4 Bodies and a Funeral

Carlotta’s mouth tightened. He would’ve told her if Maria hadn’t been in the car. “Maria, did you notice anything special about the guy with the cake before he got away from you?”

Jack shot her a warning glance in the mirror, but Carlotta returned with an innocent eyebrow raise.

“No,” Maria replied with a smile. “Except that he left tire tracks over you.”

Jack pressed his lips together and turned his attention straight ahead.

Carlotta unbuckled her seat belt and stuck her head between their seats. “That reporter from the AJC hung around after the event. She heard Eva say that her bracelet was stolen—it’ll be all over the news.”

He shrugged. “That could help us. Maybe someone will see the bracelet and get in touch with the police. And a piece of jewelry known to be hot will be harder to resell.”

“Maybe it was just a warning,” Carlotta said. “Maybe the guy took the bracelet to let everyone know how close he could get to her. Or maybe whoever took it will ask for a ransom.”

“Maybe,” Jack said in a noncommittal tone. “Frankly, in the scheme of things, I don’t consider this to be a high-priority crime.”

“I’m with you, Jack,” Maria said. “I don’t understand all the hoopla around the charm bracelets in general. I see you have one, Carlotta.”

Carlotta covered the bracelet with her hand. “It was a gift from a coworker,” she said defensively. “Although I can see why the idea of charms appeal to women. They’re mementos of special times, and they’re jewelry—what’s not to like?”

“It just seems silly to me,” Maria said.

Carlotta frowned. “Where are you from, Maria?”

“Chicago.”

“And what brings you to Atlanta?”

The woman turned her head to look out the window. “I just needed a change.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to find the Atlanta heat a little hard to handle,” Carlotta offered.

Maria turned in her seat to smile at Carlotta. “I like the heat. In fact, I’m finding a lot of things about Atlanta that I like.” Her gaze drifted to Jack’s profile.

“The traffic is horrible,” Carlotta muttered, sitting back in her seat. When Jack gave her a chiding look, she wanted to stick out her tongue.

“Is that why you’re riding the train?” he asked.

“No.” Her shoulders fell. “My car battery is dead.”

“I’ll give you a jump when we get you home.”

His eyes met hers and she detected a flash of amusement—and desire. Her pulse betrayed her. Maria’s head turned.

“Your car, I mean,” he added, then turned his gaze forward as if he’d been a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What part of town is this?” Maria asked, looking out the window at the passing neighborhood landscape which was clearly middle to lower class.

“Lindbergh,” Carlotta supplied.

“Like the cheese?”

“Something like that.”

Jack spelled it for Maria and she pulled out a map. “I’m still trying to get my bearings,” Maria explained.

“Me, too,” Carlotta whispered to no one as they pulled into the driveway of the town house she shared with Wesley.

Jack adjusted the rearview mirror. “Carlotta, do you recognize that black SUV?”

She turned around in time to see the vehicle pull away from the curb where it had been sitting across the street. Anxiety bubbled in her stomach. “I don’t think so.”

Jack’s mouth tightened as he put the car in Park. “Do you have your car keys with you?”

“Yes.” She dug in her purse for the remote control to open the garage door.

“Please tell me that you backed into the garage when you parked.”

“Only because the only thing harder than backing into the garage is backing onto the street.”

She climbed out and depressed the button on the remote control.

Maria got out of the car, too. Carlotta noticed the woman taking in the shabby town house. She had done her best to weed and spruce up the landscaping as much as her bum arm allowed while she was off work, but there was still a lot of work to do. Now that her arm was almost healed, she was hoping she could get Wesley to help her with some painting and other major projects.

If they could find the money.

And if he wasn’t languishing in jail.

The motor on the garage door opener made a loud, grating sound as the door raised. It was just a matter of time before it stopped altogether or, more their luck, caught on fire and burned the house down. In the car she saw Jack shake his head. He was no doubt wondering how she and Wesley had made it this long.

He pulled his sedan up to the nose of her car, the dark blue Monte Carlo Super Sport that she’d accidentally bought—yet another long story of her bad luck and ill timing—and turned off his engine.

“This is your car?” Maria asked. “I figured you’d be driving something like that little convertible sitting over there.”

Carlotta gazed at her crippled white Miata longingly. “Those were the days.” Coop had promised to come over and take a look under the hood of the convertible, but after Wesley’s betrayal and after her and Coop’s near-miss at romance, she doubted if he’d still offer free car maintenance to the Wren family.

Jack got out and removed jumper cables from the sedan’s trunk. To Carlotta’s chagrin, Maria opened the door to the Monte Carlo and popped the hood, then lifted it to study the offending battery. “Your battery terminals are corroded.”

Carlotta peered inside and pretended she knew what the woman was talking about.

“Hang on,” Maria said, then returned to the sedan and emerged with an open can of Coke.

“Hey, I was drinking that,” Jack said.

Maria ignored him and emptied the can over the battery. It fizzed and bubbled and ran off the sides, leaving the battery clean enough to eat off of.

“Better,” Maria said.

Carlotta stared at her in dismay. Was there anything the woman couldn’t do?