Authors: Stephanie Bond
waiter. It was heaven.”
Wel , that was hard to condemn, since Carlotta had done it
herself a time or two. “Do you remember if she was
wearing a necklace that night?”
The man jammed his fingers in his hair, leaving it at all
angles. “Yeah, she was wearing a circle of diamonds. She
wore it a lot lately. I thought maybe it was her talisman for
staying sober.” He heaved a mournful sigh. “Today’s her
birthday, you know. She would’ve been twenty-one.”
His lost expression tugged on Carlotta’s heart. “I know.”
She used her good arm to help him up and dust off the
grass. “Where are you from, Wayne?”
“Here in Atlanta. Kiki and I went to grade school together. I
knew back then she was something special.”
“You got your own special thing going there, Wayne,”
Hannah said. “Can we give you a lift somewhere?”
“No, my car is through those trees.” He looked at Carlotta.
“Who are you? Why do you care about Kiki?”
“My name is Carlotta Wren. I didn’t know Kiki. I helped to
transport her body back to Atlanta.”
“Did you see her body? Was she at peace?”
The bleak look in his eyes showed the depth of his
obsession with Kiki, how much he had worshiped her.
Carlotta felt compel ed to give him some measure of
comfort. “Yes, she was at peace.”
The man smiled through his tears, as if a great burden had
been relieved. “Thank you.”
They watched him walk away, and Hannah made a rueful
noise. “Now why can’t I find a man who’l idolize me like
that?”
Carlotta smiled. “Maybe you wil someday.” She pul ed out
her cel phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Coop. Want to talk to him?”
“No,” Hannah said primly. “I’m officially playing hard to
get.”
Carlotta shook her head while the phone rang.
“Coop here.”
“Coop, it’s Carlotta. Did you find out if the necklace was in
Kiki Deerling’s personal affects?”
“Hel o to you, too.”
“Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“The M.E. said there was no necklace in her belongings.
But it could’ve come off in all the commotion, either at the
club, in the ambulance or at the hospital. Or someone
could’ve stolen it.”
“Yeah, like the person who murdered her.”
He sighed. “You promised me you’d let this go.”
“I just talked to our redheaded priest. He’s convinced that
Matt Pearson kil ed her by giving her a heroin overdose.”
“Who is this guy?”
“A very devoted fan.”
“A fan? You can’t be serious.”
“Come on, Coop. I suspect you noticed discrepancies
about the body that you aren’t sharing. Between what you
know and what I found out, don’t you think we should at
least talk to Jack? Maybe the police know something we
don’t. They might have tracked down that green van
already. Maybe Matt Pearson hired those goons to steal
the body to cover up what he did to her.”
Carlotta took Coop’s silence as a good sign, that he was, in
fact, more suspicious about the cause of death than he’d
disclosed.
“What could it hurt?” she prodded. “Hannah wil drop me
off at the police station. I’l meet you there.”
He groaned. “I can’t wait until you go back to work at
Neiman’s.”
27
“Hi, Brooklyn,” Carlotta said to the woman behind the
Plexiglass cage in the police station.
She smiled. “How you doing, Carlotta?”
“Great, thanks. Hey, were you able to use that Neiman’s
clearance coupon I gave you?”
“Girl, take a look.” The woman held up her arm to reveal a
dazzling diamond tennis bracelet.
Carlotta nodded. “Nice.” She gestured to Coop. “This is my
friend Dr. Craft. We’re here to see Jack. Is he available?”
“Let me check to make sure he’s not back there getting a
manicure.” Brooklyn chuckled, then picked up the phone.
Carlotta smothered a smile and waited while Brook had a
terse exchange with Jack. She set down the receiver. “He
said to come on back. You know the way. I’l buzz you in.”
“Thank you.” Carlotta turned to Coop. “Fol ow me.”
He looked uncertain. “Jack isn’t going to like this.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
They walked through a secured door, then wound their
way back to Jack’s cubicle. Carlotta remembered wel
making this trip the day Jack had arrested Wesley for
hacking into the city’s computer system. Jack had
recognized their last name, and immediately figured they
were Randolph Wren’s kids.
It had not been a stel ar beginning.
Jack was standing, minus jacket and tie, his sleeves rol ed
up, waiting for them. “What’s this all about?”
“Kiki Deerling,” Carlotta said without preamble. “We have
some new evidence in her case.”
Jack’s eyebrows climbed. “What case?” He looked at Coop.
“What has she talked you into?”
Coop pul ed on his chin. “Maybe we should all sit.”
Jack frowned, but relented. “Let’s go to an interview
room.”
Once they were seated at a table in a small room, Jack
gazed at Coop. “I’m listening.”
Coop looked toward the door as if he might change his
mind, then leaned forward, his forearms on the table.
“There were some discrepancies between the body and
the M.E.’s report, Jack.”
“The M.E. said she died of an asthma attack, right?”
“Yes. And she did have a history of asthma.” Coop glanced
at Carlotta, then pressed his lips together. “But…there
were other injuries that were inconsistent with an attack.”
“Such as?”
“Bruising on the neck, broken blood vessels in the eyes, an
absence of the kind of mucus one would expect to find in
the nasal cavity and throat, and her chest cavity didn’t
appear to be swol en.”
“Why would it be swol en?”
“During a severe asthma attack, the lungs hyperextend.”
“Can that be explained away?”
Coop shifted in his chair. “Yes. If CPR was performed for an
extended period of time, the lungs might have deflated.”
“And the mucus—wasn’t her body cleaned before you
picked it up at the morgue?”
“Yes.”
“So it could’ve been there and been washed away?”
“It’s possible.”
“As for the broken blood vessels, I had an aunt blow a
blood vessel in her eye once from coughing.”
“That could happen,” Coop admitted.
“What about the bruising on the neck? Could she have
done it to herself during an attack?”
“It’s not likely.”
“Is there another explanation?”
“It’s possible the EMTs could have caused the bruises
when they were trying to treat her.”
Jack lifted his hands. “So you’ve got nothing.”
“There was an imprint on her col arbone,” Carlotta
interjected. “A small circle that matches a diamond
pendant she was wearing on the day she died. And the
pendant wasn’t in her personal effects.”
“So?”
“So, someone could have pressed it into her neck when
they strangled her, then stolen the necklace afterward.”
Jack’s head jutted forward. “That’s it? You’ve conjured up
some half-baked theory that she was strangled based on a
piece of jewelry someone said the girl might have been
wearing?”
Carlotta frowned. “I located one of the men who showed
up at the morgue trying to see the body. He thinks Matt
Pearson kil ed Kiki by giving her heroin.”
“Was he in the room when this al egedly happened?”
“No, but he was at the party where she died. And he
seems to know a lot about her, um, habits. Maybe you
could at least bring him in for questioning.”
“What’s the guy’s name?”
She told him, and gave a description. Jack picked up the
phone.
“It’s Terry. Run a background check on a Wayne Barber of
Atlanta. Caucasian, red hair, blue eyes, age approximately
twenty-one. Ring me back in interview three.” He hung up
the phone, then asked Carlotta, “Did this Barber fel ow
happen to know anything about the other two kooks
trying to steal the body?”
“He said he didn’t. Were you able to locate the green
van?”
“We’re stil running a couple of leads, but there’s nothing
concrete.” He looked at Coop. “I assume the body was
interred without incident?”
“Yeah, but security was tight.”
Jack shook his head. “It’s sad that she died, but I don’t
understand the uproar over this girl. Jesus, I must be
getting old.” The phone rang and he picked it up. “Any
hits?” He listened, pursing his mouth and murmuring “uh-
huh” occasionally, then said, “Thanks,” and banged down
the receiver.
He turned his head toward Carlotta. “Your source is a nut
job. He’s had numerous run-ins with the law, mostly
disorderly conduct and trespassing. He also spent six
months in a mental facility for unknown il nesses. Kiki
Deerling issued a restraining order against him two
months ago.”
Carlotta swallowed hard. “Just because he’s crazy doesn’t
mean he’s wrong.”
Jack looked at Coop. “I expect this kind of cockamamie
stuff from her, but not from you.”
“Carlotta’s just trying to help,” Coop said. “She has some
valid points.”
Jack frowned. “Stop humoring her.”
“Hey,” Carlotta said, waving her arms, “I’m in the room.”
Coop’s jaw moved as if he were chewing on his thoughts.
“Jack, there do seem to be some lingering questions about
this woman’s death.”
“Not in my mind,” the detective stated. “There’s stil no
motive. Why would someone want to kil this girl? She
seemed to be making everyone a hel of a lot of money.”
“Maybe it wasn’t premeditated,” Coop said. “There was
something else on the body—track marks.”
Jack pursed his mouth. “Could you tel if they were new?”
“No.”
“Did you bring them to the attention of the Boca M.E.?”
“No. I didn’t see them until I was helping to prepare the
body for viewing.”
“I thought models snorted heroin these days to avoid track
marks.”
“Smoking or snorting is dangerous for an asthmatic,” Coop
said.
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m confused. Do you
think she was strangled, or do you think she was given an
overdose of heroin?”
Coop sat back in his chair. “That could only be determined
with a ful autopsy.”
“Didn’t the M.E. at least do a tox screen?”
“No.”
“What about the hospital where she was taken for
treatment? Did they do a tox screen?”
“No reason to. They were operating under the impression
that she’d had an asthma attack.”
“Can asthma kil a person that quickly?”
Coop nodded. “If death occurs from an attack, it’s usual y
within thirty minutes of the onset.”
Jack pul ed his hand over his mouth, then shook his head.
“Sorry, it’s not enough. The D.A. wil never order an
autopsy based on bits of circumstantial evidence. You
haven’t told me anything that makes me believe she died
any way other than exactly how the M.E. reported.” He
pushed himself to his feet. “If that’s al , I need to get back
to work.”
Carlotta looked at Coop, pleading with him with her eyes.
He shrugged, as if to say “we tried.” As they left the
interview room, he had his hand on her waist, which Jack
seemed to zone in on.
“Carlotta,” Jack said. “A word?”
She indicated to Coop that she’d meet him outside, then
turned back. “Yes?”
He made sure Coop was out of earshot, then scowled.
“Pec implants?”
She scowled back. “You told me the tap had been removed
from my phone.”
He leaned in. “It was supposed to be, but when we got the
news that your father’s fingerprints were found in
Daytona, the decision was made to keep it.”
“Made by whom?”
“Me,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
“And trash talk me all you want, but leave Liz out of it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Liz is lucky I haven’t kicked her
scrawny ass for seducing my brother.”
“Wesley’s a full-grown man, Carlotta. He can screw
whoever he wants.”
“Too bad the both of you have the same taste in women.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “When you question my taste,
you’re throwing yourself under the bus.”
“That was a one-time occurrence,” she snapped.
“Coop keeping you warm now, is he?”
“Keep Coop out of this. He’s a good man.”
“Liz isn’t a bad person, either, Carlotta. At least I know
what to expect from her.” Jack gave her a pointed look.
“That’s probably why your brother likes her, too.”
Her mouth fel open, then clamped shut with indignation.
“Are you going to stop listening in to my phone calls?”
“Probably not.”
“I agreed to the tap as part of a deal with the D.A., which
he reneged on, by the way.”
“This phone tap is based on a separate incident.”
“I don’t appreciate being spied on without reason.”
“You’re acting as if you and your family have something to
hide.”
Unbidden moisture sprang to her eyes. “What’s left to
hide, Jack? My family’s dirty laundry has been a public
spectacle from the beginning.” She pivoted on her heel to
walk away. “Hey.”