Bingo Barge Murder (23 page)

The next day, flowers
and non-latex balloons dotted Coop’s dreary white hospital room with a myriad of cheerful colors. Get-well-soon cards lined the edge of the window. It was amazing how much stuff accumulated in the short span of two days.

The other half of the room was unoccupied at the moment. Coop sat, pillows propping him up. A white bandage covered his shoulder. He’d really lucked out. The bullet passed through flesh, missing bone and major arteries. He was facing a painful rehab but would fully recover.

I was settled on the bed opposite Coop’s when someone knocked on the door. It slowly swung open, and JT popped her head in, then entered with Tyrell in tow.

“There’s the great detecting duo,” Coop said.

JT sat down next to me while Tyrell stood at the foot of Coop’s bed, his arms crossed.

“I suppose you want details,” JT said.

I gave her a no-duh gaze.

“Buzz is out of surgery, and it looks like he’s going to emerge with his nuts intact.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Rita has a slight concussion but is recovering nicely in a jail cell,” she continued. “Rocky has a hell of an arm, not to mention great aim.”

Tyrell rumbled, “Rita spilled the beans on what she and Buzz had cooked up. They set Kinky up and stole the nuts after Kinky defaulted on some money he owed Buzz.”

“From gambling,” JT added. Her shoulder was pressed solidly into mine, and the heat of her skin burned through my t-shirt. It was hard to concentrate on what was being said.

“Buzz was coordinating the shipment and sale of the almonds to thieves down south,” Tyrell said. “They would have gotten between two hundred grand and half a mil for the load.”

Coop whistled though his teeth. “Damn.”

JT said, “Rita planned the whole thing. She overheard Kinky talking to Vincent on the phone about the nuts. She was broke. Squandered all her money gambling. She took out a $350,000 life insurance policy on the hubby, and with the money from the sale of the nuts and the dough from the policy, she was headed back home to Portugal, where she planned on living the high life on the low down.”

“I can’t believe she was going to take Buzz with her. He wasn’t her type at all,” I said, acutely aware of every move JT made next to me.

“No, he wasn’t,” Tyrell said. “But he was her type in that he’d do whatever dirty work she asked of him, including taking out her husband.”

Coop said, “So he did kill Luther.”

“Yup. Poor guy. Didn’t figure out where his money had gone until it was too late. Rita cleaned him out of everything, including his life.” JT shook her head.

“And what about Vincent and Pudge?” I asked.

“That was the kicker,” Tyrell said. “Both Vincent and Pudge were on the cusp of being taken out by their own mob Family. They’d screwed up one too many operations, and this was their do-it-or-die job. They’re the ones who had the almonds stolen in California and brought them here with over a million bucks worth of cocaine hidden in the middle of the load.”

My mouth fell.

“What?” Coop said.

JT couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face. “Yup. Rita and Buzz had no idea what kind of gold mine they almost hooked.”

“Holy cow,” Coop said. “No wonder Pudge and Vincent were so desperate to get that truck back. This brings us almost full circle back to Kinky. Did Pudge do him after all?”

JT said, “We got your back-up tape in the mail this morning. Good thinking, making a copy.”

“That was all Coop. All I did was seal the envelope shut. It’s a good thing we had extra VCRs up at the cabin.”

Tyrell chuckled, the sound rolling from deep in his chest. “The video is clear enough to finger Pudge for the murder. Turns out Kinky did pinch his butt, and that insulted Pudge’s manliness. He grabbed the first thing at hand and hauled off and walloped Kinky. He didn’t intend to kill him, but he’s never been known for control.”

“What happens now?” I asked.

“Rita and Buzz will hopefully do significant jail time,” JT said. “We think Vincent will turn state’s evidence against his boss, and Pudge will do whatever Vincent does.”

“Damn,” Coop muttered.

“So—” I was interrupted by another quick knock on the door, and in breezed Eddy and Rocky.

“Nick Coop, you are okay!” Rocky shuffled up to the edge of the bed, a big smile on his face.

Coop reached out and shook one of Rocky’s hands. “Thanks to you and Shay, I’m going to be fine.”

“This here young man’s done a fine job, and earned himself a place with the Knitters.” Eddy beamed at Rocky, whose chest visibly swelled. “And Shay, it looks like we’ll start having to call you the Tenacious Protector again.”

I rolled my eyes.

JT raised an eyebrow. “Tenacious Protector?”

Eddy laughed. “I’ll fill you in later, JT.”

Time for a subject change. “And,” I said, “Rocky’s going to help out a few days a week at the Hole, since there’ll be no more bingo on the barge.”

Rocky turned his ten-megawatt smile on me. “Oh yes, Shay O’Hanlon, I am going to help you in your nice coffee shop. Thank you, Shay!”

Tyrell watched the commotion, the lines on his forehead crinkling. “Will someone please tell me what on earth the ‘Knitters’ are?”

Eddy turned to him, a calculating smile curving her lips. “Let’s go and take a walk, you handsome young devil, and I’ll tell you all about the Knitters, free of charge.” Eddy guided him out of the room.

“Wait for me, Miss Eddy, I want to come! I am going to be a Knitter, too!” Rocky waved at Coop and dashed out the door after Eddy and Tyrell.

Coop’s smile faded, and he pinned a dubious gaze on JT. “What’s up with Dawg?”

The corners of JT’s mouth twitched. “After his observation period and a negative rabies test, he was good to go.”

“Where did he go?” Coop frowned.

“You’ll see any minute,” I told him.

We chatted for a few minutes more, until the door silently swung open again. Dawg burst in the room with a panting Kate in tow. “Sorry, we had to sneak up the stairwell and wait for the all-clear. He looks like a seeing-eye dog to me, but apparently not to anyone else.”

JT nudged me and motioned with her head toward the door. Dawg leaped up onto the bed and slurped Coop’s face. Kate chattered a mile a minute about the monster-mutt.

We stepped out into the hall. JT grabbed my arm and pulled me through the heavy metal door into the stairwell.

“What—”

My query was cut off as JT pressed me against the wall. The door banged shut. Her eyes were smoking black as she glared at me. “Don’t you ever,
ever
do something so stupid again. Trying to handle something like that on your own? You could have gotten Coop killed, not to mention yourself, you silly fool.” She stared at me a moment more, and then without warning planted a big smacker right on my lips. Conscious thought evaporated. When she broke away long moments later, we were both panting like
we
were the ones who ran up the steps.

“I’ve waited forever to do that,” she said, resting her forehead on mine, her expressive eyes no longer hard and cold. In fact, they were irresistibly hot, molten.

I smiled at her. “You know, we haven’t even had an official date yet, and we’re practically making out in the stairwell of a hospital.”

“I guess we are,” she said.

“So, JT, would you like to go out on a date with me? I know this great little café …”

“A date,” JT echoed. “Yes, I’d very much like to have a date with you.”

“Glad that’s settled. But before we get around to that,” I whispered as I pulled her closer to me, my mouth hovering a heartbeat from hers, “I wouldn’t mind making out a little more first.”

© April McGuire, Back Porch Studios

About the Author

Jessie Chandler, a 17-year bingo hall veteran, State Patrol dispatcher, and former police officer, resides in Minneapolis, Minnesota with her partner, Betty. Boing and Hooch, two frisky felines, graciously allow Jessie and Betty to live with them as long as they behave. As the current vice president of the Twin Cities chapter of Sisters In Crime, Jessie reviews a new mystery for the group every month. When she isn’t toiling away at the keyboard or reading her assigned novel, she’s schlepping books at Borders Bookshop or leading the LesFic Book Group at True Colors Bookstore. Jessie can also be found hawking artsy T-shirt creations and other trinkets to unsuspecting conference and festival goers during the summer months. Visit Jessie at www.jessiechandler.com and friend her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/jchandlerauthor.