Bingo Barge Murder (7 page)

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 front.

Kate stood next to the espresso machine, measuring out coffee beans.

“Have you seen Eddy this morning?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a wave and jogged back through Eddy’s kitchen and up her stairs, fear running through my veins. Be okay, I chanted to myself. She shouldn’t have come with us last night. We’d probably caused the heart attack I’d been obsessing about.

Eddy’s partially open bedroom door came into view. I prepared myself for the sight of her lifeless body lying on the bed. What if she was sprawled on the floor instead? What if she’d struggled to get up and couldn’t? What if she died all alone? The thunderous thoughts in my brain came to a screeching halt as I pushed the door all the way open and saw Eddy’s bed was empty. The sheets were rumpled, and the blanket lay half on the floor, but the bed was Eddy-free. This wasn’t right. She never left her bed unmade.

I flew into the attached bathroom and was back in the bedroom in a blink. It occurred to me that maybe she’d gone up to see Coop. Of course! My heart shifted out of high gear, and the roaring in my ears lessened. Still, I shot down the stairs, out of the house, and into the two-car garage. Eddy’s yellow pickup was still parked where we’d bailed out of it last night.

“Coop,” I hollered up at the ceiling. “Coop!” I grabbed the broom and hammered on the wall. “Coop!”

The trap door opened, and Coop appeared. “Where’s the fire?”

“Eddy. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

“Eddy?” Coop’s voice was gravelly from sleep and probably too many smokes.

“Yes, Eddy, for Christ’s sake. She’s gone!”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“Get down here!” My heart sped up so fast I feared it might slam its way through my ribs. I hoped I wouldn’t pee my pants.

Coop’s head disappeared, then he tossed a shirt, a pair of socks, and his shoes to the garage floor and scrambled down.

“Come on.” I gathered up his clothes, and he followed me toward the house, wearing only his jeans.

“Man,” he said, hurrying to keep up with me. “It’s freezing out here. Could use a smoke, too.”

I threw him a disgusted glare. “Your fatal attraction will have to wait.”

We plowed into the kitchen, and I dumped Coop’s clothing on the table.

“Shay, how do you know something’s wrong?”

“Eddy, I told you. She’s not here, and her bed’s not made.”

Coop would have done a good job of rolling his eyes if he’d been able to open them wide enough. “Who makes their bed anymore?”

“Eddy, you nincompoop. She always does. Always.”

Coop peered at me as if I was a one-eyed frog. “Maybe she went out. Met up with one of the Knitters.”

“I don’t think so. Something feels wrong.”

“Okay, okay …” He picked up his t-shirt from the table and pulled it over his head. He paused with one arm in the air and the shirt halfway on. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

Coop picked up a folded slip of paper from the table, half hidden under his socks. He read it, and I watched his face drain of color.

“What
is
it?”

He handed me a piece of lined paper, one edge jagged where it had been ripped out of a notebook. The words were scrawled in block letters:

GIVE US THE TAPE. AND THE NUTS.
YOU GET THE OLD LADY BACK IN ONE PIECE.
OR ELSE! CALL THIS NUMBER 908-555-9745

PS NO COPS OR SHE’S DEAD!!!!

My hands shook as I read the note again. Unfortunately, the words didn’t change.

“Oh my god,” Coop whispered.

I dropped the note as if it were contaminated and watched it drift down to the table. Hands clenched in my hair, I paced around the kitchen. “Okay. Okay. Calm. We need to stay calm.” My voice rose a number of octaves. “Coop—oh God, we don’t have any nuts.”

“But we do have the tape.”

“Yeah, we—oh my God, no!”

“What?” Coop half-stood, alarmed.

“The tape. I called JT, and she’s going to be here—” I twisted my wrist and looked at my watch, “any minute.”

“You tell her why you wanted to see her?”

“No. I just said I wanted to talk.”

“Then you’re going to go talk to her,” Coop said reasonably. “Get rid of her fast and then come back so we can make that call.”

“But what am I going to say I wanted to see her for? I can’t tell her what’s going on. I can’t give her the tape. They wrote right on the note ‘no cops’ …” I blinked hard and swallowed.

“Shay, I know.” Coop’s voice was remarkably calm. “Make a move on her or something. Tell her you’re hot for her. Tell her—”

“Shay! Hey, Shay, you’ve got company!” Kate’s shout from the entrance of Eddy’s living room interrupted Coop mid-sentence.

As the milk I’d snitched from Eddy’s fridge curdled in my stomach, I wished I’d been in the drama club in high school.

Coop sat immobile, his eyes wide and locked on mine.

“Shay!” Kate hollered again.

“I’m coming,” I yelled back, unable to break Coop’s gaze.

Coop jerked his head toward the door. “Go. You can do this.”

I shut my eyes, breathed deep, and headed for my sixty seconds of fame.

Detective Bordeaux sat in the chair I’d lounged in the day before, steam curling from the cup she held. I approached her, a forced smile on my lips, no clue about what to say. She caught my gaze as I sat down across from her and returned my smile, faint laugh lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

“Thanks for swinging by, Detective.” My voice was steadier than I thought it would be.

“My, we’re formal this morning,” she said, the tone of her voice teasing. “So what can I do for you?”

Oh, I don’t know, maybe forget I called you this morning and go away? “I wanted to see if you’d heard anything about Coop or had any updates on the murder.”

Her smile slackened, and the hard cop returned. She studied me silently for a moment. “Nothing on Coop. But someone did stir up some excitement at the Pig’s Eye Bingo Barge last night.”

Air in. Air out. “Really?” I forced my eyebrows up.

“The barge was broken into.”

I couldn’t pull my gaze from hers. She had me mesmerized and it seemed as if she could see through each lie I uttered. JT brought the cup to her lips, her eyes still laser-locked on mine.

“Why?” I asked.

“Not sure. Nothing was taken that we can tell. But someone was looking for something. What exactly, I don’t know. A few interesting pieces of equipment were left behind. And there had to be multiple people involved because three points of entry and/or exit were established. In fact,” JT’s eyes drilled me, “Mr. Cooper’s security code was used to disable the alarm.”

I sat petrified, unable to move, breathe, or think.

“The panic alarm was set off by someone leaving through an emergency door.”

The temptation to confess almost overwhelmed me. I wanted to explain to her that we were trying to help Coop. Explain that a big fat man named Pudge killed Kinky, and that Eddy was missing—no—kidnapped, and I was terrified … until the words on that scrappy piece of paper replayed on the screen in my head. PS NO COPS OR SHE’S DEAD!!!!

I couldn’t take that chance.

“I don’t know anything about it.” I looked away, guilt spreading like fire through me. I looked down at my hands clasped tight in my lap, then back up to JT, the guilt receding in the face of what I felt I needed to do.

JT shrugged and her face relaxed. When she wasn’t the woman of ice, she was hot as hell. For a very brief, crazy, improper moment, I imagined melting that ice away, until JT jolted me back to reality. “Something is stirring out there. Rumors we’re picking up, that the Bingo Barge is more than it seems.”

I was dying to ask what rumors they’d been hearing, but I didn’t want to raise any more suspicions. I wondered if she knew about the nuts. Or about what kind of nuts the nuts were. Peanuts? Walnuts? Macadamia nuts? Who cared about freaking nuts? And why was she telling me this?

“What’s on your agenda once you leave here?” I asked, unable to stand another moment of uncomfortable silence.

JT carefully placed her cup on the coffee table in front of her. “Headed to the barge.”

I was all out of things to say and momentarily considered Coop’s suggestion. It might not be very appropriate, but it would certainly get her mind off the case for a few stunned minutes. I wondered what her lips would feel like and pondered if it was distraction I intended or if some genuine interest was going on in the midst of this craziness after all. Cripes, I needed to get my head together and my mind out of dangerous places.

JT’s cell phone rang. She excused herself to answer it and wandered over to the picture window, her back to me as she listened to whoever was at the other end. She snapped it shut. “I’m sorry to run, but we have a break in another case.”

Oh, thank you, Lord. “Good news, I hope?”

“I hope so, too. Have a good day.” She turned and called to Kate, “Thanks for the coffee.” JT exited amid the sound of bells chiming against glass. The jingle was usually welcoming, but now it sounded starkly ominous.

_____

Coop slowly paced around the kitchen table, phone clutched in his hand. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“About as well as expected. I’m sure JT thinks I’ve got a few loose screws.”

“Did you take my suggestion?”

I narrowed my eyes at Coop. “No, I did not.” I took a breath. “To be perfectly honest, I did think about it for a moment, no thanks to you.”

“What’d I do?”

“You planted the seed. Oh, never mind that now—we have to make that call. You want to do it?”

“No way,” he said as he lowered himself into a chair. “What if I say the wrong thing and piss them off?”

“Give me the damn phone.”

He handed me the cordless, still warm from his hand. I took a very deep breath and punched the handwritten numbers into the keypad. One ring, and then another. I squeezed the handset so hard I was surprised it didn’t crack in half. At last someone answered with a rude, “What?”