Body Movers: 2 Bodies for the Price of 1

by Stephanie Bond

  “Thank you.”

  In the foyer, Cooper stood with his uncle greeting guests as they arrived and passing out the In Memoriam cards. She made eye contact with him, expecting to get the requisite polite nod, but instead, Coop latched his gaze on her and his mouth curled up in the merest smile. Either Wesley had let him know about her costume or he’d seen right through it.

  She suspected the latter.

  Carlotta allowed Peter to lead her inside the chapel. Low hymnal music reached her ears. Her gaze went to the front of the room where a deep red sample casket sat resplendent on a white pedestal, covered in white roses. A shudder passed over her body; this was, admittedly, pretty creepy. Flanking the casket were dozens of baskets and wreaths of flowers—all for her. Sudden tears gathered in her eyes.

  Peter guided her through a throng of people to a chair. “There you are, ma’am. It looks like a full house, so I’ll probably stand.”

  “Thank you,” she said, patting his hand and holding on a second longer than necessary.

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

  She smiled as she watched him walk away, then set her purse in the vacant aisle-seat next to her and looked at the in memoriam card curled in her hand. Centered under a photo of her that Wesley had taken on some unremembered occasion were the words Carlotta A. Wren, Beloved Sister and Friend. Another shiver overtook her, as if someone were walking on her grave. Maybe this whole fake-funeral thing was tempting fate a little too much.

  She shoved the eerie card into her purse and began canvassing the room for anyone who might resemble Randolph or Valerie Wren.

  At times, she had to concentrate to remember what they looked like—older versions of her and Wesley was about the most she could conjure up. Wesley stood in the front of the room, positioned, no doubt, by the plainclothes officers nearby who stuck out like sore thumbs to her. Wesley looked solemn and nervous, which came across as completely genuine. She felt sorry for him because she had thrust him into a difficult situation.

  Correction—their parents had thrust them both into a difficult situation.

  In the front row sat Hannah dressed in what could only be described as vampire attire. She looked weepy and hollow-eyed and everyone was giving her a wide berth. The only thing that kept Carlotta from rushing forward and revealing herself to her friend was imagining the glee on Hannah’s face when she realized what Carlotta had pulled off. She hoped the fact that she was still alive might help to make amends.

  She swept her gaze over others near the front, spotting a composed Michael Lane and—she made a face—that odious Patricia Alexander. A few other familiar faces from the store were with them and she again felt guilty for the time and trouble that people were going through on her behalf.

  While an unidentified woman lay in the morgue—her friends and family unaware that she was even dead.

  She concentrated on every face, stopping when she spotted June Moody from the cigar bar. The poor woman must think that she left the bar, found her car, then leapt off the bridge. Carlotta felt another tug of remorse.

  The next face she recognized caused her to gasp—Jolie! Jolie Goodman Underwood and her husband Beck. Hannah must have gotten in touch with her. They must have come all the way from Costa Rica. She winced inwardly and felt petty because she hadn’t given thought to how many people would rearrange their schedules—their lives—to attend her funeral in good faith.

  And she should enjoy it because after crying wolf once, she might not get this size crowd the next time around.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  She looked up to see Jack standing there. Moving her purse, she gestured for him to sit.

  As he settled his big body into the chair, he murmured, “Anything?”

  “No. Other than I’m totally creeped out.”

  “I warned you,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

  She watched while he made discreet eye contact with other officers around the room. All of them gave imperceptible shakes of their head. Randolph Wren had not been spotted.

  The increase in music volume signaled to everyone that the funeral was about to start. Under the wig, Carlotta was sweating profusely. People quieted and took their seats. She was still scanning faces row by row, but couldn’t see everyone from her vantage point, so she settled back in her chair. Jack’s leg touched her and she silently cursed him. He had to know by now that his touch was the equivalent of setting her underwear on fire—and she was wearing granny panties under this getup.

  Coop walked to the front of the room and stood behind the podium, managing to strike a balance between approachable yet reverent in his deep brown suit. He adjusted the microphone for his considerable height, then gave a sweeping nod to the room and she felt his gaze pass over her. “Welcome. We’re here today to celebrate the life of Carlotta Wren, a beautiful, vibrant woman who impacted the life of everyone she met.”

  In the chair next to her, Jack shifted. A few rows ahead and to the right, she saw Tracey Tully nudge the Buckhead clone sitting next to her. A flush bloomed at the base of Carlotta’s throat and started working its way up her neck.

  “Carlotta Amelia Wren was born to Randolph and Valerie Wren in Atlanta, Georgia…”

  She found herself smiling as Coop chronicled her life in sound bites, conjuring up happy memories of her parents that she hadn’t thought of in a long time. She bit into her lip to stem the sudden tears and felt Jack’s leg press against hers in silent support.

  “She was a long-time employee at Neiman Marcus where I’m told she usually topped the sales charts.”

  That was outdated information, she thought wryly.

  “From the sheer number of friends who are here today, I can see that she will be missed. I am lucky enough to have known Carlotta myself,” Coop said, once again moving his gaze in her general direction, “and I know firsthand that she was a unique and special lady.”

  Jack coughed lightly and she nudged his knee.

  “Carlotta’s brother Wesley would like to say a few words and then we’ll conclude the service with a music selection.”

  Carlotta blinked. Wesley was going to talk? About her? She sat slightly forward in her chair.

  Wesley walked up to the podium and her chest swelled with pride. He looked so handsome and grown up.

  “My sister Carlotta,” he began, “has been the single most important person in my life. For the first ten years of my life, she was the older sister I adored and tagged along behind. For the past ten years of my life, she was everything—mom, sister, friend.” He gave a little laugh. “It wasn’t easy—we didn’t have a lot of money and I wasn’t exactly a model kid.”

  A ripple of chuckles came from the audience.

  “But Carlotta was always there for me, even when I got into trouble or did something stupid. I knew I could always count on her to hug me and tell me everything was going to be all right.”

  Carlotta’s throat clogged with emotion and sniffles sounded in the audience. Hannah was wailing outright.

  “And if Carlotta was here right now—” his gaze landed on her, then moved on “—and I happen to think she is—I would say to her that even though I never told her enough, I love her. She would be glad to see you all here today.”

  Tears were running down her face—not good for the makeup. Wesley stepped down and to her surprise, Coop took a seat at the piano and began to play James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful.” Wow, on top of everything else, the man was musical.

  “Oh, brother,” Jack muttered under his breath.

  She nudged his knee.

  Employees of the funeral home walked into the chapel and stopped next to pews, a signal for the attendees to exit. She kept her eye on Jolie as she walked down the aisle, dabbing at her eyes. When Carlotta saw her veer off in the entryway, she whispered to Jack, “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

  “Hurry back, I’m your ride,” he murmured, standing to let her out.

  Getting up as quickly as she dared, she
threaded her way through the crowd to the near-empty ladies’ room. She glanced down to see that Jolie was standing in one of the three stalls, blowing her nose. Carlotta pushed open the door, bumping into her from behind.

  “Excuse me,” Jolie protested in a teary voice, “this stall is taken—”

  “Shh!” She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Jolie, it’s me, Carlotta.”

  Jolie’s eyes widened, and she stumbled backward and would have fallen into the toilet if Carlotta hadn’t caught her. “Carlotta? You’re alive!”

  They embraced, laughing, then Jolie pulled back. “But how? What’s going on?”

  “Long story,” Carlotta said. “Someone stole my identity and my car, then jumped off the bridge. The police thought it was me and by the time they realized their mistake, they had already declared me dead. And they asked me to go along with it.”

  “But why?”

  Carlotta bit into her lip. “I…kind of lied to you about my parents.”

  Jolie squinted. “You said they were traveling around the country.”

  “That’s true. The part that I left out is that they’re traveling because they’re fugitives. My father is wanted for investment fraud.”

  “So this funeral?”

  “Was a ploy by the D.A. to try to smoke out my parents.”

  “And did they come?”

  She shook her head.

  Jolie looked mournful. “I’m sorry, Carlotta.”

  “It’s all right, I expected it. What I didn’t expect is for so many people to come to my funeral. I certainly didn’t expect you and Beck to come all the way from Costa Rica.”

  “You’re my friend, Carlotta. The only friend I had when I worked at Neiman’s. You took me under your wing during the day—and taught me how to be a party crasher at night.”

  “And nearly got you arrested for murder.”

  “Well, that’s true,” Jolie said, laughing. “But it all worked out. And I have Beck.”

  “And you’re happy?”

  “So happy. And what about you? Do you have someone special in your life?”

  Carlotta hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m still working on it. I have to go now, but I couldn’t let you leave without knowing the truth. Everyone else will know soon. It’s so good to see you.”

  Jolie laughed. “It’s a miracle to see you.”

  They hugged again, then Carlotta slipped out of the stall and exited the bathroom. She glanced around for Jack and heard the door open behind her. She turned to give Jolie another smile, but did a double-take to see Patricia Alexander coming out of the bathroom looking like someone had just peed in her hairspray.

  Carlotta frowned. Where had she come from? And had she overheard her conversation with Jolie?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jack standing near the entrance. As she walked toward him, she saw Liz Fischer coming the opposite way. Moving at her slower old-lady pace meant that Liz got to him first.

  Her father’s former attorney was a blonde with sharp edges—except for the store-bought boobs. She stood so close to Jack that they could’ve been wearing the same pair of pants. From the possessive way that Liz looked at Jack, she didn’t care who saw them, and certainly didn’t pay any mind to an older lady standing nearby. Jack, apparently hypnotized by the woman’s undulating bosom, didn’t notice her either.

  “Come by tonight, handsome, and I’ll fix you a big, juicy steak.”

  Carlotta arched an eyebrow. The woman obviously knew what he liked.

  “I’ve been on assignment for a couple of days, Liz. I really need to go home tonight.”

  A sly smile slid onto Liz’s face. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll bring the steaks and you bring the meat.” She laughed and undulated away, then looked back. “By the way, I bought a killer dress for the awards dinner. Can’t wait.”

  Jack watched her walk away, an unreadable expression on his face, which became more telltale when he turned to see her standing there.

  Carlotta gave him a flat smile. “Don’t worry—I’ll find another ride.” She turned toward the door and bumped into an elderly gentleman in her haste to get away. The man gave her costume an appreciative look as she apologized profusely. She was almost to the door when Jack’s hand encircled her upper arm and brought her up short.

  “Wait.”

  She frowned. “You’re manhandling an old woman.”

  “Is there a problem here?” the older man asked, eyeing Jack suspiciously.

  Carlotta gave Jack a wide-eyed smile of innocence.

  “No, sir,” Jack said, poking his cheek out with his tongue. “I have to escort this lady back to the psych ward. They let her out only long enough to attend the funeral.”

  “Oh.” The man glanced at Carlotta, then hurried away.

  She crossed her arms. “Was that necessary?”

  Jack frowned. “Lucas is waiting in the office. He wants to see you and Wesley.”

  Her pulse spiked. “Did my parents show?”

  “No.”

  “Then what for?”

  “Some sort of debriefing. And I assume, to discuss how you will miraculously be brought back to life.”

  She sighed. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Have you seen Wesley?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, glancing around and wondering who—other than her parents—could have shown up that would have captured her brother’s attention.

  28

  “Thank you for coming,” Wesley said when E. stopped next to her car.

  “You’re welcome.” She shielded her green eyes from the sun. “It was a nice service. You said some wonderful things about your sister.”

  “I meant all of them,” he said. Girls loved that mushy stuff.

  She smiled. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to meet her.”

  “Oh, well, maybe someday.”

  She squinted. “Hmm?”

  “Uh…in heaven.” Where had that come from? He crossed himself for good measure and E. gave him a perplexed little smile.

  “You can skip our meeting this Wednesday if you want,” she offered. “I figure you’ll need some time to regroup.”

  His stomach dove. And miss seeing her? “No, that’s okay. I think it’s good if I stay on my regular schedule. I’ll be there.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  This was his opportunity, and Wesley was going to take it. “Thanks again.” He opened his arms for a hug and just as he’d hoped, she walked into them. As he wrapped his arms around her, he buried his face in her luxurious red hair to fill his lungs with the scent of her shampoo. Her full breasts crushed against his chest, but before his body could even react, she had pulled back.

  “Bye, Wesley. Call me if you need anything.”

  He nodded and stood there until she drove away, then murmured, “One of these days…”

  “She’s cute.”

  Wesley turned to find Liz Fischer walking toward him in that loose-hipped gait that women with great legs seemed to master. A stunner who tied his tongue into knots, the hot blonde had helped him when he was arrested for hacking into the courthouse computer system because she had been his father’s attorney.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” Liz asked.

  He shook his head. “Probation officer.”

  She laughed. “Well, I guess she makes your punishment a little more bearable.”

  “A little.”

  She reached up and adjusted his collar. “When you were up front today, all I could think about was how much you look like your father.”

  “That’s what I’m told,” he stuttered. Her perfume enveloped him and his cock jumped.

  “Well, I should know,” she said. “Your father and I were very good friends.” A sad smile crossed her face. “I thought he might even put in a guest appearance today.”

  “I guess we all did.”

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” she said, running her finger down his lapel. “I guess that means you�
�re all alone.”

  Wesley wet his lips, getting a decent woody now. “Yeah.”

  She angled her head. “You know, Wesley, I have a guesthouse that I rarely use. You’re welcome to use it sometime if you ever get lonely.”

  He swallowed. “A guesthouse?”

  “Yes. Actually, it’s more of an office. Your father and I used to work on his case there. In fact, all the files are still there.”

  At the spike in his pulse, his erection sprang to life. “Really? I’d like to see them.”

  “Then come over sometime.”

  “Wesley!”

  He turned his head to see Jack Terry standing in front of the funeral home, legs wide, hands on hips—his pissed-off-cop stance.

  “What?” Wesley shouted back.

  Jack gestured for him to come back to the funeral home and Wesley tamped down the urge to return a gesture of his own. “Guess I’d better go,” he said to Liz.

  “Okay,” she said silkily. “Just keep my offer in mind. Do you still have my card?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” She turned and walked to her red convertible Jag. Wesley exhaled slowly. Her car alone could make him come.

  Reluctantly, he walked back to the funeral home. Jack was standing there, watching Liz drive away, his mouth set.

  “What do you want?” Wesley asked.

  “Lucas wants to see you and your sister inside for a debriefing,” the detective said, biting off his words. “We’re waiting for you.”

  29

  While Jack went in search of Wesley, Carlotta went in search of Hannah. She found her still sitting on the front pew in the now-empty chapel, staring at the red casket. She looked ghoulish with black eyeliner running down her face. Carlotta settled into the pew next to her.

  “She must have been a good friend of yours,” she said in her older-lady voice.

  Hannah glared. “The bitch didn’t even say goodbye.”

  Carlotta bit back a smile. “Sometimes people hurt the ones they love for reasons that can’t be explained.”

  “Do you write for Hallmark or something, lady?”

  “No. But I can tell that you’re upset.”

  Hannah pulled at a shredded tissue in her hand. “She’s the only person I could be myself around.”