Pineapple Lies (9 page)

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. You like your men a little more rough around the edges. A little more lumberjacky.”

“No! I mean, that’s not what I meant…” she paused. “Lumberjacky?”

He shrugged. “If it isn’t a word, it should be.”

“Well, I’ll alert the
Declan’s Sexual Preference Committee
that they have it all wrong.”

“No! Don’t tell them. I don’t discourage the rumor. I may
en
courage it from time to time. For one, it makes them think I have better taste than I do. They also used to try to set me up with their granddaughters…”

“Oh…” Charlotte recalled Katherine planning to do just that. “Well, what’s wrong with a little match-making? Maybe the woman of your dreams is one of their granddaughters.”

“Maybe, but I was running out of polite ways to decline. I didn’t want every failed setup to lose me a potential customer, and I imagine the granddaughters don’t appreciate being thrown at every man within a five mile radius of Pineapple Port either.”

She chuckled. “I’ve been thrown at more than a few grandsons, so I feel your pain. They mean well, but it’s pretty awful.”

He nodded and an awkward silence fell for a minute or two.

“Anyway…I’m good on that front,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, taking his comment to mean he already had a girlfriend. “I guess I’ll see you at the meeting.”

The bell chimed above her head as she opened the door to leave.

“See you there,” he called as she left. “Thanks for stopping by.”

She waved without turning.

Back in her car, she replayed their conversation in her head. Of course, Declan
had
to have a girlfriend. He was capable of getting a girlfriend without any help from the Pineapple Port matchmakers.

More than capable.

A strange feeling of relief washed over her. Maybe now that strange tension she felt whenever he was near would dissipate. The relief mingled with another emotion.

What is that?

Ah.

Disappointment.

She started her car and pulled out of the parking spot. Declan stood in the window of the shop and waved as she pulled away.

She sighed.

Why did he have to be so damn hot?

Chapter Nine

Charlotte, Darla and Mariska walked into the meeting room of the Pineapple Port clubhouse. Someone had set out the usual array of cookies and punch, though Charlotte thought the arrangement felt a tad festive for a
Corpse Committee
. At least they hadn’t made cookies in the shape of chalk outlines. Some of the ladies had a real flair for theme baking.

Andie paused beside her and surveyed the cookie situation. She leaned towards Charlotte.

“Store bought. Cheap, too,” she mumbled before taking three and moving to her seat.

A pile of yoga mats and a smattering of inflatable exercise balls sat in the corner of the large room, which doubled as the floor exercise studio on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Charlotte avoided the yoga classes. Most of the residents expelled gas on a frequent basis when just walking, talking or playing cards. She’d accepted long ago that strange bodily noises were a common occurrence for older people, but she also knew she’d never be able to keep a straight face in a yoga class. She was only human. Throw on some woodwind massage music, a group of ladies attempting downward dog and a symphony of body noises, and a Buddhist monk would burst into giggles.

Folding chairs arranged in a semicircle awaited members of the newly formed group. Charlotte took her usual seat between Darla and Mariska. Darla was a little deaf in her left ear and Mariska a little deaf in her right, so sitting between them in the correct configuration solved most communication problems.

Penny sat in the only padded chair in the room. She kept it locked in the clubhouse closet for occasions like this. After a few more people arrived, she distributed an agenda printed on neon yellow paper. At the top, it said
Corpse
Club
in large letters.

“I thought it was the
Corpse Committee
?” said Darla.

“Oh no,” said Charlotte, dropping her chin to her chest.

She raised her hand. Penny pointed to her.

“Yes, Charlotte?”

“I’d like to suggest we change the name to
Crime Club
. That way, once this mystery is solved, the club could be more all-purpose. I doubt we’ll find more bodies, but maybe we could address missing lawn statues or the occasional car break-in.”

“Or people who don’t return juicers they borrowed,” said Althea Moore, her eyes shifting towards Jackie Blankenship.

“Oh Althea, I’ll bring it back tomorrow!” hissed Jackie.

“I second that. I like
Crime Club
much better,” said Mariska. “
Corpse Club
sounds gruesome. It’s like the Mickey Mouse Club, but horrible.”

A few others mumbled and nodded their heads.

“Fine,” said Penny. “Should we vote on that now? All in favor of changing the name to
Crime Club
raise your hands.”

All but a woman in black and Penny raised their hands. Everyone stared at the dissenter until she, too, raised her hand.

“I just thought
corpse
sounded more dramatic,” she said. “I don’t care. Nothing matters.”

“Fine,” said Penny. “Passed. From now on this group will be known as the
Crime Club
.”

“How often will we meet?” asked Harry. “Weekly? Monthly doesn’t seem like enough during the heat of the investigation. When I worked cold cases we used to—”

“Weekly seems like a lot,” said Penny, cutting him short.

“I think once a month would be fine,” said Darla. “We could always have an emergency meeting if some new facts came to light.”

The group nodded in unison. Everyone loved the thrill of an emergency meeting.

“Fine. Well, to get things started, I think everyone should know that they bungled the investigation already,” said Harry.

Frank groaned. Jaws fell and a smattering of gasps rippled through the group.

Oh boy. Here we go.

“I went to Charlotte’s house with my metal detector, my everyday metal detector—”

“As opposed to his
formal
metal detector,” whispered Darla.

“The one with the bow tie,” added Mariska.

Charlotte snorted a laugh and the three of them burst into giggles. Harry shot them a nasty look and continued.

“I found a bullet. A .380.”

Gasps rang out a second time.

“Sheriff Marshall said it might be a 9mm,” said Charlotte.

“So he says. I know what I found.”

Frank shrugged and rolled his eyes.

“They missed a bullet?” asked Jackie, the reluctant water aerobics queen, still dodging dirty looks from Althea, Rightful Owner of the Juicer.

“They did,” said Harry. “We need to do something about the shoddy detective work around here. What if it had been you or me? I don’t want these slackadoodles working on my case.”

“Slackadoodles?” echoed Charlotte. “Is that like a lazy Labradoodle?”

Darla shrugged.

“I don’t think this is something that happens here all the time, Harry,” said Mariska.

“You never know. You never know.”

“I think before we get into any of the details of the case, we should identify the victim formally,” said Charlotte. “Do any of you even know her name?”

Most of the group shook their heads. Charlotte knew fifty percent of the attendees were the same people who attended every meeting and had no interest in the topic. They came for the cookies and punch, hoping beyond hope each time that someone would bring homemade.

“She’s the pawnshop owner’s sister,” said Penny.

“
Mother
,” corrected Charlotte. “Her name was Erin Bingham. Does that name ring a bell for anyone?”

There was a low murmur accompanied by synchronized head shaking. Al Taliaferro, who’d been staring at his shoes or possibly napping, threw back his head and turned his attention to Harry.

“You think she was shot?” he asked.

“We don’t know yet. That remains to be determined.”

“Erin Bingham,” said Penny, scratching her chin. “I think she used to work at George’s office.”

“Declan said she did,” said Charlotte.

“I said what?”

Heads swiveled towards the voice. Declan and an older man walked toward the group, grabbing seats as they passed the collection of folding chairs in the corner. The second man stood three inches shorter than Declan, and had a much thicker build. He shared Declan’s sharp nose and dark hair, but his temples were speckled with gray. Declan held a manila envelope in his hand.

“That must be his boyfriend,” whispered Katherine O’Malley.

Declan’s explanation for not dispelling rumors to avoid matchmaking made even more sense if Katherine’s self-centered grandchild was one of the girls thrown his way. Charlotte had met her and not been a fan. Rather than admit her grandchild needed a lesson in manners and humility, Katherine clung to the idea that Declan simply wasn’t interested in women at all.

Charlotte stood. “Everyone, this is Declan. We don’t have definitive proof yet, but we suspect the woman found was his mother.”

A low chant of apologies and tsk noises filled the room. One tiny voice asked, “what woman?” and someone hushed her.

Declan held up a hand in an abbreviated wave.

“Sorry I’m late. This is my uncle, Seamus. I just picked him up at the airport.”

“Hello, all. Hello ladies,” he added with a naughty wink.

One of the ladies giggled.

Declan set his empty chair across from Charlotte and sat down. His uncle opened his chair and sat behind Declan, because the gentleman beside Declan pretended not to see Seamus and refused to make room for him in the circle.

“Would you like some punch? Some cookies?” Celia Jackson asked Seamus.

“No, thank you. Unless you made them, then I might have to try them.”

Celia smiled and shook her head, a bright blush rising to her cheeks.

“Declan, I was just saying I think your mother worked for my husband,” said Penny.

“She did. She had two jobs. She worked in the office here and weekend nights she worked at a restaurant called Nectarine’s.”

“Oh, I miss that place,” said Agnes Salzmann.

Several women agreed. “They had the best French toast…” said one.

“I’ll talk to George about it,” said Penny. “Maybe he’ll remember something that will help.”

“Where is George?” asked Frank. “Shouldn’t he be here?”

“He had to talk to the sprinkler man. The timers are all screwy.”

Charlotte nodded. George was an avid gardener and if one sprinkler didn’t sprinkle, she could imagine he was losing his mind.

“I knew it! I was soaked the other day while walking by your place at two o’clock in the afternoon!” said Andie.

Penny dismissed her by throwing her nose in the air and looking away. The comment hadn’t even registered a sniff. Charlotte wondered if the silent sniff might be the worst sniff of all.

“You should know the investigators already messed up your case,” said Harry to Declan, preparing to retell his tale.

“I already told him all that, Harry,” said Charlotte.

“Did you tell him I found the bullet with my metal detector?”

“I did.”

Harry grimaced and sat back, arms crossed over his chest.

“I gave the bullet to the appropriate authorities,” said Frank.

Harry grunted.

The sheriff scanned the group.

“Does anyone here own a gun?”

Several of the ladies seemed alarmed.

“My husband has several guns,” said Penny.

“I have a handgun,” said Al.

“I think my husband has a handgun in the safe,” said Ginny Aleshire. “I think he might have a rifle, too, and some sticky things.”

“Sticky things?” asked Frank.

“You know, sticky things. Sticks you use to beat people. Everybody has them.”

Charlotte slid her gaze towards Darla.

“What the hell is Ginny’s husband up to?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to make a mental note not to piss him off.”

Frank held up a hand to stop the rising tide of chatter. “Well, anyone with a gun, I’d like to collect them for ballistics testing.”

“I was going to suggest that,” said Harry.

“You don’t think one of us could have killed her, do you Frank?” asked Jackie.

“I’m not saying that, but getting your weapon cleared is the easiest way to remove yourself from suspicion. If they decide to do a house-by-house search for weapons, you don’t want to be the one hiding your gun. Bring them to me now and we’ll get them tested against the bullet.”

“That I found,” mumbled Harry.

“Of course none of us did it,” said Penny. “But I’ll tell George to bring by his guns, Sheriff. We want to help in every way possible. Things like this don’t happen in Pineapple Port.”

“I brought some pictures,” said Declan. He stood and slipped a pile of papers from his manila envelope. He handed a sheet to each person in the circle.

“Charlotte thought seeing my mother might help people remember her, maybe help with the investigation.”

Everyone took a photo and stared at it. A few offered nods of appreciation.

“Such a beautiful girl,” said Mariska, shaking her head.

Charlotte looked at the photo of the dark-haired woman. She was very pretty, with a pert nose, full lips and startling green eyes. She could see Declan’s face in hers.

“You favored her,” said Darla, noticing the same thing.

Declan nodded.

A silence fell over the group.

“Can anyone think of anything else?” asked Charlotte. “Penny, now that you’ve seen her, does she look familiar?”

Penny offered a level seven sniff. Seven meant
True Agitation.

“I’m not sure. She looks like anyone. I didn’t get to the office much. I was raising my babies. But I did some of the book work and I remember seeing her name on the payroll.”

Al stared at the photo, his usually tan face paler than usual.

“Al?” asked Charlotte. “Do you recognize her?”

“I…I do,” he said. “I worked for George and I remember seeing her at the office. But I never saw her outside the office. I don’t know anything about her. You said she was shot, right?”

“We don’t know for sure,” said Frank.

“Probably, though,” said Harry. “I found a bullet, after all.”

“I set up a Facebook group for the
Corpse
Club
,” said Penny.

Declan looked at Charlotte, his eyes wide. Charlotte shook her head and looked down, trying not to laugh.

“
Crime
Club,” said Charlotte, after taking a second to compose herself. “Remember Penny? We voted to change the name.”