Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral (11 page)

someone to pick me up.”

“Aren’t we all? I’m Pepper.”

“I’m…Carlotta.” It was simpler to go along, especial y since

she’d rather smoke than talk.

Pepper pointed to Carlotta’s loafers. “No offense, honey,

but men usually go for heels.”

“You think?” Carlotta said, wriggling her toes.

“Oh, yeah. Men aren’t hard to figure out, you know. If I

could talk to the wives and the girlfriends of the guys who

make time with me, I’d tel them it really only takes two

things to make men happy.”

Curious, Carlotta leaned in. “What are they?”

Pepper grinned. “You got a dol ar? I charge for my expert

advice.”

Carlotta decided that was fair and scrounged a dol ar from

her bag.

“Thank you.” Pepper stuffed the dol ar bil in her bra. “The

two things it takes to make men happy are chocolate cake

and blow jobs.”

Carlotta’s eyebrows went up. “Chocolate cake and blow

jobs?”

“Trust me on this. You got a man you’re trying to hang on

to, keep him supplied with chocolate cake and blow jobs,

and you’l never have to worry about him fooling around.”

Carlotta made a rueful noise. “I’m not a very good cook.”

“Honey, that’s why God made bakeries and Little Debbie.

And as far as the blow jobs—” The woman extended a

square of Bazooka bubble gum and winked. “This’l make

your jaws strong. On the house.”

Carlotta took the gum. “Er, thanks.” At the sound of a

vehicle slowing, she looked up, along with everyone else

on the sidewalk, to see Coop’s white van pul ing up.

“Ooh, nice one,” Pepper said.

“Uh, ladies, this one’s mine,” Carlotta said. She took a

quick drag off the half-smoked cigarette, then handed it to

Pepper to finish. She hurried around the front of the van

and climbed up in the passenger seat, then slammed the

door.

Cooper smiled in the dome light of the cab behind dark-

rimmed glasses. “New friends of yours?”

“Something like that,” she said, going all warm and toasty

at the sight of him. He was dressed in a sport coat and

slacks, with a col arless shirt. Coop was long and lean, with

broad shoulders and warm, intel igent eyes that spoke of

secrets.

He raked his gaze over her and he looked as if he wanted

to say something. Instead he settled for murmuring, “Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi yourself.”

He waited for her to buckle up before he pul ed away. “Did

I interrupt a romantic dinner date?”

“No. And I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She wet her lips. “Did you call Wesley first?”

“Nope.” He made a regretful noise. “And honestly, I don’t

know when or if I wil again.”

“The D.A. reduced Wesley’s charges to a misdemeanor.

He’s getting more community service.”

“I guess I’m glad for him, although it doesn’t change what

he did.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Carlotta agreed. “Are you going to get

someone else to help you?”

He nodded. “Dr. Abrams has a nephew who’s interested.”

Then he smiled. “And I’l keep your number first on my

list.” He sighed. “If I get desperate, I’l give Hannah a call.”

Carlotta laughed. Hannah had a huge crush on Coop, but

she was a little, um, aggressive.

“What’s in the bag?” Coop asked.

“Gorgonzola ice cream. Want some?”

“I’m more of a chocolate cake guy myself, but I won’t turn

it down.”

Carlotta’s head snapped around. Pepper’s advice rang in

her ears.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It’s just…I had cake earlier today.” She removed

the lid from one of the containers of ice cream, jabbed a

plastic spoon in the softening mound, then handed it to

him.

“Was the cake for a special occasion?”

She gave him a brief rundown of the incident at work.

“Sorry I missed it,” he said with a grin. “Too bad about the

charm bracelet being stolen, though.” He spooned a bite

of the exotic ice milk into his mouth. “I recorded the entire

women’s Olympic marathon. Eva McCoy’s performance

was riveting.”

“June Moody was at the event today. Her son, Mitchel , is

visiting.”

“I’d like to meet him before he leaves. June has always

spoken highly of him.”

She knew that Coop didn’t spend a lot of time at the cigar

lounge because of the bar upstairs, but he and June were

friends—the woman gave Coop cigar boxes for his hobby

of creating dioramas.

Carlotta’s mouth puckered at the pleasing bittersweet

taste of the ice cream and pointed to it with her spoon.

“What do you think?”

“It’s surprisingly good.”

She recal ed that he’d ordered dessert after meals when

they’d been in Florida. “So you have a sweet tooth.”

“Eating sugar helps to fulfil the craving for alcohol,” he

said. “You rarely see an active alcoholic having dessert—

they prefer liquid sugar.”

“Now that you mention it, I don’t ever remember seeing

my mother eat dessert,” Carlotta murmured. “I always

thought she was just watching her weight.” Valerie Wren

had had a love affair with vodka while her husband had

had a love affair with Liz Fischer. Maybe one event had

triggered the other? Yet, if either one of her parents had

known about the other’s weakness, they hadn’t discussed

it in front of their children.

Carlotta cast about for a more cheerful topic. “Hey, Jack

told me that Dr. Abrams is going to involve you in open

cases at the morgue.”

A sour expression crossed his face. “That’s what I’ve been

told, but I’m not sure it was all Abrams’s idea.”

“You must stil have friends in high places.”

He shrugged. “I like to think I did mostly a good job when I

was chief M.E. before…before I did what I did.”

He ate another bite of the ice cream while steering the van

through the evening traffic with one hand. Carlotta could

tel his thoughts had turned inward. If fact, upon closer

observation, his entire demeanor had changed subtly. His

brown hair and sideburns were shaggy, which wasn’t like

him, and he seemed more preoccupied, less quick to smile

than before.

“I know what it’s like to make a terrible mistake,” he said

quietly. “Which is why I forgive Wesley for what he did.

Unfortunately, because of my own mistake, I don’t have

the luxury of forgiving and forgetting. At least not until

some of the dust has settled.”

“I appreciate you giving Wesley another chance when the

time comes,” she said, her chest expanding with affection.

Coop had been such a good influence on Wesley, who

hadn’t had a male figure in his life for a long time…except

that loathsome Chance Hol ander who pretended to be a

friend when all he wanted in Wesley was a toadie to make

himself feel important.

Coop’s phone rang. He handed his ice cream container to

Carlotta, then put his phone to his ear. “This is

Coop…Yes…I’m just around the corner…okay.” He put

down the phone. “CSI is finished processing the scene.

They’re ready for us.”

“What happened?”

“Female found deceased in her bed. It appears to be of

natural causes.”

Carlotta breathed a sigh of relief that her return to body

moving would be a nice, quiet call—no body snatching, no

drowning, no hanging, no strangling, no gun or knife

wounds. She placed their empty ice cream containers back

in the bag, thinking guiltily of Peter. He would be upset if

he knew she was back to body moving…with Coop…eating

ice cream Peter had bought for them to share.

“Here’s the neighborhood,” Coop said. “Berkeley Heights.”

Coop seemed to know the streets of what was clearly an

older district of metro Atlanta. She glanced at the homes

as they drove by, quaint shotgun-style houses in various

states of decay and gentrification. Ahead of them on the

right sat a police car, a car from the morgue, and an

unmarked vehicle that she recognized as Jack’s as they

pul ed into the driveway.

Carlotta pul ed the lanyard that identified her as a courier

for the county morgue from her wallet and lifted it over

her head with a sigh. The cop was everywhere.

She opened the door of the van and swung down to the

ground, but as she started to close the door, she spotted a

flash of glass peeking out from under the seat. She

reached inside to push the item back, then realized it was

a ful pint of vodka.

She’d seen plenty of those around the Wren house when

her mother had been in residence—in the freezer, in the

umbrel a stand, in the couch cushions.

Her stomach bottomed out and she glanced up to see if

Coop had noticed. He was preoccupied with checking the

contents of a small bag of equipment he always brought

on calls. She swal owed nervously and shoved the bottle of

booze back under the seat, then closed the door.

Maybe Coop was the kind of recovering alcoholic who kept

a bottle within reach, just to prove that he could resist it.

Then she bit her lip. Or maybe he was considering falling

off the wagon?

As they walked toward the house, she mentally reviewed

his mood and conversation since he’d picked her up. He

had been quieter than usual…and he’d seemed distracted.

Or was she simply reading too much into it?

They approached the front door of one of the nicer homes

on the street where a female uniformed officer was

posted. Coop flashed his credentials and Carlotta held up

hers. The officer directed them inside to a rear bedroom.

When they entered, a young medical examiner from the

morgue, Pennyman, was leaving. He spoke to Coop and

the men shook hands. From their conversation, Carlotta

gathered that Pennyman had once worked for Coop.

“It looks like she died in her sleep sometime last night,”

the man said. “She lives alone. The police were fol owing

up on a call her employer had made when she didn’t

report to work. She’s young, so I’m thinking maybe she

had an aneurysm?”

Coop smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You don’t

answer to me anymore, Pennyman. I’m sure you’re right.”

But it was apparent from the man’s behavior that despite

Coop’s lack of authority, the young M.E. wanted his

approval.

The men said their goodbyes, then she and Coop

proceeded through the house. In the soft-hued bedroom,

a pretty dark-haired Caucasian woman looked to be

sleeping peaceful y in the bed. Jack stood in a corner,

peeling off a pair of gloves. He nodded a greeting to Coop,

but when he spotted Carlotta, he frowned.

“Are you finished, Jack?” Coop asked.

“Yeah. She’s all yours.”

“What’s her name?”

“Shawna Whitt. Damn shame—she’s young.”

Coop frowned at Jack. “Why did you get called out on a

natural causes death?”

“I was in the area when I heard the call on the radio.”

“Since when is this side of town your area?” Coop asked

conversationally as he walked over to study the woman.

“I was dropping my partner off at home.”

Carlotta’s ears perked up.

“You have a new partner?” Coop asked.

“Yeah.” A little smile played across Jack’s mouth until he

looked at Carlotta.

“She’s hot,” Carlotta supplied drily, standing back until

Coop told her what she needed to do.

Coop looked up at Jack. “Oh?”

Jack shrugged, but couldn’t hold back a wolfish grin.

“Cool,” Coop said, then his gaze flitted to Carlotta. “Nice

scenery makes any job a little more pleasant. I’l go get the

gurney.”

“I’l help,” she said, moving toward the door.

“No, save your arm. You can help me when I get back.”

When Coop left the room, Jack raised his eyebrows. “How

did you go from dinner with Peter to a body pickup with

Coop?”

“I’m flexible,” she said lightly.

“I remember,” he said, his eyes dancing.

“Stop it,” she said under her breath. “I’m fil ing in for

Wesley until he and Coop can patch things up.”

At the mention of Wesley’s name, Jack’s gaze dropped.

“Everything’s stil okay with Wesley, isn’t it?” she asked,

suddenly concerned. “I haven’t talked to him. But you said

the charges were reduced, that he’s not going to have to

serve jail time?”

Jack lifted his gaze. “Yeah, that’s right. Everything’s fine.”

Relieved, she smiled. “Good.”

The clattering noise of the empty gurney sounded from

the hall, then Coop reappeared in the doorway.

“Need a hand?” Jack said to Coop, glancing dubiously at

Carlotta.

“No, we got it,” she assured him, stepping up to the bed.

Shawna Whitt was slender and dressed in modest

nightclothes, with no outward signs of il ness or injury.

Carlotta felt a pang that her life had been cut short, for no

obvious reason.

“Okay, I’m going to call it a night,” Jack said, heading

toward the door. “It looks like you two have everything

under control, and I’ve had a long day. The uniform wil

lock up behind you.”

“Jack, hold on,” Coop said, his voice taking on an odd tone

as he bent over the woman’s body.