason. He was stil smarting over his prize money being

stolen right out from under him. He needed cash, so he

was going to have to lean on Coop to get him more body-

moving jobs. And he hadn’t yet been able to locate the

grand jury transcript from his father’s hearing in the

courthouse records database. He needed more

information—a trial number, specific dates—to build the

search keys. Information that was in his father’s file at Liz’s

home office.

He packed up his workstation and punched in the

attorney’s number as he left the building.

“This is Liz Fischer,” she answered.

“Liz, it’s Wes.”

“Wel , this is a nice surprise.”

“Are you busy for lunch?”

Her rich, cool laugh floated over the line. “What did you

have in mind?”

“I can meet you at your place in fifteen minutes.”

“See you then.”

He rode his bicycle hard and fast to get to Liz’s house, but

it helped to burn off some excess anger…and the last of

the OxyContin he’d taken earlier, so he could pop a new

one before popping Liz.

She was waiting for him in the living area of the

guesthouse, dressed in a narrow skirt and a sleeveless

blouse that was already unbuttoned, revealing a lacy black

bra.

“Hi,” she said in greeting.

His dick stood straight up. “Hi.”

“Want a beer?”

“Just iced tea for me,” he said, remembering Chance’s

warning about not mixing the Oxy with alcohol. “Care if I

take a shower?”

“Go ahead,” she said, then glanced at her watch. “But

you’d better hurry.”

He went down the hallway to the john and turned on the

shower head, then crept across the hall to her office. With

one ear to the door, he slid open a file drawer and located

the fat, familiar folder with his father’s name on it. He’d

slowly been reading through it when he could sneak the

time between bal ing Liz.

He opened the file and scanned the first few documents,

looking for a trial number, the dates he needed.

“Wesley!” she called from the other room. “Hurry!”

He grimaced, then closed the file. He started to put it back,

but changed his mind. Holding it behind him, he crept back

to the hallway. After a quick check to make sure Liz wasn’t

looking, he tiptoed into the bathroom and shoved the

folder into his backpack. He’d read it at home, take his

time, make copies of things he needed, then put it back

the next time he came over.

Liz would never miss it. She probably hadn’t thought about

his father in years.

He washed his hair and soaped up his boys in record time.

The cuts on his arm stil hurt like hel , but the water

softened the tight skin a little.

Just before he left the bathroom, he popped a white pil in

his mouth and chewed it. He was starting to get used to

the bitterness of it, starting to like it, even, because he

knew what came afterward—the feeling of being lifted

and carried along on the most feathery cloud imaginable.

Everything looked better, smel ed better, sounded better.

The world improved.

He padded back to the living room, naked. His hard-on was

so stiff, it hurt to walk. Liz stared at his cock and smiled. “I

love how you have no pretenses.”

Wesley wondered what she’d think if she knew he’d

started sleeping with her to get to his father’s files.

But then again, the sex was pretty damn good—a nice

bonus.

Then Liz saw his arm. “What happened to you?” She

jumped up to inspect it.

“It’s no big deal.”

“Someone did this to you. Who?”

“No one you want to know,” he assured her, moving her

hand from his arm to his erection.

“This has something to do with you calling me the other

night, doesn’t it? Is that why you needed the money? To

keep someone from doing this?”

“Uh, no, he did this anyway. The cash was to keep him