Pineapple Turtles

seeped onto Angelina’s face and Charlotte knew one other thing: Angelina hadn’t believed she was a health inspector or a food inspector for a minute.
I could admit I lied or push it.
“Why did you say health inspector like that?” she asked.
Angelina’s eyes grew wide. “Like what?”
“Like you don’t believe I am one.”
“Well,  you’re not, are you?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because nothing about you says health inspector. Health inspectors are always chubby old men.”
“That’s not true.”
Angelina pointed at her. “You’re not dressed like a government employee.”
“We have days off, too, you know.”
“You said you were here for a meeting. And if you weren’t, somehow I doubt health inspectors get so intrigued by family mysteries they run to the other side of the state to figure them out.”
Charlotte scowled. “You seem to have an awful lot of preconceived notions about health inspectors.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Where are they holding your meeting again? I don’t want to miss it. Sounds like a party. And is it the health inspector meeting or the food inspector meeting? I keep forgetting.”
Charlotte frowned.
I knew it was a stupid lie.
Her shoulders slumped. “Fine. I’m not a health inspector. But my stupid little fib would have worked if you hadn’t been so suspicious from the start.”
“Touché. But why did you feel the need to lie?”
“Because I thought if I told you my real job it would make you suspicious.”
“Right. We wouldn’t want that.”
Charlotte snorted a laugh. “Why are you being so dodgy about sharing information?”
“I’m not being dodgy. I’m a concierge. Not a spy. I just don’t know what’s going on.”
“Fair enough.” It occurred to Charlotte that Angelina hadn’t asked her what her real profession was. Strange, for a woman who’d been so suspicious of her.
Almost as if she already knows.
Angelina’s cheek twitched, as if beneath Charlotte’s glare, she’d realized her mistake.
Looking away, as if the answer would have no importance to her, Angelina asked the question.
“So what are you? A cop?”
Without meaning to, a tiny grunt escaped from Charlotte’s throat.
There it is. She’s covering. She realized she should have asked.
This woman is good.
Charlotte decided to come clean so they wouldn’t spend the next day playing cat and mouse. “No. Not a cop. A private detective.”
Angelina seemed shocked. “Really?”
She nodded.
“Isn’t that interesting?”
“Sometimes.”
Susan delivered Angelina’s drink and wandered off again. Angelina plucked out the cocktail straw and took a sip of the thick, red-tomato-juice-based concoction.
“The salt makes me bloat but I love these things,” she said before returning her attention to Charlotte. “So what else did you find at Grandmom’s, Sherlock?”
Charlotte chuckled. “A shoebox full of a mishmash of kid things, mostly. Report cards, drawings—it made me think this girl must have been special to Nanny.”
“That’s what you called your grandmother? Nanny?”
She nodded.
Angelina looked off into the restaurant, as if her thoughts were pulled in that direction by a memory.
“Mine was Nona.” Her shoulders seemed to loosen, as if the tight strings holding her erect had slipped a notch. “Siofra’s been gone a long time.”
Bingo!
Charlotte perked. “So you do know her?”
She nodded. “She’s been missing for years.”
“Missing? Like, kidnapped?”
“Gosh, no, I hope not. She just left. Personal reasons. We’ve made some inquiries but nothing solid. Until recently, we didn’t know if she wanted to be found, so we didn’t try.”
“What happened recently?”
“Her father fell ill. We want to let her know, but I’m afraid we’ve let her trail go cold for too long.”
“Are you family?”
Angelina tilted her head from side to side. “Family friend.”
Charlotte ate a piece of her sushi roll.
Declan was right. This definitely wasn’t going to be a one day project.
Dabbing her napkin against her lip, she stared across the table. “Do you want me to find her?”
Angelina’s brow crinkled. “You mean do I want to hire you?”
“No, I’d do it for free, but yes, find her like I would if you were to hire me.”
Angelina took another sip of her Clamato and vodka. “We really should find her.” She mumbled the words, as if she were talking to herself more than anyone else. She began to nod, the motion growing stronger until she put down her glass and locked eyes with Charlotte.
“I think I can give you some leads, Sherlock.”

 
 
Chapter Fourteen
Charlotte gobbled the last few pieces of her sushi, settled the bill and followed Angelina back to the resort. She paid for Angelina’s cocktail as a thank you for the recovery of her phone and Angelina accepted without a fight.
“Cattle cup,” said the doorman touching the brim of his invisible cap as he opened the door for them.
Angelina strode through without stopping. “Thank you, Bracco.”
Charlotte smiled and hurried to catch up to Angelina. Flanking the concierge, she lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Is it me or is he not saying real sentences?”
She felt bad for asking, but it was time to figure out if she was going crazy or if that man was saying random words every time she passed by.
“They’re real sentences. They just don’t make any sense to us.” Angelina tapped the side of her head with her index finger. “Brain injury. He knows what he’s saying but his brain and mouth aren’t on speaking terms.”
“Oh.”
“A lot of the people who work here are veterans or survivors of other types of wars.”
Charlotte glanced back at the tattoo-covered body of Croix at the desk, wondering which war she’d survived. Croix smiled and offered her a tiny wave.
Angelina led Charlotte away from the reception area and turned her back as she punched a code into the lock of a door situated at the end of a long hallway. Charlotte noted they’d moved