Pineapple Christmas: A Cozy Christmas Mystery (Pineapple Port Mysteries Book 23) by Amy Vansant

Author:Amy Vansant [Vansant, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Pineapple Port

Following the sleepwalker excitement, Frank, Seamus, and Bob resumed their spots in the impromptu nativity scene at Bob’s house. They discussed the highs and lows of the current National Football League season, the price of grass seed, and the (insert expletive) traffic during tourist season.

They’d started a deep discussion about hernias when Frank noticed headlights headed their way.

“Hey, here comes a car,” he said, leaning for a better look.

The three of them froze as the car rolled up the street, moving slowly.

Too slowly.

“Something’s up with this boyo,” said Seamus from the corner of his mouth as the car paused in front of Frank’s house.

“What was that? Why did it stop in front of my house?” asked Frank.

He frowned as the car rolled forward again.

“Get ready.”

They held their nativity scene poses as the car pulled up to park in front of Bob’s house.

“This is it,” whispered Bob.

Frank didn’t think the man in the car could see them very well. Only a smiley-face sliver of a moon hung in the sky, and the makeshift barn front under which they sat blocked the lights from the house. They didn’t need to be perfectly still—which was good because Frank saw Bob swaying, and the whiskey bottle was sticking out of the manger.

A man exited the running car and started up Bob’s driveway toward where they’d set up the drawer-dropping Santa.

“Wait—” said Seamus, tensing, readying to attack.

Bob wasn’t listening.

“Freeze, sucker!” screamed Bob, jumping to his feet. As he stood, he forgot about the roof of the barn front, and he bashed his skull into the frame.

He dropped as fast as he’d risen.

Oblivious to Bob’s distress, Seamus burst into a sprint and made a diving tackle—driving the flailing visitor off the other side of the driveway and landing on top of him on the grass.

The man wailed as they hit the ground.

Frank hadn’t gotten further than his feet. He stood as little discs flew into the air around him like an attacking squadron of UFOs. He heard what sounded like a plate shattering against the cement.

“I got him!” called Seamus.

“Get off of me!” said another voice.

Frank snapped from his shock.

“Hold it there,” he said, striding over to the men on the ground. By the house’s porch light, he saw broken cookies scattered across the driveway, a smashed plate, and Seamus pinning Jenny Teacup’s husband, Pete, to the ground.

Pete stared up at him, his eyes wide.

“Frank, what is this?” he asked.

Frank scowled. “You? You’re the one stealing decorations?”

“Stealing decorations?” said Pete, his face red and spittle flying. “We’re the ones who were robbed, for crying out loud.”

Frank tapped Seamus’s back.

“Let him up before he has a heart attack,” he said.

Seamus stepped back, bouncing on his toes, looking ready to chase after the man if he made a break for it.

Frank held out a hand and helped Pete to his feet.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Pete brushed off his pants.

“Jenny asked me to bring you these cookies as a thanks for your help this afternoon.”

“Cookies?”

“Yes.

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