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

by Amy Vansant

  “No, it’s mine, I mean—”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s kind of small, not how I pictured it, but maybe…” His expression grew hard. “Give it to me.”

  Charlotte clutched the box to her chest. What terrible luck that this psycho is looking for a box as well!

  “It isn’t what you’re looking for; I promise. It belongs to someone else.”

  He held out his free hand. “Give it to me.”

  Charlotte leaned toward the door. So close. If she could just inch closer to the door before—

  Jason strode forward to block her escape. She threw the box at him and spun away, hand rising to cover her head as she fled. She never saw him raise the hammer, but she felt it slam against her shoulder, pain radiating in all directions. She fell to the ground and he collapsed on top of her, straddling her hips with his knees. He jerked her shoulder and tried to flip her to her back. She resisted the first tug and grabbed a handful of debris. On the second tug she allowed herself to be turned and threw the dust where she thought his face would be.

  Sputtering, he waved the hammer wildly in front of his face as she slid out from under him. She slammed his head against the counter as hard as she could as she ran past him toward the door. He dropped the weapon to clutch his skull for a moment and then dove to grab her ankle. She screamed, falling again.

  As she splayed forward, the front door burst open and Abby flew into the room, nails scrambling on the tile floor. She leapt into the air over Charlotte who heard snarling and rolled in time to see the Wheaton’s teeth clamp onto Jason’s forearm. He screamed at the dog and reached for the hammer with his other hand.

  Charlotte scrambled to her feet and kicked Jason in the chin. His head snapped backwards and he flopped to his back.

  He lay still on the ground, Abby’s mouth still gripping his forearm.

  Charlotte grabbed Abby’s collar and pulled her off the man, dragging her outside where she took the dog’s leash and ran as fast as she could away from the house, Abby galloping at her side. She wanted to stop at every house she passed but was too afraid Jason would see her enter and she’d endanger the people there. When she reached her own house she looked back and saw no sign of Jason. She passed her own home and knocked on Mariska’s door.

  “Charlotte! What’s wrong with you?”

  “Let me in, quick!”

  Charlotte pushed past her into the house and locked the door behind her. She grabbed Mariska’s phone from the counter and called 911. “Do you know where Frank is?”

  “No; what happened? You’re scaring me! Why are you covered in white dust? You’re filthy! Are you bleeding?”

  “Jason was at—” The operator answered her call and she shifted her attention from Mariska. “I need to report a robbery and vandalism and an attack. Maybe attempted murder. A lot of stuff.”

  “Murder!” yelped Mariska. “Who’s Jason?”

  The woman on the phone told Charlotte to slow down and she took a deep breath, finally easing the death grip she had on Abby’s leash. As she told the woman her story, Mariska’s eyes grew wider and wider until she grabbed Bob’s cell phone and moved to the other side of the room to make a call of her own.

  The emergency operator assured Charlotte someone was on the way, both to her location and Gloria’s home. The woman asked her to remain on the phone and she held it to her ear as she tried to pull Abby close to her.

  “You saved me,” she said, hugging her and whispering in the dog’s ear. Abby pulled away, more interested in eating Miss Izzy’s food than accolades for her bravery.

  Mariska approached from her spot across the room. “That all just happened? The things you said on the phone?”

  “Yes, and, oh, Gloria! I have to warn her. I have to get her somewhere safe. I think he only wanted her scared out of the house but I don’t think he found his box and he might think she has it now. He knows she’s at my house.”

  “Well you’re not going anywhere. I called Frank; he was home and he’s on his way over. We can send him to fetch Gloria.”

  “He’s got to hurry.”

  They both straightened as the sound of sirens filled the air. A moment later someone pounded on the door.

  “Mariska, it’s Frank! Is Charlotte still in there?”

  Charlotte opened the door. “I’m fine. We have to get Gloria out of my house to safety until we know they have Jason.”

  “I’m already on it. Jason’s the man in Gloria’s house?”

  “If he’s still there.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Dark brown hair, muscular, tall but not crazy tall—”

  “What was he wearing?”

  “He was shirtless last time I saw him. And…shorts I think. Tan? I…jeeze, I should have paid more attention. Everything happened so fast. I left him lying on the kitchen floor.”

  “Unconscious?”

  She nodded, and her eye began to throb. She touched it gingerly with her fingers and groaned as the motion of lifting her arm made her shoulder ache.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He hit me on the back with a hammer.”

  “What did he hit you in the face with?”

  “The floor hit me in the face.”

  “Eye and forehead? That’s a heck of a lump.”

  Charlotte felt the knot she’d received falling out of Diana Fassbender’s bedroom window. She offered Frank a subtle nod, not wanting to lie but not wanting to elaborate either.

  “I’m fine. Go get Gloria!”

  “I already have an officer collecting her and three more at her house.”

  “Frank. Come in.” A voice crackled on the sheriff’s radio.

  “Frank here.”

  “There’s no one in the house. The place is torn apart, though. Looks like a tornado ripped through it.”

  “If you’re sure it’s clear, don’t mess with anything. Just tape it off. One of you watch the dwelling and wait for CSI, the other two start a search. Call it in, get some more help out here looking for that bastard. Caucasian male, dark hair, muscular build, last seen shirtless and in shorts.”

  “And covered in drywall dust,” said Charlotte.

  “He looks like he just made that mess in the house,” added Frank.

  “Oh! And there was a red car that might have been his!”

  “What kind of car? Did you get a plate?”

  “No. I should have. Arg!” She shook her fists in the air.

  “And as for make…I’m terrible at that. I don’t know. It was sporty and kind of old-looking.”

  Frank grimaced. “Now I know what to teach you first, detective Charlotte.” He relayed the information to the officer.

  “Ten-four.”

  “Williams?”

  Another voice came through the radio. “Williams here.”

  “You have Gloria Abernathy?”

  “She put up a fight but we do. We’re en route to the station.”

  “Keep her there ‘til I get there.”

  He clipped the radio back to his belt.

  “Charlotte, we have to get you to a hospital.”

  “I’m fine. Nothing’s broken. Just scrapes and bruises.”

  “Let someone else be the judge of that. Your shoulder could be broken for all you know with the adrenalin you must have pumping. I’ll go with you and see what other facts we might be able to shake from that lumpy head of yours.”

  Charlotte stuck her tongue out at him. “Mariska, will you watch Abby?”

  “Of course!”

  Charlotte followed Frank to his cruiser, the scrapes on her knees beginning to sting.

  She flopped into the seat beside him and took a deep breath.

  “I’ve decided life is too short, Frank. You have to give Darla back her witch.”

  He grunted. “I know. It’s in the dang trunk.”

  While at the hospital, Charlotte received a text from Mariska letting her know everyone would be
spending the night at Mariska’s house. By the time she left the emergency room, all she wanted to do was go home and sleep, but Frank insisted she stay with Mariska. He had an officer stationed inside her own home, just in case Jason returned to look for her or Gloria.

  He was still on the loose.

  Entering Mariska’s, she could see Gloria through the glass doors of the office, sleeping on the floor on an inflatable mattress. The guest room light was on and Abby was in the bed, waiting for her.

  She undressed to her tee shirt, slipped under the sheets and fell asleep seconds later.

  The next morning, she walked to Gloria’s. The crime team had come and gone. She snuck under the crime tape and entered the kitchen through the broken front door.

  Jackie’s box was gone.

  She dropped her head into her hand, flinching as her fingers touched her tender face.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was after nine o’clock when Charlotte called and Declan couldn’t hide his relief. He’d expected to hear from her again the night before, but by the time he’d finished retying the witch to the roof in Silver Lake, she was nowhere to be found. He’d tried to call her with no luck and told himself she’d been tired and gone to bed.

  Or…she was in prison. One of those.

  He’d planned to call her the moment he arrived at work, but found himself distracted by a grisly story in the newspaper about a woman in Tampa who’d died and been eaten by her cats. At least he hoped that was the order of things. As he read the last paragraph, his pocket rang and Charlotte’s name popped on his phone as he retrieved it.

  “Charlotte!”

  “Hello!”

  “You didn’t call! Are you okay? Did they haul you to jail?”

  She laughed. “Nope. No jail. Things got a little crazy last night though.”

  Charlotte told him the story of Diana’s mother’s ashes, hitting her head and finally her confrontation with Jason.

  Anger boiled beneath Declan’s skin as he pictured a man striking Charlotte with a hammer. He was about to lose his mind when he heard a voice.

  “Little help?”

  Declan turned to see a customer standing at his checkout counter. He hadn’t heard him enter. Squinting at his useless door bell, he made a mental note to retrieve the clapper from Stephanie.

  “With you in a second,” he said, holding up a finger.

  “Thanks, I’m in a hurry.”

  “So are you okay?” Declan asked Charlotte as he walked toward the counter.

  “I’m fine. The worst part is I lost the box.”

  “You think this guy took it?”

  “I don’t know why he would. It’s obviously not his father’s box; it isn’t big enough to hold wads of bank money or other ill-gotten gains.”

  “So they took it as evidence, right? Ask Frank. He can probably get it for you.”

  “I will, but he’s going to wonder why it’s important, and then he’s going to want to talk to Rocky…everything will get more complicated.”

  “At this point maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Doing things on our own has been a little—”

  Declan stopped mid-sentence, staring at his counter. His latest customer had brought in two items; a silver tea tray littered with silver place settings and a wooden box spilling over with jewelry.

  The box had a lily inlaid in the center of its lid.

  Declan made eye contact with the muscular young man. He had a large bruise on his chin and a split lip. The dark circles beneath his eyes said he hadn’t slept.

  Because he was hiding from the police.

  This man had attacked Charlotte. He was sure of it. Then he’d taken Jackie’s box to carry what was probably Gloria’s jewelry!

  What did Charlotte say his name was?

  Jason.

  He needed to tell Charlotte to send the police, but he’d strolled to the counter and now Jason, if it was him, would hear anything he said.

  “I’ll be right with you,” he said, taking a step toward the office.

  “Look, I don’t have time for this,” said the man. “I’ll sell this stuff somewhere else.” He began to scoop up the silverware.

  “No! No, I’m sorry,” said Declan. “I’m…I’m going to have to call you back,” he said to Charlotte. He hung up the phone and smiled, holding out his hand. “I’m Declan. How can I help you?”

  Jason eased the silverware back onto the tray and nodded.

  “I want to sell this stuff.”

  Declan lowered his hand. He’d hoped the guy would introduce himself. It had to be him. And the box had to be Jackie’s box. He could kill a lot of birds if he just had a stone…

  “I didn’t catch your name,” he said, trying again.

  “You don’t need my name.”

  “I do for the paper work.”

  “Jason.”

  Declan’s nerves came alive.

  Stay cool.

  “Okay Jason, sell or pawn?”

  “I said sell.”

  “Right. Sorry. Well, let’s see. Do you have receipts for any of it?”

  He scowled. “No. It all belonged to my grandmother. She died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I look through it?”

  “No, just hurry. I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “No problem.”

  Declan moved forward and stepped on the silent alarm button on his floor. He’d never had to use it before; he hoped it worked.

  He laid out a cloth and picked up one of the forks first, noting that each had an ornate A engraved on it.

  “What was your grandmother’s last name?”

  “Why’s that matter?”

  He held up a fork. “Just wondering. The A.”

  “Oh. Uh… Apple.”

  “Her last name was Apple?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s an unusual—”

  “Look, can you just cut to the chase? Just give me a ballpark. Check out the jewelry.”

  Jason flipped open the lid of the box and the side shifted as if the whole container was about to collapse.

  Declan pulled a clump of jewelry and set it on the cloth. He looked past Jason through his front window, hoping to see police, but his parking lot remained empty with the exception of his own car and an old red Acura he assumed was Jason’s.

  “That box has seen better days,” he said. “Know anything about it?”

  Jason shook his head. “No. I just used it to carry the jewelry. Hey… Do I know you?”

  Declan glanced up at Jason, who stared hard at him.

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  “You have a girlfriend? In Pineapple Port?”

  Declan felt his lip twitch and the anger he’d felt talking to Charlotte returned.

  He looked at Jason and saw recognition wash across his face before he turned and bolted for the door.

  Declan jumped over his counter and gave chase. Hampered by the furniture arrangement, Jason only made it half way to the door before Declan tackled him and the two of them plowed into a china cabinet. The glass doors shattered and the pair bounced away to the floor, fists flying, until they rolled up against a sofa with Declan on top. He straightened to punch his foe squarely in the face before Jason’s foot entangled with a lamp cord and the light fell on Declan’s back. The Tiffany-style glass shade crashed against his skull and he collapsed on Jason, who took the opportunity to slip out from under him and run for the door.

  Declan shook his head to clear it and scrambled to his feet. That’s when he spotted Stephanie standing inside his door, Jason barreling toward her. He wouldn’t be able to catch him before he reached her.

  “Get out of the way!” Jason screamed at her, waving her away.

  “Watch out!” called Declan.

  She looked at Declan, looked at Jason, and stepped outside, holding the door open for the approaching man.

  Well you don’t have to hold the door open for him…

  Declan tripped over a fallen
bowl and the world swam around him as he leaned against a chest of drawers. The lamp had hit him hard, but he had to hurry. If Jason reached his car he’d never catch him. He scrambled over a low banquet table and nearly fell again.

  Catching his balance and standing, he watched as Jason reached the front door. At the last second, Stephanie threw out a stiff arm, catching him in the throat beneath his bruised chin. The muscular man flipped to his back as if he’d run into a clothesline, head slamming against the door threshold. He remained there, unmoving, as Declan stumbled to the door.

  “I think you killed him!” he said.

  She grimaced and rubbed the inside of her elbow. “You took my will. I want it back. You don’t need it, it’s on file anyway.”

  “No, it’s not.” He looked at Jason, who remained unmoving. “Aren’t you curious about this guy?”

  “No. Give me the will.”

  “The will is fake. It’s signed Bonehead. Pretty boneheaded maneuver, if you ask me.”

  “I’ll make a new one with the right name. In fact I already have. I just hadn’t switched them yet when you stole the tube.”

  “I have examples of Bonehead’s real signature around here, you know. Your version won’t match.”

  “Oh, I know you do,” said Stephanie, seeming to regain some of her swagger. “I stole an example when I took the napkin, so that won’t be a problem.”

  “Maybe not. But thanks to Charlotte using your own ego to separate you from your purse, I have an example of your first lame attempt, which will make them really study your next forgery. Better practice your penmanship. I imagine there’s jail time for forgery?”

  Declan had never seen Stephanie’s nostrils flare before. She stomped her foot and ripped the clapper necklace from her neck.

  “Here! I want you to hear me coming for you next time.”

  “I could have used this an hour ago. You’re a little late.”

  She scoffed and pointed at Jason. “Um, perfect timing I’d say.”

  Nearby sirens wailed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  They were standing in front of Jackie’s door when Declan began worrying again.

  “What if the police ask for the security camera video? I could be arrested for obstruction of justice or something, couldn’t I?”