Bingo Barge Murder

by Jessie Chandler.

  “What would I do without you?” I gratefully took the mug from her.

  She perched on the padded arm of my chair. “Go out of business.”

  Kate was right. The woman was a human hummingbird, a front-of-house queen. When she needed to, she could move so fast you hardly realized she was doing anything at all. What she did was everything. I’d never be able to keep the place afloat without Kate. And she felt the same way about me. I was the behind-the-scenes muscle, coordinating PR, finances, orders, and whatever other pesky details came up. Neither of us could do the other’s job, but together we were a great business team. It was one of the many reasons Kate and I’d never hooked up—hanky panky between business partners was the kiss of death.

  “So, you mind if I borrow your cabin weekend after next? I have a,” Kate paused with a smirk, “mucho caliente muchacha I’d like to entertain in the deep woods.”

  My family owned a cabin on Finch Lake outside of North Branch on forty acres of forested land. My dad hunted there in the fall, and we used the cabin year-round.

  I grinned. “Be my guest. Just wash the sheets before you leave.”

  “Excellent. Changing the subject, are you going to tell me what was with the cops yesterday?”

  I leaned my head against the cushion and groaned. “I wasn’t dreaming then.” So much for my vivid nightmare theory.

  Kate laughed. “Unless I’m having the same dream, nope. But you know, JT’s still a hot little she-devil. Wouldn’t mind having a dream or two about her.”

  I agreed, but kept that to myself. “Believe me when I say you don’t want to know.”

  “Ohhhh-kay, whatever. What are you going to do with your day off?” Kate asked as she stood up. She glanced at the front door, the sound of the bells attached to it chiming merrily as it opened. Kate said quietly, “Speak of the she-devil.”

  Sure enough, the she-devil was closing our front door. Crap. My heart thumped, and I was caught in a vortex of being strangely pleased and outright terrified. Ugh. I was not awake enough to do the question-and-answer dance.

  Kate abandoned me and made a beeline back to the counter. I took a gulp of my latte, silently swearing when the hot liquid singed my tongue.

  Detective Bordeaux strolled up to the counter and chatted with Kate for a moment. She hadn’t yet seen me, which gave me a chance to size her up. She was a bit taller than Kate’s five-six, with a solid, medium build compared to Kate’s willowy body. Her dark hair was up in a ponytail again. Wearing a black blazer, faded blue jeans, and black boots with deep treads, she looked good. And more than ready to kick some bad-guy booty.

  Kate bustled around making a drink for the good detective. I knew it would again be a cappuccino with a double shot. She was the type to stick with the same thing once she found something she liked. Was that how she stepped into relationships, or was she more Kate-esque, footloose and lovin’ free? As JT spoke, the light from the window caught her cheek, throwing the hollows of her face into shadow. Attractive. Very attractive. She appeared the quiet, studious type, and I wondered if she liked to read. If she did, she probably went for something non-fiction and stuffy, like those big books about Important Social Issues whose authors made it onto C-SPAN’s Book TV.

  My yo-yoing thoughts evaporated when JT chuckled and murmured something to Kate, who pointed in my direction. The little traitor.

  Detective Bordeaux walked over and stopped beside my chair. “Mind if I sit down with you?” Not waiting for an answer, she lowered herself into the chair opposite me, on the edge of the cushion, feet on the ground, ready for action. Did the woman ever relax?

  I tried out a grin. “What brings you to this neck of the woods today, Detective?”

  She blew on the steaming liquid in her to-go cup, and then said, “Come on, Shay, it’s just me, JT. The drink Kate made me yesterday is still the best cappuccino I can find in town.”

  Now my smile was genuine. “Yeah, that’s Kate. She’s amazing.”

  JT took a sip. “Have you seen Mr. Cooper yet?” She studied me intently, like a bug under a bright light.

  So much for small talk. Honey, I thought, if you knew how close you were to Coop you’d have a coronary. Or haul me to jail.

  “No.” I held my breath, waiting for the god of honesty to strike me dead.

  She continued to stare, her dark-chocolate eyes not as hard as they had been the previous day. She had to know I was lying through my teeth, crowns, and cavities. The cops probably staked us out and witnessed Coop’s presence last night and she was biding her time, waiting for my confession. Almost as soon as that thought crossed my mind, it fled. They’d have busted in and arrested all of us—Coop for a murder he didn’t commit, and Eddy and me as accessories after the fact or aiding and abetting or some other fancy legal phrase for hiding a fugitive.

  The dark eyes that bore into mine were inscrutable as JT took another hit of her capp. She asked, “How long have you and Kate owned the Rabbit Hole?”

  What did that matter? Was she here to rattle my chain? Under different circumstances, I would have thoroughly enjoyed chit-chatting and maybe even trying out a move or two on her. She was my type: probably unattainable, slightly dangerous, and definitely a challenge.

  I said, “We’ve been open now for a little more than four years. Kate and I are partners, actually.”

  Did I catch a fleeting air of disappointment before her professional mask fell back into place? Interesting. She had to know a year ago that Kate was single, but I supposed a lot could have changed in the intervening time. “Business partners,” I amended, and watched JT’s face. An eyebrow rose slightly and she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  I mentally shook myself. I had a terrible tendency to chase after what intrigued me, and she definitely fit the profile. However, this woman was a cop. She wasn’t interested in anything but catching Coop, and I needed to cool it.

  “Where’s your sidekick?” I asked, at a loss for what to say that wouldn’t incriminate me in one way or another.

  “He’s out doing some follow-up.” JT regarded me for another moment, and then tugged the sleeve of her blazer up and glanced at her watch. “In fact, I have to meet him in a few minutes.” She tilted the cup to her lips again, the smooth play of her neck muscles mesmerizing me as she swallowed the liquid.

  I’d have loved to get to know that sensitive soft spot below her ear and behind her jawbone. If only she were looking for someone other than my best friend. I mentally slapped myself. Jesus, O’Hanlon. What was wrong with me?

  “This capp really is excellent. I’ll be in touch.” With that she stood and walked to the condiment bar, grabbed a lid, and snapped it on her cup. Over her shoulder she said to me, “If you hear anything from Mr. Cooper, call me.” It’s wasn’t a request. I swallowed hard as she said goodbye to Kate and left.

  The jingle of the bells faded, and Kate returned to me, a wide grin on her face.

  “You snitch,” I said.

  Kate raised an eyebrow, smirked. “She was nice. Tipped me five bucks.”

  “Taking bribes now, are you?”

  “Bills, babes … you know how it goes.” Kate winked at me and floated toward a customer waiting impatiently at the counter.

  _____

  Coop, Eddy, and I spent the balance of the afternoon and early evening planning our bingo hall break-in. Eddy, trumping our protests, refused to be left out. She assured us she’d worn clean underwear in case we were busted.

  The darkness of midnight weighed heavily as we piled into Eddy’s old yellow pickup and rumbled toward the Pig’s Eye Bingo Barge.

  “My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be in the dark,” Eddy said, squinting out the windshield as we zoomed down Interstate 94. I learned long ago to say multiple prayers to multiple gods whenever I climbed into a vehicle Eddy was piloting. The woman handled the pickup as if she were in a qualifying heat for a

  NASCAR race. Anytime we arrived at our destination in one piece, I resisted the overwhelming
urge to fling myself to the ground and kiss the earth in thanks.

  The stars and the moon were blotted out by clouds, and the blackness was thick behind the tall mercury vapor lights lining the freeway. It would be a good night for some B&E, provided we made it there intact.

  A few minutes and a few white knuckle moments later, we pulled into a ten-car parking lot across from the street that wound along the river, about a quarter-mile from the Bingo Barge. Eddy cut the motor and switched off the headlights. Blackness engulfed us. We sat unmoving, holding our breaths, waiting to see if a squad car was going to come roaring up with lights blazing.

  We’d all dressed in black, with the exception of Eddy’s neon-green high tops. No amount of cajoling convinced her to put on less attention-grabbing footwear. She told us in no uncertain terms they were her lucky shoes, and she couldn’t be part of a break-in without them. For our protection, Eddy also had her “Whacker,” a 12-inch baseball bat she’d gotten at some long ago Twins game. Eddy hung around the Rabbit Hole often and fancied herself the unofficial Hole bouncer. She’d whip out the Whacker when she thought someone might be getting out of hand after ingesting too much caffeine. To date, she’d only clobbered one guy, and he deserved it because he’d tried to filch a handful of bills out of the till when Kate’s back was momentarily turned.

  Coop had the keys to the barge clenched in his fist. A portable tool kit in my pocket poked into my thigh. We each had a flashlight and a set of plastic serving gloves I’d lifted from the Hole.

  I nudged Coop, who sat next to the door. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” My heart thudded in my ears. I hoped Eddy’s ticker was doing okay. I shook off the thought. Why was I so fixated on the state of Eddy’s heart? Must be afraid she’d exit stage right before I was ready to let her go. As if I’d ever be ready.

  We three huddled at the back of the truck.

  “Let’s walk along the side of the bank next to the river,” I whispered. “We’ll be less visible from the road.”

  “The Whacker’s ready for some action. Let’s go.” Eddy waved her mini bat in the air, and Coop reached out and grabbed it before it thumped him in the chest.

  “Keep your voices down,” Coop whispered harshly. “Sounds carry over the water, you know. God, I need a smoke.”

  We crossed the road single file. A rolling hill ran parallel to the road, and we climbed upward, legs burning, lungs rasping. On the far side of the mound, a gentle slope led downward to a sudden ten-foot drop to the cold, dark Mississippi. I caught a whiff of eau d’fish and other odors I couldn’t quite (and probably didn’t want to) put my finger on.

  We scurried rapidly along the river toward the blacked-out barge. The behemoth looked like a cheap, one-story rendition of the floating river casinos found in states farther south.

  The barge had been painted white with dark-blue trim when first installed off of Moffat’s Point, between Minneapolis and St. Paul. However, time and the harsh conditions of floating on the river had weathered the once-proud exterior. Paint peeled off the sides, looking like bark falling off a dead tree. Rust stains made the vessel appear as if it were silently crying. Even the gaudy, neon Pig’s Eye Bingo sign was unlit. It was eerie as hell.

  “Why aren’t there any lights on?” I asked Coop, my voice low.

  “Kinky is—I mean Kinky was too cheap to keep them on when there’s no bingo in session.”

  We hunkered out of sight in long, weedy grass next to the wide gangway that led to the front doors of the barge. I almost jumped out of my shoes when the floating palace of sin shifted noisily against its moorings.

  The entry still had yellow police tape stretched across it. Earlier we’d discussed the pros and cons of going in through the front doors and decided that it would be safer to enter through the delivery entrance on the far end of the barge.

  Eddy poked Coop in the back with her Whacker. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m going already. Jeez.” Coop hopped up and darted over the gangway and onto the deck. He hunched over and waddled like a mallard along the railing to the delivery door. Once he unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm, he waved us in.

  I followed Eddy as she scooted along ahead of me, her shoes radiating green with each step. I held my breath, waiting for a bullhorn to sound, “You with the glow-in-the-dark shoes, stop right there!” But, thankfully, we all made it safely inside. The door clicked shut and we were plunged into a thick, suffocating black so pure that if there were a color for death, this would be it.

  No one said a word. We strained to listen for sounds that our escapade was about to come to an arresting end until Eddy clicked on her flashlight and waved it around. We were in a windowless supply room. Coop and I flicked on our own flashlights, and Coop said in a stage whisper, “This door opens to the main hall. Kinky’s office is down the gangway on the far side of the hall. We’ll have to shut the flashlights off when we cross the main area because of the windows, but his office doesn’t have windows. We can turn the lights on without anyone seeing anything.”

  “Don’t forget the gloves,” I said. Crinkling sounds filled the room as we struggled to stuff our hands into the clear plastic serving gloves.

  We were plunged into creepy blackness as we flipped the flashlights off. Coop eased the door to the bingo floor open. The odor of stale cigarette smoke and the lingering smell of greasy, fried food made my nose wrinkle.

  Coop moved silently ahead of us, and we hurried to catch up to his dark form. The bingo hall was unrecognizable in the dark. By the time I thought I’d gotten a handle on where we were in the cavernous room, Coop was zinging down a hallway that housed the restrooms and Kinky’s office.

  Coop stopped short in front of an open door. I bounced into him and Eddy ran into me with a grunt. He whispered, “This is it.”

  Eddy, hanging on to me as she regained her balance, whispered, “What’s the holdup? Go on in, boy.”

  Coop suddenly backpedaled into me. “Oh hell. No way. I got us here. Someone else can go in there first. Blood and guts … uh-uh.” His voice was hoarse.

  Eddy elbowed her way past us. “Outta my way, then. Swear I gotta do all the work for you kids these days.” She turned on her flashlight and charged through the door. Coop and I followed in her wake.

  “See, nothin’ here except a big hole where the carpet’s been chopped out.” Eddy’s flashlight stopped on a missing rectangular section of filthy gray carpet. I thought the stale air held the faintest tang of copper, but it was probably in my head.

  “I think I’m gonna pass out,” Coop said.

  I grabbed his arm and shook him. “No, you’re not. Don’t you dare pass out, Nicholas Cooper.” The shock of hearing his given name come out of my mouth was enough to bring him to his senses.

  The light switch was next to the door. I flipped it on. We blinked in unison at the harsh fluorescent glare. A tan metal desk covered by a flat calendar sat to one side. Stains I really, really hoped were from food decorated various portions of the calendar, along with doodles and random notes jotted on the border and under some of the dates. A tired-looking computer sat beside the calendar.

  A precarious mountain of papers and magazines on one corner of the desk threatened to go into a landslide at any moment. I wondered if the cops had anything to do with the mess or if it was a reflection of Kinky’s organizational abilities.

  A two-shelf hutch was pushed up against a wall and loaded with file folders, used or defective bingo daubers in various neon shades, and a clear plastic jar of bingo balls that looked suspiciously like glorified Ping-Pong balls. A rack stood next to it holding a computer monitor, keyboard, three hard drives, and a VCR.

  A grimy loveseat and two chairs took up an entire wall, and two framed, poster-sized prints hung on the opposite wall. One of the prints portrayed abstract female body parts in various stages of undress, and the other was a portrait of a life-sized, slicked-up Kinky holding out his bronzed bingo dauber for the world to see.

&nb
sp; More magazines were piled on the floor behind Kinky’s desk, and I suppressed a shudder when I caught a glimpse of the top one. It’s certainly a free world, but the content was more than I ever wanted to know about Kinky’s sexual appetites. The glossy was entitled Whips and Chains, and a picture of a balding man graced the cover. On all fours, he wore a dog collar and nothing else. Behind him, holding a leash attached to the collar, a rubber-suited dominatrix with an evil grin cracked a wicked-looking whip.

  Eddy stuck the Whacker under her arm and settled into the office chair. “The desk is mine.”

  “I’ll go through the security hard drive.” Coop made for the rack of electronics and fired up the system.

  The hutch was as good a place as any for me to start. I stepped to it and poked through the piles of paper. Not much to see except letters from the Gambling Control Commission of Minnesota, bingo paperwork, and notes from workers requesting time off.

  It wasn’t five minutes before Coop said, “The digital files are gone. I thought they archived, but nothing’s here.” So much for easy answers.

  Eddy was busy sifting through the sheaves of paper on the top of the desk. I pulled open the right-hand desk drawer and found it filled with pens, paperclips, a half-eaten Baby Ruth, a set of keys, and a few business cards. One card was a reminder for an appointment at DeeDee’s House of Massage. Two of the business cards were from bingo equipment distributors, and another was from Schiek’s, a strip joint in downtown Minneapolis.

  The cops must not have deemed the business cards worthy evidence since they were still in the drawer. If I were them, I’d check into DeeDee’s and see what kinds of massages were being given. I tucked the cards back in the drawer and slid it shut.

  “Sweet Jesus! I’ll be,” Eddy said. She had an official form with the picture of a bingo player attached to it with a paper clip. The top of the paper read Release and the form gave the Pig’s Eye Bingo Barge permission to use the winner’s image for publicity. I’d periodically seen ads in the local newspaper that showcased the big winners each week. According to Coop, the players loved it.