Free Pineapple Lies by Amy Vansant Page A

eyes.
    “Why’s that?”
    Charlotte ignored his question.
    “Hey, you don’t happen to know…” she trailed off, realizing how weird she was about to sound.
    “What?”
    “You don’t know the French word for lion, do you?”
    “Did you come here to ask me that?”
    “No…” She took a few steps away, dragging her finger along a low walnut bureau as she moved, as if testing it for dust. She didn’t know why she did it. But now, the urge to check her finger for dust was overwhelming.
    “Nice shop,” she said, rubbing her fingers together.
    I don’t feel dust…don’t look. He’ll know. Don’t look…
    “Thank you.”
    “It isn’t nearly as smarmy as I thought it would be,” she added, taking a quick look at her fingers.
    No dust.
    “Uh…thanks, I guess. I should use that in my ads: Hock O’Bell: Not nearly as smarmy as you think. ”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “No. No problem. I had a big blowout last month and sold most of my smarm. Can I help you with something? How are you?”
    “I’m good. I suppose I should be the one asking you, though.”
    Declan shrugged. “It’s upsetting, of course, but in my heart I knew my mother didn’t leave me. Part of me knew she was gone.”
    “Did they confirm it was her? Did you hear?”
    “No, but the timing and the necklace…I don’t see how it couldn’t be.”
    Charlotte nodded.
    “Now I just need to find out why and how it happened,” he said, running his fingers through his dark hair. One wavy curl fell on his forehead as he dropped his hand, making him look like Superman. Superman in a polo and khakis; which she reasoned was really more Clark Kent’s style, but he didn’t have those glasses on that tricked people into thinking he was an entirely different, incredibly built, handsome guy.
    “Do you ever wear glasses?” she asked.
    “What?” He raised one eyebrow. “Why would I wear glasses? You mean sunglasses?”
    “No, I mean glasses glasses. Like, with thick black frames.”
    “Uh…no. Should I ask you why you ask? Or will I regret that?”
    Charlotte shrugged. “No, don’t ask. I think I’ll regret it if you do.”
    “Fair enough. Can I ask why you stopped by one more time with the tiniest bit of hope that you might answer?”
    “Oh! Sorry. I actually have two things to tell you. First, Harry Wagner came by my house. He’s an ex-cop who used to work cold cases. He’s a little obsessed with them. Anyway, he showed up with a metal detector and found a bullet in my backyard.”
    “A bullet? Where they found the body?”
    “Yes. We gave it to Frank — er, Sheriff Marshall, so he can pass it on to the forensic people.”
    “Who would shoot my mother?” Declan wondered aloud. “Not only shoot her, but take the time to bury her. It’s not like she was shot walking into a convenience store robbery or something.”
    “It might not be related. It could be some crazy coincidence.”
    “I guess… Thank you.” He thrust his hands in his pockets and then seemed to catch himself as his thoughts began to drift. He focused on her and she felt the urge to duck behind the nearest sofa.
    “You said there were two things?”
    “Oh right.” Charlotte looked at the ground and traced a circle on the floor with her foot. “Um…the lady who owns Pineapple Port, Penny, started a committee to address your mother’s discovery.”
    “A committee?”
    “There’s a committee for everything. Someone sneezes funny and they start the Funny Sneezes Committee.”
    “Really. What are they calling this one? The Skeleton in Charlotte’s Yard Committee?”
    Charlotte felt her face growing hot with embarrassment. “Uh… worse .”
    Declan stared at her, awaiting her answer. She considered lying, but as she looked down and into her purse, she spotted the folded committee flyer. She had to tell him the truth; he would find out, anyway.
    “ The Corpse Committee .”
    Declan bit his lip. “Oh boy. That’s definitely catchier than my