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Authors: Jessie Chandler.
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to turn this mess over to Detective Bordeaux.
Eddy summarized, “Pudge killed Kinky. He was definitely one of the men on that floating palace of porn tonight. And Vincent wants his effing nuts.” Eddy’s lip twitched in distaste. “I certainly won’t forget that man’s foul mouth.”
Coop held a thumb up. “We have Kinky’s murder on tape.” He added his forefinger to his thumb. “Kinky was taping his nooners with a secret camera in his office. Let’s see. My prints are on the murder weapon.” Up went his middle finger. “The man who conked Kinky appears with another crazy man named Vincent, while we’re searching Kinky’s office.” Coop studied his hand. “These two yahoos are searching for some ‘fucking nuts’ and it seems Kinky did something with said nuts.”
“Why are these nuts such a big deal?” I asked, unable to fathom why anyone would be concerned about nuts. The idea was preposterous. “Besides, what does it matter anymore? We have the tape and it shows that Coop’s innocent.”
Eddy ignored me. “One of them said something about a missing truck. What truck?” The mystery element of this mess had grabbed her very susceptible imagination.
I said, “What kind of nuts could throw these guys into such a tizzy?”
“I surely don’t know. But Shay’s right. We have a tape that clearly shows Coop didn’t kill Kinky. We’ll turn it over in the morning. No use in raising hell this late.” Eddy stifled a yawn and stood. “My brain’s had all it can handle. Nicholas, you tuck yourself in here one more night.”
I peered at my watch. It was three o’clock in the morning. “Give me the tape, Coop. I’ll call Detective Bordeaux in the morning.”
I felt like I’d just closed my eyes when the alarm went off at nine. With a groan, I gingerly rolled out of bed, my muscles feeling the effects of the previous night’s adventures.
PB&J toast in one hand and JT’s card in the other, I walked into the living room. I plunked down on Ugly, the name Coop bestowed on my ragged couch, and dialed her number.
“Bordeaux,” she answered, her voice gruff.
I swallowed and then said, “Hey JT. This is Shay O’Hanlon. From the Rabbit Hole.”
“Oh, hi Shay.” Her voice warmed a few degrees. “What’s up?”
How much to tell her? I decided to keep it simple. “I’ve got something to talk to you about, and I wondered if you could swing by the café.”
“Sure.” There was a pause, and I imagined the detective checking her watch. “I can be there in less than an hour if that works for you.”
“Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks.”
I hung up and decided to see how Eddy was faring after our midnight exertions.
The old house was big, with the Rabbit Hole taking up almost half of the ground floor, and my apartment occupying the same space upstairs. Eddy had both stories at the rear of the building, and her lower level was connected to the Rabbit Hole kitchen by an ornate set of glass French doors. They had been installed as a divider when we remodeled to create the Hole space. The doors were usually closed and locked when she wasn’t home. When Eddy was around, she liked leaving one of the doors open so she could easily stay in touch with the goings on at the Hole.
My footsteps echoed as I pounded down the stairs. I unlocked the French doors and called, “Eddy!” as I made my way through her living room into the kitchen. The scent of vanilla floated lightly in the air, and I opened her fridge to pull out a carton of milk.
“Eddy, you up?” I unfolded the top of the milk container and took a healthy hit. Coffee wasn’t on. No enticing smell of bread crisping in the toaster wafted through the air. That was odd.
I ambled over to the stairs that were off the kitchen. “Eddy?” I strode back through the kitchen and living room, past the French doors with their gauzy cream curtains, and into the Hole. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the back storage room, and she wasn’t out
Eddy summarized, “Pudge killed Kinky. He was definitely one of the men on that floating palace of porn tonight. And Vincent wants his effing nuts.” Eddy’s lip twitched in distaste. “I certainly won’t forget that man’s foul mouth.”
Coop held a thumb up. “We have Kinky’s murder on tape.” He added his forefinger to his thumb. “Kinky was taping his nooners with a secret camera in his office. Let’s see. My prints are on the murder weapon.” Up went his middle finger. “The man who conked Kinky appears with another crazy man named Vincent, while we’re searching Kinky’s office.” Coop studied his hand. “These two yahoos are searching for some ‘fucking nuts’ and it seems Kinky did something with said nuts.”
“Why are these nuts such a big deal?” I asked, unable to fathom why anyone would be concerned about nuts. The idea was preposterous. “Besides, what does it matter anymore? We have the tape and it shows that Coop’s innocent.”
Eddy ignored me. “One of them said something about a missing truck. What truck?” The mystery element of this mess had grabbed her very susceptible imagination.
I said, “What kind of nuts could throw these guys into such a tizzy?”
“I surely don’t know. But Shay’s right. We have a tape that clearly shows Coop didn’t kill Kinky. We’ll turn it over in the morning. No use in raising hell this late.” Eddy stifled a yawn and stood. “My brain’s had all it can handle. Nicholas, you tuck yourself in here one more night.”
I peered at my watch. It was three o’clock in the morning. “Give me the tape, Coop. I’ll call Detective Bordeaux in the morning.”
I felt like I’d just closed my eyes when the alarm went off at nine. With a groan, I gingerly rolled out of bed, my muscles feeling the effects of the previous night’s adventures.
PB&J toast in one hand and JT’s card in the other, I walked into the living room. I plunked down on Ugly, the name Coop bestowed on my ragged couch, and dialed her number.
“Bordeaux,” she answered, her voice gruff.
I swallowed and then said, “Hey JT. This is Shay O’Hanlon. From the Rabbit Hole.”
“Oh, hi Shay.” Her voice warmed a few degrees. “What’s up?”
How much to tell her? I decided to keep it simple. “I’ve got something to talk to you about, and I wondered if you could swing by the café.”
“Sure.” There was a pause, and I imagined the detective checking her watch. “I can be there in less than an hour if that works for you.”
“Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks.”
I hung up and decided to see how Eddy was faring after our midnight exertions.
The old house was big, with the Rabbit Hole taking up almost half of the ground floor, and my apartment occupying the same space upstairs. Eddy had both stories at the rear of the building, and her lower level was connected to the Rabbit Hole kitchen by an ornate set of glass French doors. They had been installed as a divider when we remodeled to create the Hole space. The doors were usually closed and locked when she wasn’t home. When Eddy was around, she liked leaving one of the doors open so she could easily stay in touch with the goings on at the Hole.
My footsteps echoed as I pounded down the stairs. I unlocked the French doors and called, “Eddy!” as I made my way through her living room into the kitchen. The scent of vanilla floated lightly in the air, and I opened her fridge to pull out a carton of milk.
“Eddy, you up?” I unfolded the top of the milk container and took a healthy hit. Coffee wasn’t on. No enticing smell of bread crisping in the toaster wafted through the air. That was odd.
I ambled over to the stairs that were off the kitchen. “Eddy?” I strode back through the kitchen and living room, past the French doors with their gauzy cream curtains, and into the Hole. She wasn’t in the kitchen or the back storage room, and she wasn’t out
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