macabre motivation, Carlotta was grateful for
the commissions she racked up over the next few hours.
She was finally getting her groove back, and the rush of
adrenaline made her realize she’d been crazy to let herself
get distracted with amateur sleuthing. This was her life,
and it wasn’t half-bad.
Later in her shift she looked up to see fellow associate
Patricia Alexander coming her way. Carlotta swallowed a
groan. The blonde was a cross between a nemesis and a
pesky younger sister. But at the moment she looked
worried, so Carlotta tamped down her irritation.
Patricia thrust a folded section of newspaper toward
Carlotta. “Did you see this in the AJC?”
Carlotta took the paper. “What does it say?”
“That The Charmed Kil er is targeting women who wear
charm bracelets.” Patricia’s hand covered the bracelet that
she’d bought for herself, similar to the one Carlotta wore.
Surprise bled through Carlotta as she skimmed the article
written by Rainie Stephens, a reporter who’d helped her
recover Olympian Eva McCoy’s stolen charm bracelet.
Rainie cited “sources inside the APD” as indicating that the
presence of a charm bracelet might be a trigger for
random attacks on women.
“That seems inflammatory,” Carlotta murmured. “None of
the victims were wearing charm bracelets.”
Patricia squinted. “How do you know?”
Her coworkers didn’t know she moonlighted as a body
mover. “I…must have read it somewhere.” Besides,
wouldn’t Jack have told her if there was a connection?
“There must have been some reason to print it,” Patricia
insisted.
Carlotta handed the newspaper back to her. “Not
necessarily. But if it makes you feel better, don’t wear your
bracelet.”
Patricia’s face fell. “But I real y believe these charm
bracelets can predict the future.”
“I thought the spirit of featuring different charms on each
bracelet was to encourage the wearer to try new things,
not to predict the future.” She was saying the words aloud
to convince herself as much as Patricia. Just because her
bracelet had a charm with champagne glasses didn’t
necessarily mean that something…celebratory was around
the corner. If she believed that, she’d have to believe in
the corpse charm, too.
So why did she feel so compel ed to wear it?
Patricia held up her wrist and pointed to a miniature lion.
“Then explain how I met a guy named Leo—” she pointed
to a baseball glove “—who is a baseball player.”
“How do you explain the broom?” Carlotta asked, pointing
to a third charm on the woman’s bracelet.
Patricia smiled. “That’s easy. He swept me off my feet.”
Carlotta rol ed her eyes and decided not to ask about the
dog charm or the horny steer head. She might get more
information than she cared to know. “I have a solution.”
“What?”
“Wear long sleeves,” Carlotta said, tapping Patricia’s bare
arm with a wry smile. “I’m taking my lunch break.”
“Want some company?”
“Er…I’m actually running errands,” Carlotta improvised.
“Buying change-of-address cards?” Patricia asked lightly.
“Word is that you’ve moved in with Peter Ashford.”
Carlotta couldn’t hide her surprise. “Where did you hear
that?”
Patricia shrugged. “Neighbors talk.”
Carlotta set her jaw. The neighbor with the binoculars?
“It’s only temporary. There was an issue of safety at my
place.”
Patricia’s eyes widened. “Does this have something to do
with Michael Lane being on the run again?”
“Is that in the paper, too?” Carlotta asked.
“Yeah, it said he’d broken into someone’s house—wait a
minute! It was your house, wasn’t it?”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Carlotta said, glad to
have an excuse. She didn’t want to explain to yet someone
else how it was possible that a psycho could be living in
their guest room, undetected.
“So that’s why you moved in with Peter?”
“I
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