Pineapple Lies (4 page)

Chapter Four

“You look like you’re going to fall over,” said Charlotte.

“I have to see,” Declan said, pushing past the deputy and walking towards the back of the house. She followed, with Daniel close behind.

Declan open the backdoor and the three of them filed out onto the screened-in porch.

“Whoa whoa,” said another deputy. “Declan, I told you, you can’t come down here. You’ll contaminate the area.”

“Dick, I think that’s my mother,” said Declan.

Charlotte gasped.

“They said the bones were ten years old,” said Charlotte. “Your mother died when you were…”

“Twelve. Fifteen years ago. And she didn’t die. She disappeared. We never knew what happened.”

“Well, you can’t come down here right now, Declan,” said the officer. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing to identify, just bones. You’ll have to go to the station and then you can tell us everything you know. What makes you think it’s your mom?”

“The necklace,” he said, holding up the bag. “I gave my mother this necklace for her birthday, not long before she went missing.”

“What are you doing with the bag?” Dick shot Daniel a dirty look and snatched the bag from Declan.

“Sorry,” said Daniel. “I had to give it to him. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Where is Sheriff Marshall?” asked Charlotte.

She hoped Frank might let Declan closer to the body if she asked. After all, she’d given him a coffee mug beer
and
mowed his tiny patch of lawn for years as a teen. Without her, who would point out on a daily basis that
Sherriff Marshall
was ridiculous and
clearly
he should have become
Marshal Marshall
? He’d stolen from her the boundless joy of greeting him with “Marshal Marshall
Marshall!”
in her best Jan Brady imitation. He owed her a favor or two.

“He left, ma’am, and I’m in charge,” said the reedy officer. He had a humorless disposition. Charlotte wondered if the female officer in her front yard was his sister.

Declan craned his neck from the porch, doing his best to gain a bird’s eye view of the excavation. Most of the bones still lay half-buried in the dirt. The body lay flat on its back, head missing. Nearby, the skull sat in a clear plastic bag. The jawbone was in the bag as well. Katie had lost all her trophies.

Dick opened the door to the porch and ushered Declan and Charlotte back into the house. Daniel followed them.

“I want them out of the house,” said Dick to his partner. He looked at Charlotte and Declan. “Go get a cup of coffee or something.”

“It’s my house!” said Charlotte, feeling Dick was trying too hard to live up to his name. She’d met him when he was a brand new deputy, green as the sexiest M&M. She’d watched him drop his gun while trying to spin it on his finger like a gunfighter. He had a lot of nerve pretending he was large and in charge now.

“This house wasn’t even built when she was buried. There aren’t any clues in here.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to have to keep an eye out for you.”

“Fine, Deputy
Dick
,” said Charlotte. “We’ll go. Just don’t try and do any fancy tricks with your gun while we’re gone. I don’t want holes in my walls.”

Dick pressed his lips into a hard white line and pointed towards her front door.

That’s right. You remember now. I saw.

Declan’s face was still ashen; his eyes seemed vacant.

“Declan,” she said, softly touching his arm. “Let’s go. We can go to Mariska’s. She’s like my mother. Okay?”

Declan nodded and allowed himself to be led from the house. Charlotte paused to clip a leash on Abby and then navigated them past the female officer. She wasn’t surprised to find the ladies still gathered near her gate. Charlotte caught Mariska’s eye and motioned to her. Mariska nodded and waddled in fourth gear to catch up to them. She had bad legs, so at that pace she looked like a hyperkinetic penguin racing after the last mackerel.

“They kick you out, dear?” asked Mariska as she grew near. “I don’t know who they think they are. Was it Dick? He’s not the sharpest cheese in the refrigerator, that one. They don’t think you have something to do with the body, do they?”

“No, nothing like that. They just want the house clear while they finish up.”

“You didn’t kill that lady who cut your car off the other day, did you?” asked Darla, chuckling as she, too, arrived at Charlotte’s side.

Declan looked at her.

“I think it’s my mother.”

“Oh,” said Darla, covering he mouth with her hand. “Oh, my. Oh, I am
so
sorry. I should know better than to joke about something like this. Oh, I feel terrible.”

“Declan, this is Mariska and Darla,” said Charlotte stopping to point to each in turn.

He shook their hands. “Declan Bingham.”

“Is your door unlocked?” Charlotte asked. “I think he should sit down for a bit.”

“Yes, yes.” said Mariska hurrying to open the door.

They went inside. Mariska’s pound mutt, Izzy, ran up to greet them and Charlotte had to scramble to unclip Abby’s leash before they all became entangled and fell to the ground like hog-tied calves. Released, the two dogs raced around the house together, narrowly missing furniture and knees. Part Dalmatian, part rat terrier and part wildly over-fed, Izzy looked like a black-speckled body pillow with radar dishes for ears.

Charlotte walked past the kitchen counter to the living room and motioned for Declan to sit in a large, cushy La-Z-Boy chair. Every house in Pineapple Port had running water, electricity and a La-Z-Boy with the shape of the man of the house worn into it.

“Can I get you something Declan?” asked Mariska, tight on their heels. “Water? Milk? Soda? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” he said.

“Juice?”

“No.”

“Do you have any coffee left?” asked Darla.

“I do. Let me brew you a fresh pot. Declan, I have coffee and some milk. It’s two percent…or creamer…I have hazelnut creamer.”

“No, thank you.”

“What about a donut? I have donuts. Oh! I have some wonderful muffins from Publix. Do you want a muffin? Blueberry?”

“Have you tried their pineapple coconut muffins?”’ asked Darla. “They are to die. Simply to die.”

“I haven’t! I’ll have to get some. That sounds wonderful.”

“No, nothing, thank you,” said Declan.

“Or corn muffins…I might have corn. No… No, I think Bob ate the corn muffins with the chili last night… Oh! Cinnamon apple! I do have a cinnamon apple…”

“No, thank you.”

“I could cut a banana. Or I—”

“Mariska!” said Charlotte. “He doesn’t want anything!”

“Okay.” Mariska looked around her kitchen. “I have some leftover chicken…”

Charlotte shot her a look and she shrugged.

“Well, I
do
,” she mumbled.

Mariska went to the coffee pot and dumped that morning’s remains into the sink to start afresh. She didn’t like to drink coffee more than three minutes old, and she didn’t expect her guests to have to put up with nonsense like that either.

Charlotte removed a fake cat from a nearby chair and sat down. The cat was black and white and curled in a ball as if sleeping. Declan looked the cat as she set it on the floor.

“That is terrifying,” he mumbled.

“I know. I can’t tell you how long I’ve begged her to get rid of it. Used to give me nightmares.”

Declan offered a half smile and rubbed his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m acting crazy. It was just a shock.”

“I can’t imagine! Did you—never mind.”

Charlotte shook her head and waved her hands to say she was dropping the question.

“What?”

“Nothing, I…I was going to ask if you’d
thought
she was still alive. Before today.”

Declan sighed. “I don’t know. I guess part of me thought she was. Honestly, now I’m not sure if this is better or worse. It hurt to think she ran out on us. Now I know she didn’t leave on purpose, but she’s dead. Part of me hoped she was living a happy life somewhere.”

Mariska slipped a small plate on the table next to Declan’s chair.

“It’s sharp cheese and pepperoni and crackers,” she whispered.

Charlotte growled.

“They’re Pepperidge Farm!” said Mariska in a huff. She turned and disappeared to the back of the house.

Darla walked by and took one of everything on the plate.

“Darla,” said Charlotte. “You’re just encouraging her.”

“Why wouldn’t I encourage people to feed me?”

“Sorry,” she said to Declan. “She means well.”

Declan laughed. “Oh gosh, don’t apologize,” he said, taking a cracker and a slice of pepperoni. “I talk to old—er…”

Declan glanced at Darla, who arched an eyebrow.

“Tread lightly, mister.”

Declan cleared his throat. “I mean, I talk to
mature
ladies all day long. They invite me to their houses to look at their antiques and they’re always trying to feed me. I’m used to it.”

“I bet they do,” mumbled Charlotte.

“Well, you’re so skinny. Both of you need to eat.”

“I eat plenty. Don’t you worry,” said Declan.

“And I live across the street from Mariska, so you know I’m not going to starve any time soon.”

Charlotte saw Declan’s five o’clock shadow already showing. His hair was dark but his skin was pale for a Florida boy.

“Black Irish?” she asked.

“What’s that?”

“Your name, your hair…I’m guessing you’re Irish?”

“My father was from Dublin. Right off the boat.”

“Was your mother from Ireland as well?”

“My mother was just a plain old American. But Irish and German, I think. I got my height from her side.”

“You
are
tall,” said Charlotte. Declan looked at her and she looked away, embarrassed.

You are tall. What a stupid thing to say.

“I mean, I’m tall so I notice when other people are,” she added.

“What was her name, your mother?” asked Darla.

“Erin.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

The room fell silent, but for the sound of Darla crunching on crackers.

“I should probably go,” said Declan after a minute.

He tried to stand, but it took several rocks back and forth to dislodge himself from the deep cushions of the chair.

“Are you sure?” asked Charlotte, standing with him. “Do you feel okay to drive?”

“I’m fine. Thank you. I appreciate you taking care of me. This just isn’t what I expected to find when I came to your house.”

“No, you expected to find
me
dead,” said Charlotte.

“No—well, yes, I guess I did,” he said, the left side of his mouth hooking into a tiny smile.

He looked at her and she noticed his eyes were a brilliant green with brown edges around the iris.

How did I not see those gems earlier?

She suddenly felt very aware of herself and rushed to squash the uncomfortable silence.

“So, for me, the day turned out better than expected. I’m alive.”

Charlotte raised her hand to cover her mouth, realizing how tactless her statement had been.

“That didn’t come out the way I meant it. I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” said Declan with a chuckle, letting her off the hook. He put out his hand and she shook it, eyes locked on her toes.

“Nice to meet you. Hope to see you again soon,” he said.

“You, too.”

“Nice to meet you, Darla.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Darla, popping another cracker in her mouth. As he headed for the door she met eyes with Charlotte and smiled, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Charlotte wrinkled her nose and waved her away.

As Declan passed the hallway that led to the back of the house he called out to Mariska.

“I’m leaving!” he said. “Thank you for everything!”

Mariska burst out of the bedroom with the dogs exploding forward on either side of her. They raced down the hall and Declan jumped to his right to avoid being trampled.

“Oh, my pleasure dear. You take care of yourself. Do you want a muffin to take home with you?”

“No, thank you.”

Declan offered a last wave to everyone before leaving.

From the door, Charlotte watched him walk down the street to his car.

“He has nice posture,” she said. “I mean, for a tall guy.”

“He has nice a lot of things,” said Darla. “I can tell you his posture wasn’t the first thing I noticed.”