4 Bodies and a Funeral

“Ooh, that’s intriguing—as if you need to figure out something.”

Carlotta pursed her mouth again. As if. “And this one says aloha.” She shrugged. “I certainly wouldn’t mind visiting Hawaii someday. And this one … it’s hearts.”

Patricia frowned. “There’s something wrong. There are three hearts instead of two.”

“Uh-hmm,” Carlotta murmured. “Strange, huh?” But her pulse quickened in spite of her skepticism. Three hearts, three men in her life.

“Oh, look!” Patricia said with a squeal. “It’s two champagne glasses. That must mean you’re going to have something to celebrate. Oh, you’re so lucky!”

Carlotta scoffed. “It doesn’t mean anything—it’s just a charm. This is like opening a box of Cracker Jacks. Don’t take it seriously.”

“What’s that one?” Patricia asked, pointing to the last charm, a long, slender piece of shaped metal.

“It looks like … a woman. Just a woman.”

“Her arms are crossed over her chest—maybe she’s a cheerleader.”

Carlotta’s eyebrows went up. “Uh, yeah.”

“Were you a cheerleader?”

“A lifetime ago.” Actually, high school seemed like another century. On another planet.

“Well, that must be it then,” Patricia said eagerly.

Carlotta nodded and allowed Patricia to help her fasten the catch on the bracelet. She didn’t want to say what the last charm looked like to her—a woman in corpse pose. And she wasn’t talking yoga.

Pushing the eerie charm from her mind, she craned her neck, trying to get a three-hundred-sixty-degree glance around, wondering where the dynamic detective duo had disappeared to. Maybe they’d found an empty dressing room to inspect.

She wrestled with the unreasonable stab of jealousy. She and Jack had had a nice time in the sack when he’d stayed at her house once doing surveillance, but that episode had ended disastrously. They were on opposite sides of too many issues, including her father. Besides, since the reckless bout of bone-jarring sex with Jack, she’d flirted with a fling with Cooper Craft, and now … she’d made promises to Peter. In fact, she had a dinner date with Peter after work.

Which left no time for worrying about who—er, make that what—Jack was in to.

“I think that lady is trying to get your attention,” Patricia said, nodding to someone in the crowd.

Carlotta turned to look and was pleased to see June Moody, the owner of Moody’s cigar lounge, waving. Carlotta threaded through the horde of bodies to clasp the woman’s hands. June was dressed elegantly, as always, in a slim skirt and starched white shirt. Her hair and heels were high, and her smile, wide.

“I was hoping you’d be working today,” June said, then touched the arm of a broad-shouldered man next to her. “Carlotta Wren, meet my son, Sergeant Mitchell Moody.”

Remembering that June had once hinted that she and her military son weren’t close, Carlotta was able to mask her surprise by the time he turned in her direction.

The first thing that struck her about Mitchell Moody was his sheer physical authority—the man was the size of a small mountain, with lots of impressive hills on the upward climb. The second thing she noticed were his eyes—they were the palest blue and laser-intense. Even in jeans, a red polo-style shirt and athletic shoes, the man screamed military. His head was shaved and tanned, his cheekbones sharp, his posture rifle straight. It wasn’t hard to imagine him dressed in fatigues and combat boots, wielding a weapon and defending the American way.

A little shiver traveled up her spine. The man was rather … what was the word?

Hot.

“Hi, Carlotta,” he said with a smile that seemed rusty. He swept an appreciative glance over her, and she flushed with … patriotism.

“Nice to meet you, Mitchell.”

“Call me Mitch.” His voice was low and clear, with the rumbling undertone of a well-tuned engine.

“Mitch is visiting for a couple of weeks,” June supplied, sounding almost giddy.

“I understand you’re a career army man,” Carlotta said.

“That’s right. Thought I’d be retiring in a few months, but with everything going on in the world, that’s up in the air for the moment.”

If he’d put twenty years into the army, that made him around thirty-eight years old, she estimated, although he seemed much more mature. More worldly.

“How do you two know each other?” he asked.

Carlotta met June a few months ago when she’d walked into Moody’s cigar bar, asking about a stogie she’d found in the pocket of a men’s jacket that Peter Ashford’s wife had returned to Neiman’s before she’d subsequently been murdered. But Carlotta tried to put a more philosophical spin on it. “I walked into the cigar lounge looking for answers, and your mother had them.”

“I’ve been trying to persuade her to try a new occupation,” Mitch said, glancing at June meaningfully. “Maybe she should give counseling a try.”

“Now, now,” June said, patting his arm. “Let’s not go there.”

Aware of the sudden tension, Carlotta changed the subject. “I assume you’re both here to see Eva McCoy?”

June nodded to her son. “Mitch knows Eva.”

“We belonged to the same running club in Hawaii where I’m based,” Mitch said.

Carlotta’s lips parted in surprise. “Hawaii—really?” Her hand closed over the charm bracelet that held the aloha charm. It was a coincidence, of course, but still …

Mitch nodded. “Fort Shafter. Eva trained there for the Olympic marathon.”

“Carlotta, will you take our picture?” June asked.

“Of course.”

Mitch handed her a digital camera. “Just push the silver button.”

She framed them inside the small square and noticed that while June’s smile was bright, Mitch’s seemed a little forced. “Say ‘cheese,’” she encouraged, but he still looked stiff when she took the photo. It appeared that mother and son had some fences to mend.

Carlotta handed the camera back to him just as an excited murmur swept through the crowd.

“There she is,” Mitch said.

Carlotta turned as the tall, slender brunette walked in wearing a white Olympic athletic suit trimmed in red and blue. She smiled shyly as the Atlanta crowd cheered for their hometown girl. Carlotta couldn’t help noticing that the woman didn’t seem to enjoy being in the spotlight. Eva waved with one hand, fingering the gold medal around her neck with the other hand. Her boyfriend, fellow Olympian Ben Newsome, walked a few steps behind Eva, dressed in a dark blue Olympic athletic suit, also waving to the crowd. If Carlotta’s memory served, he had medaled in a couple of track and field events as well.

A short nervous man hovered next to Eva, probably a publicist, Carlotta guessed. A beefy-looking fellow in a sport coat trailed behind, his head constantly moving, scanning the crowd. His gaze stopped on Mitchell Moody for a few seconds, sizing him up. Mitchell did stand out in a crowd, Carlotta conceded. Especially since he was taking lots of photos of Eva and waving, trying to catch her attention. At the hovering presence of the bodyguard, Carlotta wondered briefly if the Internet rumors about Eva receiving death threats were correct.

From the rear of the store, Jack and Maria came forward to speak with the bodyguard. After conferring, the three of them split up, circling the crowd, which had grown to overflow the aisles and available floor space. The detectives didn’t seem concerned, only attentive, so Carlotta tried to relax. As bodies shifted, she was separated from June and Mitchell, but Carlotta managed to wave before she was swept up in the mob.

Hundreds of people had gathered to see Eva McCoy in person. Although Eva seemed a little stiff and preoccupied when she gave her talk, the crowd was rapt. She was appealing and soft-spoken—Carlotta couldn’t imagine why anyone would want the woman dead unless they were a nut job.

Still, heaven knew there were plenty of those afoot.

Eva held up her wrist to display her famous gold “lucky charm” bracelet that she said had given her the strength not just to finish the marathon, but to fight back and finish first. Then she spoke fondly of the children’s charity that would receive a portion of the proceeds of the Lucky Charm Bracelet sales. Afterward, she entertained questions from the members of the press in attendance.

An attractive, plump redhead stood. “Rainie Stephens, Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Eva, you’re the most decorated women’s marathoner of this decade. Are you planning to compete in the World Championships Marathon in Helsinki in a few weeks? It’s the only major marathon you haven’t won.”

Eva smiled. “Thank you. And, yes, I am. That’s one race I want to win before I retire.”

“Is it true that Body League sportswear is going to pay you a million dollars if you win the World Championships?”

Eva looked uncomfortable. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

The crowd laughed.

“And what advice would you give to someone who’s facing a difficult task?”

“Just keep finding ways not to quit,” Eva said with a smile. “And don’t try to do it alone. While I was running, I looked at my bracelet and thought of the people who gave me the charms. I drew on their strength.”

Don’t try to do it alone. The words tugged on Carlotta’s heart. After her parents had left, she’d felt so abandoned and overwhelmed with raising her little brother that some days she had been an automaton—numb but moving forward. Everyone she’d counted on had left her high and dry. And yet, somehow she’d found an inner strength that she hadn’t known she possessed. Now that she had people in her life who wanted to help her—like Coop and Jack and even Peter again—she was having trouble letting them in. There was an upside to being lonely—at least it was safe.

“I love you, Eva!” a man shouted. The crowd tittered.

But instead of brushing off the outburst, fear flashed over Eva’s face. She shrank from the podium.

“Marry me!” the dark-haired man shouted, pushing people aside to reach the front of the dais. He had a wild look in his eye, appearing to be drunk or otherwise impaired.

Eva’s bodyguard stepped up next to her, poised to strike. Jack materialized in time to intercept the man who had caused the disturbance and guide him away from the crowd. The heckler didn’t resist, but looked over his shoulder as he was being led away.

“Eva! Eva, I can’t live without you!”

The man’s words ended when Jack jammed his hand over the guy’s mouth. The crowd parted to let them pass. They walked by Carlotta and she could smell alcohol rolling off the man.

The store publicist quickly took the microphone, thanked Eva, and directed the crowd to the adjacent jewelry department where Eva would be greeting the public and etching her name into charm bracelets.

Carlotta helped to facilitate the long, snaking line, unboxing charm bracelets after they’d been purchased and handing them to Eva to sign. The woman kept looking up, her gaze darting all around. Carlotta smiled and introduced herself in an attempt to put the athlete at ease. “Your own charm bracelet is beautiful.”

Eva lifted her arm and studied the now-famous piece of jewelry with a fond smile. “Yes, it’s very special to me. My coach tried to persuade me not to wear it during the run—every ounce of weight counts, you know. I’m glad I trusted my instincts.”

“Everyone here adores you.”

“I have to confess that crowds make me nervous. I started running because it’s something I can do alone.”

“I’m sorry about the earlier disturbance.”

The woman sighed. “It’s not the first time something like that has happened.”

“You’re very good at connecting with the public.”

“No, I’m not,” Eva said with a miserable smile. “I fake it.”

As one hour elapsed, then two, Carlotta noticed that each encounter took its toll on Eva. She grew more skittish and pale, fidgeting in the chair that had been set up for her in front of a tall, slant-top table. Twice she slipped and cut herself with the tool she was using to etch Eva on the back of the charm bracelets. Carlotta kept one eye on the clock, looking for an opportunity to slip away and check her cell phone messages. Wesley should be finished by now and she needed to talk to him—about the meeting with the D.A., and about the missing prescription drugs.

“You’re probably bored to death,” Eva said as she handed Carlotta back yet another inscribed bracelet.

Carlotta straightened. “Not at all.”

“I see you have a bracelet, too,” Eva said, nodding to Carlotta’s wrist. “Do you want me to sign it?”

“I wouldn’t want to jump in front of all these people.”

“Nonsense, I’ll do it now.”

Eva unfastened the bracelet from Carlotta’s wrist and bent over it while Carlotta boxed the one the woman had just signed.

“These are some of my favorite charms,” Eva said. “Hmm—what an interesting combination.”

“Does the woman have any special significance?” Carlotta asked.

“I don’t know,” Eva murmured, then frowned. “In fact, I don’t remember this charm.” Then she shrugged. “Oh, well—there were a team of designers. I supervised, but I don’t remember them all. Everything happened so fast, my head is still spinning.”

Before another hour had expired, they’d run out of charm bracelets to sign, but there was still a line of people who simply wanted to speak to Eva and get an autograph. Carlotta wished she’d been more diligent about keeping up with in-store events while she’d been off work. Getting celebrity autographs was one of her favorite hobbies, and the new autograph book in her dresser drawer at home had been signed only a few times.

Carlotta glanced up to see that June and Mitchell Moody were next in line. Eva recognized Mitch and seemed genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

He explained he was visiting his mother and introduced June.

“My son can’t say enough nice things about you,” June said.

Eva blushed and glanced toward her boyfriend, Ben, who was standing a few feet away looking bored. Suddenly, though, he was watching his girlfriend and Mitch Moody with great interest, Carlotta noticed, especially when they leaned close for June to take their picture.

“Mitch was a terrific running partner,” Eva said. “He really pushed me to reach my personal best. And the fact that he’s from Atlanta, too, made me feel less homesick.”

“Your talk was fantastic,” Mitch said, clearly taken with Eva.

The woman shook her head. “I like raising money for charity, but this is all a little too much fanfare for me.”

If that was the case, then Eva wasn’t going to like what was coming next, Carlotta thought as she spied a huge decorated sheet cake being wheeled toward the woman, blazing with sparklers. Carlotta frowned. Had a cake been mentioned in the staff meeting that she’d missed? The mustached man pushing the cart was dressed in white culinary garb and … roller skates? Someone started singing “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” and the crowd joined in, parting to allow the cake through.

Just as Carlotta suspected, Eva didn’t look happy with the turn of events.

Carlotta leaned close. “Are you okay?”

Eva’s face reddened. “I wasn’t expecting this … I hate surprises.”

Alarm whipped through Carlotta. Eva didn’t know about the cake? Her first instinct was to find Jack, but she didn’t see him. When she spotted Maria, she waved frantically, then ran forward to block the cart.

“Take it back,” Carlotta said to the man, but she could barely hear herself over the singing. At the sight of a hand tool next to the cake that didn’t look like any culinary utensil she’d ever seen, she waved her arms at the man and shouted, “Stop!”

The man glared and shoved the cart forward, plowing hard into her. The edge of the cart hit Carlotta’s thighs, knocking her legs out from under her. She flailed for two long seconds before falling facedown into the cake. Pain sizzled against her skin where the weight of her body extinguished the sparklers. She lay in the quiet denseness of the white cake for a few seconds, trying to digest what had happened, then lifted her head and licked sweet icing and cake crumbles off her lips. She wanted to clear her eyes, but since the cart was still moving—fast—she decided it would be better to hang on.

She felt herself being propelled like a human bowling ball in Eva’s general direction. Carlotta braced for impact, and based on the force of the collision, she was pretty sure she’d taken out at least a couple of people. Then the cart tipped over, dumping her and the cake onto the floor.

Exclamations and screams sounded. Carlotta felt the crush of bodies around her and was afraid she was going to be trampled. She clawed at the gooey cake on her face and tried to blink the scene into focus, but her eyes stung and watered. Someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, then shoved her against a display counter.

“Stay here,” said a woman with a curling voice. Maria.

“Clear the area!” a man bellowed. “Clear the area!” A shrill noise pierced the air, which Carlotta recognized as a display-case alarm. Had someone broken into one of the jewelry cases?

When she finally blinked the surroundings into focus, she gasped. It was a mob scene. Because of Eva’s white tracksuit, Carlotta was able to spot her at the bottom of a pile of people who had presumably been knocked down by the flying Carlotta-cake-cart, Patricia Alexander for one. Maria Marquez was hauling people off one at a time and finally reached the athlete, who looked dazed.

“Let’s get you out of here,” a man said near Carlotta’s ear. She recognized the voice—and the muscular arm—as belonging to Mitchell Moody. Grateful for the assistance, she leaned on him as she slipped and slid on cake and icing that had been mashed under many feet.

He led her to the mall entrance, where clumps of customers had congregated.

“Thank you,” Carlotta said, trying to catch her breath. “Did you see what happened?”

“Hard to say. It looked to me as if the guy with the cake was trying to get close to Eva.”

“Did he get away?”

“I don’t know. I got Mom out of there and went back to get you.”

“There you are,” June said, hurrying up to them. “Carlotta, are you okay?”

She nodded, then lifted her arms and stared down at her cake-matted dress. “But I can’t imagine what I must look like.”

Mitch gave a little laugh. “Mom said you were always into something.”

Patricia Alexander emerged from the store and came stomping over, her pearls askew and her bob disheveled. “I should’ve known something like this would happen on your first day back.”

Carlotta gaped. “Are you saying this was my fault?”

“Lindy wants all employees back in the store ASAP, and the police are asking for you. Big surprise.” The woman turned and marched back into the store.

Carlotta sighed and turned to June and Mitchell. “I’m sorry the event turned out this way. It was nice to meet you, Mitch.”

“You, too,” he said. “I hope I’ll see you again before I leave town.”

“That would be nice,” she said, pulling a piece of cake out of her ear. She said goodbye to June, and retreated to the entrance of the store with as much dignity as she could muster.

This was not how her life was supposed to be. Mired in drama. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Remember this when you’re having dinner with Peter tonight, she told herself. If she married him, she’d never have to work another day in her life. She could spend her days having her purchases rung up at Neiman’s instead of being the one doing the ringing up. She could buy a new car when her battery died. And she could make bail no matter how many times Wesley got into trouble.

The area around the event had been cleared of customers. A cleaning crew was mopping up cake that seemed to be everywhere. Carlotta realized she was tracking icing on the floor from her shoes, but it couldn’t be helped. A knot of people had gathered to the side. Lindy wore a worried expression. Maria Marquez was talking to Eva McCoy, who was being comforted by her boyfriend, Ben. Eva’s bodyguard and publicist were nearby, as well as the head of store security. Jack stood back a few steps, observing. When he saw Carlotta, he wiped his hand over his mouth to smother a smile.

“Didn’t know you had a sweet tooth,” he murmured when she walked up.

“Don’t start. What happened?”

“Not sure. I’m just getting back from handing off the drunk-and-disorderly character, so I’m hearing everything secondhand. The cake was definitely some kind of ruse. No one in McCoy’s camp or with Neiman’s knew about it. But the guy got away. His smock was found in a trash can inside the mall.”

“Did he attack Eva?”

“No. Apparently you got the worst of it.”

Carlotta gave him a withering look.

Jack pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Can you describe him?”

She inhaled the scent of his aftershave on the handkerchief before she wiped her face. But the suspicion that she was only making things worse was confirmed by Jack’s wince, so she gave up. “He was about five-ten. Caucasian. Wearing a fake mustache, I think.”

“That’s not much to go on.”

“Then look for a guy wearing roller skates,” she said drily. “That should be pretty easy to spot.”

He pursed his mouth, then made a few notes on a little notepad. He pulled out his phone and made a call, relaying the description to someone on the other end. When he flipped the phone closed, he shook his head and muttered, “Why do I get all the crazies?” When she raised her eyebrows, he added, “I don’t mean you … this time.”

She frowned and crossed her arms. “Do you think he meant to hurt Eva?” Carlotta realized everyone else had stopped talking and her voice suddenly sounded very loud.

Jack gave her a look that asked her to lower her voice. “He might have meant to harm Ms. McCoy, or he might have simply wanted to give her cake,” Jack said to the entire group.

“But he could’ve killed her,” Eva’s boyfriend said. His face was red, his body language vibrating with anger. “Is anyone looking for this guy?”

“Yes, Mr. Newsome. The perp’s description has been broadcast, and we have units circling the area. But let’s try to keep this in perspective. As of now, the man’s only crime is attempted delivery of a cake.”

“I heard a case alarm go off,” Carlotta said. “Was anything stolen?”

“We think it was triggered when the cart hit a glass case,” Maria offered.

“Thank goodness nothing was stolen,” Lindy added.

Suddenly Eva gasped and grabbed her wrist. “My charm bracelet—it’s gone!”

Carlotta inhaled sharply at the loss of the iconic piece of jewelry. And from the blank expressions of the group, everyone was equally stunned.

“Did the man take it?” Maria asked.

Eva touched her forehead. “I don’t know … it’s possible. There were just so many people grabbing at me.”

“I just remembered something,” Carlotta said to Jack. “There was some kind of tool on the cart. I don’t know what it was.”

“Can you sketch it?” He handed her his little notebook and pen and she drew the outline as best she could remember.

“It was maybe six or eight inches long.”

Jack squinted at the drawing. “Looks like tin snips, maybe. Probably to cut the charm bracelet from Ms. McCoy’s wrist.”

“I thought you people were here so this kind of thing wouldn’t happen,” Ben Newsome said, his voice accusatory.

A muscle ticked in Jack’s jaw. “We can’t anticipate everything, sir.”

“We’re pulling surveillance tapes from the store cameras,” Maria added. “Hopefully those will tell us more.”

“Of course the most important thing is that Eva’s all right,” Ben said, squeezing her shoulders. “But that bracelet means everything to her, and it represents a lot to the American people, too.”

Eva’s eyes were glazed, her expression stricken. “Take me home, Ben.”

“Perhaps I should stay and work with the police,” he said gently.