Pineapple Turtles

chair flipped over behind him. “You’re not going to touch a tomato on that man’s land or my name isn’t—” He fell quiet, the hand he’d thrust into the air slowly lowering as he silently lipped through the possibilities.
“Herbert Vincent,” prompted Bob.
Herbert’s hand shot back into the sky. “Herbert Vincent!”
Tommy stood, poking a finger in the stranger’s direction. “I demand to know why you’re here, who you are, why you don’t like tomatoes and if you have ever done any naked acting.”
The suited man frowned. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve sent these papers to Mr. Weeble several times over the last few months and as the local constabulary, I was hoping you could help. We’ll be at the vegetable field by seven tomorrow morning. I bid you good day.”
He twirled on the heel of his shiny loafers and left the bar.
Bob looked at Tommy. “What kind of jackass says I bid you good day?”
Tommy shrugged. “I had a naked meter reader say it once in my movie, Je Taime Meter.”
Mac flopped back into his chair. “T.K. never said anything about anyone ripping up his farm, did he?”
Without raising his gaze from the papers, Frank reached for his beer to find it gone. He took a moment to glower at Herbert. “Says here most of T.K.’s farm was on Air Force land, which was just sold to this guy’s company.”
Frank looked up and furrowed his brow in Tommy’s direction. “Your chin’s red.”
“Huh?” Tommy touched his face before weaving his way to the men’s room.
Mac raised his empty glass in the air. “T.K., we won’t let you down. We’ll stop those bastards or we’ll die tryin’. Right, guys?”
“Look at my face!” wailed Tommy’s reply from the bathroom.
Herbert stood. “Well, I’m going home. I have stuff to do.”
Bob touched his arm. “You’re going to leave T.K. hanging? After what he did for you?”
Herbert jerked away his arm and held up four bony fingers.
“Three things. One, I’m too old for this crap. Two, House Hunters is on tonight. Three—” Herbert studied his two remaining fingers and let one fall. “Three—I hate tomatoes. Make me break out. I swelled up like a balloon the night he dumped them tomatoes on me.”
Bob scowled. “House Hunters is on tonight?”
“It’s on every freakin’ night.” Mac huffed his disapproval. “Fine. You two go watch people whine about paint colors. Me, Frank and Tommy will take care of Elizabeth.”
“Yeah, you should go, Bob. Nighttime in the tomato field gets cold on the old arms,” Frank added, plucking at Bob’s sleeveless sweater.
Tommy pounded out of the bathroom. He had toilet paper wrapped around his chin like a bank robber who worked out of a men’s room.
Frank stood, hiked up his pants, and left the bar together with Tommy and Mac.
Bob straightened his sleeveless sweater and turned to Herbert, who still hovered near the table, seemingly unsure what to do next. “I need a ride home. Want to watch the show with me and Mariska?”
Herbert grunted and threw a dollar on the table. “She wear them stupid sweaters, too?”

 
 
Chapter Six
“Hey, you.”
Charlotte released Abby from her leash and the dog froze, glancing back and forth between her boyfriend Declan, who’d just walked up the path to Mariska’s stoop, and Mariska’s dog Izzy, bouncing up and down to see her furry friend. It took Izzy leaping forward and slamming into her for the Wheaton to choose. Mariska opened her storm door and without another glance at Declan, Abby and Izzy tore off into the house. Decision by tackle.
Charlotte smiled at Declan as the screen door clicked shut. “I was just dropping off Abby.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take her?” he asked, planting a quick kiss on her hairline.
“Nah. She likes playing with Izzy and I won’t be gone long.”
Declan nodded to Mariska. “Good morning. Looks like you won the dog lottery.”
“I did. Good morning. Would you like something to eat? Pancakes? Eggs? Maybe hash? I have some kielbasa...”
Declan held up a hand. “I’m good.”
Mariska clucked her tongue. “You’re so skinny. Both of you. I swear.”
Behind Mariska, Abby flashed by on her way to sniff all the rooms in the house. Izzy hugged her backend like a squat, shedding tailgater.
Charlotte patted Declan on his perky pec. “Thanks for coming by before work. I wanted to say goodbye.”
He nodded, looking confused. She imagined he was. She’d told him about finding the box and the trail leading to a mysterious aunt on the other side of the state, but the urge to drive to Jupiter Beach seemed sudden, even to her. She couldn’t help it.
“So you really think you might have an aunt in Florida?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It’s a longshot, but I feel like I should at least try to find her.”
“But the people at the hotel didn’t know her?”
“No. At least no one at the Loggerhead Inn admitted to having any idea who she is, but it’s the only lead I have. I think if I’m there someone will have to talk to me. I can’t shake the feeling they know more than they’re letting on.”
“I guess that’s what makes you the detective.”
She chuckled. “Or just a suspicious weirdo.”
Declan slipped his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “I looked up the hotel. Looks pretty nice.”
“I wish you could go with me.”
“Me too. But Blade’s out of town, which leaves me with no one to watch the shop. Plus, I don’t want to rush you out of there if you need more than a day.”
She hooked her mouth to the side. “I might.”
“I know how you roll.”
They giggled together and Declan looked at Mariska, his cheeks flushing red. Charlotte smiled.
Adorable.
“I’m going to head