Pineapple Mystery Box: A Pineapple Port Mystery: Book Two (Pineapple Port Mysteries 2)

by Amy Vansant

  Jackie nodded and prepared her well-worn aerobics cassette.

  Charlotte was about to step into the pool when a scream made everyone jump.

  “Fire!”

  Heads in the pool swiveled. Having just launched the water aerobics routine, Jackie pressed the button on her boom box to stop the musical instruction.

  “Smoke!” said Darla, all gazes following her pointing finger toward the sky. A billowing cloud of gray smoke filled the air beyond the roofline of the clubhouse.

  The fire was close.

  “Mariska, I’m going to borrow your golf cart!” said Charlotte.

  “Oooh… Be careful!”

  Wrestling to slip into her cover-up, Charlotte bolted to the parking lot and jumped into the cart, nearly toppling it over as she hooked sharp right onto the street at top speed. She kept her eyes on the column of smoke. The fire was definitely nearby. Definitely in Pineapple Port.

  Sirens blared in the distance as she sped toward a crowd gathering in the street in front of a house. She recognized the drinking parrot on the flag, still working to finish his piña colada.

  Gloria’s house.

  She stopped the cart with a screech of tires.

  “Where’s Gloria?” she yelled.

  Everyone looked around at each other. Gloria was nowhere to be seen.

  “Is she still inside?”

  “Is anyone inside?” said ‘Mac’ MacBrady pulling up on his own golf cart.

  In another life, Mac had been a Boston firefighter. His red golf cart had a siren on top and Pineapple Port Fire Brigade stenciled on the side in gold leaf, compliments of his wife. Charlotte noted that he’d forgotten to turn on the flashing light, but figured they probably didn’t want an honorary fireman who took the time to turn on his toy siren during a real emergency.

  “I just got here but no one seems to know where Gloria is,” she said.

  Mac yanked on the screened porch door and, finding it hook-locked, gave it another mighty tug to pull it free. Striding through the inner portal, he left the flimsy porch door hanging skewed from its hinges. He put his hand on the front door and then tested the knob. It was also locked.

  “Stand back!”

  Mac was a burly man and, well into his sixties, still appeared as though he could carry two people from a burning building, one under each arm. He took a step back and kicked the door near the lock. The door shuddered, but stood strong. On his next kick, the lock splintered from the frame, and he rammed his shoulder into it to finish his attack. As the door gave way, he stumbled inside. Charlotte shadowed him.

  She didn’t see any flames, but a haze of smoke filled the living room. “Check the first bedroom on the right; she’s been hiding there!” she called over the sirens blaring outside as she tried to move past him down the hall.

  Mac thrust out an arm to block her progress and she had to throw on the brakes to avoid being beheaded. He shot her a look that made her rethink her plan.

  “What are you doing in here? Get out!”

  “I had to tell you where she was!”

  Mac grimaced. “Stay behind me. Stay near the front door!”

  Charlotte took a step back and watched as Mac tested the spare bedroom door and tried the knob. Outside, the real fire trucks arrived and cut their sirens.

  “Stand back!” Mac screamed at the door. The bedroom door proved flimsier than the front, giving way with a single kick of Mac’s size twelve tennis shoe. Sneakers weren’t official fireman footwear, but secured to the bottom of his sturdy legs, they got the job done.

  Charlotte heard a scream as Mac disappeared into the bedroom. A moment later, he reappeared with Gloria cradled in his arms like a baby. Gloria’s eyes had gone from bush baby-size to Betty Boop.

  “Is there anyone else?” asked Mac.

  “No, no…what is going on?” said Gloria, clinging to his neck.

  Mac paused in the kitchen, looking like a carved marble firefighting memorial as he surveyed the home for other victims. Gloria slid a hand down his chest, rested her head against his pectoral muscle and smiled.

  “My…you’re so strong…” She winked at Charlotte, who turned away to keep from laughing. Gloria segued from terrified to flirty as easily as shifting a gear. The woman was a puzzle.

  “Charlotte, out!” said Mac as he passed her, unaware that he was being felt up.

  Charlotte spotted the plate of brownies she’d enjoyed the day before and considered saving them. But…something didn’t feel right about Mac risking his life to save Gloria and her popping out behind him with a plate full of brownies. Might be bad for business. She left them.

  Paramedics rushed to take Gloria from Mac. The fire brigade had a hose wrapped to the back of the building. Confident that Gloria was safe, Charlotte followed the hose. She was so intent on her path that she didn’t see a fireman round the corner from the back of the house and they slammed into each other. She stumbled back and then caught her balance. He didn’t seem to budge.

  He removed his helmet.

  He was gorgeous.

  Sexy fireman? How cliché…but…

  He grinned, his gaze sweeping from Charlotte’s eyes to her toes and back again. She did the same to him. He put his helmet on the ground and slipped out of his jacket, revealing a white tank undershirt tight against his muscular chest. She forced her gaze away from him, but it soon swiveled back.

  How predictable. Right? How—

  He lifted both arms to ruffle his sweaty hair, blue veins crisscrossing beneath his tanned skin like a roadmap.

  How…

  Hm.

  How does he make his biceps look like wire cables like that?

  “Hey,” he said, staring at her as if he wanted to sweep her into his arms, carry her away, and ravish her beneath the soft glow of a burning building.

  At least that’s how she read it.

  He reached out, slid his hand from her hip to the small of her back, and led her away from the fire.

  “Miss, you should probably stay clear of the area.”

  She allowed him to guide her to the sidewalk.

  “Um, is it bad?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “The fire.”

  “Oh, right.” He shook his head. “It’s out. It was a cardboard box full of leaves in the middle of her backyard. Someone lit it on fire. Lot of smoke.”

  “Can you tell what started it?”

  “Depends…do you want to get a drink some time? I’m Jason.” He thrust out his hand and Charlotte shook it.

  Why did things like this never happen before she had a boyfriend?

  “I’m Charlotte.”

  “That’s a pretty name.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So how about that drink?”

  “Oh… That’s really sweet of you but I can’t. I have a boyfriend…I think…”

  Damn.

  She hadn’t meant to say the last bit out loud. A little thief named doubt had stolen her confidence in her new relationship with Declan. She cringed to realize how easily she’d betrayed her insecurity and shot the fireman a look, hoping he hadn’t heard.

  He was already laughing, his hazel eyes twinkling with flecks of gray. “You think? Sounds like a lousy boyfriend.”

  She raised her palms and shook her head as a mea culpa. “No, I do have a boyfriend… I don’t know why I said that. But, seriously, do you know how the fire started?”

  Change the subject back to the fire…there you go…

  “Seriously, I’ll tell you if you’ll get a drink with me. One tiny cocktail.”

  She smiled and hoped she wasn’t blushing. She didn’t often come in contact with men her own age, but she couldn’t let one handsome fireman throw her into a tizzy. “Come on. Just tell me. What started the fire?”

  He crossed his arms across his chest, the grin never leaving his face. “I don’t think so…”

  She shrugged. “Fine. I guess you probably couldn’t tell what started it…”

  Hi
s smile dissolved like a sand castle swallowed by the rising tide. Apparently he didn’t like having his prowess questioned.

  A person didn’t have to be a private eye to unravel the mystery of the male ego.

  “I know how it started,” he said, a little too loudly. “Someone filled a box with a bunch of brush and set it on fire. Bam!” He threw an imaginary object to the ground and lifted his splayed fingers into the air to create the effect of an explosion. “And no accelerant was used. How about them apples? Shazam! See? I know all this stuff.”

  “So it was intentional? Like…fire vandalism?”

  Or a like sending a message…

  “Yep. The lady in this house might want to watch out.”

  Charlotte looked away, her mind whirring. She knew Gloria hadn’t been burning leaves. Someone was trying to send her a message. First a note, then a fire. Things were ramping up…what next?

  “So pick you up around five?”

  She returned her attention to Jason. “What?”

  “Drinks? Around five?”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry. But I really do appreciate your help.”

  He rubbed his hand on his chest as if trying to draw her attention to all she would be missing. “Stickin’ with the maybe boyfriend, eh? Well, if you ever figure out if you’re dating anyone or not, stop by the Stone Yard and ask for Jason. That’s where I work.”

  “The Stone Yard? Is it a bar?”

  “No, it’s a real stone yard. We sell stones. Like, for landscaping.”

  He pointed to a truck parked on the curb with The Stone Yard emblazoned on the side.

  “I thought you were a fireman?”

  “Volunteer.”

  “Oh.”

  Charlotte spotted Mariska and Darla headed in her direction. Jason followed her gaze and then turned back to her.

  “Well, maybe I’ll see you,” he said opening his truck’s door. A landslide of soda cans, wadded fast food wrappers and spare clothing poured from the seat to the ground at Charlotte’s feet. She stared at the pile, noticing two nudie magazines splayed with the rest of the rubble. The page edges on both were curled and worn.

  Jason dropped to a squat to snatch the trash into his arms before throwing it back into the truck. He slammed the door to keep the rising tide of junk at bay.

  “I share this truck with all the guys at the yard. They’re kind of a mess,” he said, appearing flustered.

  Charlotte nodded.

  “Sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you around.” He jogged to the other side of the truck to hop in. The truck roared to life and he drove off.

  “Who was that?” asked Mariska arriving beside her.

  “Fireman Jason.”

  She strolled to where she’d left Mariska’s golf cart parked and Darla joined them there. “How did you two get here?”

  “We hopped a ride on Julia’s cart,” said Darla. “I saw that guy you were talking to. That fireman was smokin’.”

  “Ba dum dum. I guess; if you like that beefcake kind of thing.”

  “So what happened?” asked Mariska. “Is Gloria okay?”

  “She’s fine. Jason said someone set a fire in her backyard.”

  “Oh Jason did, did he?” asked Darla, a teasing lilt in her voice.

  “Yes, Jason did. He’s a fireman. That’s what they do. Anyway, Gloria was asleep in the spare room. Mac broke in there and pulled her out.”

  “Mac? Speaking of hunks…” mumbled Darla.

  “You smell like smoke,” said Mariska.

  “I went in too.”

  “Oh Charlotte…are you crazy? In that gauzy cover-up? You could have gone up like a Roman candle!”

  “The fire was outside. Just the smoke was inside.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t know that when you went in.”

  Charlotte shrugged and changed the subject.

  “Someone is trying to scare Gloria. First she gets a threatening letter and now someone’s tried to burn down her house. Or at least imply that they could burn down her house.”

  They turned to look at Gloria, who sat on the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask over her face. She waved to them and they waved back.

  “I need to talk to her,” said Charlotte.

  “She looks a little busy right now.”

  “I guess it can wait…” As if on cue, paramedics removed her mask.

  Nope. Can’t wait.

  “Just a second…”

  She jogged over to the ambulance.

  “Gloria, you weren’t burning leaves in your backyard, were you?”

  “No! The firemen asked me that, too. Why would I burn leaves? I have a lawn service. And where would I get leaves? I don’t have trees that drop leaves. Isn’t that supposed to be one of the perks of retiring in Florida?”

  Charlotte thought about Jason’s description of the fire. He’d said someone had set ablaze a box of leaves. The person who set the fire must have carted his own fuel.

  “I’m afraid this fire might be related to your threat.”

  “Frank said he can’t give me police protection. He says he thinks it’s kids.”

  “I know. He might change his mind now. Either way, I’d like to help you.”

  “Because you’re a detective now?”

  “Trying to be. It isn’t official yet. But I really want to help you, okay?”

  “I’d like that. This would be exciting if I wasn’t so scared.”

  “Do you have family you could go to visit for a while?”

  “No. My only boy is in Germany. He works for one of those techy firms.”

  “Okay. Well…maybe later today we could talk if you feel up to it?”

  She nodded. “I don’t think they’re taking me to the hospital. I told them I’m fine, thanks to Mac.” Her eyes darted left and right and she leaned towards Charlotte, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you ever notice how big and strong Mac is?”

  Charlotte laughed. “Easy there… He’s married.”

  “I heard she was having heart trouble.”

  “Gloria! What a thing to say!”

  “I’m not wishing her dead! It was just the last bit of gossip I heard about her. My goodness…” She patted her chest and looked flustered. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Of course not.” Charlotte eyed her, and she looked away. “Well, we’ll talk in a bit.”

  Charlotte patted her on the knee and walked back to Darla and Mariska. The three of them piled onto Mariska’s golf cart and headed for home. They’d had enough excitement for one morning.

  They could skip water aerobics.

  Chapter Seven

  The loud rapping of knuckles on glass made Declan jump. Seamus was standing outside his car, banging to get his attention.

  He lowered the window.

  “What?”

  “You think Stephanie took the napkin?”

  “Yes. Now let me go. I have to get to the shop and check.”

  “I’m coming with.”

  Seamus jogged behind the car to keep Declan from pulling out of the driveway and then let himself in the passenger door.

  “Why are you coming? I’m not bringing you back. You’ll be stranded at the shop all day.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

  “Really? What about house hunting?”

  Seamus stared at his nails as if they needed a buff. “What’s that now?”

  Declan sighed and slammed his car into reverse. He reached the Hock o’ Bell in record time and jumped out of the car. Fiddling with his keys in the lock for what felt like an eternity, the door finally gave way and he punched in his alarm code before bolting to his office.

  He was staring at the frame on the wall when he felt Seamus enter the room.

  “It’s still there!” said Seamus pointing at the framed napkin. “Tragedy averted.”

  “No. It’s not the right napkin. She switched it. That’s a napkin from our favorite restaurant.”r />
  “Our favorite restaurant? I didn’t know we had one.”

  “Stephanie and me. We used to get takeout from a little Italian place, Romanesque’s, every Friday. It’s a napkin from there.”

  “How’s the pizza? We should get it some time.”

  “It’s been closed for years.”

  “Then how did she—”

  “I told you she’s nuts. She plans. She’s probably had that napkin in a jar next to her eye of newt just waiting for the moment it would come in handy.”

  “Eye of newt?”

  “It’s a witch thing.”

  “Oh.”

  Seamus grunted and scratched his head. “Well, for what it’s worth, it’s a lovely frame.”

  “I’m going to kill her. How did she break in here? I have an alarm system!”

  “She probably didn’t break in. She probably had someone distract you while she slipped back here and switched the napkins.”

  “But I have a—”

  Declan recalled entering the store.

  No bell. He hadn’t heard the familiar jingle of his door bell.

  And here was Seamus, who’d also entered the shop without a sound.

  No bell.

  “Looking for something?” said a voice behind them.

  Both men turned to find Stephanie standing at the threshold of the office. She’d entered like a ghost. No warning.

  No bell.

  Declan felt his face pinch, eyes narrowing. “I guess it would be too much to ask you to wear the bell you stole from my door?”

  “Like a naughty kitty?” she asked in a low, sexy voice.

  “Oh my,” said Seamus.

  “I didn’t steal your bell,” she added, turning and pointing to the front of the store. Declan followed her gesture and spotted the tiny gold bell hanging in its usual place above the door.

  “I did get a new necklace though,” she added, shaking the thin chain around her neck.

  Hanging from it was the bell’s clapper.

  “Well look at you,” said Seamus, grinning. “You would have been just my type when I was a younger man. Nutty as a squirrel’s winter nest.”

  Stephanie rolled her eyes. “I’ve done May-December romances, old man, but I’m afraid you don’t fit the bill. Or should I say, you can’t pay the bills.”

  Seamus licked the fingers on his left hand and smoothed the hair above his ear. He stepped toward Stephanie and leaned in close. She stood her ground, as if to prove he didn’t scare her.