Pineapple Jailbird Page 18

  Declan put his finger under her chin and pointed her attention away from the mulch truck and toward the front door. “Anyway, to get back to us nearly being stung to death by insects, it looks like Miles tied a rope to the front door knob and secured it to that tree,” he said, nodding at the large palm in his front yard. “He was trying to seals us in with the bugs.”

  “That was the gunshot we heard. Cormac must have shot the knob off to get outside.”

  They turned to watch Seamus and Cormac drag Miles’ body from the back of the truck to the middle of the lawn. Charlotte guessed they were trying to keep him from being eaten by his own little monsters.

  “They should open up that guy’s skull for science,” said Seamus as he approached, clapping his hands together as if Miles had been dusty.

  Miles lay still, his hands now cuffed behind him. Cormac was barking orders to someone on the phone as he wandered out into the street to continue talking, undisturbed by bugs.

  “What did you see when you came out?” asked Declan. “Did Cormac shoot him?”

  Seamus hoisted up his pajama bottoms, his pale, bare chest glowing nearly as white as the gray hairs snow-capping his still-perky pecs. It was easy to see he’d been a bulldog scrapper as a younger man.

  How much had changed, really?

  “We found him like that, in a heap at the back of the truck. I think he fell and clipped his head on the bumper of the truck. He’s got quite a gash.”

  Declan nodded and Seamus waddled off toward Cormac on his thick, bowed legs, still trying to keep his thin pajamas from sliding off his non-existent butt.

  “Is he dead?” asked Charlotte, taking a step toward Miles. The large cut on his head glistened, matting his hair with blood.

  Charlotte gasped. “There’s Stephanie’s coral.” She pointed to the roadwork of red lines working their way around Miles’ neck, peeking above the stretched crewneck collar of his t-shirt.

  Declan squatted beside Miles and grabbed the blood-stained shirt with two hands. He ripped it down the back and tore a large piece away, revealing more of the lightning tattoo.

  The two of them paused to study it.

  “That’s kind of amazing,” said Charlotte.

  Declan pressed the fabric against the man’s head to slow the bleeding.

  “He needs an ambulance. Make sure Cormac is talking to 911 and not just his own people.”

  Charlotte nodded and moved to Cormac. She overheard him talking, now in a more civilized tone. While he’d been on the phone for some time, she guessed he’d called his people first. Now she could hear he’d gotten around to calling 911.

  She moved back to Declan. “He’s calling them now.” She glanced at Abby, who’d lowered herself into the grass by the curb. The excitement had worn off and now she wanted to get back to sleep.

  “You think Abby knocked him over?” she asked.

  Declan nodded. “Or startled him. Either way, I’m sure she had something to do with him hitting his head.”

  Charlotte stared down at Miles and shook her head. “There had to be easier ways to kill us.”

  Declan snorted a laugh. “You’d think so.”

  Charlotte squatted down beside Abby and scratched behind her ears.

  “You’re our hero.” The dog rolled to her side and stretched, ready for her belly rub. Charlotte leaned down to whisper in her ear. “But don’t ever do that again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Charlotte knocked on the window of the Cadillac parked outside her house. With a snort, Andy jumped in his seat and then rolled down his window, his eyes bleary as he peered out at her.

  “Hey, I wasn’t sleeping, I was just resting my eyes.”

  Charlotte glanced across him at Butch, who sat with his chin pressed against his chest, lightly snoring. The two of them took turns during the day and kept each other company at night, taking turns sleeping, theoretically.

  Andy’s hand shot out and he smacked his friend in the stomach.

  “I gotcha!” Butch screamed. He stared through the front window for a few seconds before his brain kicked in and his head swiveled toward them. He offered Charlotte a sheepish smile.

  “Oh, hey. I wasn’t sleeping. I was just restin’ my eyes.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I feel safer already.”

  “You’re up early.”

  Charlotte yawned. “You have no idea.” She spotted a bug on her shorts and flicked it away. It was only a fly, but she had a feeling she’d be a little more panicked around bugs in general for a while.

  She spotted movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see Tilly slapping down the road in her purple, terry slippers and yellow housecoat, an ornate yet dainty floral teacup in each hand.

  “Fortification for the troops,” she said handing one to Andy. He passed it to Butch and then kept the next for himself. Charlotte smelled coffee.

  “You want one?” asked Tilly.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No, but you’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”

  “Me?”

  Charlotte nodded and steered her a few feet away from the Cadillac.

  “I think we need to have a heart to heart.”

  Tilly frowned. “Uh oh. Why does it sound like I’m in trouble?”

  “I didn’t make a big deal about it at the time, but I think you know more about the witness protection people under Jamie’s thumb than you’ve let on.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “The way Butch and Andy looked at you when we started talking about the others. The way Andy elbowed Butch in the stomach when he mentioned inviting Pollock Johnny to a meeting.”

  Tilly pinched an invisible thing off the tip of her tongue. “I thought you might have noticed that.”

  “Uh huh. I’m also going to guess you might have some sort of support group going for these guys.”

  “Who? Butch and Andy?”

  “All of them. The WITSEC people stranded here thanks to Jamie.”

  “You think that?”

  “I do. You being an old victim of the witness protection program yourself, I think you feel bad for them.”

  Tilly snorted a laugh. “Feel bad for them? That doesn’t sound like me.”

  Charlotte cocked her head. “Tilly…”

  Tilly seemed to shrink beneath Charlotte’s expectant glare. “Fine. Let’s say, hypothetically, I might know something about something. Why do you care?”

  “I’m wondering what kind of talent you have in that group?”

  “What kind you looking for?”

  “I need someone who can trace a call and maybe use that trace to follow other activity on the opposite end of the line.”

  “Landlines or cell phones?”

  “Cell on both sides, I think. Who uses a landline anymore?”

  Tilly nodded. “I know a guy who can hack a phone.”

  “How about a pickpocket? Do you have one of those?”

  “You’re making me sound like the Walmart of criminals.”

  “If the shoe fits…”

  Tilly offered a low, guttural giggle. “Pickpocket, you say? The old-school talent. A year ago I might have had two for you on that front, but I think the one’s lost a step. His hands are getting a little shaky.”

  “Can you arrange a meeting with these people?”

  “I can take you to the pickpocket right now. She’s just down the street.”

  “Really? In Pineapple Port?”

  Tilly nodded.

  “And she’s definitely anti-Jamie?”

  “Oh they’re all anti-Jamie. That goes without saying. It’s the core tenet of the group.”

  “And Butch and Andy are members? Because between you and me, we caught the guy trying to kill me last night. I’d like to tell Butch and Andy, but I need them to pretend he’s still at large and I don’t know what good actors they are.”

  “Why do you have to pretend?”

  Charlotte looked over her shoulder. Butch and Andy stood chatting o
ver their coffees, stretching their legs, clearly uninterested in what she might be sharing with Tilly. Still, she lowered her voice a notch softer.

  “We’re going to get Stephanie freed, but we want to make it look like she flipped on her mother to get out.”

  “Jamie will kill her.”

  “We know.”

  Tilly gasped. “You want to draw her out?”

  “Yep. You think it could work?”

  “I do. I don’t think she’d hire out to kill her own daughter. Not even she could be that cold.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It’s so tacky to hire out and not kill your own children.”

  “Exactly. The question is, how is she going to do it? She can get pretty creative…”

  Tilly pulled what looked like a plastic magic marker from the big floppy pocket of her housecoat and took a drag off one end. A puff of white mist billowed from her dark red lips and Charlotte caught the scent of vanilla custard.

  “Is that a vape pen? Are you finally trying to stop smoking?” she asked.

  Tilly nodded. “Doing pretty well, too, all things considering.”

  “Considering what?”

  “Considering I don’t want to quit.”

  “Ah, you’ll be happy when you’re done. Good for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Charlotte stole another glance at her bodyguards. Butch had finished his coffee. The cup hung from the tip of his pinkie finger as he talked.

  I could use some coffee.

  She turned back to Tilly and tried to push away her craving for caffeine a little while longer. “So, do you think I can tell Andy and Butch what we’re doing? They seem awfully afraid of her. I’m afraid they’ll crack.”

  Tilly took a drag and stared at the Cadillac. Andy’s sausage fingers pinched the delicate handle of his teacup as he sipped his coffee. He looked like a father playing tea party with his child.

  Tilly shook her head. “Let’s keep it close to the chest a bit longer. I’m not saying you can’t trust them, but they’re the ones Jamie has her eye on right now, so whoever her spotter is in the area might notice if they forget themselves.”

  “Spotter?”

  Tilly waved a hand in the air as if she were backhanding the face of the entire neighborhood. “Oh, you know, she’s got someone else around here checking in on them.”

  Charlotte looked around. If that was true, she’d have to be more careful sneaking in and out of her house. “Okay. They didn’t notice I didn’t sleep at the house last night.”

  Tilly nodded. “They’ve been out of the game a long time.”

  “Lucky for me. Can you take me to the pickpocket now? Is it too early?”

  “Nah, she gets up early.” Tilly shuffled past her to the Cadillac and thrust out her arm to retrieve her cups. The boys handed them over.

  “We’re going to go visit a sick neighbor if you guys want to take a break. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Andy nodded. “I could use a bathroom break.”

  “Me too,” said Butch.

  “Go get yourselves some breakfast,” said Tilly.

  The boys got back into the car and drove off, Andy hanging his arm out the window to wave goodbye as they rolled away.

  Charlotte started down the road in the opposite direction, Tilly slapping alongside of her. Tilly made a left and stopped in front of a house that looked very much like all the others in the neighborhood, but for a statue of a female pirate in the front yard, nestled between two palm trees.

  “Pandora the Pirate is your pickpocket?” asked Charlotte, recognizing the home.

  “Think about it,” said Tilly.

  Charlotte gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh my gosh. It’s so obvious now.”

  Pandora had received her nickname, Pandora the Pirate because it seemed every time someone in Pineapple Port lost something, she’d find it. Someone mentioned it was as if she were always discovering buried treasure, and the idea stuck. Charlotte could barely remember a neighborhood get together where someone didn’t misplace their wallet or pillbox or purse and Pandora wasn’t the one to find it, forgotten on a table here or there.

  “She returns things these days.”

  Tilly grinned and knocked on Pandora’s door. “She has to hone her skills. Use it or lose it.”

  The door opened and Pandora appeared, wearing a floral-patterned tracksuit. She wore red reading glasses attached to a gold chain around her neck and held a paperback book in her hand.

  She tilted her head as she eyed her visitors. “What are you two doing here?”

  “We have a proposition for you,” said Tilly.

  Pandora’s expression soured for a moment as she glanced down at the book in her hand.

  “I was in the middle of a good chapter.”

  “It can wait.”

  She looked at her watch. Charlotte noticed it appeared both expensive and too large and guessed it was a man’s watch.

  “It’s early.”

  “It’s important,” said Tilly.

  Pandora huffed. “Fine. Come on in.”

  Charlotte and Tilly entered to find the familiar layout of that particular style of modular home. Pineapple Port only had a few different models, and Charlotte had seen them all.

  Pandora put her book on the kitchen island. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I have the pods. I can make you one?”

  “No, thank you,” said Tilly.

  Charlotte looked longingly at the coffee machine.

  Shoot.

  Pandora lifted a mug of coffee from her kitchen island to her lips. “So how can I help? Do you need me to man a craft booth?”

  Tilly shook her head. “I need your other talents.”

  Pandora trilled a laugh, her eyes darting in Charlotte’s direction. “Shuffleboard?”

  “We’re taking down Jamie Moriarty,” said Charlotte.

  Pandora sputtered her coffee and lowered the mug, raising her other hand to cover a cough. When she’d cleared her airway, she looked up at them with teary eyes.

  “Did I hear you right?”

  “Yep. We have a plan to smoke her out.”

  “Don’t say smoke,” muttered Tilly reaching for her vape pen, but she smiled her most cat-like grin. Charlotte saw how excited she was by the prospect of bringing Jamie down.

  “They’re going to make it look like her daughter flipped on her. Draw her out of her hidey-hole.”

  “Really... That lawyer? That’s her daughter? I saw the name on an office down the street. Nearly drove into a telephone pole staring at it.”

  “That’s her.”

  Pandora scowled. “She’s in on it? The daughter?”

  “Yes.” Tilly looked at Charlotte. “Yes?”

  Charlotte nodded. “I have Declan talking to her now.”

  Pandora’s pale, makeup-less lips wrapped into a tight circle. “Oooh. I like this. Makes me nervous, but I like it.”

  “So will you help?”

  Pandora smiled and raised her mug as if to cheer. “Oh, I’m in.”

  Charlotte smiled.

  Jeeze, I need some coffee.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Declan tapped on the jail waiting room’s plastic picnic table and glanced at his watch. His eyes felt tight from lack of sleep. Sleeping in his own bug-riddled house hadn’t been an option, so after talking to the police, taping plastic over the broken window, setting off bug bombs and sucking up the bodies with a Shop-Vac, he’d given up on the idea of sleeping altogether.

  He had professionals there now, but it didn’t matter if they tented the house and pumped it full of poison for a week. He suspected he’d never be able to sleep there again without feeling as if something was crawling over him. He was considering moving.

  He rested his head in his hand.

  I am definitely getting a new bed.

  He heard a muffled scream and, through the glass, saw Stephanie being led to the door of the room where he was sitting. A thrashing girl was being pulled away
by a guard. The prisoner only had eyes for Stephanie. Wild, angry eyes. She screamed again at her and spat on the ground as the guard on her arm was joined by another and the two of them dragged the agitated woman away.

  Stephanie never glanced at the woman straining to reach her. Her own guard opened the door and she walked toward Declan with a smile, as if she were coming to interview him for a job and there wasn’t a prisoner behind her suggesting ways she might die horribly.

  “What was all that about?” he asked as she sat.

  “What?”

  “The girl screaming profanities at you in the hallway? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  Stephanie glanced over her shoulder. “Oh was she talking to me?”

  Declan chuckled. “Making friends wherever you go.”

  “If you must know, I took over the little cottage industry she had going on in here.”

  “You’re making long-term plans?”

  Stephanie shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

  Declan lightly slapped the table with both palms. “Well, you can give her back her business. You’re being released.”

  Stephanie’s eyes widened. It wasn’t often Declan was able to surprise her, and he felt a flash of what almost felt like pride.

  “I am?” Stephanie’s expression darkened. “Wait. Why?”

  “You’re supposed to be happy.”

  “Not until I find out why. They found the guy with the coral tattoo?”

  “Yes. We did. The hard way.”

  Stephanie’s body relaxed as if she’d just been struck in the neck by a tranquilizer dart. “So it really is over? They can tie him to Jason’s death?”

  “Yes. And we’re fast tracking things for you.”

  “How so?”

  “We—” Declan didn’t want to tell Stephanie about his father’s reappearance. Better to keep things uncomplicated. Best to not muddle her decision-making processes. Or give her ammunition. She was too cunning. Any weakness he showed her, she’d find a way to use it to her own advantage.

  “We have someone from the FBI helping us.”

  Stephanie frowned. “Uh oh.”

  “Not uh oh. But we will need a favor from you.”

  Declan tried to look upbeat about the plan his father had shared with him. The plan he had to sell to Stephanie.