With the moment shattered, she lifted the end of his red-and-blue polka-dot tie. “Free fashion advice.”
A sardonic smile tilted his mouth. “I’ll think about it.”
The elevator door slid open and she stepped off to see Akin Frasier being wheeled to an ambulance. She ran over to him and picked up his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Frasier.”
“I did it, didn’t I?” he asked. “I saved the day.”
“You certainly did,” she assured him.
She thought of the abominable Patrick Forman and what he’d nearly gotten away with, and suddenly her heart took flight.
Peter was innocent.
42
W esley lifted his hand from the van armrest. “So Peter Ashford didn’t kill his wife after all.”
Coop looked over from the driver’s side. “Why did he confess?”
“He thought if he confessed to the murder, that no one would find out about his wife being a hooker. But I’d told the police about Angela just before he called them.”
“And when he discovered that word about his wife’s extracurricular activities had already gotten out, it was too late to take back his confession.”
“Yeah,” Wesley said. “Can you imagine a guy being so hung up on his dead wife’s name not being smeared that he’d go to prison to protect her reputation?”
Coop shrugged. “I think it’s kind of noble.”
“You sound like my sister. If you ask me, anyone that stupid deserves the needle.”
“If not for your sister, he might have gotten it.” Coop chewed on his lip. “I guess they’re back together?”
“No. Carlotta said they both needed some space to let things settle down.”
Coop perked up. “Really?”
“Yeah, but the window of opportunity is short here, dude, so my advice is to do something bold.”
Coop laughed. “Maybe I will.”
“Man, you got it bad for her—you’re pathetic.”
“It’ll happen to you someday, too, friend. You’ll meet a girl who’ll make you do things you never thought you’d do.”
Wesley looked out the window, not about to tell his boss that he thought he’d already met her, and she had his balls in a vise.
He was pathetic, too.
Coop pulled into the driveway of the town house, then put the van into Park. “Wesley, I have a confession, too.”
Wesley lifted his eyebrows. “What?”
“I took that piece-of-crap gun from your aquarium so you wouldn’t hurt yourself or someone else.”
He went limp with relief. “You did? Man, that belongs to a friend. I’ve been freaking out wondering what happened to it.”
“It’s in there,” Coop said, pointing to the glove compartment. “Get it out of here and take it back where you got it. Maybe down the road—once you’re off probation—you and I can go to the handgun range and you can learn how to shoot properly to defend yourself. Then you can decide which gun you’d like to save up for and buy.”
Wesley stared at Coop and a warm feeling of appreciation flooded his chest. He was amazed that the man gave a damn about what he did. “I’d like that.”
Coop smiled. “Good. Now get lost. And put in a good word for me with your sister!”
Wesley jumped down from the van and slammed the door. His cell phone rang as he was unlocking the front door. Chance’s number flashed on the screen.
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
“You still want to sell your bike?” Chance asked.
Wesley hesitated, then told himself that the decision he’d made last night was a good one—sell the bike and use the five grand to get caught up on his debt. It was just sitting there anyway, and Carlotta would be thrilled if he got rid of it. “Yeah.”
“A guy will be there in ten minutes to look at it,” Chance said. “He’s got cash.” Then he hung up.
Wesley shook his head. Chance was after every loose nickel in Atlanta. There was no deal he wouldn’t broker and he wouldn’t put it past his buddy to be more than just a john to some of his hookers.
Like Angela Ashford, for one.
A few minutes later, a guy showed up in a pickup truck and Wesley wheeled out his neon-green cycle for a dog-and-pony show. He threw in some extra equipment that he had never used but assured the guy was essential, and they struck a deal for slightly less than the five grand that Wesley had wanted for it.
He helped the guy load the bike in the back of his pickup, and after he’d pulled away, Wesley stood and stared at the wad of cash, feeling the familiar twitch in his fingers, the anticipation building in his chest.
If he could find a game, he could probably double his money.
43
“I didn’t really think that you’d strangled the woman,” Michael said. “That cop twisted my words. Forgive me?”
Carlotta glared at her friend, then gave a wry laugh. “Of course.”
“All the drama, I just can’t believe it. But how did Lisa Bolton’s lingerie get on Peter Ashford’s credit card?”
“Angela bought it with Peter’s card. The police aren’t sure if Angela got Lisa involved in the call-girl ring, or if Lisa got Angela involved, but Angela seemed to be footing the bill for Lisa Bolton’s wardrobe.”
Michael shook his head. “Why would two women who had everything get involved in something so sleazy?”
Carlotta shrugged. “Boredom…loneliness…money? Who knows why people do the things they do?” she asked, then frowned when she realized that she was quoting Jack Terry.
A scandalous light gleamed in Michael’s eyes. “A friend of mine told me that this has been going on for a while, and that there were more Buckhead socialites involved in the call-girl ring and more celebrity johns to be revealed.”
And to think that she’d once envied the Angela Ashfords of the world.
Her co-worker sighed dramatically. “Do you think that you and Peter Ashford will eventually get back together?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “There’s a lot of water under the bridge. I want to make sure that we have someplace to move forward to, versus just trying to get back to where we were. I told him that I need some time. Maybe a lot of time.”
“And meanwhile?”
A sly smile curved her mouth. “And meanwhile…there are a couple of possibilities that I’d like to explore.”
“Sounds intriguing,” he said, wagging his eyebrows.
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. “Talk to you later,” she said to Michael, walking back toward the escalator. It was Hannah.
“Hello?”
“Oh. My. God. Guess where I am.”
“Where?”
“At the magnetic-sign store.”
Carlotta squinted. “Okay, why?”
“Coop hired me! I’m a body mover!”
She grimaced. “And what does that have to do with magnetic signs?”
“I’m getting two printed so that I can switch out the signs depending on what I’m hauling—bodies or food.”
“Okay, you’re sick, you know that?”
“I have to proofread these signs. I just had to share that with you. I’ll call you right back.”
Carlotta shook her head as she rode up the escalator. She had the feeling that Hannah was going to try to get her involved in her new enterprise, but she was ready for her life to settle down for a while.
The phone rang again and she punched the button. “That was fast.”
“Carlotta?”
She frowned at the man’s voice even as her brain sent vibrations of recognition through her subconscious. “Who is this?”
“Sweetheart, it’s me…Daddy.”
ISBN:978-1-4268-0267-6
BODY MOVERS
Copyright © 2006 by Stephanie Bond Inc.
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