4 Bodies and a Funeral. Stephanie Bond

out rush hour by indulging in happy hour, and visitors looking for something to do after touring the Margaret Mitchell House.

      The restaurant was packed, but Peter maneuvered a place at the oversize bar where they enjoyed a leisurely glass of wine. Peter was a good conversationalist, thoughtful, yet entertaining, and startlingly handsome. She felt a rush of affection for him. Peter’s rejection ten years ago had devastated her, but surely he’d suffered more than she had with his unhappy marriage, then his wife’s betrayal and subsequent murder only a few months ago. Peter had even confessed to his wife’s murder to protect her reputation, but in the end, her dirty laundry had been aired.

      Still, Carlotta thought as she smiled up at him, his actions had been noble and selfless.

      After their glasses were refilled, the hostess appeared and announced their table was ready. Their “table” was more of an open-ended booth, which allowed them to sit close and look out into the crowd, European café style. Peter’s leg pressed against hers under the table while she studied the menu. Lots of variety—especially cheeses—and steep prices.

      But the service was impeccable, and the menu was amazing.

      When the waiter left after taking their order, Peter lifted his wineglass. “Here’s hoping this meal ends better than the last one we shared together.”

      He was referring to the time she’d sneaked out for a smoke and had been attacked by a killer who was afraid that Carlotta was on to them. To her utter astonishment, Peter had saved her by showing up and whipping out a gun. With bullets and everything.

      “Are you packing heat tonight?” she asked, clinking her glass to his.

      “No. Are you packing cigarettes?”

      She pouted. “I’m trying to quit.” But even now she was dying for one.

      He twined her fingers in his. “I’m only asking because now I have even more of a vested interest in your living a long, long time.”

      She pressed her lips together. Becoming part of someone else’s life made even everyday choices more complicated. “So what did your company think when you turned down the position in New York?”

      “The partners had encouraged me to take it, but they were fine with my decision. Everyone at the office has given me a wide berth since Angela died. And I wasn’t really eager to go to Manhattan—I just needed a reason to stay.” He squeezed her fingers. “I’m looking forward to us spending more time together.”

      She smiled. “Me, too.”

      He gave a little laugh. “Sometimes I think we have so much to talk about, I don’t know where to start.”

      “How are your parents?” she ventured. When they’d reunited a few months ago, he’d admitted his parents had pressured him to end their engagement back when news of her father’s scandal had broken.

      “They’re fine. Dad plays golf every day at the club, and mother spends hours in her rose garden.”

      “Sounds idyllic.” Perhaps her parents would have been doing something similar had their life not taken such a felonious trajectory.

      “Has your father contacted you again?”

      Carlotta shook her head. “I don’t suppose he’s been in touch with you?”

      “No. There’s only been that one phone call.”

      “What do you think about my father’s claim about there being paperwork that can prove his innocence?”

      Peter took a drink from his glass. “I asked around to see what happened to Randolph’s files.”

      “And?”

      “And … I was told that everything was handed over to the D.A.’s office.”

      She frowned. “But surely the firm kept copies?”

      “One would think, but since Walt came around wondering why I was asking questions, I decided not to push it.”

      Walt Tully—her father’s former partner at the firm and her and Wesley’s godfather. In name only, since he hadn’t bothered to check on them after their parents had disappeared.

      “Well, I guess we’ll just wait to see what dear old Dad has in store,” Carlotta said. “He certainly likes to make dramatic exits and entrances.”

      “So your first day back to work sounded pretty interesting.”

      Grateful for the subject change, she nodded. “In all the commotion, the guy with the cake stole Eva McCoy’s charm bracelet.”

      “That’s too bad. I’m sure it meant a lot to her.”

      “Yeah, it did. She was really upset.”

      “I noticed you’re wearing a charm bracelet.”

      She stroked the links. “It’s one of Eva’s bracelets. All of them are supposed to be unique.”

      “And foretell the future, I’ve heard. Let’s see what you got.”

      She put her hand over the charms. “It’s silly, they don’t mean anything.”

      He ran his thumb over her bare ring finger. “So you wear jewelry only if it doesn’t mean anything?”

      Carlotta felt pressure building in her chest. “Peter, let’s not go there.”

      “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He smiled. “How’s Wesley?”

      She brightened. “The D.A. reduced the charges. He got off with having to perform more community service, which is good for him. He’s so smart, you know. He really should be in college.”

      “He needs to follow his own path,” Peter chided gently.

      “I know. Still, I can’t help but worry about him. It’s not as if he had anyone else who cared.” She sighed. “This whole thing with Mom and Dad leaving has affected him more than it affected me.”

      “Don’t downplay what they did to you,” Peter said, then grimaced. “What we all did to you, leaving like that.”

      “It was tough on me,” she agreed. “But Wesley was young. He didn’t understand what was happening, or why. He blamed himself for them leaving, and he had so many problems adjusting. No one will ever know how much he suffered.” She smiled. “That’s why it’s so hard to be angry with him when he makes dumb decisions.”

      “Is he still working for Cooper Craft?”

      She shook her head. “Not since the body-snatching incident. But I can’t blame Coop. He gave Wesley a chance and Wesley’s stupidity put Coop’s reputation on the line.”

      Peter’s eyebrows raised. “From what I heard, the doctor did himself in years ago.”

      Carlotta frowned. “Have you been checking up on Coop?”

      “A Google search isn’t exactly a background check.”

      She angled her head. “And what exactly did you find out?”

      “That he ascended to coroner at a young age, and was considered a wunderkind … until he started drinking. There was something about him declaring a woman dead when she was still alive?”

      She nodded. “Jack told me about it. He said that Coop was driving home and came upon an accident. He’d had too much to drink and declared the woman dead when she was only unconscious.”