5 Bodies To Die For

“Yeah, about ten grand. If you catch the dude, I want it back.”

“Don’t hold your breath. And do I need to remind you that you’re on probation? Gambling is not on the menu.”

“It was just a friendly card game,” Wes said.

“Uh-huh. Listen, about this work you’re doing for The Carver…”

Wesley swallowed past a dry throat, suddenly regretting not taking that Coke. “Yeah?”

“Well, this Charmed Killer case is taking all my time right now, so don’t rush anything. Just network and keep your eyes and ears open, especially when it comes to Hollis Carver’s son, Dillon.”

“Okay, but so far, the only person I’m networking with is Mouse.”

“So chat him up. See what he knows.”

Wesley shifted from foot to foot, not at all sure he wanted to get to know Mouse better. “Did you know that Carlotta moved in with Peter?” he blurted to change the subject.

Jack scowled. “She’s staying with him until this maniac is off the streets.”

Wesley arched an eyebrow. “Is that what she told you?”

A muscle worked in the big man’s jaw. “I’ll go see if your phone is ready.”

5

After several blissful moments of daydreaming, Carlotta pushed herself off the feathery guest bed and unpacked. The few clothes that she’d brought looked pitiful hanging in the expansive closet that also featured a steam-iron press, but it was a treat having so much space. She walked around the suite, exploring every inch.

The room was meticulously clean, but showed signs of having been lived in. Carlotta stepped on something imbedded in the carpet and unearthed a small broken silver pin shaped like a cat, no doubt left behind by a houseguest or perhaps a housekeeper.

She set the pin on the counter in the lavish bathroom and ran her hand along the pale granite flecked with gold. Luxury bath products lined the vanity shelves. Spa-quality towels and a white robe lay folded on the edge of the jet garden tub. She wondered idly if Angela had ever come in here for privacy, sinking up to her neck in bubbles when she had the chance.

And then a realization sunk in—this had been Angela’s room. She and Peter had apparently spent at least some of their marriage sleeping in separate beds. Carlotta felt a pang for the dead woman, sorry that Angela’s life—and death—hadn’t turned out as she’d planned. Carlotta and Angela hadn’t been best friends in high school or afterward when their social paths had diverged, but Carlotta had never wished the woman ill, not even after Angela had married Peter. To be here and uncovering all her secrets…it felt intrusive, almost an insult to the woman’s memory.

The troubling thoughts pushed her out of the room. As she closed the door, she glanced across the hall. While she was appreciative that Peter hadn’t tried to persuade her to share his room, the proximity alone worried her. On top of the nagging sense of betrayal she felt staying in his dead wife’s room, she knew that close quarters had a way of escalating intimacy.

But wasn’t part of her decision to be here with Peter to give them the chance to explore their chemistry?

With her heart and head clicking, Carlotta descended the stairs, once again awestruck over the sheer size of the house. If Michael Lane could live in the town house without her and Wesley knowing about it, a family of five could live hidden in this place without anyone being the wiser.

Through a set of open sliding glass doors leading out onto the pool area, she heard the telltale noises of grill-wrangling. When she stepped outside, she spotted Peter at the far end of the patio, in the outdoor-kitchen area. Mingled scents of chlorine and spices filled the humid air.

He waved her over and, after slipping off her shoes, she made her way across the stone lanai surrounding the breathtaking pool. Crystalline blue water slapped gently against the sides. The memory of Angela lying near the pool’s edge dressed in a black trench coat and boots, her eyes open and staring, rose in Carlotta’s mind. She gave herself a mental shake and walked toward Peter.

She’d forgotten the lavishness of the outside living area—a recent addition, Peter had hinted, that Angela had wanted more than he had. Besides the pool, there was an in-ground hot tub and a waterfall. The landscaping was magnificent, with huge potted trees and urns making it feel like a European villa. And behind the alfresco kitchen that featured commercial-grade appliances and a firebrick oven sat a small building separate from the house—a guest-house-slash-pool house. Allegedly, it’s where Angela had entertained her paying customers.

Carlotta marveled that Peter hadn’t sold the entire property after the whole ordeal, but she rationalized that he must have his own reasons for staying put.

“I forgave her,” he said, as if he could read her mind. He glanced up from the grill where he turned thick steaks and brightly colored vegetables with a pair of tongs. “That’s why I didn’t sell the house…or burn it to the ground.”

Two glasses of red wine sat on the bar. Carlotta slowly climbed onto a stool and reached for one. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Everyone else has—my friends, coworkers, my parents, even Angela’s parents. No one can imagine why I’d want to live here after everything that happened.”

“This is your home,” she murmured. “Besides, I’m sure you have good memories here, too.”

He nodded, reaching for the other glass of wine. “A few. But the truth is, Angie and I led separate lives, even when we were both here. I don’t feel bound up in memories because we didn’t make many.” He made a rueful noise. “That probably sounds cold.”

“No, I understand what you’re saying.”

He took a drink from his glass. “Still, even though our marriage wasn’t good for her or for me, I feel obligated to do right by her. And part of that is keeping the house she loved. Plus, I couldn’t stand the thought of ghouls coming round to tour the place, just to see where she’d been murdered. They would’ve, you know. Even her so-called friends were vultures. After she died, they brought food and gifts of condolence, but sooner or later, they were all demanding the gory details. It was sickening.”

Carlotta’s heart squeezed for what he had endured at the hands of people who pretended to be his friends. “I know what that feels like to some degree. I’m so sorry.”

He nodded, then smiled. “That’s all behind us now. We can’t change the past…only the future.” He lifted his glass of wine. “To the future.”

She clinked her glass to his and drank deeply, glancing at him over the rim. With his shirtsleeves rolled up, his hair tousled and his face flushed with heat, he looked incredibly handsome. Awareness curled in her stomach—Peter had been her first lover. At one time, they’d known each other’s bodies intimately, couldn’t get enough of each other. She could feel his body pulling on hers now, calling her home.

Sleeping across the hall from him might be harder than she’d anticipated.

“Did you get unpacked?” he asked, then took a drink from his glass.

She nodded. “Yes, the closet is wonderful, the room is wonderful and the house is…wonderful. Thank you for having me as your guest, Peter.”

His eyes glowed with a banked fire. “You can stay as long as you want.”

The way he looked at her fueled her own curiosity. She expected him to flirt with her—over dinner and as the evening wore on and the wine went down. But he was the perfect gentleman, keeping the conversation light, even steering clear of talking about their recent agreement to start looking into her father’s assertions that someone within his old firm had framed him.

Instead, they laughed and teased and discussed movies and nonsensical things, as if he sensed that she was happy to avoid talking about The Charmed Killer and the panic unleashed on the city. To avoid thinking Michael Lane was the sicko they were looking for. The only time Peter hinted at the danger she was in was later in the evening, when he showed her how to operate the alarm system.

“I have an early breakfast meeting,” he said. “But when I leave, I’ll reactivate the alarm. When you get up, you’ll need to turn off the motion detector before going downstairs, by pushing this button.”

He demonstrated and she nodded. Simple enough.

“The alarm will still be on for the doors and windows on the first floor, so if you want to go outside, push this button. At that point, the entire system is off. But I don’t recommend you do that.”

She nodded. “I understand.” The house might be wired for bear, but if the alarm was off and someone made it past the guardhouse, a person would be a sitting duck. The neighbors were too far away to be of much help.

“When you leave the house, there’s a panel next to the door leading to the garage. Push the button to reactivate the motion detector and close the door behind you. There’s no alarm on the garage door, so you have all the time you need to get into the Porsche and out of the garage.”

She nodded, mentally reviewing things in her head. “This thing isn’t going to go off if I get up in the middle of the night, is it?”

He smiled. “Not if you stay upstairs. The motion detectors are just for the first floor.”

She bit her lip. “And if I set off the alarm by mistake?”

“Within a few seconds, the monitoring service will call to see if everything is okay. They’ll reset the alarm if you need them to.”

“Okay.” Carlotta smiled. “If you don’t mind, I think I might go ahead and turn in. I need to check in with Wes, and let Hannah know where I am.”