Stephanie Bond - 4 Bodies and a Funeral

Before another hour had expired, they’d run out of charm bracelets to sign, but there was still a line of people who simply wanted to speak to Eva and get an autograph. Carlotta wished she’d been more diligent about keeping up with in-store events while she’d been off work. Getting celebrity autographs was one of her favorite hobbies, and the new autograph book in her dresser drawer at home had been signed only a few times.

Carlotta glanced up to see that June and Mitchell Moody were next in line. Eva recognized Mitch and seemed genuinely pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

He explained he was visiting his mother and introduced June.

“My son can’t say enough nice things about you,” June said.

Eva blushed and glanced toward her boyfriend, Ben, who was standing a few feet away looking bored. Suddenly, though, he was watching his girlfriend and Mitch Moody with great interest, Carlotta noticed, especially when they leaned close for June to take their picture.

“Mitch was a terrific running partner,” Eva said. “He really pushed me to reach my personal best. And the fact that he’s from Atlanta, too, made me feel less homesick.”

“Your talk was fantastic,” Mitch said, clearly taken with Eva.

The woman shook her head. “I like raising money for charity, but this is all a little too much fanfare for me.”

If that was the case, then Eva wasn’t going to like what was coming next, Carlotta thought as she spied a huge decorated sheet cake being wheeled toward the woman, blazing with sparklers. Carlotta frowned. Had a cake been mentioned in the staff meeting that she’d missed? The mustached man pushing the cart was dressed in white culinary garb and … roller skates? Someone started singing “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” and the crowd joined in, parting to allow the cake through.

Just as Carlotta suspected, Eva didn’t look happy with the turn of events.

Carlotta leaned close. “Are you okay?”

Eva’s face reddened. “I wasn’t expecting this … I hate surprises.”

Alarm whipped through Carlotta. Eva didn’t know about the cake? Her first instinct was to find Jack, but she didn’t see him. When she spotted Maria, she waved frantically, then ran forward to block the cart.

“Take it back,” Carlotta said to the man, but she could barely hear herself over the singing. At the sight of a hand tool next to the cake that didn’t look like any culinary utensil she’d ever seen, she waved her arms at the man and shouted, “Stop!”

The man glared and shoved the cart forward, plowing hard into her. The edge of the cart hit Carlotta’s thighs, knocking her legs out from under her. She flailed for two long seconds before falling facedown into the cake. Pain sizzled against her skin where the weight of her body extinguished the sparklers. She lay in the quiet denseness of the white cake for a few seconds, trying to digest what had happened, then lifted her head and licked sweet icing and cake crumbles off her lips. She wanted to clear her eyes, but since the cart was still moving—fast—she decided it would be better to hang on.

She felt herself being propelled like a human bowling ball in Eva’s general direction. Carlotta braced for impact, and based on the force of the collision, she was pretty sure she’d taken out at least a couple of people. Then the cart tipped over, dumping her and the cake onto the floor.

Exclamations and screams sounded. Carlotta felt the crush of bodies around her and was afraid she was going to be trampled. She clawed at the gooey cake on her face and tried to blink the scene into focus, but her eyes stung and watered. Someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up, then shoved her against a display counter.

“Stay here,” said a woman with a curling voice. Maria.

“Clear the area!” a man bellowed. “Clear the area!” A shrill noise pierced the air, which Carlotta recognized as a display-case alarm. Had someone broken into one of the jewelry cases?

When she finally blinked the surroundings into focus, she gasped. It was a mob scene. Because of Eva’s white tracksuit, Carlotta was able to spot her at the bottom of a pile of people who had presumably been knocked down by the flying Carlotta-cake-cart, Patricia Alexander for one. Maria Marquez was hauling people off one at a time and finally reached the athlete, who looked dazed.

“Let’s get you out of here,” a man said near Carlotta’s ear. She recognized the voice—and the muscular arm—as belonging to Mitchell Moody. Grateful for the assistance, she leaned on him as she slipped and slid on cake and icing that had been mashed under many feet.

He led her to the mall entrance, where clumps of customers had congregated.

“Thank you,” Carlotta said, trying to catch her breath. “Did you see what happened?”

“Hard to say. It looked to me as if the guy with the cake was trying to get close to Eva.”

“Did he get away?”

“I don’t know. I got Mom out of there and went back to get you.”

“There you are,” June said, hurrying up to them. “Carlotta, are you okay?”

She nodded, then lifted her arms and stared down at her cake-matted dress. “But I can’t imagine what I must look like.”

Mitch gave a little laugh. “Mom said you were always into something.”

Patricia Alexander emerged from the store and came stomping over, her pearls askew and her bob disheveled. “I should’ve known something like this would happen on your first day back.”

Carlotta gaped. “Are you saying this was my fault?”

“Lindy wants all employees back in the store ASAP, and the police are asking for you. Big surprise.” The woman turned and marched back into the store.

Carlotta sighed and turned to June and Mitchell. “I’m sorry the event turned out this way. It was nice to meet you, Mitch.”

“You, too,” he said. “I hope I’ll see you again before I leave town.”

“That would be nice,” she said, pulling a piece of cake out of her ear. She said goodbye to June, and retreated to the entrance of the store with as much dignity as she could muster.

This was not how her life was supposed to be. Mired in drama. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Remember this when you’re having dinner with Peter tonight, she told herself. If she married him, she’d never have to work another day in her life. She could spend her days having her purchases rung up at Neiman’s instead of being the one doing the ringing up. She could buy a new car when her battery died. And she could make bail no matter how many times Wesley got into trouble.

The area around the event had been cleared of customers. A cleaning crew was mopping up cake that seemed to be everywhere. Carlotta realized she was tracking icing on the floor from her shoes, but it couldn’t be helped. A knot of people had gathered to the side. Lindy wore a worried expression. Maria Marquez was talking to Eva McCoy, who was being comforted by her boyfriend, Ben. Eva’s bodyguard and publicist were nearby, as well as the head of store security. Jack stood back a few steps, observing. When he saw Carlotta, he wiped his hand over his mouth to smother a smile.

“Didn’t know you had a sweet tooth,” he murmured when she walked up.

“Don’t start. What happened?”

“Not sure. I’m just getting back from handing off the drunk-and-disorderly character, so I’m hearing everything secondhand. The cake was definitely some kind of ruse. No one in McCoy’s camp or with Neiman’s knew about it. But the guy got away. His smock was found in a trash can inside the mall.”

“Did he attack Eva?”

“No. Apparently you got the worst of it.”

Carlotta gave him a withering look.

Jack pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. “Can you describe him?”