“So the two of you were involved?”
“No, we only worked together occasionally. And I went on a road trip with Coop a few weeks ago to pick up a VIP body.”
“Oh?”
“My brother Wesley went with us.”
“Let me be more specific. Did you and Craft ever sleep together?”
Carlotta slid her gaze to the mirrored window, half wondering if Jack had put Wick up to asking that particular question. “It’s no one’s business, but no, Coop and I were never intimate. I consider him to be a good friend.”
“So you rejected him?”
She wet her lips. “That’s not what I said. It was a mutual agreement that we wouldn’t pursue a romantic relationship. There were no harsh words, there was no argument.”
“Did he stalk you?”
“What? No!” Carlotta leaned forward. “But guess who is stalking me, Agent Wick? Michael Lane. He’s the man you should be looking for.”
“The good men and women of the Atlanta Police Department are handling that case.”
“It’s the same case,” she said through gritted teeth.
Agent Wick studied her. “You should know that we’ve been able to prove Dr. Craft frequented the same places as many of the victims. He purchased books from the bookstore where Shawna Whitt worked, he belonged to the same gym as Cheryl Meriwether, he shopped at the grocery store where Marna Collins shopped. And from your statement, we know he knew where the prostitute Pam Witcomb hung out.” The man angled his head at her. “What do you have to say about that?”
Still trying to process the information, Carlotta swallowed hard. “Coincidence.”
The agent’s expression hardened. “Ms. Wren, we found charms in Dr. Craft’s home.”
Panic blipped in her stomach. “Charms?”
“All kinds of charms. Now why would a single adult man have a stash of charms?”
Her mind raced, then her shoulders dropped in relief. “They’re for his dioramas.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“It’s Coop’s hobby. He recreates scenes in miniature in cigar boxes. He uses charms as pieces in the scenes. He built one for June Moody, the owner of Moody’s Cigar Bar. It’s a complete replica of her store in one little box. It’s amazing.”
Wick exchanged a glance with Green. “Sounds like a very strange hobby.”
Green nodded in agreement.
“He said it helped him quit drinking, that it kept his hands busy,” Carlotta said. “When I was at his place, he showed me the one he’s working on now—it’s a miniature library.”
“And the charms found in the mouths of the last two victims were books. Now that is quite a coincidence.”
When she realized she was only reinforcing Wick’s case, frustration sent her lunging to her feet. “Coop didn’t do this. I don’t care what you found in his home, or what kind of DNA you have.”
The man leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Did I say we had DNA?”
She frowned. “I have my sources, too, Agent. And DNA can be planted.”
The agent laughed. “So…you think someone framed him?”
Her chin went up. “Maybe. Or maybe you quit looking when you came across a suspect who was easy to apprehend.”
“Back to Michael Lane again?”
Carlotta averted her gaze, then turned and walked away from the two men, away from the mirrored window. They were obviously unconvinced that Michael was their man. She was torn. She had information about Coop’s connection to the first victim that would further cement him in the minds of the GBI agents as The Charmed Killer. On the other hand, she had a piece of information that could send them off on another tangent that might buy Coop a little time. She rubbed the back of her neck to combat the tension vibrating through her body. The fact that she was hesitant to divulge something distasteful her father had done made her even more angry toward Randolph. He didn’t deserve her loyalty.
“Ms. Wren, is there something you’d like to share?”
Randolph hadn’t been there for her for the past ten years, but he could be useful to her—useful to someone who meant a great deal to her—right now, at this moment.
She turned to face the agents. “You asked me in the last interview if I knew that the second victim, Alicia Sills, worked in the same office building as my father. Or if I’d ever heard Randolph mention her name.”
Wick dropped his hands—she had his attention. “And you said no.”
She nodded. “Right. And that was the truth. But since then, it’s come to my attention that my father knew Alicia Sills and, in fact…they might have had a relationship.”
Wick blinked. “How did this piece of information come to your attention?”
She hugged herself. “My, um, boyfriend, Peter Ashford, remembered going to work with my father once, years ago when he was in high school. A woman delivering mail came into Randolph’s office. Peter said it was obvious that Randolph and this woman…knew each other well. Peter looked into old employment records and determined it was Alicia Sills.”
She could tell Wick hadn’t expected the curve. “Are you now saying that you think your father might be involved in these murders?”
“No. I’m just correcting information I gave you before about a connection between my father and one of the victims.”
“Peter Ashford,” Wick muttered. “That name sounds familiar.”
“He works at Mashburn and Tully. You interviewed the employees there and asked them about my father?”
“Right,” Wick said, gesturing for Green to check their notes. “So why didn’t Mr. Ashford let us know himself?”
“I asked him not to. I didn’t think it was relevant.”
“And now you do?”
“Now I’m just trying to demonstrate that you shouldn’t lock in on Cooper Craft based on circumstantial evidence.”
“You needn’t involve yourself with the procedures of this case, Ms. Wren. We’ve got that under control.”
Carlotta leaned forward, hands on the table. “If you’ve got it under control, Agent Wick, then why am I telling you things you don’t know?” She reached for her purse. “Unless you have more questions, I’m leaving.” She started toward the door.
“Ms. Wren.”
She turned back.
Wick wore a constipated expression, as if she’d messed up his plans for the day. “You need to let us know if you’re planning to leave town.”
“As a matter of fact, Agent, I am. Peter Ashford and I leave for Vegas next Tuesday.”
“We’ll need to talk to Mr. Ashford again before then.”
“I’ll tell him.” She turned and walked out the door, then headed for the exit.
“Carlotta, wait.”
She closed her eyes briefly, then turned to see Jack striding up to her. He pulled his hand down over his face. “That was…revealing.”
“That was my last voluntary interview, Jack. I’m done.”
“Fair enough. You’ve been a big help.”
She frowned. “And what are you doing to help Coop?”
“Hoping he isn’t granted bail when he’s arraigned today.”
Her eyes widened. “You hope he doesn’t get bail?”
“Carlotta, if Coop is innocent, there’s a good chance The Charmed Killer is going to strike again. When that happens, the best alibi for Coop is jail.”
She knew that, but still, the thought of him in that place…
Then Jack crossed his arms. “So…Vegas, huh?”
“Vegas,” she confirmed with a nod.
“Just be careful. A lot of people get out there in that overoxygenated air and go crazy, wind up doing stupid things, like…getting married.”
She angled her head. “You were the one who told me I should marry Peter.”
He picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between two fingers. “Since when do you listen to me?”
The thickness of his voice made Carlotta’s heart thud in her
chest. “Jack, can you give me a reason I shouldn’t go away with Peter?”
He studied the dark hair for several long seconds, then suddenly released it. “No, I can’t.” Then he turned around and walked away.
16
Carlotta walked to her rental car in the parking garage adjacent to the police station and unlocked it from a safe distance. She looked around, wondering if Michael would be careless enough to follow her, but apparently not. She slid into the driver’s seat, then scrolled through the directory on her phone until she reached Fischer, Liz. After connecting the call, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the woman to answer.
“Liz Fischer.”
Carlotta flinched. Even the woman’s voice grated on her nerves. “Liz, it’s Carlotta Wren.”
“Hi, Carlotta. I hope this isn’t about Wesley.”
“No, I don’t get involved in Wesley’s personal life.”
“Pardon me?”
“You don’t have to play dumb, Liz. I know you and Wes have a thing, but he’s old enough to make his own mistakes. Heaven knows you won’t be his last.”
“Was there a point to this call?” Liz chirped.
“Actually, I’m calling about Dad. You know, the other Wren man you slept with?”
“What about Randolph?”
She told Liz about his connection to Alicia Sills. “I just informed the GBI this morning and I thought it might help you in Coop’s arraignment. Between Michael Lane and now this link to my dad, the D.A. has to know there would be reasonable doubt if the case against Coop goes to trial. It might at least help Coop get bail.”
“Carlotta, I’m going to fight like hell for bail, but D.A. Lucas is going to come in like a sledgehammer.”
“But think about it, Liz. Who does Lucas want as much as The Charmed Killer?”
“Randolph Wren,” Liz relented.
“Imagine if Lucas thought that Randolph might be The Charmed Killer.”
A conceding noise sounded over the line. “It might rattle Lucas a little. My plan is to point out to the judge that the prosecution has only a circumstantial case against Dr. Craft. At the moment, the jail is overcrowded, so that will work in our favor. And we might get lucky and draw a sympathetic judge. Of course, the judge might set a bail so high that Dr. Craft can’t cover it.”
“When is the arraignment?”
“Sometime early afternoon.”
“I’ll keep an ear to the news. Good luck.”
“Carlotta?”
“Yes.”
“I do care for Wesley.”
“So do I, Liz. Goodbye.”
She disconnected the call, feeling marginally optimistic about Coop, but less confident when it came to Wes. She hoped he hadn’t gotten in over his head with Liz, although she understood the attraction. He obviously liked Meg, but in some respects a physical relationship was easier to deal with than an emotional one.
Which was probably why she was so drawn to Jack.
Carlotta spent the rest of the morning driving from jewelry store to jewelry store, “pretending” that she was doing legwork for the police and asking if they’d sold charms to anyone suspicious. She presented Michael’s picture, explaining he might be blond, but very few retail outlets reported any male customers buying charms at all. And none of them had aroused suspicion.
“Pretty girl like you should have a great big diamond on your finger,” a stooped, white-haired salesman told her with a wink.
Carlotta’s thoughts went to the Cartier ring Peter was holding for her. “I’m not quite ready for marriage yet.”
The man grinned. “Who said anything about marriage? An engagement ring is just something nice to wear while you make up your mind.”
She rubbed her empty ring finger and considered his words, then thanked him for his time. At the moment, she had another type of jewelry on her mind. All morning her attention kept returning to the charm bracelet she wore, and to whether the charms it came with held special meaning. And if the charms the serial killer used held special meaning.
After he’d killed Shawna Whitt, he’d taken a charm from her bracelet and placed it in her mouth. Had her bracelet broken during a struggle? Had the charm simply become a spontaneous signature, with no particular meaning other than accessibility?
And after Shawna Whitt, had the killer continued with the signature simply out of compulsion? Since none of the other charms that Shawna’s coworker had described from her bracelet had been left at subsequent crime scenes, it seemed as if the jewelry had been chosen deliberately. Or maybe the charms had significance in the killer’s mad mind but would be nonsensical to anyone else.
On the drive to the townhouse, Carlotta conceded she was looking for a needle in a haystack. In at least the first case, he’d taken a charm from the victim’s own bracelet. After that, he could’ve obtained more of them anywhere—from the victims’ jewelry boxes, through an online store or auction, at a flea market. The charms could’ve belonged to someone in his home—a mother, or a sister…or a wife. Or he could’ve stolen them. A man who would murder women for sport would certainly think nothing of shoplifting a few trinkets.
Her mood was decidedly morose when she pulled into the weedy driveway of the townhouse. Hannah’s van and Wes’s bike were already there. She wondered wryly if Chance was going to join them, then chastised herself. If Hannah was happy dating the schlubby guy with the questionable revenue stream, then who was she to judge? After all, Hannah wasn’t exactly nuts about Peter, yet she managed to keep her hostility to a minimum.
Sort of.
Carlotta climbed out of the rental car, pulled accumulated mail from the box, and made her way to the front steps, hoping to get inside without drawing the attention of Mrs. Winningham.
No such luck.
“Carlotta! Yoo-hoo!”
She winced, then turned toward the fence that kept the Wrens out of their neighbor’s manicured yard. “Hello, Mrs. Winningham.”
The dour-faced woman stood there holding a ruffled pink parasol over her dog, Toofers. “I want to talk to you.”
“About the fire ants—”
“How did you get rid of them?”
Carlotta squinted. “Excuse me?”
The woman gestured to the areas in the yard where she’d previously pointed out the offending sandy hills allegedly brimming with dog-eating ants. “They’re gone. What product did you use?”
“I…don’t know,” Carlotta said, impressed that Wesley had taken care of the pests. He was obviously trying to compensate for his other mistakes. “But I’ll ask Wes to let you know. Goodbye, Mrs. Winningham.” She jogged up the steps and pushed open the door to the sound of raised voices.
Wes was facing Hannah and Chance. “Both of you get off my back!”
Carlotta pulled the door closed with a bang. They turned to look at her, then all of them shifted awkwardly.
Carlotta shot Wes a pointed look. “Why would Hannah and Chance be on your back?”
Wes straightened and tried to look nonchalant. “No reason.”
Anger whipped through her. “Stop bullshitting me, Wesley Wren! I don’t need it today.”
He shifted from foot to foot. “I messed up last night and got high. But I’m getting clean, Sis, I promise.”
Carlotta stared at him, feeling very close to losing it. She gripped the strap of her purse for dear life, then reached inside and pulled out a cigarette, breaking her rule of not smoking in the house. Her hand was shaking so badly as she lit the tip, the lighter’s flame bobbed. She inhaled on the cigarette until her eyeballs bulged, then exhaled noisily. She could feel everyone’s eyes trained on her, as if they were waiting for her to flip out. Carlotta took two more powerful drags before lifting her gaze to Wes. To his credit, he looked scared.
“Are you okay, Sis?”
“We’ll talk about this later,” she promised. “Let’s get down to business.”
Wordlessly, Hannah and Chance headed for the kitchen. Carlotta thought
about the listening device imbedded in the wall over the window, then decided it was a moot point. On the remote chance someone was listening, she couldn’t imagine they’d be interested in The Charmed Killer case. Most likely, whoever had planted it had given up listening long ago. For all they knew, it could’ve been in the house before the Wrens had moved in.
She followed the trio into the kitchen and snubbed out her cigarette before taking a place at the table. Without preamble, she pulled out her notebook and opened it. “Okay, Hannah, you said you and Chance had some information?”
Hannah looked at her warily. “Carlotta, we don’t have to do this now.”
“Coop is supposed to be arraigned today,” Carlotta said carefully. “If you found something helpful, tell me.”
Hannah looked dubious, but handed over a folder. “It’s not hard to get cyanide if you want it. Pharmacists can get it, and chemists. Plus people in the pest control business, and jewelers. Cyanide is also used in some photographic and printing processes. And if a person doesn’t have access to it through their job, all they need is a friend who does.”
Carlotta sighed. “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
“Those are only the legal ways,” Chance offered. “I made two phone calls to my, um…alternative contacts, and I was told as long as I had cash, I could have as much as I wanted.”
Carlotta’s shoulders fell. “So anyone can get it.”
“But that’s a good thing, right?” Hannah asked. “That will help Coop.”
“I suppose. But I was hoping it would lead us to a smaller group of suspects.” She looked at Chance. “Hannah said you’d talked to some people who knew Pepper?”
He nodded. “Two of her friends said Pepper was having trouble with a guy.”
“Who was he?”
“A customer. They didn’t have a name, but they said he was a doctor.”
Carlotta’s pulse raced. “Did anyone see this guy?”
“No. She just complained about him a couple of times, said he gave her the creeps.”
“Do they know if she was supposed to meet this person the night she was killed?”
“No, they didn’t see her the night she died.”
6 Killer Bodies Page 13