Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral Read Free

“Nice to see you both,” she said,
    including the decadent Maria in her glance.
    “Hey.” Jack caught her good arm and leaned in, his golden-
    colored eyes serious. “Wes is seeing the D.A. today, isn’t
    he?”
    She lifted her chin and nodded.
    “Don’t worry. Liz wil take care of him.”
    Carlotta’s mouth tightened, but before she could respond,
    Jack picked up her left hand and rubbed his rough thumb
    over her bare ring finger.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “Just checking to see if you’re wearing another man’s ring
    yet.”
    He winked, then walked away to join Maria. Confounded
    as always by Jack’s behavior, Carlotta turned back to the
    customers to make sure everyone had a ticket before she
    shepherded them into line. Beneath her lashes, she stole
    glances at Jack and his new partner as they scouted the
    layout of the store event. They looked as if they belonged
    on TV—the great-looking partners with amazing chemistry
    who put away bad guys during the day…and burned up the
    sheets at night?
    It only made sense that Jack would want to bed the
    beauty—he was a red-blooded man after all. And not in a
    hurry to put a ring on anyone’s finger anytime soon.
    Besides, since his sometimes-squeeze, Liz Fischer, aka The
    Cougar, was now banging Carlotta’s little brother, the big-
    boobed attorney probably had less time for booty cal s
    from Jack.
    If there was a bright spot to Liz seducing nineteen-year-old
    Wesley, Carlotta thought wryly, it was that maybe she’d
    work harder to keep him out of jail. The threat of having to
    resort to conjugal visits in the slammer might keep her on
    her toes.
    Carlotta fretted about Wesley between handing out tickets
    and informing people about the day’s event, as it had been
    laid out in the memo that she’d memorized.
    “When Ms. McCoy arrives, she’l say a few words and
    answer questions from the press. Then she’l step over to
    the jewelry section where she’l pose for pictures, sign
    autographs, and use an engraving tool to sign the back of
    any Lucky Charm Bracelet purchased. There is a limit of
    two bracelets per person.”
    It would be a sel out, Carlotta thought as she looked down
    the long line forming. The jewelry department, adjacent to
    the event area, was already sel ing the charm bracelets as
    quickly as they could ring up customers.
    The novelty was that each bracelet was purportedly
    unique, with random charms denoting travel or hobbies or
    almost anything. Each bracelet was packaged in a small
    brown box—the recipient didn’t know exactly what they
    were getting until they opened it after purchase. The idea
    was for the wearer to treat the bracelet as a suggested life
    list of sorts, to be inspired by the charms to try something
    unexpected. There were even special journals and Web
    sites for Charmers, as they were now being called. The
    craze was sweeping the nation, bolstered by Eva’s
    appearances on national talk shows, hefting the gold
    medal she’d won for the marathon that had held the world
    captivated as she’d fought back from her il ness to pass
    the leaders and against all odds, win the event. Hers was
    one of the greatest human interest stories to emerge from
    the most recent summer Olympics. And like many
    athletes, she was cashing in on her newfound celebrity.
    “Are those two people over there police officers?” Patricia
    asked, nodding to Jack and Maria.
    “Detectives,” Carlotta said, trying not to let the pair’s
    familiar body language get to her. It was none of her
    business where Jack holstered his gun. “Added security as
    a precaution.”
    “So it’s true, then.”
    “What?”
    Patricia covered her mouth with the back of her hand and
    whispered. “I read on the Internet that Eva McCoy has
    received death threats.”
    “Death threats? The woman is a world-renowned athlete.
    Who’d want her dead?”
    Patricia shrugged. “Who knows? Sports fans can be rabid.
    Maybe someone doesn’t like the fact