The mouse was probably relaxed because this was its third trip into the aquarium and Einstein had yet to move a muscle. The snake was finicky that way, seeming to eat only when it had to. Wesley spent more money feeding the mice to keep them alive until his snake worked up an appetite, than he did on the mice themselves.
Settling back on his bed, he reached beneath the mattress and withdrew his father’s file that he’d taken from Liz’s cabinet. It was crammed with lots of forms and legal motions that didn’t mean much to him, but he did find the trial number and dates that he needed to search the courthouse databases. What fascinated Wesley most were the handwritten messages his father had scribbled on yellow sticky notes and letterhead from Mashburn, Tully & Wren.
Liz, what can you do about this?
Liz, what do you think?
Liz, check into this.
It was fascinating to see his father’s handwriting, to imagine him sitting at his desk, jotting down notes to his attorney. It made the man seem more real, and his concern more immediate, more palpable, as the notes became more abbreviated and the tone more grave.
Liz, take care of this.
Liz, this worries me.
Liz, help me.
The notes were stuck to letters that his father had received to be deposed, notices of foreclosure on the house, summonses to appear in court. There was a letter of dismissal on the company letterhead that bore his own name, signed by Brody Jones, chief legal counsel for the firm. And warnings from the IRS of taxes and penalties due, pending legal action.
Wesley remembered seeing his father sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands just a few days before he disappeared. Wes had asked him what was wrong. His dad had smiled and said that he was in a little bit of trouble, but he was figuring out a way to fix things. He had ruffled his son’s hair and told him that no matter what happened, to remember that he loved him.
And Wesley had never forgotten.
His cell phone rang. When Liz’s name came up on the screen, guilt blipped through his chest. But he decided he’d better answer.
“This is Wes.”
“Do you have something of mine?” she demanded.
He decided to play it cool. “Who is this?”
“You know damn well who this is. You stole your father’s file from my cabinet.”
“You told me I could look through his files, remember?”
“Only what I decided to show you. Those files are confidential, between attorney and client.”
“I only brought them home so I wouldn’t have to bother you.”
“Bring them back, Wesley. Now. Don’t make me come to your house.”
A snapping noise in the corner startled him. He looked over to see that Einstein had decided to eat, after all. With a twist of its body, the snake had grabbed the mouse by the neck in a tightening coil. The mouse’s tail and feet jerked for a few seconds, then stopped.
Wesley knew how it felt.
“Okay, Liz, calm down. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
He could feel her anger vibrating across the airwaves before she disconnected the call. Setting aside his phone, he flipped through the file quickly just to see if anything else interesting caught his eye.
A tan stationery envelope fell out onto his lap. The outside was blank. The tab of the envelope had been tucked inside. He opened it and withdrew a single, folded piece of matching paper. When he opened it, the date made him catch his breath—December of the year his father had disappeared. It had to be just before or around the time that he’d left town.
My darling Liz,
I have to go, you know I do. There are too many things to work out, and I can’t do it here. But I’ll be back someday, and the people who have done this to me will pay. Thank you for believing in me, and for loving me. I will miss being in your arms every day that I’m gone.
Love, Randolph
White-hot anger whipped through Wesley’s chest. His dad had been having an affair? With Liz? How could he have done that to Wesley’s mother? Had she known about it?
God, Carlotta would die if she knew. She already didn’t like Liz…
Then he straightened. Maybe Carlotta did know, maybe that was why she’d been so upset when he’d called his father’s attorney after his arrest for hacking into the city’s computer system.
Wesley shook his head. That was Carlotta…always protecting him from the truth. And even though they disagreed about their father’s guilt, she’d never said anything about his character to make Wesley think less of him. She had allowed him to form his own opinions of the man as he remembered him.
He refolded the letter and stuffed the file into his backpack, then took a look at Einstein’s progress. Killing the mouse was a quick process compared to swallowing it and digesting it. The snake’s jaws had unhinged to allow it to draw the mouse into its mouth whole, one centimeter at a time.
Wesley bet that Liz could swallow him whole if she wanted to.
It took him forty minutes to ride to her place. The lights were on in the guesthouse, where they normally rendezvoused. Liz answered the door in a long silky robe, holding a martini. She glared at him and held out her hand.
He pulled out the file and passed it to her. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were my dad’s mistress?”
She blanched and turned to walk inside. “I didn’t mean for you to find out. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”
Wesley followed her. “How could you do that to my mom?”
“The vows were your father’s to break, not mine.”
“How long did it go on?”
“Years,” she said simply. “You asked me yesterday if I’d ever met the right man.”
“You said you did, but he wasn’t available. Were you talking about my dad?”
She nodded. “I loved him desperately.”
“So did my mom,” Wesley muttered.
Liz smiled. “I’m sure she did. But your mom had…problems. She was frail. It was hard for her to take care of herself and your father.”
“So you took care of him?”
“It’s not what you think,” she said. “I never asked your father to leave your mother. I never expected him to. When things got rough, I was a soft place for him to land, that’s all.” Liz set the file on a table, then lifted her hand to Wesley’s cheek. “You are so much like him.”
Wesley grabbed her wrist. “Is that why you like screwing me?”
“Yes,” she said simply, then tossed back her martini and swallowed. “I’m attracted to you because you’re so much like your father. Is that so bad?”
Wesley thought about it. When he realized his cock was as hard as a steel rod, he realized it wasn’t so bad being compared to your old man in the sack. In fact…it was kind of cool knowing he could turn on a woman that his dad had turned on.
He pulled her to him and kissed her neck, sliding his hands inside her robe. Underneath, she wore a pink panty and bra set. He rounded his hands over her hips. “I’m still mad at you,” he muttered, then pinched her ass.
She shuddered in his arms. “I know. Sleeping with your father and with you was a bad thing. But I can’t help myself. What are you going to do to me?”
Wesley swallowed hard, not quite sure he was ready for the power shift that she was suggesting. “I…I guess I’m going to…punish you?”
“Okay,” she murmured, then pushed him down on the bed and climbed over his lap in prime spanking position.
Wesley blinked at the woman sprawled over him, trying to take it in. Chance would never believe this.
“I don’t believe you, man.”
Wesley held up his hand. “Dude, I swear.”
Chance threw a leather couch pillow at him. “Liar. It’s more likely that she put you over her knee, you little tool.”
Wesley dodged the pillow and went back to playing Poker Smash.
Chance was revved up, though, high on uppers. “Man, I can’t stop thinking about getting punked the other night at
that poker game. I’m so pissed off.”
“We’re lucky we weren’t killed,” Wesley said.
“I told that bastard Grimes he wasn’t getting any more of my money. I can’t believe he didn’t have security, man.”
“He probably figured a shootout would attract attention.”
A splintering noise startled Wesley and he looked up to see Chance pulling his bloody fist out of the drywall.
“Dude, are you crazy?” He jumped up to survey the damage. “Can you move your fingers?”
“Yeah, nothing’s broken,” Chance said, spreading his fingers and shaking off the pain. “I’m just so pissed that you played like a superstar and then we got stripped.”
“Find me another game. Tell Grimes he owes us one.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
Wesley toyed with the idea of telling Chance his suspicions about Leonard being one of the armed robbers, but Chance could be a hothead. Wesley knew that the muscle head could probably kill Chance with a twist of his wrist.
No, he was going to slow-bid his hand for now.
He left after dark, feeling good on the back of another white pill, his head still a little swollen from the earlier session of naughty sex with Liz. The woman was a ballbuster. Who would’ve guessed she got off on being spanked?
He wonder if E. liked being spanked…or Meg.
Wesley frowned as he unlocked his bike from the rack. Where had that thought come from?
A big hand clamped down on his neck.
And where had this guy come from?
He looked up in the smiling face of Leonard.
“Dude, it’s dark out here. You really need to start carrying pepper spray or something. Man could get mugged. Or worse.”
“What do you want?” Wesley growled.
“The Carver’s upset with you.”
“What else is new?”
“You’d said you’d come through on the favor he needed.”
“I did the best I could. He said he’d erase my debt. I did my part.”
“That’s not good enough. The deal’s off. I’m authorized to collect a payment right now. You got any cash on you?”
“No. You took it all at the card club.”
Leonard blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know it was you who robbed the club. Did you share any of that with The Carver, or does he know about your side jobs?”
“You’d better keep your mouth shut, punk.”
“Get lost, Leonard. Or I’ll tell E. that her boyfriend is a thug.”
Leonard pulled him up until they were nose to nose. “You really don’t want to bring women into this. They could get hurt.” The man released Wesley so abruptly that he stumbled backward.
But he must have touched a nerve, because the bully jogged away.
29
C arlotta glanced at her watch, wondering where Wesley had gone when he’d left the house earlier. Not to Liz’s, she hoped. The thought of them together was just too incongruous for her to imagine.
Almost as bad as thinking about her father and Liz together.
Or Jack and Liz together.
Carlotta sank down deeper in the couch and immersed herself in the documentary she was watching about Kiki Deerling’s life. The media was still trying to wring out the last bit of newsworthiness from the young woman’s death. The only related developments were that Matt Pearson was still barricaded in a Buckhead hotel, and that Kiki’s BFF, Naomi Kane, had signed with Kiki’s former publicist, Marquita White.
Everyone seemed to be going on with their bad behavior and their careers. Carlotta wondered idly if Matt Pearson had given Kiki a lethal dose of heroin. It would definitely explain why he was so distraught over her death. She wished she could figure out a way to talk to him, but had a feeling that even her extensive party-crashing skills would fall short of A-list celebrity security. And she doubted Jack would be in a helpful mood if she got her ass arrested for trespassing.
Hateful man.
Hannah was working tonight. With the night yawning before her, Carlotta considered calling Peter to see if he wanted to catch a movie. The thought of him plucked at her heartstrings…the way his face had lit up when she’d stopped by the office. The man did love her. And he was being so kind, helping Wesley, and giving her the space that she’d asked for. Yet if she was going to “stay close” to Peter, as her father had instructed, she needed to find small ways to interact with him, small ways to help her heart get used to the idea of loving him again.
She picked up her cell phone to call him, and instead it rang in her hand. Hannah’s name came across the screen. Carlotta answered, happy for the momentary diversion.
“Hey, I thought you were working tonight.”
“I am, but I just found out where—at Diamonds.”
“Kayla Deerling’s restaurant?”
“Yeah. She’s having a private party in her sister’s honor. Didn’t you say that only the D.A. or the family could request an autopsy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe her sister would like to know what you and Coop suspect. If she hates Matt Pearson as much as the tabloids say she does, she might be motivated to find out what really happened to Kiki.”
“Can you get me in?”
“Be waiting by the Dumpster in an hour. Wear black.”
Carlotta wrinkled her nose. The smell of the rotting food in the Dumpster was almost overwhelming in the summer heat. Where the heck was Hannah? At the sound of approaching voices, she sank into the shadows next to the building. Her black clothing helped to conceal her from the people walking by. The three men didn’t even notice her…but she noticed them.
One of the guys was Matt Pearson, she was almost sure. Had Kayla decided to invite him to the private party, after all?
The service door next to the Dumpster creaked open and Hannah emerged, dressed in her culinary smock, wearing a hairnet. “Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,” she said dryly.
“I’m here,” Carlotta said, stepping into the light. “Took you long enough.”
“Put this on, and let me have a quick smoke.” Hannah handed over a smock identical to the one she was wearing, then pulled out a cigarette and lighter.
“I’ll help you with that,” Carlotta offered, eyeing the cigarette and shrugging into the smock, buttoning it over the strap of the evening bag looped over her shoulder and across her chest. “If I don’t get back to work soon, I’m going to be hooked on these things again.”
“Uh-huh.” Hannah inhaled to light the cigarette, and took a deep drag.
“What’s going on inside?” Carlotta asked, taking the cigarette for a few quick puffs.
Hannah was still exhaling. “The restaurant is closed to the public. Kayla and her boyfriend are holding court in the lounge. There are pictures of Kiki everywhere. It’s kind of weird, if you ask me.”
“How many guests?”
“We put out food for a hundred.”
“Did you recognize anybody?”
Hannah pulled two folded sheets of paper from her sleeve. “The guest list.”
“Great—but I’ll have to wait until I get inside to read it.”
A click sounded and a flashlight came on in Hannah’s hand. “You rang?”
“You’re a genius.” Carlotta took the light and scanned the paper. “Naomi Kane is invited, and the publicist, Marquita White. I’d like to talk to both of them. Wow, Angela Massey…Erin Russell…Cassie Valeo…”
“I don’t know who those people are.”
“American Idol finalist, the star of that new sitcom on NBC, and shoe designer.”
“Which explains why I don’t know who any of them are. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“If you want a ride home, let me know. But I have no idea what time this thing will shut down.”
“Okay, thanks. Oh, I almost forgot,” Hannah said, handing over what looked like a wadded up knee-high. “Your hairnet.”
Carlotta pulled it on
over her ponytail and followed Hannah inside, through a storage room and office into the kitchen. She made scant eye contact and took Hannah’s cue, picking up a tray of sushi that was almost too beautiful to eat. “What is this stuff?”
“Sea urchin caviar sushi,” Hannah said over her shoulder.
“Sounds expensive.”
“If you drop that tray, you’ll have to sell a kidney to pay for it.”
Carlotta wobbled. “I’m wearing a cast, you know. You should have given me the less expensive food.”
“I did.”
They passed a security guard and entered the main seating area of the restaurant. She understood immediately why Hannah described the atmosphere as “weird.” The crowd was young and hip and loud, but the poster-size photographs of Kiki all over were downright eerie.
Carlotta and Hannah set the trays on a large skirted buffet table in the middle of the room. Carlotta looked up to scan for Kayla Deerling, and spotted her sitting at a table in the lounge with her boyfriend, her face drawn and puffy as she stared blankly into the crowd.
Then the atmosphere in the room changed suddenly. Heads turned toward the door, and the crowd parted. Matt Pearson walked in unsteadily, looking heavy lidded and high, carrying a long-stem yellow rose. He must have dosed himself just before he came in, Carlotta concluded, since he hadn’t seemed so stoned when he’d walked by her earlier.
Security guards stepped up on either side of him, but he shook them off. They looked to Kayla and she shook her head, obviously wanting to avoid a brawl. Matt stopped in front of a picture of Kiki, lifted his hand to touch her face, and teared up. Then he staggered up to Kayla’s table and extended the rose to her.
Kayla looked as if she could barely tolerate the sight of him. Carlotta held her breath, along with everyone else in the room, to see if Kayla would throw her drink in his face. Instead, she lifted a quaking hand and took the yellow rose, probably because when the confrontation inevitably leaked to the tabloids, she didn’t want to come across looking as unstable as Kiki and her groupies.
3 Men and a Body Page 19
