Pineapple Lies (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Like all big dogs, Abby thought she was a lap dog. Charlotte’s legs were going numb and Abby’s elbows poked painfully into the meat of her thighs, but she didn’t make the wheaten hop down. Never take a loving dog for granted, was her philosophy. They don’t live long enough to do that.

Though, it might not hurt to maybe shift an elbow to the left…

She scratched around Abby’s ears pondering her dilemma. Pool aerobics was half an hour away and she had to make a decision. Should she warn Jackie that Seamus made the perfect suspect for Erin’s murder? All the elements were there: lust, jealousy, money, revenge…everything but a shred of proof.

And what if Jackie told Seamus? Seamus would want to kill her. If he
did
kill her, he probably killed Erin as well and Charlotte would have cracked the case! Of course, adopting the self-sacrifice style of sleuthing meant a short detective career.

Career. Hm. There was that word.

How would she feel if she’d met a man and someone told him that she was a murderer? She’d be angry. Whether she was a killer or not, she’d be angry.

Wait. I couldn’t be some sort of detective, could I?

Declan would also be angry to hear she was running around telling people his uncle was a killer. Declan, who had been nothing but kind to her as he mourned the discovery of his mother’s body. They’d had so much fun at sushi…

She smiled at the memory.

There were plenty of good reasons
not
to warn Jackie. There was only one reason
to
warn her, but it was a doozy.

She could end up dead.

Charlotte stopped scratching the dog and rubbed her eyes. Abby thrust her nose behind her arm and flipped it away from her face, demanding further attention.

“You’re really pushing it now.”

She had to get ready for water aerobics and fought to extract herself from beneath the dog. Before heading down the hall she picked up the chalk and wrote
Detective?
on the chalkboard. A smile crept to her lips, until she remembered not only did she have to talk to Jackie, but she had to meet Gladys’ grandson, Bradley, for lunch.

She huffed and put the chalk on the counter.

Worst. Day. Ever.

Charlotte was late for aerobics. She waded into the pool and took her usual place beside Mariska and Darla as they swung their legs back and forth in unison. On her way in, she’d nodded to Jackie. The woman was beaming. They could throw her back in the pool at night to save electricity on the lights.

“You’re late,” said Darla.

“I know. I can’t decide what to do about Jackie and Seamus. It made me drag my feet.”

“I almost didn’t come myself,” said Mariska, placing a hand on her belly. “I think I had too many sausages at breakfast.”

“Well you had
six
,” said Darla.

“They were tiny!”

Charlotte scanned the pool. She felt eyes on her and located them in the head of Harry. He motioned to her to come to him.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to the ladies and half-walked, half-aerobicized toward Harry at the back of the pool.

“What’s up?” she asked, arriving beside him.

“I think you might have something with that Seamus theory,” he whispered, making little circles under the water with his left foot.

“Why do you say that?”

“I just talked to him.”

“You
what
? You told him what I said?”

“No, of course not. I never mentioned you. But I think I tricked him into making a mistake.”

“Really…” Charlotte didn’t know whether to be relieved she had a real reason to warn Jackie, or to be upset the killer was Declan’s own uncle.

“I asked him if Erin’s death was what made him move to Miami, and he said ‘maybe’ followed by some hoo-ha about it inspiring him to help others, blah, blah, blah.”

“So?”

“Erin wasn’t
dead
then. She was
missing
. I asked if Erin’s
death
inspired him to move.”

“Only the killer would have known she was dead…”

“Right! I thought it was pretty clever of me.”

Charlotte tilted her head side to side, thinking. “It’s not exactly bulletproof though, is it?”

Harry shrugged. “You have to start somewhere.”

“Anything else?”

“He seemed pretty standoffish. Threatening, even.”

“He threatened you?”

“Not exactly. It was more his body language, some of the things he said. He said violence would find me, in so many words.”

“Violence will find you? What is he, a really dark fortune cookie?”

Charlotte glanced towards Jackie. The poor woman’s face was going to crack if she didn’t stop smiling. She hadn’t shown this much enthusiasm for water aerobics since…well, since
never
. How was she going to tell her that her new boyfriend might be a killer?

“Seamus got into a fight with Declan when I was over there…” Charlotte mused aloud.

Harry stopped swirling. “A fist fight?”

“No, they were just yelling…”

As she replayed the events in her mind, she remembered how angry Declan had been.

Maybe being a killer was in his blood…

Suddenly, she felt sick. She stopped moving her legs to the beat.

“He didn’t admit to dating the dead girl,” said Harry. “But I had to be careful there. I didn’t want to tip him that I received my information from you.”

“Well, it was really Mariska, but thank you,” mumbled Charlotte putting her hand on her stomach. “I think I’m going to go.”

“Are you going to warn Jackie? You should tell Frank to look into Seamus, just in case.”

Charlotte grimaced as another wave of anxiety pains washed across her.

“I don’t know. Yes, probably. Not now. I have to go. I have…” Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I have a date.”

“Oh yeah? Good for you! Go get ‘em, girl!”

Charlotte’s lip snarled and she turned and waded out of the pool.

Charlotte’s date arrived to the sound of Abby’s barking. He had knocked much too loudly. Abby’s barking triggered Katie next door, which set off Miss Izzy across the street until a symphony of dogs rang through the streets.

Charlotte took a quick look in the bathroom mirror. She still looked half asleep. She’d been so upset over the dilemma of talking to Jackie and the idea that Declan’s uncle might be a killer that she’d thrown herself into bed and taken a nap. She’d barely woken up in time to get a shower and get dressed.

Mustering what little enthusiasm she could, she pushed Abby aside with her leg and answered the door.

“Charlotte?” said a sandy haired man wearing a polo, khaki shorts and a braided leather belt. He was handsome in a predictable way, not too pretty, not too rugged. She could tell by the way he thrust out his chest that he knew exactly how good-looking he was.

“You must be Brad.” She used all her strength to pull Abby back and away from the door. “Come on in. She won’t hurt you. Are you okay with dogs? Can I let her go?”

Brad took a step inside. “Oh, sure, yeah, no problem.”

Abby bound forward, sniffing and circling Brad’s legs like a squiggling fur tornado. Charlotte scowled as she watched him raise his arms above his head and submit to the torrent of attention. His motion was the international symbol for
not a dog lover
. Dog lovers bent over and petted a happy dog, scratched them behind the ears or maybe even squatted and sat on a heel, the better to receive sloppy kisses. People afraid, uncomfortable or unimpressed by dogs raised their hands to avoid accidentally touching them.

“You’re as pretty as my grandmother said you were,” he said, hands still high above his head as if she had him at gunpoint.

Awkward.

“Thank you, but you know grandmothers,” she said, trying to keep it light. “They like to exaggerate.”

“No,
really
. You’re gorgeous.”

As Brad’s frat-boy gaze swept down her body, Charlotte felt the urge to cover up. She’d worn a summer dress, but as his leer settled on her breasts, she regretted her choice.
Had she been dressing to impress?
Maybe. Everyone liked to be admired…and Brad was cute, but his aggressive attention made her uneasy and his reaction to Abby was already one
huge
strike against any chance they had of hitting it off.

“Thank you,” she said, crossing her arms against her chest.

Brad glanced around the house.

“Looks like you’re quite a reader. Brains and beauty, eh?”

Charlotte tried to force a smile but she knew it looked more like she’d just smelled something rotten.

“Let me grab my bag.”

Abby realized there would be no pets from Brad and wandered to the sofa. She hopped up and flopped down her head.

“I thought we could grab lunch if that’s okay?” said Charlotte.

“That’s perfect,” he said, looking at his phone. He quickly typed a text and then slipped it back into his pocket. “I’ll drive, you just tell me where to go.”

“I’ll be back in a bit, Ab.”

Abby raised her eyes and then looked away, sulking.

“She understands you?” he asked as they walked to the car.

“Of course.”

What a person-without-a-dog thing to say.

“So she knows you’ll be back in a bit?”

“I always am.”

“What does she do while you’re gone?”

“Reads. The books are mostly hers.”

“Seriously?”

Charlotte looked at him.

Brad chuckled as he slipped into the driver’s side of his black Mercedes-Benz CLS.

“No, I know,” he said. “Funny. Door’s open.”

Charlotte sighed and opened the passenger side of the car.

Charlotte navigated Brad to Pickles, a casual restaurant in the heart of downtown. Pickles seemed like a good choice because it wasn’t too expensive and it was a notch above a diner. She assumed Brad intended to pay and thought it would be rude to take him to the most expensive place in town. As he asked her to take a moment to admire his car’s oversized wheels and black rims, she began to regret the decision. A nice bottle of wine and a dozen oysters might have been just the thing.

The window seats were taken, so they sat at a table in the center of the tiled-floor dining area. The restaurant was homey, and she could tell Brad wasn’t impressed. He did everything but wipe the seat before sitting down.

“You eat here a lot?” he asked.

“It isn’t much to look at, but the food really is good.”

Brad raised his eyebrows. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. Don’t know if it would have been my first choice without your suggestion.”

Let it slide. Be nice. It will all be over soon.

“So…you’re visiting your grandmother?”

“Yep, that time of year. Gotta put in the family time.”

Charming
.

“Where do you live when you’re not here?”

“Atlanta. I’m a mortgage broker there. Big firm. I’m one of the top guys.”

“I’ve heard good things about Atlanta…”

“It’s a blast. I love it. So much to do…” Brad looked around the restaurant and surveyed the people eating there. “Little more sophisticated than this place, if you know what I mean.”

“Mmm.”

Charlotte’s mind began to drift. She was still trying to think of the best way to warn Jackie without getting herself killed in the process, either by Seamus for ratting him out or by Jackie for crushing her dreams. She shouldn’t be sitting here with Brad, she should be out saving her friend. She also wondered what the special was. They had a delicious Monte Cristo sandwich with pepper jelly but it wasn’t on the regular menu. What made it a Monte Cristo? Did they eat them in
The Count of Monte Cristo
?

“Do you know where the sandwich Monte Cristo got its name?” she asked Brad before she realized it.

Brad looked at her as if she were crazy. “Because it is a Monte Cristo sandwich?”

Right. Duh.

“So what is there to do around here?” he asked. “Besides Google sandwich names.”

Charlotte looked at her purse where her phone sat.

I’d rather be Googling sandwich names…

Determined to be nice she smiled and shrugged. “The usual things I guess. Actually—”

“You should come to Atlanta!” he said, cutting her short. “I could show you around. Take you to some
real
restaurants.
Serious
food. We could hit the clubs…my boys would love you, I’m sure.”