Название: 4 Bodies and a Funeral
Автор: Stephanie Bond
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
isbn: 9781408957264
isbn:
If there was a bright spot to Liz seducing nineteen-year-old Wesley, Carlotta thought wryly, it was that maybe she’d work harder to keep him out of jail. The threat of having to resort to conjugal visits in the slammer might keep her on her toes.
Carlotta fretted about Wesley between handing out tickets and informing people about the day’s event, as it had been laid out in the memo that she’d memorized.
“When Ms. McCoy arrives, she’ll say a few words and answer questions from the press. Then she’ll step over to the jewelry section where she’ll pose for pictures, sign autographs, and use an engraving tool to sign the back of any Lucky Charm Bracelet purchased. There is a limit of two bracelets per person.”
It would be a sellout, Carlotta thought as she looked down the long line forming. The jewelry department, adjacent to the event area, was already selling the charm bracelets as quickly as they could ring up customers.
The novelty was that each bracelet was purportedly unique, with random charms denoting travel or hobbies or almost anything. Each bracelet was packaged in a small brown box—the recipient didn’t know exactly what they were getting until they opened it after purchase. The idea was for the wearer to treat the bracelet as a suggested life list of sorts, to be inspired by the charms to try something unexpected. There were even special journals and Web sites for Charmers, as they were now being called. The craze was sweeping the nation, bolstered by Eva’s appearances on national talk shows, hefting the gold medal she’d won for the marathon that had held the world captivated as she’d fought back from her illness to pass the leaders and against all odds, win the event. Hers was one of the greatest human interest stories to emerge from the most recent summer Olympics. And like many athletes, she was cashing in on her newfound celebrity.
“Are those two people over there police officers?” Patricia asked, nodding to Jack and Maria.
“Detectives,” Carlotta said, trying not to let the pair’s familiar body language get to her. It was none of her business where Jack holstered his gun. “Added security as a precaution.”
“So it’s true, then.”
“What?”
Patricia covered her mouth with the back of her hand and whispered. “I read on the Internet that Eva McCoy has received death threats.”
“Death threats? The woman is a world-renowned athlete. Who’d want her dead?”
Patricia shrugged. “Who knows? Sports fans can be rabid. Maybe someone doesn’t like the fact that she beat their favorite runner. Or it could be one of those urban myths that start online and run wild. Regardless, I think I’ll buy a charm bracelet before they’re gone. Want me to pick one up for you?”
“I actually have a charm bracelet at home,” Carlotta murmured. From her teenage years. A gift from her father, it was somewhere in the depths of her jewelry box. She had buried so many things from that period in her life. “Thanks anyway,” she added begrudgingly. Patricia wasn’t so bad, she was just … persnickety.
“Looks like we have a lull,” Patricia said. “I’ll be right back.”
Carlotta glanced around and decided to take advantage of the break in the crowd to get a pain pill from her purse. Her arm hadn’t hurt like this in a while.
She made her way to the employee break room and gave the locker of her former coworker Michael Lane a wistful glance. It had been emptied, but was still tagged with police evidence tape. No one would touch it, as if they might catch whatever it was that had taken hold of Michael. Carlotta opened her own locker to remove her purse. She checked her cell phone for messages, hoping Wesley hadn’t forgotten his promise to call and let her know what happened with the D.A. But there were no messages, leaving her to fear the worst. Jack had once warned her that the D.A. despised her father so much that he might try to take it out on Wesley.
With growing apprehension, Carlotta pulled the prescription bottle of Percocet from her bag and removed the lid. When the last pill rolled out into her hand, she frowned. She’d barely touched the bottle of painkillers, and had even turned down the doctor’s offer for extra refills because she hadn’t wanted to become dependent on them.
She used her cell phone to dial the pharmacy and request one of the refills she had left.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there are no more refills on this prescription.”
“But I’m looking at the pill bottle, and it says I have two more.”
In the background was the sound of computer keys clicking. “According to our records, the prescription was refilled two weeks ago and again last week.”
“But that’s impossible—” Carlotta began to argue, then cut herself off. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She hadn’t taken the bottle of pain pills, and she hadn’t gotten the prescription refilled. Which left only one other person in the house who could have.
“Thank you,” she said hastily, then disconnected the call. Her eyes pooled with sudden moisture. Had Wesley taken the painkillers recreationally? Sold them?
Or was he hooked on them?
She put a hand over her heavy heart and murmured, “Oh, Wesley. What have you gotten yourself into now?”
2
Wesley glanced all around as he hurried into the building on Pryor Street that housed, among other government agencies, the offices of the Fulton County District Attorney. He was a nervous freaking wreck after riding his bike in a circuitous route just in case anyone from The Carver’s camp knew about the appointment and decided to intercept him, then persuade him not to agree to a plea deal in return for testifying against the brutal loan shark.
When he’d agreed to help The Carver’s men swipe the body of a starlet, Wesley had told himself he was killing several birds with one stone, so to speak.
The woman was already dead, after all. It was an olive branch to offer the loan shark for an embarrassing stunt Wesley had orchestrated on him at a strip club. And The Carver had promised to erase the rest of Wesley’s gambling debt in return for the favor. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d been given the option of refusing the man who had already carved the first three letters of his last name into Wesley’s arm for a former offense.
At the memory, Wesley rubbed his arm through the jacket he’d worn as directed by his attorney. Underneath, the newly healed wounds itched where the skin had drawn tight.
Thinking back to the body-snatching scheme, Wesley shook his head. Why did he think he could do it? At the last minute he’d balked and when it was over, he’d come clean with his boss, Cooper, and the police. The D.A., an asshole named Kelvin Lucas who had indicted his dad, had wanted to nail Wesley to the wall. But his attorney, Liz, had managed to persuade the D.A. that Hollis Carver was a bigger fish. Since Wesley still owed The Carver a shitload of money, it was in his best interests if The Carver went to jail for a long time.
On the other hand, The Carver could probably pull strings no matter where he was. If he found out that Wesley had turned on him, he might have the rest of his name and his address cut into Wesley’s skinny body.
Once inside the lobby, Wesley slowed his pace so as not to attract attention from the security СКАЧАТЬ