by Amy Vansant
A rat. That’s what I am now, right?
He tried taking another deep breath.
Whoever said breathing exercises calmed the nerves clearly had less important things to worry about.
Looking to the left he saw Charlotte in her driveway, resting her face against her hand, staring with her one uncovered eye where he knew a broken bottle of butterscotch liquor lay smashed. In her other hand she held a hose. She stood that way until he reached her house. She looked up and jumped at the sight of him.
“You’re back.”
“I am. I see you hung on my every word and locked yourself safely in the house.”
“I had to pick up the glass,” she said, motioning towards a lumpy trash bag sitting against the side of the house. “Just finished hosing the gunk into the grass. The ants are going to think they’ve died and gone to ant heaven.”
“And wake up with terrible little ant hangovers.”
“I can only hope I made the right decision. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’ve experienced a butterscotch schnapps attack.”
“Really? That is surprising. I figured you trailer park girls were swimming in the stuff.”
Charlotte chuckled. “So what brings you back to my neck of the swamp? I thought you were mad at me.”
“I’m not mad…I’m agitated. Not at you, with your suspicions.”
“Did you even leave? You weren’t watching me from behind the bushes, protecting me from evil, were you?”
“No, I…I thought about what you said and you’re right, the circumstantial case against Seamus is…compelling. I’m sorry for the way I reacted.”
“Oh don’t apologize! I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you at all. I just—”
Declan watched as Charlotte’s gaze shifted from his eyes and focused behind him. He turned and flexed, expecting to find Brad bolting up the driveway towards him, brandishing a bottle of Goldschläger.
“Hey, Charlotte,” said a man at the foot of the driveway.
Declan didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t Brad. He was older and taller, a bit pudgy around the middle.
Charlotte gasped and he turned to see what face accompanied such a noise. Elation? Shock? Horror? He studied her expression and settled on surprise…with a touch of something else. Concern?
“Junior? Is that you?” she asked, her eyes darting in Declan’s direction.
The man waved.
“Yep. Came by to support Dad through this bullshit. Mom’s a mess, as you can imagine.”
“Right. Of course, um…” Charlotte looked at Declan and he could see she was at a loss for words. He turned to introduce himself, but before he could take a step, Charlotte found her voice and blurted her next sentence like a warning.
“Junior this is Declan. He’s the son of the woman I found.”
Charlotte’s tone made Declan pause. Junior’s face went ashen and he heard the man’s last comment replay in his head.
Came by to support Dad through this bullshit…
Declan swallowed. Junior began to raise a hand as if to shake, but thought better of it and let his hand fall. He nodded to Declan.
“I’m really sorry about your mother, but I can promise you my father isn’t responsible,” he said.
Declan offered stiff nod of his own. He couldn’t imagine the appropriate response.
“I haven’t seen you in forever,” said Charlotte, clearing her throat. “Are you staying long?”
“No,” Junior wiped the sweat from his brow and took a step backwards into the street. “You know I hate this place.”
“You escaped young.”
“You’re still here I see.”
“Oh, well, you know. The closer I get to retirement the more it seems senseless to leave.”
Junior smiled. “What are you, twenty-five now?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Ancient. I remember when you were a little kid running around. Get back to me when you turn forty.”
“You had a kid last I heard?”
“Yep, two. Just had another girl last April.”
“Still living in Philadelphia?”
“Boston now. Got a new job up there.”
“Oh, well, good for you.”
“You married?” his gaze shifted from Charlotte to Declan and back again.
“Me? No. Got a dog though, if that counts.”
“Sounds good to me. Believe me. Two kids are a handful.”
“No doubt.”
“Well, good to see you, Char.”
Junior waved again and with a last nod towards Declan, continued his neighborhood walk.
“Good to see you. Have a safe trip back.”
Junior nodded without turning.
Declan turned and met eyes with Charlotte.
“George’s son,” he said.
Charlotte nodded. “Junior. I hope it wasn’t rude to call him that; it’s all anyone ever called him around here.”
“Probably half the reason he wanted to leave.”
“I’m sure now he goes by—”
Charlotte stopped and looked towards Junior’s retreating form, her lips still poised to say the word that came a moment later.
“George.”
“Hence the ‘Junior,’ right?” said Declan, wondering where that beautifully complex mind of hers had gone this time. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m doing math in my head,” mumbled Charlotte. “I hate math.”
“Can’t say I’m a fan.”
“Your mother was in her early thirties when she went missing. She was young for George Senior, but George Junior might have been a more logical match as a boyfriend.”
Declan scowled and looked down the street, a small part of him yearning to run after the man. He wanted to grab all the possible suspects and throw them into a building until someone confessed. The building he’d require to achieve this just kept getting bigger and bigger.
“You think that guy killed my mother? You think my mother dated him?”
“George, Junior had access to the foot of his father’s orange tree.”
“What?”
“The love letters were signed George. It could have been either one of them. He probably wouldn’t have signed them Junior if he was trying to be more grown up, especially dating an older woman.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You just got done telling me all signs point to my uncle, and now you’re saying it might be that guy?”
“I don’t know! We have to consider the possibility.”
Declan ran both hands through his hair and stared into the sky.
“Oh Charlotte,” he said with a groan.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I really wish you’d come up with this theory about an hour earlier.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You what?” asked Charlotte, her voice rising towards a screech. Declan had asked her to step inside and they stood in her living room. Abby sat nestled in the corner of the sofa, staring at them from beneath heavy lids.
“I gave Seamus’ gun to Frank for ballistics testing.”
“What gun? His police gun?”
“No, he had a gun out on his bed when I went home. He said he bought it here, years ago.”
“To kill your mother?”
“Yes. Of course. He said, ‘What’s that Declan? Oh that old thing? That’s just the gun I bought to kill your mother.’”
“I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. But really…maybe it wasn’t that weird since you came home to find him with a gun lying around willy-nilly on the bed.”
“Willy-nilly? Charlotte, you really have to start hanging out with people your own age.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he got it at the pawnshop shortly after Mom went missing. It used to be his, you know, the pawnshop.”
“He gave the shop to you?”
“He sold it to his partner, Bonehead. He came over from Ireland with Seamus and my father. Seamus sold his ha
lf of the shop at a rock-bottom price, with the understanding that if Bone died, he’d leave it to me in his will. The guy didn’t have any kids, so he was fine with that. He died young. Cancer.”
“Bonehead?”
Declan pointed to his own head. “He had a lumpy skull. Liked to hit things with it.”
“Things?”
“Other people, mostly. It’s an Irish thing.”
Charlotte closed her eyes and raised her eyebrows, shaking her head. She had a headache. She needed an aspirin. She spotted two sitting on the counter where Al had emptied his pockets.
That’ll do.
She popped them into her mouth and poured a glass of water to wash them down.
“Okaaay… Did your uncle say why he took the gun?”
“Maybe to protect himself…maybe to kill the person who killed Mom, I don’t know. I didn’t get into a whole conversation about it.”
“Why not?”
“I think before I even realized my intentions, I was trying to play it cool in hopes he’d leave the gun behind. He was getting ready to go swimming with Jackie and he’d put the gun in a drawer.”
“With Jackie!” Charlotte flopped on the sofa next to the wheaten, who lifted her head in annoyance and then collapsed back down on the pillow.
“Tell me he didn’t take the gun with him to see Jackie.”
“No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He left the gun and I started thinking about what you said—about him being the perfect suspect. Next thing I know I’m taking the gun to Frank for testing. I felt like a robot on cruise control.”
“Holy moly. It was the right thing to do but maybe you should have asked him? It seems kind of sneaky. I’m sort of impressed and horrified the same time.”
“Join the club.”
Declan sat on the wooden folding chair that was making a poor attempt to fill a corner of the room. He couldn’t decide if he really felt the need to sit or if he just felt sorry for it.
“He’s going to be mad,” said Charlotte, tilting her head back on the cushion and staring at the ceiling.
“I know. But I was afraid he’d say no and the gun would go missing. I had to know; I couldn’t miss my chance…but I feel terrible.”
He wobbled back and forth, testing the strength of the rickety chair.
“Can I please bring you some furniture from the shop? This is ridiculous.”
“You can sit over here. I can kick Abby off the sofa.”
“No. She’s the only other person in the room who could be less comfortable than me on this thing.”
Charlotte looked up and smiled. “You called her a person.”
Declan shrugged a tapped his knuckle against his lips, thinking.
“I should tell him now.”
“Who? Seamus? Tell him you just gave his gun to Frank?”
“Yes. It would make me feel a little less dirty and I could judge his reaction. See if he looks worried.”
“He’ll probably be mad, innocent or not, so I’m not sure how good a gauge that will be.”
Charlotte sat up straight. “But you said he was swimming with Jackie! We can go to the pool, you can tell him what you did, and I can check on Jackie. Two birds, one trip.”
“It pains me that you think he could hurt Jackie.”
Charlotte pulled down the corner of her mouth, but remained silent. Declan thought for a moment and then slapped his hands on his thighs.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Declan headed for his car but Charlotte waved him towards her golf cart. Everyone in Pineapple Port had a golf cart, and Charlotte’s was cherry red with Sweet Charlotte painted on the side in gold script. Declan had never noticed the detailing before and stopped to study it.
“I know. It’s awful. Mariska had it detailed for me as a birthday gift one year. Don’t even say it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” said Declan, sitting in the passenger seat. “I think it’s sweet, Charlotte.”
Charlotte punched his thigh and he grinned.
With Charlotte’s foot pressing the pedal to the floor, it took two minutes to reach the pool. They heard the sound of laughter as they approached. Declan saw his uncle and Jackie in the center of the pool. Seamus picked her up and whirled her around in the water.
Charlotte and Declan paused and watched them frolic until the waterlogged couple ended locked in an embrace, kissing.
“Oh god. I’ll never unsee that,” said Declan, covering his eyes.
Charlotte went ahead and he followed, averting his gaze as they approached. He didn’t see anyone else in the pool area.
“Seamus!” he called.
Seamus removed his lips from Jackie’s and turned toward the voice.
“Declan! What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you. Can you come over to the edge?”
“Can’t it wait?”
“No.”
Seamus looked at Jackie, shrugged, and began wading towards the edge. Charlotte patted Declan on the shoulder and whispered good luck before splitting off to walk toward Jackie.
“What is it?” asked Seamus. “I’m kind of busy here. It’s not her fault. I’m irresistible.”
“I have to tell you something.”
Seamus stared, silent. Declan swallowed and squat down so he could lower his voice.
“I…um…you know that gun you had on the bed?”
“What about it?”
Declan took a deep breath and decided to confess the way one might rip off a Band-Aid; quickly and cleanly.
“I gave it to Frank.”
“Frank? Frank who?”
“The Sheriff.”
“Why?”
“Because it was brought to my attention that when it comes to suspects in Mom’s murder, you fit perfectly. You had motive, access and possibly the weapon.”
Seamus’ eyes grew wide and his lip curled into a snarl. He reached up and grabbed Declan by the lapels with both hands, yanking him forward. Declan scrambled to catch himself but fell face-first into the water. He scrambled to find his feet and pushed away from his uncle, feeling no resistance. He stood and wiped off his face, sputtering, ready for the next attack.
Seamus stood facing him, breathing heavily. From the corner of his eye he saw Charlotte running towards them. He heard Jackie calling Seamus’ name as she waded toward their end of the pool.
“Why would you do that?” barked Seamus.
“I had to know!”
Seamus took a step forward and Declan raised his fists.
The large smile on Seamus’ face took a moment to register. Declan lowered his hands a few inches.
“Why are you smiling? You’re messing with my head. Cut it out.”
“I’m smiling because I would have had to know, too.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No. Not really. It’s always a little annoying when someone suspects you killed their mother. Particularly, when that woman also happened to be the love of your life…but it showed courage.”
“To sneak behind your back?”
“True enough, I wish you’d just asked me. I would have given you the bleedin’ gun. But it took courage to search for answers you might not want to know.”
Declan’s shoulders unbunched. He took a deep breath.
“You are a puzzle,” he said.
“Being unpredictable keeps you alive!” said Seamus, slapping the water.
“So we don’t have anything to worry about?”
Seamus shook his head and then stopped and knit his brow. “Well, now that you mention it…that might not be entirely true.”
“Why?”
“The gun is unregistered and the serial numbers have been rubbed away.”
“Seriously? Did you do that?”
“I refuse to answer on the grounds that it may have definitely been me.”
“You said you got it at the pawnshop. The gun had to be registered.”
“Oh I’m sure it was when it came in, b
ut once I appropriated it for my own use…”
“And what was your idea there?”
“I had my reasons. But those reasons had nothing to do with your mother.”
“Frank was going to run the test himself. Maybe he won’t even ask about it. I didn’t tell him it was your gun.”
“Really? Trying to protect your old uncle?”
“No. I just thought I might want to kill you myself if it came back positive.”
“Fair enough.”
Seamus lunged forward, grabbing him by the neck, and they wrestled to push each other under water. Once they’d tested each other’s strength, they separated, both trying to clear the water from their eyes and noses. Declan found Charlotte staring at him from the side of the pool. She was squatting, dragging her fingertips along the pavement.
“Boys are so stupid,” she said.
“You said it,” said Jackie. “What are you two going on about?”
“So, who gave you this cockamamie idea about me?” asked Seamus, ignoring Jackie’s question and looking hard at Charlotte, his eyebrows raised.
“Dateline,” she admitted. “But I guess everything is going to be okay?”
“Right as rain,” said Seamus, wading over to Jackie and putting his arm around her. He was about to walk back towards the center of the pool when he turned.
“Oh, hey, Charlotte. Did you find some pills at your house? Al said he might have left some there by accident. When he emptied his pockets?”
“He did—I actually just took them. I had a little headache. Did he want them back?”
Seamus looked at Jackie and then back at Charlotte.
“Uh…no. Don’t worry about it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“When do you think Frank will have the results?” asked Charlotte as they pulled into her driveway. Declan sat next to her, his wet polo sticking to his shapely chest like a wet suit. It was not an unpleasant effect.
“He said he’d rush it. He left right after I gave it to him but I don’t know how long it takes to get the results.”
Declan stepped out of the golf cart and looked at his car. He scowled, and Charlotte realized he didn’t want to get his car wet.