Six Killer Bodies (25 page)

maybe Coop did belong in jail, if only for his own safety.

She chewed on her thumbnail as the minutes ticked

toward the end of her shift, then retrieved her purse and

chatted with her personal bodyguard, Herb, as he walked

her to her car. She’d grown accustomed to parking in a far

corner of the garage and using her keyless remote to

unlock the rental car from a distance when no one else

was around. But so far, whoever had left the explosive

under the Monte Carlo hadn’t revisited their crime.

Although her heart stil raced every time she turned over

the ignition.

She pul ed out of the parking garage, pushing away Jack’s

suggestion that Coop could’ve planted the bomb. He

hadn’t—period.

She steered toward Peter’s house, glad the workday was

over and looking forward to the evening. Peter had a

business dinner, so she’d invited Hannah to come over to

hang out in the hot tub. She knew her friend would help to

take her mind off things for a few hours, and she was

eager to smooth the tensions between them. The

Charmed Kil er case had affected them all.

She was sitting in traffic on Peachtree when her phone

rang, displaying the name Rainie Stephens. Carlotta smiled

and connected the call. She felt a kinship with Rainie,

especially where Coop was concerned. “Hi, Rainie.”

“Hi, Carlotta. You got a minute?”

“Yeah, I’m stuck behind a fender bender. What’s up?”

“I thought you’d like to know I checked the births for the

night of the country club auction and there were no babies

born with the last name of Lindelhoff that entire week at

Piedmont, nor at any other metro hospital. Does that

answer your question?”

Carlotta’s heartbeat sped up. “Yes.”

“Now are you going to tel me what’s going on?”

She told Rainie her suspicions about Tracey’s husband, Dr.

Lowenstein, his coincidental absences and proximity to

two crime scenes. “Jack agreed to do a background check.

I don’t know if it’l turn into anything concrete, but I

thought it was worth mentioning.”

“If the man was lying, he could just be having an affair.”

“True,” Carlotta said, conceding a pang of sympathy for

Tracey if that was the case.

“On another note, I wasn’t able to directly connect Coop

to any neurologist in the city.”

“But that’s good news.”

“There’s more. An obituary came over the wire a couple of

hours ago, and the name tickled the back of my mind—

Sarah Edlow.”

“I don’t recognize the name.”

“Sarah Edlow,” Rainie said, her voice poignant, “is the

woman whom Coop pronounced dead on the scene of a

car accident.”

A shiver traveled over Carlotta’s arms. “I heard she had

serious complications because she didn’t receive

immediate care.”

“That’s right, although she eventually recovered.”

“What did she die from?”

“A brain tumor. And she was being treated by a

neurologist at Piedmont Hospital.”

“So Coop must have known and was somehow involved in

her treatment?”

“That seems likely.”

“And it explains Coop’s sudden personality change, and

why he started drinking again. Finding out about the Edlow

woman’s terminal il ness must have dredged up too much

guilt for him to handle.” Carlotta heaved a sigh of relief

that at least a few pieces of the puzzle were fal ing into

place. “So when Coop told me that his being at the

neurologist’s office had nothing to do with this case, he

was tel ing the truth. When did she pass away?”

“This morning, at hospice,” Rainie said. “It’s so sad—she

was only in her forties.”

Carlotta made a rueful noise. “I wonder if Coop knows.”

“I don’t know. It’s going to be a blow to him, I’m sure. I

called his attorney and tried to arrange an interview for

the paper, but she shut me down. Frankly, I just wanted to

see for myself that he was okay.”

It was evident from Rainie’s tone that she stil had feelings

for Coop. Or maybe the case had resurrected those

feelings. There was something very powerful about the

sensation of having let something good get away…

“Coop is strong,” Carlotta said, as much for herself as for

Rainie. “He’ll survive this, too.”

“Keep those good thoughts coming.” Rainie emitted a

slow, harried sigh. “So, are you stil agreeable to the article

running about you giving the tabloids an exclusive on

Michael Lane?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s slated for Friday. Do you have something to protect

yourself?”

Her gaze slid to her purse that held the stun baton. “Yes,

Jack made sure of that.”

“I thought he might. Gotta run.”

“Okay, talk soon.”

Carlotta ended the cal , her mind swirling with new

developments. Within a few minutes the accident had

been moved to the far lane and traffic began to move

again. When she pul ed into Peter’s driveway, she reached

automatically to press the remote control on the visor to

open the garage door. She knew exactly how to angle the

car to give her plenty of room on either side, knew exactly

how far to pul up before cutting off the engine. The

garage door lowered behind her. She got out and entered

the house, punching in the security system code to disable

the motion detectors on the first floor. As she walked

through the mud room and into the main part of the

house, she realized how comfortable she’d become with

the routine of living in Peter’s house.

She stood in the center of the great room and turned a ful

circle, taking in the opulence of the life that could be hers

for the asking. Beautiful address, beautiful things,

beautiful children. So why was she terrified at the thought

of making what should be such an easy decision?

She turned on lights and walked through the shiny,

luxurious kitchen, suddenly homesick for the gaudy red

kitchen of the townhouse. On impulse, she rooted her

phone from her purse and called Wesley. They hadn’t

talked in two days, not since she’d given him the

ultimatum about getting clean. He’d accused her of

turning on him, of turning on Randolph. Just the memory

of it brought moisture to her eyes—she couldn’t seem to

do anything right where the men in her life were

concerned.

Wes didn’t answer his phone, so she left him a quick,

upbeat message to call her sometime. Everyone kept

reminding her that at nineteen, Wesley was an adult. But

she couldn’t help feeling responsible for him, not after

everything they’d been through together.

The ringing of the house’s land line broke into her

thoughts, startling her. She glanced at the main console

and saw the call was coming from the callbox at the

security gate. She turned the small flat-screen TV to the

monitoring channel and smiled at Hannah’s mug staring

into the camera, then picked up the ringing phone.

“Hi.”

“This is way too much trouble just for a goddamn soak in a

hot tub. I passed a fucking rest area on the way here.”

Carlotta smiled to herself. “I’l buzz you in.”

22

Carlotta punched in Peter’s security code for the gate, and

a few minutes later, she heard the sound of Hannah’s van

pul ing into the circular driveway. She walked to the front

door to greet her friend, who looked more cheerful than

usual in tall black boots, a red short pleated skirt and white

T-shirt that read “Go Away.”

“Hi,” Carlotta offered. “Did you bring a suit?”

Hannah frowned. “A suit? I thought it was just us.”

“Never mind. Peter told me there are extra suits in the

pool house.”

“You wouldn’t be so modest if you’d grown up with

sisters.” Hannah clomped past her, and Carlotta noticed

that once again, her friend took pains not to acknowledge

the lavishness of the house. Hannah ignored and/or

mocked Peter’s wealth at every opportunity.

Carlotta closed the door. “You have more than one

sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Tel me about them.”

“They hate me. Got any snacks?”

Classic Hannah, deflecting personal questions. “Sure. Raid

the pantry while I grab my suit.”

She jogged up the stairs to her bedroom, pul ed a one-

piece swimsuit from a drawer and changed quickly,

shoving her feet into flip-flops. By the time she got

downstairs, Hannah had gril ed them sandwiches and

brewed a pitcher of pinkish tea.

“How do you do that?” Carlotta asked.

“There are two things I’m good at,” Hannah said, lifting a

laden tray. “Cooking and screwing.”

“And on that up note, let’s retire to the patio, shall we?”

Carlotta grabbed her cel phone in case Wes called back.

A sliding glass door off the casual eating corner led to the

pool area that was accented with beautiful stonework. The

centerpiece was the aquamarine pool, its surface stil and

glistening in the early evening light. The pool was flanked

by a waterfall and hot tub. Past the al fresco kitchen,

which also featured a bar, was the shuttered pool house.

Carlotta directed Hannah to set their food on the bar, then

she produced a key ring she’d snagged from the kitchen

and unlocked the door to the tiny building.

“Isn’t this where Peter’s wife turned tricks?” Hannah

asked.

Carlotta frowned. “Allegedly.”

She pushed opened the door. Since the windows were

shuttered, the little house was dark. She felt for a light

switch and flipped it up to il uminate a small but elegant

tiled sitting room furnished with a couch and two chairs

upholstered with a tropical-print fabric, all of it custom,

Carlotta was sure, down to the leaf-shaped green area

rugs. Against one wall an entertainment center included a

wet bar, small refrigerator and microwave.

The room to the left was a bedroom with a cozy bathroom

and shower. Carlotta couldn’t help but stare at the queen-

size bed, imagining Peter’s wife servicing wel -to-do johns.

Angela had been part of a high-end call-girl ring, the extent

of which was stil unknown, although Carlotta had a feeling

that Angela’s friends at the Bedford Manor Country Club

knew more about the goings-on than they’d revealed to

police.

Hannah stuck her head inside the room. “Do you think she

did it because Peter couldn’t deliver in the sack?”

Carlotta frowned. “Angela was responsible for her own

behavior.” Resisting the urge to snoop in the closet for

lingerie and props, she retraced her steps back through

the living room to the room on the other side. The

changing room had two individual booths against the far

wall. There was also a mirrored vanity, and an armoire ful

of bathing suits, wraps, hats, and sandals.

“Take your pick,” Carlotta said.

Hannah pul ed out a nautical-themed one-piece and

frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

Carlotta laughed and selected a mustard-colored halter

bikini. “How about this?”

Hannah considered it for a minute, then shrugged. “That’s

not so bad, I guess.”

“Hurry. Our sandwiches are getting cold.”

While Hannah changed, Carlotta looked around, hugging

herself. The place gave her the creeps, no doubt because

of what had gone on here. Had Angela entertained men

while Peter was only steps away in the house? Her respect

for Peter bal ooned, knowing he’d forgiven his wife for the

sordid things she’d done in their own home.

Especial y since Carlotta couldn’t even forgive Peter for

leaving her all those years ago…

With a start she realized it was true. She was stil

withholding part of herself from Peter to punish him. What

did that say about her?

“Let’s eat,” Hannah said, emerging from the changing

room.

Carlotta smiled at her statuesque friend. The suit flattered

her athletic figure and revealed her body art. “That looks

great on you.”

“Whatever.”

Carlotta fol owed her outside where they dived into the

sandwiches and the pitcher of tea.

“How’s my brother?” Carlotta asked.

“Scarce.”

“Gawd, he’s probably staying with Liz Fischer.”

“Chance is holding strong on not letting him have anymore

Oxy.”

“That’s good. I called Wes a few minutes ago, but he didn’t

answer. I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“He’l come around.”

“I hope so.”

They made small talk, but Carlotta stil felt the underlying

tension of their disagreement about Coop’s guilt because

they both so scrupulously avoided talking about it. By the

time they finished eating, dusk had settled enough for the

outside lights to kick on.

They eased into the hot tub and Carlotta moaned with

pleasure as the warm, bubbly water encased her body. She

admired the addition to Hannah’s back tattoo. “Is that the

one Chance bought so you’d go out with him?”

“We’re not going out,” Hannah said flatly. “We’re fuck

buddies, that’s al .”

“Does he know that? I saw the way he looked at you when

we met at the townhouse. I think he’s in love.”