Pineapple Disco

by Amy Vansant

  I watched Declan take her gun.

  But who would believe a pretty, wounded attorney shot the man in the doorway and the man lying in the parking lot?

  “Stephanie said another gang showed up?”

  “Yeah, well, she guessed they were a rival gang. She doesn’t know for sure, of course.”

  “Of course. How could she?” Charlotte wondered if Frank could hear the sarcasm in her voice. He plowed ahead, apparently oblivious.

  “That friend of yours is going to be in the paper for her bravery.”

  Charlotte straightened. “What? Who? Stephanie?”

  Frank nodded. “I’ve had reporters calling all morning trying to reach her. Want to ask her if she was scared, staying behind to protect the rest of you while you escaped. She might have saved you and Darla.”

  “I still don’t trust that girl,” mumbled Mariska.

  Charlotte felt her mood darken. She’d been the one who tricked the bad guys into the swamp. Stephanie stayed behind because she thought she could talk her way out. She didn’t want to get picked off with the rest of them in the tunnel. That was the opposite of bravery.

  “You heard about how I tricked those guys into the swamp, right?” she asked.

  Frank stood to get himself some coffee. “What’s that?”

  Charlotte slumped in her chair. There were so many stories circulating she didn’t want to provide any more information until she could keep things straight. The more they all talked, the more likely they’d end up in trouble. She was starting to feel guilty of something and wasn’t sure why.

  Watching Declan take that gun makes me an accessory to something, doesn’t it?

  She sighed. “Never mind.”

  Frank held up his index finger. “Oh, and we got confirmation that the guy you tied to the bar was definitely mixed up in the drug trade.”

  “Mm.” Charlotte’s gaze fell to the floor, musing what that man had seen after the truck crashing through the front door and gunfire awoke him. He could have seen everything. Either way, he probably wasn’t saying much.

  Probably for the best.

  Like a little girl, she wanted to confess everything to Frank, sit back, and wait for him to make everything better. Too bad she was no little girl confessing to accidentally breaking a vase anymore. She had unexplained murders and drug lord attacks needing sorting. She had to help Jackie unravel herself from the men who wanted her club. She had to grill Declan about his past with the Honey Badgers and his future with the gun that killed the man in the disco’s doorway. She had to find out if Ryan Finnegan was being held by Louis like Stephanie suggested or if he was already dead—

  Ryan. I nearly forgot.

  “Frank—I told the police I’d overheard something about that Ryan Finnegan I told you about.”

  “The guy whose condo you broke into?”

  “That’s the one. I told them I’d overheard he was being held by Louis Beaumont. Did they look into that?” She left out the part about it being Stephanie who told her.

  Frank nodded. “That Louis Beaumont—turns out his dad used to be big in the drug trade.”

  “Did they look for Ryan at his dry cleaners?”

  “They did, apparently. Went over there last night and he let them right in the front door. They didn’t find anything. He seems legit. Family’s not involved in drugs anymore.”

  “Did the cops go to Ryan’s condo? I told them about the condo and the signs of struggle.”

  Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. They had their hands full with Jackie’s place. You might want to check in with them if you still think this Ryan fellow’s missing.”

  She nodded. “I’ll follow up.”

  Frank sat again. “Now, if you’re finished peppering me with questions, I need to drink my coffee.”

  “Yep. I should probably go check on Jackie.”

  Mariska nodded. “That’d be nice. Tell her we all hope she’s feeling better and we’re sorry about her disco.”

  “Tell her I’m working with the Tampa P.D. to see what we can figure out for her. I assume her insurance will cover the damage,” added Frank.

  Charlotte said her goodbyes and borrowed Mariska’s car keys.

  She already knew her visit to Jackie would wait a little longer.

  She needed to talk to Stephanie to clarify what she knew about Ryan before he showed up dead.

  And, she needed to talk to Declan.

  She tried her boyfriend on her cell as she walked to Mariska’s car. Again his phone went to voicemail.

  That does it.

  She drove directly to Declan’s house. Seamus’s jalopy sat on the curb outside, but Declan’s car was absent from its usual spot in the driveway.

  “Where is he?”

  Charlotte pushed through Declan’s front door and found Seamus on the sofa in his boxers with a beer resting on his thigh. His head swiveled in her direction.

  “Jaysus, woman. Have you ever heard of knockin’?”

  “Your nephew the drug war soldier. Where is he?”

  Seamus stared.

  There’s something I haven’t seen before. Seamus speechless.

  After a moment, the Irishman sniffed. “He told you about that, did he?”

  “Yes. Right after he beat up a thug like he was Bruce Lee.”

  Seamus laughed. “Declan has a real talent for that kung fu stuff.”

  Charlotte felt the corner of her mouth curling into a smile as she recalled the fight.

  It was kind of cool.

  She forced a frown. No. Stop it. This is serious.

  “Is he here?”

  “He isn’t. Wasn’t here when I woke up.”

  Charlotte sighed and sat on the chair opposite Seamus, who held aloft his beer can.

  “You want a beer?”

  “Little early, don’t you think?”

  “It’s middle of the afternoon in Ireland.”

  “You haven’t been in Ireland for decades. I don’t think you’re still on Ireland time.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Seamus stood and disappeared in the back of the house before reemerging wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He walked to the refrigerator and returned with another beer.

  “I’ll be honest. My nerves are a bit shot after yesterday,” he said.

  “Have you talked to Jackie?”

  “She went to her sister’s. I offered to stay with her but she was scared to sleep in her own house. I’m lettin’ her sleep in before I call today.”

  Charlotte tapped her fingernails to her teeth. She suspected everyone involved in the previous day’s attack was a nervous wreck. She definitely didn’t feel normal.

  “So tell me. You hooked Declan up with The Honey Badgers? You didn’t know they were basically mercenaries?”

  Seamus chewed on his lip. “I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to share at this juncture.”

  “But that part is true?”

  “I’m sure whatever Declan’s told you is true. He doesn’t like to lie. Especially to you.” Seamus took a sip of his beer and squinted at her. “Didn’t you know on some level?”

  “Know what?”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why he looks like he does? Why he swims like he’s trying to escape a hungry shark every day in that crazy jet pool of his?”

  Charlotte’s gaze drifted to the swim-stream pool in Declan’s backyard.

  Declan is in some insane shape…

  “I should have gleaned from his physique he’d been some kind of private soldier?”

  Seamus shrugged. “Normal people don’t look like that.”

  Charlotte scowled. “Wait, are you saying he’s still in the business?”

  “No. I—”

  Charlotte’s phone rang and she scrambled to pull it from her pocket.

  It wasn’t Declan. It was Gloria.

  She stood and held up a finger to ask Seamus to wait.

  “Hi Gloria.”

  “You didn’t call yesterday.”

&n
bsp; Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. “You could say I had a busy day yesterday. It was impossible for me to get a moment.”

  “Have you found anything?”

  “I have. Your man’s name is Ryan Finnegan.”

  Gloria repeated the name back to her. “That’s a nice name.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you know where he is? Is he married?”

  Gloria’s tone shifted from concern to burning fury so quickly Charlotte nearly dropped the phone for fear it was hot. “No. I mean, it doesn’t look like he’s married. He has other issues right now.”

  “What issues?”

  “My only lead thinks he might have been kidnapped by a drug dealer.”

  “A drug dealer? He’s a drug dealer?”

  “No—I mean, again, I don’t think so. I think he’s tangled up with one for some reason. I have it on fairly good authority he’s being held by a drug dealer.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is he in trouble? Did you call the police?”

  “I did. I told the police but they haven’t found any sign of him.”

  “What’s the drug dealer’s name?”

  “Louis Beaumont.”

  “Wha—Georgette’s son?”

  Charlotte’s mind whirred. Does Gloria know the family? And why does that name sound familiar?

  Georgette Enterprises.

  Jackie bought her club from Georgette Enterprises, the company named after Louis’s mother.

  “Yes. I think Louis’s mother is named Georgette. Do you know him?”

  “I know her.”

  “How?”

  Gloria ignored the question. “Where is he being held?”

  “I don’t know he’s being held at all, but someone claimed to see him tied up at a dry cleaners owned by Louis—”

  “I have to go. Call me if you find out anything else.”

  The line went dead.

  Charlotte stared at her phone. “Okay then...”

  She returned her attention to Seamus hoping to get back to the conversation about Declan possibly still working as a mercenary.

  Before she could form her next question, the front door opened and Declan entered.

  “There’s the man of the hour,” said Seamus.

  Charlotte crossed her arms against her chest. “There you are. I was starting to worry.”

  Declan grimaced. “Sorry. I went to the hospital to talk to Stephanie.”

  “She’s okay?”

  “Made it through surgery with flying colors.”

  “Good.” An uncomfortable silence fell and Charlotte struggled not to say what was on her mind. She lost.

  “Did you go to see how she was or to make sure your stories about her gun were straight?”

  Charlotte could hear the anger in her own voice. She’d meant it as a straightforward question, but apparently she harbored a little more pique than she’d realized.

  “Uh oh,” mumbled Seamus. “I think I’m going to go out for a bit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gloria hung up the phone and stared at it, snipping bits of skin from the inside of her lip with her front teeth.

  Georgette Beaumont.

  Donning and stripping three different blouses, Gloria settled on one splattered with a swirl of black, white and hot pink paired with a matching hot pink skort. She still had nice legs.

  Hopping into her Mercedes, she drove a mile to Seaside Serenade, an assisted-living home not far from her own age-restricted condo. Seaside Serenade was the next step, a step she hoped to avoid for a long time—but it was good to have options. She’d already secured a place for the future, largely on the recommendation of her old friend.

  Georgette Beaumont.

  A handsome woman with delicate features and dark hair piled high on her head looked up as Gloria entered the Seaside Serenade common room.

  The woman’s eyes lit with apparent recognition, even as her expression bunched.

  “Gloria, what are you doing here? Eez it Tuesday already? I really am losing my mind...”

  “No, Georgie. It’s not Tuesday. I need to talk to you. It’s important. It’s about the old days.”

  The women playing mahjong with Georgette glowered at Gloria. They looked to Georgette for guidance. The identity of the table’s queen bee was no mystery.

  Georgette frowned and jerked her head to the right. The universal symbol for beat it.

  The women stood from their seats and wandered off, eyeing Gloria, no doubt wondering what made her so special.

  Gloria scowled back at one persistent gawker and slid into the now empty seat beside Georgette.

  “I think that one cheats.”

  Georgette laughed. “Gloria, you think everyone eez up to something.”

  “Everyone is.”

  “What can I do for you? What has you in a tizzy?”

  Gloria pulled her glare from the mahjong cheater who’d perched nearby.

  “First, how are you, Georgette?”

  Georgette shrugged. “Bon. I’ve been more out of breath lately. Zey had to give me oxygen once.”

  “I told you, you should’ve quit smoking sooner.”

  “Gloria, I am French.”

  Gloria nodded. It was true.

  Georgette tapped Gloria’s arm. “So tell me your problem.”

  “I have a question for you. Do you think your son was right to bring you here?”

  Georgette’s eyes blazed as if someone had jump-started her battery. “No. I should be at home with a private nurse—”

  Georgette coughed and gasped for a breath. Gloria covered her friend’s clenched fist with her hand to stop it from shaking.

  “Take a breath, dear. Don’t get yourself upset.”

  Georgette took several deep breaths. Her shoulders relaxed. “I am sorry. You know how angry I am.”

  “I know. Unfortunately, it’s your son I’ve come to talk to you about.”

  “What has he done now?”

  “I think he’s kidnapped a friend of mine.”

  “What?”

  “Remember the man I told you I’d been passing during my walks?”

  “Zee one with zee funny tee shirts?’

  “Yes. I hired a private investigator to find him. She says he’s being held by your son.”

  “What? To what end? Why would Louis do such a thing?”

  “From what she tells me, it sounds like your son is starting the family business up again.”

  “What?” Georgette slammed her fist on the table, sending the mahjong tiles dancing. Several rained to the floor and clattered on the hardwood. Gloria heard the cheater behind her moan, no doubt realizing their game wouldn’t be continuing.

  Gloria felt the corner of her mouth twitch. Ha. That will teach that cheating wench to look at me.

  “This is unacceptable. I did too much. It took me too long—”

  Gloria nodded, allowing Georgette time to vent.

  “I’m wondering if Louis put you in here so you wouldn’t meddle with his business.” Gloria dropped her voice to a whisper.

  “After he saw what it did to his father? I spent a decade unraveling this family from violence.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “It was nearly impossible—such were the alliances that had been made. Those awful men. They didn’t want to lose Victor’s organization. But I did it.”

  “And no sooner did you finish, than your son checked you in here.”

  Georgette’s lips pressed into a tight knot. “Ungrateful brat.” A puzzled look crossed her expression. “Wait. Does your tee shirt friend deal?”

  “Drugs? I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Zen why would my son take him?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping maybe you had some information that would give me some leverage with your son. I need to save Ryan.”

  “Who is Ryan?”

  “That’s my kidnapped suitor’s name, Ryan Finnegan.”


  “Ryan Finnegan...” Georgette’s gaze drifted toward the ceiling.

  Gloria felt a pang of nerves. Georgette recognized the name. Maybe Ryan was some sort of old rival. Maybe he was a dealer…

  “Zee name is so familiar...”

  Gloria held her breath, giving Georgette time to collect her thoughts.

  “Zee club!” Georgette thrust her index finger into the sky to punctuate her recollection.

  “What’s that?”

  “Louis’s club.” Georgette shook her head and waved her hands before her, signifying she wanted to start over. “Victor had a building, far into the trees, where he kept supplies.” Her voice dropped as she said the last word.

  “Go on.”

  “I was going to sell the building, but Louis wanted to turn it into a nightclub. He had just turned twenty-one and his mind was very much on play. I thought maybe he could turn his passions into a business and agreed to let him try. I put one of my business managers in charge of helping him with the money and all was well for a while...”

  “What happened?”

  “A boy died. In the club. A young man. I recall his last name was Finnegan.”

  “How did he die?”

  Georgette shrugged. “Who can say? Overdose they thought. I couldn’t have my assets under such suspicion with our history. I forced Louis to close the club and sell the building.”

  “You think my Ryan is related to the boy who died?”

  She nodded. “It makes sense, no?”

  Gloria placed a hand on Georgette’s.

  “I’ve missed you. I haven’t visited in a while.”

  Georgette grasped her hand. “I’ve missed you too my friend.”

  “We are friends aren’t we?”

  “But of course.”

  Gloria squeezed Georgette’s hand a little tighter. “Great. So tell me...where would your son keep a prisoner?”

  A silence fell nearly as fast as the smile from Georgette’s face.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Seamus left the room as Charlotte and Declan stared at each other.

  “I don’t want this to be weird,” said Declan.

  Charlotte gaped. “You don’t want this to be weird? Everything has been weird since you picked up a gun at Jackie’s. What don’t you want to be weird?”

  “Everything. Nothing. I know a lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours and I don’t want questions to fester.”