by Amy Vansant
“But what’s this about the uncle? You think he did it? It still has to be George don’t you think?”
Charlotte shook her head. “We don’t know. We were just playing Dateline. On that show it’s always the husband or the boyfriend, and Seamus was dating her, that’s all. It’s hardly evidence.”
“That and the insurance money,” said Mariska.
Charlotte kicked her under the table.
“Ow! What?”
“What insurance money?” asked Harry.
Mariska rubbed her leg. Her face fell as Harry asked his question.
“Oh,” she said.
“Nothing,” said Charlotte. “Leave it to the real police.”
Harry turned on her, his mouth set in a short, tight line.
“I am real police.”
“Not anymore,” said Charlotte. “Not officially. You found the bullet and that was great, but don’t start any rumors about Seamus. You know how this neighborhood can get. We were just playing, coming up with alternative theories.”
“Playing Dateline.”
“Exactly.”
“You know none of those people are detectives. They’re talking heads and half-assed reporters.”
“Don’t get wound up about it, Harry. We just don’t want the neighborhood buzzing with rumors.”
Harry stood.
“I don’t gossip.” He held their gazes a moment longer and then returned to his table, sitting with his back to the group.
“Poor Harry,” said Mariska. “He just wants to be useful.”
“You can’t start rumors,” said Charlotte. “No more talking about our theories unless we’re alone in your house.”
Mariska nodded. Then her eyes lit up.
“What is it?” asked Charlotte. “Did you think of something?”
“No!” said Mariska, pointing. “Here come the eggs! I’m starving!”
Charlotte spotted the waiter approaching with their covered tray of breakfast foods. She was about to turn and pull her napkin to her lap, when she noticed a familiar figure sitting at a table on the other side of the room.
“Seamus,” she said.
“You said we can’t talk about it here,” mumbled Mariska, watching the waiter reveal their menagerie of delight the way a raccoon might eyeball a lidless trashcan.
“No, Seamus,” repeated Charlotte in a hissed whisper. “He’s over there in the corner.”
Mariska’s and Darla’s gazes tore away from the food.
“He’s with Jackie!” said Darla. “He’s over there canoodling with Jackie!”
“Well that’s nice,” said Mariska, pulling a sausage link from the tray to her plate. “She’s been alone for a while now. They make a nice couple.”
“A nice couple!” screeched Darla. She glanced around to see if her yelp had garnered any attention and then leaned in to continue at a lower volume. “He might be the murderer, remember?”
“Oh. That wouldn’t be good.” Mariska looked at Jackie as she slipped a chunk of sausage in her mouth.
“No, that would be bad.”
“I have better sausage than this,” said Mariska, chewing. “I bought sausage the other day you can only get in Michigan. It is the most wonderful thing you’ve ever eaten.”
“Did you order it online?” asked Darla.
“No, I got it at the store.”
“You said you can only get it in Michigan.”
“You can only get it in Michigan. I don’t know how I got it here.”
Darla opened her mouth to continue and then shut it. She looked at Charlotte, who could only shake her head. She constantly marveled at how easily her two friends were distracted. She must have absorbed that behavior herself through osmosis.
“So do we tell Jackie? Do we warn her that her new beau might be a gun-totin’ maniac?”
Charlotte sighed and shrugged.
Darla scooped scrambled eggs in slow motion, her mind clearly elsewhere as she left a trail of fluffy yellow crumbles to her plate.
“I don’t want to start trouble but I also don’t want to find Jackie skinned alive.”
“Skinned alive?” said Mariska, stabbing another sausage. “You think he’d do that?”
“It’s a figure of speech,” said Darla.
“Where? Where is suggesting a man might skin your friend alive a figure of speech?”
“Kentucky. And I thought you didn’t like those sausages…”
“You two!” said Charlotte, finally reaching the end of her rope. “We have a problem here. Jackie could be in danger. Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to Declan first?”
“But that’s his uncle,” said Darla. “I don’t see that conversation going well.”
“No,” agreed Charlotte. “Me neither. It’s bad enough he just found out his mother is dead. Maybe we can just plant the seed in Jackie’s head.”
“Plant the seed that her boyfriend wants to kill her?” asked Mariska.
“That’s a hell of a seed. Maybe we should just slap warning lights on the man and hit the sirens,” said Darla.
“What does that even mean?” asked Charlotte.
Darla shrugged. “You know. I dunno. Whatever.”
Charlotte took a piece of bacon from the communal platter. “I just want this mystery solved so everything can go back to normal. Get Frank to hurry up, will you?”
Darla chuckled. “I don’t think he’s moving that fast today, darlin’.”
Charlotte’s eyes darted back to Jackie and Seamus between each bite of what little breakfast she ate. The two appeared friendly. Jackie couldn’t stop laughing and she made a point to lightly slap Seamus’ arm after every other thing he said. She assumed it was Jackie he’d left to see the night she visited Declan, as she’d suspected. The man moved fast. He hadn’t been in town for more than a day and he already had a girlfriend.
He had good taste. Jackie was barely sixty and appeared in her early fifties. She was smart and funny and widowed over six years. Matchmaking efforts had failed in the past; Jackie never clicked with any of the neighborhood widowers. It made Charlotte happy to see her with someone.
On the other hand, she’d always hoped Jackie would find someone a little less murdery.
Chapter Twenty-One
“That was a lovely breakfast,” said Seamus as he and Jackie strolled away from the Pineapple Port community center. “Thank you.”
“Do you think anyone saw you?”
“I know Declan’s lady did. Her eyes followed me like she was a trailer hitched to my truck.”
“Declan’s lady? In there?”
“The young one. Tall, pretty…”
“Oh, Charlotte!”
Jackie stopped, her eyes wide with surprise and placed her hand on his chest. Seamus flexed his pecs, first the left and then the right. Jackie snatched her hand back, blushing.
Still got it.
“You didn’t tell me they were a thing!” she said.
“I don’t know that they are…yet. I might be tellin’ tales out of school, but I’d bet dollars to cents that they will be.”
“That’s wonderful. She’s a nice girl. And she’s been alone almost as long as—” Jackie cut short and began to walk again.
“As long as what? As long as summer’s day?”
“Yes. As long as a summer’s day.”
Jackie slipped her tiny hand in his and he watched her as they walked. The side of her mouth curled in a smile. With her face tilted down, and that grin growing, she looked like Erin might, had she lived to grow old with him. The second he’d met Jackie, he’d known his return to Charity had been the right move.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said, leaning towards her and whispering in her ear.
She giggled.
“Do you ever say a single sentence that isn’t some colorful turn of phrase?”
“I’m Irish, dear, we’re a colorful people.”
“You only have a hint of accent left, but it’s beautiful. You must have
really charmed the ladies in Miami.”
“Oh, they were dying to meet me. Linin’ up around the block, they were.”
“How is it you’re still single?”
“I’m one of those unlucky leprechauns, I guess.”
Jackie giggled again. She put her free hand over mouth to stifle her laugh and stopped walking. Still holding Seamus’ hand with her left, she stared into his eyes.
“I should go,” she said. “I have things I need to do today. Water aerobics is at ten thirty.”
She said the phrase water aerobics as if it were as joyful a task as mucking a horse stall.
“Well, thank you again for the invite, my love,” said Seamus, raising her hand to kiss it.
Jackie blushed and looked away from him as his lips touched the back of her hand. She smelled like lilacs.
“I’ll see you soon?” she asked.
“Very soon. The story of life is quicker than the blink of an eye, the story of love is hello, goodbye.”
“That’s lovely. Is that from one of your Irish poets?”
“Jimi Hendrix.”
Jackie grinned and twirled on her heel to leave. He remained in place as she walked toward her home. She looked over her shoulder and offered a wave as she left. He waved then, and twice more when she glanced to see if he was still watching. She turned the corner and disappeared behind a little white home with a giant metal crane in the front yard.
Lord, they love their lawn ornaments in this place.
“You’re a fast mover!” said a voice.
Seamus turned to find a man striding towards him. He recognized him as the fellow from the meeting Declan had taken him to about Erin’s discovery.
The man with the bullet.
Harry.
“What’s that now?” he asked, forcing a smile to his face. He didn’t like the man’s tone but he’d always found you caught more flies with honey, a saying he knew was also not Irish. It didn’t make any sense. Who wanted to catch flies? And more importantly, if you had some nice honey, why would you want it full of flies?
“I mean with Jackie there,” said Harry, stopping. He sounded out of breath, as if he’d been trying hard to catch them. “You two seem to have hit it off very quickly.”
Seamus thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “A woman as charming as she, is like a four-leaf clover.”
“Lucky? Lucky to have found you? Something to be plucked?”
Seamus laughed. “I meant hard to find. Though I like your first interpretation better I think.”
Harry mimicked Seamus by slipping his own hands in his pockets, trying very hard to appear non-threatening and casual. Seamus decided he trusted the man even less.
“You used to live around here?” asked Harry.
“I did.”
“I don’t remember you, but I didn’t know that many people in the area back then. What made you come back?”
“I was retired. Miami held no charms for me anymore and I missed my nephew.”
“Right…Declan. Horrible about his mother, isn’t it? She would have been your sister-in-law, right? It must have been awful when she went missing. Were you here when it happened?”
“I was.”
“Were you close? I mean, your brother was dead by then, right? It was probably nice to have you nearby to do man-chores, paint and change oil, that sort of thing. Maybe help with Declan? Boy needs a man in his life…”
“She was a lovely girl.”
“Right. Of course she was. Terrible. Is that what made you move to Miami after that? The whole terrible situation?”
Seamus studied the man. He seemed very familiar with the timeline of his living situations. He also seemed pale, even to an Irishman. A fine sheen of sweat covered him from head to toe.
“I moved for a million reasons. I was young. Bit of a rolling stone.”
“Uh huh. Is Erin’s death what made you become a cop?”
Seamus ran his tongue over his teeth and pondered Harry’s question for a moment before answering.
“It could be that injustice made me want to help others.”
“Plus you get to play with guns! Right?”
Seamus smirked. “Is that why you became a police officer, Harry? To play with guns?”
“How’d you know…” Harry’s face twisted tight for a moment and then released. “Oh, that’s right you were at the meeting. I probably mentioned I was an experienced cold case officer.”
“Couple times.”
Seamus tried to smile, but knew by the look on Harry’s face his attempt at levity had appeared more like a sneer. He was tired of this buffoon and his clumsy interrogation style. Even Irish charm needed some morsel to feed it.
“No, I was always about the puzzles,” said Harry, rocking back and forth, toe to heel. “I never had any interest in the violence. Just the puzzles.”
Seamus pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms across his chest. He knew the posture might appear threatening, but he was trying to hold himself back. The urge to head-butt this man was becoming impossible to resist.
“That’s the funny thing about violence, isn’t it?” said Seamus. “Sometimes it has an interest in you.”
Harry nodded vigorously, took his hands out of his own pockets and rubbed his right bicep with his left hand. After a moment he stretched, bending side to side.
“Yeah…but me, I like the puzzles. Anyway, that’s why I’m trying to help solve what happened to your sister-in-law. I’ll be honest with you, I was thinking maybe you had some insight.”
“I don’t. What insight I had failed me years ago.”
Harry ceased his impromptu calisthenics. “But if you told me what you know, maybe I would see something different? Since I’m not so close to the case?”
Seamus shook his head. He based the style of his head shake on the way his friend, officer Johnny Lima, had reacted back in two thousand three, when Seamus asked him if his partner had survived a shooting in the Overtown section of Miami. It was a slow headshake, full of regret. Remembering Johnny and mimicking the sadness of that response kept him from wanting to grab Harry by the throat.
“I really don’t know anything that can help you. I’m sorry. But if something jogs my memory, I’ll be sure to find you.”
“Great. Do you want me to jot down my phone number?”
“I won’t have any trouble finding you. I know where you live.”
Harry jerked back his head. “You do?”
Seamus held his arms out to his sides, palms up, unlocking the grin he’d been struggling to find.
“Of course, I do! Pineapple Port!”
“Oh, right!” Harry offered a weak chuckle. “Well, it was nice to see you again.”
Harry thrust out a hand to shake and Seamus took it.
“Good strong handshake you have there,” said Harry, wincing.
“Nice to talk to you, Harry. Good luck with your cold case.”
“Thanks.”
They remained standing until Harry offered a quick nod and headed back towards the community center.
Seamus watched him scurry away.
“Eejit,” he muttered.
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.