Easter eggs surround the body. One of them has a note. Charlotte teams up with Sheriff Frank to solve a cryptic murder in a do-or-dye situation...
Too bad she won't have help. Uncle Seamus and Bob accompany Declan to his charity swim in Tampa, Florida, only to find themselves in pursuit of a stolen life-sized Jimmy Buffett cutout. Darla and Mariska travel to the center of Florida to meet Mariska's newly found cousin at an art festival, where a man with a crush on Mariska bobs up in the lake and she's thrown in jail as a murder suspect. It's up to Darla and some very familiar locals to hatch a plan, solve the crime, and clear Mariska.
Chapter One
Coby Karola stood over his sink, cleaning a dinner plate, when he heard something strike the window near his kitchen table. The noise was sharp. Loud. Too loud to be a bird.
“What the heck was that?” he said to no one, moving to the back door.
He cupped his hands around his face to peer out the window, but it was too dark to see.
He dried his hands on his pants and flipped the back porch light on. Nothing seemed amiss until his attention fell on the center of his unmowed lawn. Unnaturally bright specks of color scattered across an area about the size of a round picnic table—yellow, pink, purple…
Grumbling to himself, Coby opened the door. From the small landing, he saw the color blobs were equally round. Maybe a little oblong. Sort of like…
Eggs?
It was April...
Easter eggs?
Shaking his head, he walked out and bent to pick up one. It was plastic—the typical cheap, hollow plastic eggs people hid candy in this time of year.
Kids.
It was almost Easter. This stunt had to be kids thinking they were funny. This time of year, the residents’ grandkids visited Florida for spring break. Every spring was a nightmare of blaring speakers on golf carts wheeling around the neighborhood.
Coby shook the plastic egg and then cracked open a purple one. There was nothing inside. He picked up another to find it empty as well.
He snorted. If someone was going to take the time to scatter eggs around his yard, at least they could throw in a chocolate or two.
In the hopes of finding something, he kept at it, twisting one egg after the next. Distracted by curiosity, he never heard the stranger running up behind him.
The one with the hammer.
But then, that was the point.
Chapter Two
Charlotte padded into the kitchen to start the morning coffee, her oversized sleep shirt tapping her knees as she walked.
It was still a little strange to wake up in Declan’s house.
She’d given up thinking she’d ever live anywhere but Pineapple Port, the fifty-five-plus community where she’d grown up, but here she was—a whole three miles away in her husband’s house.
She didn’t mind.
Marriage was pretty cool.
Who knew?
She had a new pattern at Declan’s house, and it felt more and more like home every day.
Her soft-coated wheaten terrier, Abby, approached and sat, waiting to be taken for her morning walk. The dog had figured out her patterns faster than her mommy, but to be fair, all her patterns revolved around treats, so things were pretty straightforward for her.
Charlotte suspected Abby liked it better at Declan’s house. Declan had a pool and a fenced back yard, and the terrier could romp whenever she wanted—no waiting for official walks. Charlotte was pretty fond of that new aspect of their lives as well—
Hold on.
Charlotte stopped as something flashed in her peripheral vision. She glanced at the back slider doors in time to see a shadow pass the full-length shade.
Something outside was moving.
Something big.
It didn’t look like a stray cat passing by. It was bigger and more person-shaped. She knew Declan was in the bedroom, so that ruled him out.
She heard splashing and cocked her head.
Someone’s in Declan’s pool?
The splashing made her feel better. Thieves and killers didn’t usually take a quick swim before breaking into a house.
Goofball kids stealing a swim?
Probably. It was that time of year when grandkids came to Florida. People on vacation sometimes acted like vacation spots didn’t carry the same rules or consequences as back home. That’s when they ended up with kids in the pool and golf carts planted in mailbox posts.
Abby heard the intruder splashing and offered her opinion in the form of a deep-chested boof—that pre-full-bark noise all dogs made before completely losing their minds. The dog jogged to the door and entered the lowered shade from the side to peek outside.
Abby’s bark alone would probably scare away the kids—but she didn’t bark. Instead, her little nub of tail wagged.
Charlotte stood behind her failing guard dog but couldn’t see anyone from her angle. Whoever was in the pool had stopped at the far end, out of sight, but she heard someone say, “Whoo! Cold!”
She left Abby and hustled to the bedroom to wake up her husband.
“Declan,” she hissed, shaking him.
He cracked one eye open.
“Hm?”
“There’s someone in the pool.”
“What?”
Declan sat up, alarmed but clearly still half asleep. It didn’t look like his mind would be joining them for another minute or so. The man slept like the dead.
Must be nice.
“There’s someone in our pool,” she repeated.
“In the pool? The cleaning guy?”
“It’s Friday. It’s not the cleaning guy. He was yesterday,” she said, slipping into her robe.
Declan checked his watch and grunted. He stood and stretched. His eyes focused on her. It looked like his brain had caught up to the rest of him.
“There you are,” she said, giving him a quick kiss.
Abby barked twice, and Declan strode toward the living room in the sweat shorts he usually wore to bed without bothering to get dressed. Now, he was all business. Whoever was out there was lucky the man hadn’t had his coffee yet.
Charlotte followed. Declan grabbed a controller from the sofa table, opened the automatic curtains, and watched in stunned silence as someone stroked their way to the edge of his pool.
“Why would someone steal a swim at four in the morning?” asked Charlotte.
Declan switched on the back porch light as the swimmer grabbed the side and bobbed up for air. Noticing the lights and open blinds, he pulled the goggles over his bushy gray eyebrows and squinted at them from the water.
He waved.
“Is that Bob?” asked Declan.
“I think it is,” said Charlotte. “I should probably call Mariska and tell her her husband’s loose.”
Declan glanced over his shoulder at her.
“This is what I was afraid of. Your crazy has followed you from Pineapple Port.”
She smirked and smacked his arm.
“You knew what you were signing up for. No takebacks.”
Declan had experienced plenty of Pineapple Port insanity during their dating years. She, on the other hand, had never known anything else. She was young when she moved into the retirement community to live with her grandmother after her mother died. When her grandmother also passed, the community let her stay, though she was far from the minimum fifty-five years old.
By the time she met Declan, she’d gotten so used to the crazy that she’d stopped noticing it—until she saw it through his eyes. Turns out, life was strange growing up as a retirement community’s young mascot.
Mariska and Bob the Morning Swimmer had served as her foster parents and lived across the street from her in Pineapple Port— though, apparently, now Bob lived in their pool.
Declan opened the slider, and Abby shot out, tail-wagging hello to the familiar man in the pool.
“Whatcha doin’, Bob?” asked Declan.
“I’m getting a quick swim in before we go,” said Bob, patting Abby while she licked the water off his arm.
Declan scowled. “Before we go?”
Charlotte put her knuckles against her lips.
Oh no.
She saw where this was heading.
I think I messed up.
“I’m coming with you to the charity swim in Tampa,” said Bob.
Charlotte nodded.
Yep, I messed up.
Declan turned to look at her. The whites of his eyes flashed, signaling either annoyance or panic. Probably both.
“Hey sweetheart, did you tell Bob I was going to a charity swim in Tampa today?” he asked in a sing-song voice.
His frozen smile answered her question.
Annoyed. Definitely annoyed.
She winced. “I might have mentioned it to Mariska.”
Her husband let out a slow, steady breath. She’d seen him do that move a few times before. One or more of the Pineapple Portians were usually nearby when it happened. Or, Declan’s Uncle Seamus—but a Seamus Sigh came with extra teeth gritting. He was the only thing crazier than the residents of Pineapple Port.
“I’m guessing you’d like to carpool there with me?” he asked Bob.
He’d given in fast. Like her, he’d figured out it was always easier to just accept the crazy was happening.
“That be great,” said Bob. “We should grab some breakfast here first.”
“Sure, the pool always comes with a complimentary breakfast.” Declan turned. “Maybe you could start on that, darling?”
She stuck her tongue out at him and moved to the kitchen to scoop extra coffee into the machine.
It was official—she’d been swept into the nuttery. She should have run away the second she saw it was Bob and not a killer taking a quick dip, pre-murder spree.
She turned on the stove and found a pan.
“Ask Bob what he wants—”
“Eggs!” called Bob, lowering his goggles back over his eyes. “And bacon. And toast. And orange juice!”
Declan nodded and left Abby outside to run around the pool, chasing Bob back and forth as he swam. He’d almost shut the door when Bob popped up again.
“Coffee!” he yelped.
Declan signaled he’d heard and turned to Charlotte.
“What have you done?” he asked.
She laughed. “I’m sorry. It never occurred to me he’d want to go with you. He hasn’t been into swimming for years.”
“I suspect it has more to do with the beach bunnies in Tampa than the swimming,” said Declan.
She snorted a laugh. “You said beach bunnies—you’ve been hanging out with the oldies too long.”
He smirked. “Well, whose fault is that? I’m just glad it wasn’t Seamus—”
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ye,” said Seamus as he burst through the front door.
***
Excerpt from Pineapple Easter Egg by Amy Vansant. Copyright 2025 by Amy Vansant. Reproduced with permission from Amy Vansant. All rights reserved.
Amy specializes in fun, exciting reads with plenty of laughs and action -- she tried to write serious books, but they always ended up full of jokes, so she gave up.
Amy lives in Jupiter, Florida, with her muse/husband and a goony Bordoodle named Archer.
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