3 Men and a Body (30 page)

napkin holders and placed them in their laps. As a junior

waiter fil ed their water glasses with San Pel egrino, the

headwaiter handed them menus. “Everything in our

kitchen and our wine cel ar is at your disposal. Please

enjoy.”

When they were left alone, Peter seemed impressed. “Did

Kayla Deerling offer a complimentary dinner to Cooper as

wel ?”

“Um, I’m not sure,” Carlotta murmured. She hadn’t been

completely forthright about Kayla Deerling’s reasons for

extending the dinner invitation, just tel ing him that it was

for handling the details of her sister’s transportation with

discretion.

“If that was the case, I would’ve thought that the two of

you might have dined together,” he said mildly. “Since you

handled the job together.”

“I know what you’re getting at, Peter. And I’m dining

tonight with the person I most want to be dining with.”

He grinned. “I just wanted to hear you say it. What looks

good on the menu?”

“Everything.” She closed her menu. “Why don’t we let the

chef decide?”

Peter closed his in turn. “Excel ent idea. Champagne?”

“Absolutely.” But she reminded herself to take it easy,

considering she’d taken a Percocet a few hours earlier.

He fil ed both flutes, then lifted his glass. “To new

beginnings.”

She touched her glass to his, loving the sound of the

crystal tinkling. “To new beginnings.” The champagne was

delicious, sliding over her tongue in a cool shower of

bubbles.

They turned the food and the wine selections over to the

waitstaff, and soon savory delicacies appeared—figs

stuffed with spiced prosciutto, duck with glazed mandarin

oranges, lamb with sherry-soaked currants. A plate of

exquisite cheeses and fresh fruits came next, then entrées

for each of them to choose from—filet mignon, sea bass,

pork tenderloin and pheasant. With each course a new

bottle of wine appeared. Carlotta tried to keep tabs on the

times her glass was refil ed, but it all began to blend into a

silky haze of happiness.

Peter was delightful company. They talked and bantered

while managing to skirt the issue of her father. Peter made

her laugh, made her feel desirable, made her feel as if

maybe she did have a place by his side. If at times he

seemed stiff and predictable, she reminded herself that it

was in his pedigree and that he’d had a loveless marriage.

He loosened up around her, and she cleaned up around

him. They could be good together.

Again.

Kayla Deerling herself made an appearance with their

dessert menus. She kissed Carlotta on both cheeks and

squeezed her hands. “Thank you again for all that you’ve

done for my family.”

Carlotta introduced Peter, who stood to clasp Kayla’s hand

in his and offered his deepest condolences. Kayla seemed

touched, and was pleased that they had enjoyed the food

and the service. Carlotta noticed that under the woman’s

makeup, she looked drawn, her eyes puffy. But each day

would get easier.

“Now, what would you like for dessert?” she asked.

“We’ve been deferring to recommendations al evening,”

Carlotta said. “Why stop now?”

“I agree,” Peter said. “What do you suggest?”

The woman smiled. “How about a chocolate torte for the

lady, and crème brûlée for the gentleman?”

“Perfect,” they said in unison.

“She’s different than I expected,” Peter murmured when

Kayla walked away.

“Different how?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’ve heard so much about her sister’s

antics, I thought she might be a little wild, too.”

“No, she’s only a few years older, but she appears to be

the serious one. The restaurant seems to be doing well.

She dates a developer—Reardon, I think is his name?”

Peter nodded. “Jamie Reardon. A wunderkind, I’ve heard.

I’m sure her father approves.”

“What do your parents think of me, Peter?”

The question slipped out—it was much too serious for the

evening, much too serious for the fledgling state of their

relationship.

“I’m sorry, forget it,” she said, then lifted her glass for

another sip of wine.

“No, I’m glad you asked,” he said. “To be honest, I don’t

know if they would approve of us being together, but I

don’t care. I married the woman they wanted me to

marry, and it was a disaster for both of us. I’m not making

that mistake again.” He reached across the table to clasp

her hand. “I love you, Carly. It’s always been you, and only

you. Stay with me tonight.”

She had trouble swallowing the mouthful of wine. Dinner

tonight was supposed to be one of those smal steps

toward becoming closer to Peter. But it was clear that he

wanted to accelerate the dance.

She needed a cigarette—a long one.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I think I’l visit the ladies’ room

before dessert arrives.”

He nodded and released her hand.

She grabbed her evening bag and stood a little unsteadily.

The wine rushed to her head, and she was sore from

sitting so long.

“You okay?” he asked.

She assured him she was and, feeling his gaze on her,

walked in the direction of the ladies’ room until she knew

she was out of sight. Then she pivoted and went through

the kitchen, the office and the storage room to the door

that led outside.

“Damn nonsmoking ordinances,” she muttered, pul ing the

contraband out of her bag.

She had taken two heavenly drags off the cigarette when

she heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. She

shrank back into the shadows to hide, as she had before. A

man walked into the light and she almost swallowed her

cigarette. It was Matt Pearson. He seemed nervous, but

not high. Loathing fil ed her chest. If the man had loved

Kiki, he wouldn’t have gotten her hooked on heroin. He

would’ve left her alone when she’d gotten away from him.

He had loved her to death.

Matt shifted from foot to foot and kept glancing around.

He was standing about ten feet away, but didn’t notice

Carlotta. She stood immobile, staring at the door she’d

come out of, wondering if she could make it back without

drawing attention. He was obviously waiting to score

drugs.

Then Matt’s head turned and she saw another man

approaching, a big man. A finger of alarm trailed up her

back, her body reacting even before her mind knew why.

And then recognition hit her—it was the Ferragamo Shoes

guy from the morgue!

She swallowed a scream and backed up farther into the

shadows. The two men started talking. She couldn’t hear

every word, but Matt seemed agitated and the other man

was trying to calm him down. Her mind raced at the

implication of their connection—Matt Pearson was behind

the other man trying to steal Kiki’s body. He’d given her

drugs; she’d died. He’d needed to clean up the mess, get

rid of the body. And now with his dealer and publicist

being questioned, he was likely to be fingered as wel .

“Hey, do you smel that?” Ferragamo Shoes held up his

hand.

“What?” Matt said.

“A cigarette burning.” The big man looked in her direction.

“Is someone there?”

She dropped the cigarette to extinguish it, and sparks flew

everywhere.

“There’s someone back there,” Matt said, and both men

ran toward her. She bolted for the door, but the big guy

caught her and spun her around.

“You!” he said, then looked at Matt. “This is the broad

from the morgue, one of the body haulers.”

“Dude, she can identify you.”

“Oh, no,” Carlotta said, shaking her head. “I didn’t see

anything. I’m nearsighted. I’m just here having dinner. In

fact, my dessert is waiting—”

Her protest was cut off by a handkerchief stuffed in her

mouth.

Minus ten points.

33

Carlotta struggled against Ferragamo Shoes, but it was like

dancing with a refrigerator. He pul ed her arms behind her

and bound her wrists with a cable tie. She managed to

stomp on his instep.

“Ow!” he bellowed.

“Be quiet, man,” Matt Pearson said. “Somebody’s going to

hear us.”

“Take off her damn shoes,” the big man said.

She resisted, but Matt slid them off and tossed them aside.

He looked scared. “Get lost, man. I’l handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Get out of here. Come back and get me in

thirty minutes.”

Ferragamo Shoes handed her over and jogged away.

So she had less than thirty minutes to live. Regrets and

missed opportunities flashed through her mind. There

would be no husband, no children, no reunion with her

parents. She thought of the brownies she didn’t eat

because she was afraid they’d wind up on her thighs—al

for nothing. Her thighs were goners like the rest of her.

Carlotta tried to break free from Matt Pearson, but he held

on, and her arm hurt like hel . The handkerchief was

gagging her, sending tears streaming down her cheeks.

Was he going to strangle her? Put her body in the

Dumpster? All because she could link him to one of the

men who’d tried to steal Kiki’s body.

“Stop it! Be stil !” he said, forcing her to sit on the ground.

“Let me think!” He put his hands to his head and paced.

“Jesus, how did everything get so messed up?”

Every part of her ached and she had a feeling her arm

might be broken again, but Carlotta marshaled her

strength and focused on the door by the Dumpster—she

had to get there. Peter was waiting inside, expecting her to

come back and eat dessert. He wanted her to stay with

him tonight. It was supposed to have been a perfect

evening.

She lunged to her feet and took off running, but Matt

caught up with her and grabbed her arm. They went down

together and pain rol ed through Carlotta’s body like a

tide. She curled up in a ball, moaning.

“Okay, stop,” Matt said, sitting up. “I’m going to free your

hands if you promise to hear me out.”

She nodded, thinking that as long as he was talking, he

wasn’t kil ing her. And as soon as he cut the cable tie, she

was going for a right hook, if her numb hand would

cooperate. He pul ed out a knife and reached behind her.

She could feel him sawing against her bonds.

Suddenly, thankyouJesus, the door next to the Dumpster

opened. Kayla Deerling appeared, along with a man that

Carlotta recognized as Kayla’s fiancé. Carlotta screamed

against the gag and flailed about, trying to stand. Matt

pul ed her back down.

“They’re out here,” Kayla said, running toward them. “Get

him!”

The men struggled. Carlotta pul ed against the sawed

cable tie and snapped it. She yanked the handkerchief out

of her mouth and struggled to her feet, falling into Kayla

for support. After a clicking noise, Matt went limp. Carlotta

realized that the other man had got him with his Taser

gun, and she sagged against Kayla with relief.

Until Kayla’s fiancé pul ed out a syringe and stabbed it into

Matt’s arm.

“What’s going on?” Carlotta said. “What’s he doing?”

“Matt? He’s dying of a heroin overdose.” The woman

made a rueful noise. “And because you missed dessert,

you’re going to have to share a similar fate.”

“Are you mad?” Carlotta said, clawing at the woman. She

ripped her col ar, and then she saw it. Kayla was wearing

Kiki’s diamond circle pendant.

34

Wesley pounded on Chance’s door. He was in a foul mood.

He was out of OxyContin, but he’d promised himself that

was that. He just hadn’t counted on wanting more so

badly. Since the last pil , every little thing seemed to piss

him off.

Like the fact that Carlotta had gone to dinner with Peter.

Was it because he had been pushing him at her, as Peter

had asked him to do?

Or, rather, had paid him to do?

Wes couldn’t seem to do anything right these days. And

now Coop hated him.

He’d decided to ride over to Chance’s to tel him about

Leonard. Not because he was hoping to score more pil s.

Except now that he was here, he was trying to think of a

way to trick Hannah into going out with Chance, just once,

for another bag of Oxy. This was a bad time for him to stop

taking them. He was stressed over the situation with Coop

and about possibly having to testify against The Carver’s

son.

Then a thought popped into his head. What if he went to

The Carver and offered not to testify in return for erasing

his debt?

No, something about that logic seemed wrong, but he

couldn’t put his finger on it at the moment. He felt as if

someone were channel surfing in his head.

He pounded on the door again.

Chance opened it and waved him in. “Relax, man. Come

the fuck in.”

Chance was stoned, and Wesley wondered suddenly why

his friend sold tons of drugs, but mostly smoked pot.

Maybe the guy was smarter than he let on.

Chance dropped into a chair, riveted to the TV, where a