Pineapple Puppies

by Amy Vansant

  Frank’s tone sounded gruff, but his eyes betrayed his amusement at seeing her. Charlotte had only recently received her detective’s license, having earned it with Frank’s help. She knew he’d learned the hard way she liked to stick her nose into anything that sounded like a potential investigation.

  She shrugged. “I thought I’d come help.”

  “Great. I’ll let the boys know they can head back to the station. You’re here.”

  “Thank you.”

  He looked away and then turned back. “Hey, Mariska with you?”

  “No, why?”

  “Neighbor said she was here earlier.”

  “She probably was, picking up the stollens from Alice for the Swap.”

  “She was Bread Elf?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. That ticks that off my list. Thanks.”

  “Are you saying I’m useful?” Charlotte cocked her head as her self-satisfied smile began to fade. “Wait, are you saying Mariska is a person of interest?”

  “Yes. I mean, no, but technically, yes.”

  “If you tell her that, she’s going to have a heart attack.”

  “I’ll tell her I’ll be sure the guards treat her well in prison.”

  Charlotte slapped his arm. “You’re terrible.” A high-pitched whining caught Charlotte’s attention and she turned towards it. A cardboard box sat in the corner and she leaned forward to peer inside.

  A puppy with rust and black fur exploding in jagged points from its face stared back at her. It yipped.

  “Why is there a puppy here?” asked Charlotte scooping the adorable ball of fur into her arms.

  Frank shrugged. “Guess it was a Christmas present.”

  “So cute.” Charlotte nuzzled it as it licked her face. “Oof. Puppy breath, though. Yikes.”

  She walked the dog to the table and stared at the empty plate. “So you think it really was the stollen? It was poisoned? You should take this plate too. It might be coated with something.”

  Frank frowned. “First off, we’re going to take the plate, Sherlock. Second, who said the stollen was poisoned?”

  “Darla.”

  Charlotte watched Frank’s jaw clench.

  “That woman couldn’t keep her mouth shut if it was wired. I never said Alice was poisoned.”

  “She said you said it looked suspicious.”

  “I said her face looked funny. Bloated maybe.” He waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know. I’m not a damn toxicologist. Right now we’re just wrapping up everything she might have eaten.”

  “But you found her here? At the table?”

  Frank nodded. “She was slumped here, halfway through a piece of stollen.”

  “So if she was poisoned, the stollen is the obvious culprit.”

  “Sure, but no one ever said she was poisoned. Who would poison Alice? Give Darla another ten minutes and she’ll be telling people it could have been alien abduction.”

  Charlotte chuckled. “Did she have anything to drink? Coffee?”

  “Tea. And yes, we took that too. Cup and all.”

  Charlotte strolled around the house, shifting the puppy from arm to arm to keep it from squirming away, allowing her gaze to sweep across the counters and tabletops, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

  “There’s no puppy stuff.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s no puppy stuff,” Charlotte repeated, checking the kitchen to be sure.

  “It was in the box. It probably did its business in there.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “Not that kind of puppy stuff. I mean when you get a new puppy, don’t you buy bowls and collars and food and whatnot?”

  “I suppose.” Frank turned to look at the box the puppy had been in. “Maybe she’d just bought it. It was still in the box.”

  “You’re making it sound like she had it shipped from Amazon.” The pup made a leap to escape to the ground and Charlotte wrestled it back to her chest.

  “They sell everything else,” muttered Frank. “Last week Darla ordered a zombie garden gnome for the yard. Who comes up with this stuff?”

  “Actually, the box brings up a good point. It means she was out of the house picking up the puppy, doesn’t it? That opens up a million other ways she could have been poisoned.”

  “Again, I never said she was poisoned.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Maybe someone brought the dog to her.”

  “That would mean someone was here, and you have another suspect.”

  Frank’s lower teeth dragged at the ends of his mustache as he stared at her. “You want me to pack up and just let you finish up here?”

  Charlotte grinned. “No. Just trying to be helpful.”

  Frank grunted and jotted something on the notepad he kept in his back pocket.

  Charlotte peeked into the bedroom and spotted half a dozen pill bottles by the bed. “I hate to say it, but I’m kind of happy for her.”

  Frank’s brow knit. “Who? Alice?”

  Charlotte nodded. “You couldn’t say her name without someone mentioning how much pain she was in. Maybe her death is a blessing.”

  Frank nodded. “By all accounts she was one of the nicest, bravest little ladies in the neighborhood. Didn’t deserve half of what life dealt her.”

  “True. And who would want to poison her?”

  The corners of Frank’s mustache drooped as he looked away, drawing Charlotte’s curiosity. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking about Alice’s mouth. I’ll admit, I don’t think it was the lupus that did her in. Paramedics said her tongue was swollen and she probably died of ana—ana—”

  “Anaphalaxis?”

  Frank nodded. “That one.”

  “Who found her?”

  “Crystal.”

  Charlotte scowled at the mention of Alice’s granddaughter. The young woman had been freeloading at her grandmother’s house, living off her social security and teacher’s pension checks for months.

  “I almost forgot about her. Where is she? Was she here when Alice died?”

  Frank shook his head. “She was working. Came home for lunch.”

  “You think she might have had something to do with it?”

  “Nah. Why would she kill her own grandmother, let alone her meal ticket? Alice was probably worth more alive than dead.” Frank hung his thumbs in his belt and seemed to chew on his last thought. “Probably. Crystal’s a piece of work, though. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind she might have gotten tired of waiting.”

  “For an inheritance?”

  “Yup.”

  “But you don’t think there’s a chance all the stollen was poisoned, do you? We bought back what Mariska sold at the bazaar, but we were one short in the count and I’m a little worried about it.”

  “Hm.”

  “Maybe I should start knocking on doors, just in case? Or I could keep an eye on Mac. He’d eaten most of one before we—”

  Charlotte cut short as Frank’s phone rang. He answered it while she grappled to keep the puppy’s razor sharp teeth away from her lips. For some reason the little squirt seemed to be interested in biting them off.

  “Frank here. What? You sure? All right, keep her there a bit longer. I’m on my way.” Frank hung up. “Nuts.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Charlotte.

  “That’s what’s wrong. Nuts. Crystal says her grandmother had a nut allergy. They checked the stollen and think they smelled pecans, but they couldn’t actually find any. They’re having someone test it now.”

  “Don’t stollens always have nuts?”

  “Do they? Why would she make stollens if she’s allergic?”

  “She might be allergic to one kind of nut but not another. Maybe they don’t have nuts...” A tingly feeling of dread settled over Charlotte’s shoulders like a shawl. “Uh oh.”

  “What?”

  “If all the stollens have nuts in them, and she’s allergic and doesn’t usuall
y use them...remember, she didn’t make the bread.”

  Frank’s eyes grew a little wider. “Mariska.”

  Charlotte nodded.

  Frank stuffed the notepad back into his pocket. “Mariska can get pretty creative with her recipes, can’t she? Not out of the realm she might have doctored the original recipe?”

  “Not crazy to think she might have decided a handful of some off-script nuts might improve the batch.”

  Frank grimaced. “Of course she wouldn’t know about Alice’s allergy, but that won’t make her feel any better if she finds out she killed the woman.”

  Charlotte hugged the puppy tighter.

  “She’ll never forgive herself.”

  Chapter Four

  Charlotte glanced through the window of Alice’s home to watch a sheriff’s cruiser pull to the curb. It parked, and a moment later a heavy-set girl in her late teens or early twenties dressed in a black t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts stepped from the passenger side and lumbered towards the front door. Her arms flopped at her sides beneath slumped shoulders, as if the effort to cross the yard was more than she could muster. Dyed black hair cut at the shoulder bounced in unison with her arms, as if it too, was simply too tired to hang there.

  Behind her, Deputy Daniel stepped from the vehicle and followed, catching up to the girl with hurried strides.

  “Mam, I don’t know if you should go back in there quite yet—” Charlotte heard him say.

  Frank pushed open the screen door to allow the girl access. “It’s alright. She’s fine.”

  Crystal entered without looking at Frank and dropped a small backpack to the ground.

  “Where’d they take her?”

  Daniel held open the door and Frank repositioned himself back into the house.

  “She’s not here. The medics took her to the coroner.”

  “For an autopsy?”

  Frank nodded. “They’re going to have to find the cause.”

  Crystal flipped her wrist back as if she was swatting a fly away from her ear. “She had lupus and a bunch of stuff going on.”

  “We know. We have to know for sure, though.”

  For the first time, Crystal seemed to notice Charlotte standing there.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Charlotte.” Charlotte made an attempt to shake Crystal’s hand, but found she couldn’t contain the squirming puppy with only one. “Sorry, I should probably give you back your dog.”

  “My dog?” Crystal’s eyebrows and mouth arched to let Charlotte know she had to be the dumbest woman on the planet. “That ain’t my dog.”

  “Alice’s dog then?”

  “It ain’t hers either. Why do you think it’s ours?”

  Charlotte nodded to the box in the corner. “He was in there.”

  Frank’s gaze shot to the box and then back to Crystal. “So this puppy wasn’t here when you went to work this morning?”

  Crystal huffed and walked to a floral chair, leaving her backpack on the floor in front of the door where everyone who entered would have to step over it. She flopped onto the chair, apparently to get the rest she so desperately needed. “No. And you ain’t leaving it here either.”

  Charlotte glanced at Frank. She could tell they shared a common thought.

  Crystal was unlikable.

  Charlotte reminded herself the girl had just found her grandmother dead. While no tears glistened in her black-traced, over-lined eyes, people dealt with grief in many different ways. They had to give the girl a pass for rude demeanor today.

  “Do you want me to take the dog?” asked Charlotte.

  Frank sucked his tooth with his tongue for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. Would you do that? Leave the box here.”

  Charlotte nodded and glanced in Crystal’s direction. The girl already had her phone out, her fingers tapping a message to someone.

  “Sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

  Crystal didn’t look up, but Charlotte thought she caught a bit of a head nod.

  Deputy Daniel held open the door and Charlotte carried the puppy into the sun, wondering if she still possessed any of her own dog’s old puppy paraphernalia. Abby, her soft-coated Wheaten, weighed close to forty-five pounds now. Her collars would hang like hula hoops on the wriggling baby in her arms.

  Charlotte was still trying to picture where she might have stored some of Abby’s old puppy collars when she noticed Althea Moore walking towards her with a box in her arms. Althea scowled.

  “Where’d you get that dog?”

  Charlotte wasn’t sure what to say. “It was at Alice’s house.”

  As she finished her sentence, Althea grew close enough that Charlotte could peer into her box, where another puppy lolled, nearly identical to the one in her arms. The two dogs spotted each other and the one in the box jumped up to nip its doppelganger’s toes.

  “Is this one yours?” asked Charlotte.

  Althea’s eyes grew wide. “Mine? No. I was hoping this one was yours.”

  Althea bent down to put the box on the ground and Charlotte lowered her pup into the container to join the other. Althea huffed.

  “That thing is too heavy for its size.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  “Found it on my doorstep this morning. Darnedest thing.”

  “And you have no idea who put it there?”

  Althea rolled her eyes. “No. And I don’t want it and I’m not taking it. I’m too old to break in a puppy. I saw the sheriff’s car and I was bringing it to him.”

  “Hey!”

  Charlotte turned to spot another neighbor, Katherine O’Malley, headed her way. The woman had a box under one arm, the other waving in the air above her head.

  As she approached, Katherine lowered her box so Charlotte could see yet another identical puppy inside, the paws on the edge of the box as it tried to climb out of its cardboard prison. Katherine scooped it up with one hand and lowered it into the box with the others. The two pounced on their new friend, who rolled onto its back and paddled them with its paws.

  “Did you find yours on your doorstep too?” asked Charlotte.

  Katherine nodded. “You too?”

  “Mine I got from Alice’s. Althea found hers on her doorstep, though.”

  “Darndest thing,” repeated Althea.

  “I was coming over to give the sheriff the dog,” said Katherine.

  “Me too,” chimed Althea. “Great minds think alike.”

  Katherine grinned and the two of them stood nodding their heads in unison.

  Charlotte stared at the rolling mass of puppies in the box. Who would leave puppies on people’s doorsteps? And did the other puppies make it more or less likely the puppies were connected to Alice’s death?

  She glanced from Katherine to Althea and back again.

  They both look fine...

  “Y’all feel okay?” she asked.

  Both women’s expressions scrunched.

  “What? Why?” asked Althea. “Are those puppies sick?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “No…” She glanced down at the box, which was slowing working its way to the right as the puppies wrestled inside. She hadn’t thought about the puppies being carriers of disease.

  They don’t look like sick puppies...

  She waved away their concern. “That’s not what I meant. Nothing. Stupid thought.”

  Althea slapped the air with a limp wrist. “Can you give this one to the sheriff for me? I gotta get back to my stories.”

  “Sure.”

  Althea was already on her way back home before Charlotte could finish her single-word answer.

  “Ooh, me too,” said Katherine as Althea shuffled away in her slippers. “I mean, the thing is adorable but I already have Coco.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Sure, I’ll take it.”

  Pineapple Port had a one-dog-at-a-time policy. Except for Jill over on Heron Lane who had six Yorkshire terriers, not dissimilar from the ones in the box. Her brood had been grandfathered i
n, and was probably the reason they’d made the new dog rule in the first place. Each time one of her Yorkies died, she replaced it with another, gave it the same name and carried on as if nothing had happened. Everyone knew they weren’t the same six dogs she had twenty years ago, but everyone played along.

  Charlotte put her hands on her hips. She didn’t know what she was going to do with three puppies, but she hadn’t known what she was going to do with the first one, either.

  Katherine touched her upper arm. “Thanks so much. Do you want the box?”

  “Yes. I’d better take it. It might be evidence.”

  “Even better.” Katherine thrust the box at her and plucked out the dish towel lying at the bottom. “I was using this for a pee pad.”

  “You can keep that then.”

  Katherine laughed and turned to go, waving one last time above her head as she headed back home.

  Charlotte looked down at the three rolling puppies.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  Chapter Five

  Charlotte did her best to stuff Althea’s box into Katherine’s, combining the puppies into one ping-ponging box of puppies. A car drove up as she attempted to balance the two crates, slowing beside her as the window lowered.

  “I’m going to talk to Mariska. Want a ride?” asked Frank.

  “You have no idea. My load has gotten a little heavier since I started.” She lowered the boxes so Frank could see inside.

  He scowled. “It multiplied?”

  “Our mysterious puppy delivery service left one with Althea Moore and one with Katherine O’Malley.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Charlotte walked to the passenger side and tucked the puppy-filled box on the floor.

  “Do you want the boxes for evidence?”

  Frank grimaced as he rolled forward. “If puppies are showing up all over the neighborhood, I doubt the person who dropped them off also had time to kill Alice...but I’d better keep them.”

  When they reached Mariska’s, Charlotte prepared herself to wrestle the combined puppy boxes out of the car.

  “I’ll have to get the boxes back to you when I find a new puppy prison.”

  She glanced at Mariska’s house with dread, knowing Frank was about to tell the woman she was a suspect in Alice’s death.