Yes! That was it. The nuts were within our grasp.
Coop said, excitement evident in his voice, “Where exactly are they stored?”
This time George studied us over his wire rims with a distinct frown creasing his forehead. “Why would you want to know that?”
Coop’s mouth snapped shut. It was apparent we’d squeezed as much as we were going to get out of the good Mr. Unger, and if we pushed for any more, he was going to start demanding more answers than we were prepared to give.
I said, “Nevermind Coop. He’s got a curiosity streak a mile long. We appreciate the information you’ve given us.”
George slid the glasses off his face and returned them to his pocket. “You tell old Pete the debt’s been paid, and I’ll see him next Tuesday night.”
“I will certainly do that,” I said as we followed George out to the lobby and into the dark parking lot. He dug a ring of car keys from his jacket and fished around the pocket again, withdrawing another, smaller set that he used to lock the door.
“Thanks again for coming out here tonight,” I said as the gravel covering the parking lot crunched beneath our shoes. “I know it’s late.” I stepped over one of many ruts in the ground, and my foot caught the edge and came down sideways. I stumbled into George.
“Easy there, Little O!” He quickly reached out to help me right myself as Coop grabbed for my other arm. “This damn lot is a mud puddle when it rains and then it dries uneven, and the company’s too cheap to have it graded. One day someone’s going to kill themselves and there ain’t going to be no more Grizzly, mark my words.”
“Thanks for everything, George,” I said as I limped to the pickup.
“Next time make it a little earlier, will ya? I have a game to be at. See ya.” George called as he crawled into his car and started it. With a wave he wheeled out of the lot.
Dawg’s face was pressed against the driver’s side window, his wet nose leaving streaks on the glass. His whole body wiggled with excitement as the door opened. Coop pulled the seatbelt across his chest and buckled it as I attempted to do the same, trying to nudge giant dog paws out of the way.
“What now?” he asked.
I grinned at him. “You’ll see.” I pulled out of the parking lot and watched the taillights of George’s car fade in the distance. About two hundred yards down the road, I pulled into an abandoned gas station. I circled the weed-covered building, came to a stop, and flipped the lights off.
“What are you doing?” Coop asked as he strained to see over Dawg, who had decided to perch on his lap and was beginning to pant.
“We’re going to make sure the coast is clear, and then we’re going back and finding those nuts.”
“Come on, the place is locked up tight as a drum.”
“Have lock, find key.” I held up the key ring George had used to lock the door.
“Where did you—oh. You’re bad.”
“Hand in, hand out. You know, I never realized it was so easy to pickpocket someone. Maybe we can take that vocation up if this falls through and we have to flee to Mexico.”
“What if he comes back?”
“That’s why we’re waiting. I figure if he doesn’t show up within an hour, we’re safe to go.”
For the next forty-five minutes, we alternated walking Dawg up and down a dense row of trees between the gas station and Grizzly. Between hikes, Coop stood outside the truck and smoked, and I impatiently drummed my fingertips on the steering wheel. I snuck a peek at my watch. 2:33 am. Exhaustion and adrenaline clashed inside my body. If this was what it was like to be James Bond, I wasn’t sure I wanted any part of it.
“Okay,” I called out the open window. “Let’s go see what we can find.”
Coop stubbed out his cigarette and herded Dawg into the cab. Once everyone was settled, I cranked the engine and zipped back into the Grizzly lot. I parked in a spot close to some trees and mostly out of sight of the road. We cracked the windows for Dawg, who hung his head as we piled out. Coop gave the mutt a reassuring pat before he closed his door.
We made a beeline for the front door, every step sounding like an explosion in the still night. Wispy clouds partially obscured the moon, making the long building appear even darker and more sinister than before.
I fumbled with the keys while Coop kept watch, and as my patience faded, the correct one slid smoothly into the lock. We slipped inside. Coop closed and locked the door behind us.
I flicked on my flashlight and we headed down the hall, past George’s cubbyhole and a couple of other offices. The last door at the end of the hall was closed. As Coop twisted the knob, I said a silent prayer, which someone must have heard, because the door swung open. The beam of my flashlight was dim against the pressing darkness of the surrounding space. Groundhog Day, take three.
I swung the light around. It reflected off a number of cargo containers, the kind that can be loaded onto the trailer of a semi or onto railroad cars. They were stacked one atop another in a rusty rainbow of yellows, reds, blues, blacks, and silvers.
Coop stepped through the door and played his own flashlight over the metal crates. “No names on these things, just numbers.” He indicated a series of digits painted in white on the side of the container. “There’s three, six, nine containers here … let’s see how far down they go.”
I followed Coop over to the wall, where a narrow aisle ran between the stacked containers and the corrugated metal siding of the building. We both shone our flashlights down the aisle, and the beams of light were swallowed up by the darkness long before they reached the other end.
I walked past the first mountain of containers. I trudged on for the first three rows, and had a rapidly sinking feeling in my gut. Coop said, “There’s got to be a hundred of these things in here. How the hell are we going to figure out which one the nuts are in?”
A ball of desperation clogged my throat, and I swallowed hard. “Maybe the numbers on the containers are linked to that log George had.”
Coop grimaced. “That’s a lot of numbers.”
“You have a better idea?”
“No.”
We retreated to George’s office. He’d left the shipping log he’d used on the top of the mess on his desk. Coop sat down, and I hovered over his shoulder as he opened the big book and flipped to the last of the entries. The final page showed five different shipments, and they all appeared to be outgoing. Coop’s finger ran down to the Riley Derby entry.
“I think it’s the right one. Product to be shipped is almonds from California.” Coop’s finger slid along the page. “They’re being transferred in Louisiana to an unnamed shipper. There’s letters and numbers after the date. AFIF4101376. Maybe that’s the container number.”
We jotted the number down, me on my hand and Coop on a Post-It. In my mind, Eddy’s voice haunted me yet again, chastising me for writing on my skin, and I shivered. She was forever trying to break me of the habit, and the memory choked me up. I shook off the fear and emotion, turning my attention to our next move.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Coop said. He somehow gained strength from each quandary we’d gotten ourselves in and out of during this never-ending night. “We’ll each walk alternating rows. If we don’t find it the first time, we’ll do it again.” He stared at me, a fierce gleam in his eyes, the kind of gleam he had when he talked about the latest adventure the Green Beans had embarked on. “Shay, we are going to succeed.”
“I know.” My voice was much more sure than my heart.
We tramped back out to the cavernous room. Coop took the first row of containers. I took the next. For the next ten minutes, we weaved in a complex dance around each other, flashlight beams bouncing wildly off metal and the rounded interior of the building.
A knot was growing in my stomach, bigger with every non-match my flashlight uncovered. I lost track of how many containers I checked. I plodded past the row Coop was scrutinizing. We were almost to the end of the building. Choking back a fru
strated growl, I turned the corner to survey the next stack of rusted metal boxes. When I reached the last set of containers, the space opened into an area the size of a basketball court.
Three semis were lined up, two weighed down with containers, and one empty truck. I shone my light on the first container and stifled an oath when the number didn’t match. I sighed and walked to the second truck. About three feet separated the vehicles, making it difficult to see the numbers high above my head, and I had to lean backward to make them out. AFIF4101376. It was a match.
“Coop!” I yelled, frustration forgotten. “Coop, I found it!”
Coop came at a run, the beam from his flashlight swinging wildly. He skidded to a stop beside me. “It’s on the truck?”
“Yeah!”
Coop’s light caught the now familiar numbers painted on the container. “Sweet,” he said, excitement bubbling from him like a volcano preparing to blow. “Now what?”
“We take the truck.”
“Yeah, right.” When I didn’t say anything he looked at me. His eyebrows popped up. “Whoa. Wait a minute. I was thinking more along the lines of calling the Bumbling Brothers right now, not embarking on grand theft auto.” He eyed the big tractor-trailer. “I mean, grand theft semi.”
“We can’t do the deal from here, Coop. Dock workers start their days early, like six in the morning early. It’s already—” I lit up my watch. “It’s 3:14 am. As in Saturday morning. If we don’t do something now, the nuts will be floating down the Mississippi, and Eddy will be sunfish niblets.”
Coop didn’t respond. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Can you drive this thing?” I asked.
Without opening his eyes, Coop said, “Yeah. I can probably figure it out.” He scrambled up and into the cab to check for keys while I headed for a three-by-three foot electrical panel on the wall. We had to get the huge door open so Coop could rumble out with the about-to-be-three-times-stolen cargo.
As I scanned the switches, Coop hollered, “Shay! Keys are here. Where are we going with this monster?”
I rubbed my temples at the ache behind my eyes. “God,” I muttered, my mind galloping in circles. “Uh, let’s head for the cabin.”
“Roger,” Coop said. “I’ll fire this thing up, and once we’re running, you open the door.”
“You drive straight out of here and keep on going. You remember where the cabin is, right?”
“Yeah. Can’t forget one of the worst hangovers in my life, not to mention that near-drowning.”
A little giddy over our sudden progress, I bantered back. “That was your own fault. I told you to stay off the water when you’re thirty-three sheets to the wind and it’s pitch black out. Start the rig already.”
After a long moment of silence, the big vehicle rumbled to life. Coop let it idle for a minute and then gave me the high sign to open the door. I pushed the button, and prayed.
The garage door rumbled up, inch by agonizing inch, coming to a shuddering halt to reveal the opening leading into the cool night. The racket from the door’s motor faded, taken over by the low roar of the semi’s engine.
Coop eased the monster into the parking lot. He hadn’t turned the lights on, and the truck was outlined in black and silver shadow. I ran out, hopped onto the driver’s side running board, and stuck my head into the open window.
“You head straight up to the cabin. Don’t stop for anything, and for Pete’s sake, don’t speed.”
“I never speed. That’s you, honey.”
“Be careful. I’m going to close up and head out after you. I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes behind.”
“Have you got your cell phone?”
I felt for it in my pocket and nodded.
“Call me when you’re on the road.” Coop reached out and ruffled my hair.
I hopped off the cab, and Coop rolled up the slight incline to the road, paused, and slowly pulled out. The headlights popped on as the truck passed the stand of trees between Grizzly and the abandoned gas station. I watched until the vehicle disappeared out of sight.
My heart was pounding, half in excitement and half in terror of discovery. I couldn’t believe we’d pulled it off. We had the nuts, and now all we needed to do was keep them hidden until the meeting with Vincent and Pudge, and then Eddy would be back with us, safe and sound.
I shut the garage door and backtracked, carefully locking up after myself. I left the keys in a mailbox mounted to the building beside the door. Poor George. He’d feel better if he knew he was saving a life.
The oppressive darkness settled around me as I trekked across the lot to my pickup. Even the birds and squirrels must have fallen asleep—no rustling night sounds came from the trees next to the truck. Dawg grinned at me as I got in and gave my cheek a slurp. I scratched the side of his furry face and told him, “It’s you and me for a while, pal.”
I pulled out of the lot and onto the road, turning on the radio for background distraction. I caught the last bit of Sammy Hagar’s distinctive voice as he belted out the final lines of “I Can’t Drive 55.” I headed north, one hand on the wheel, and the other draped across Dawg’s chest as he lay stretched across the seat with his head in my lap.
_____
The miles disappeared under my humming wheels as Dawg snoozed and I tried hard not to. I called Coop, and he’d seen two police cars lying in wait on exit ramps, watching for speeders and drunks.
At this late—or was it early?—hour, traffic was light. As I wound my way through the heart of Minneapolis, I was careful to mind my driving manners. The cops were itching for something to do, and I didn’t want to provide the something they were doing.
I cleared the city and was soon cruising north on 35W, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel in time to a Nickelback song. I’d felt wide awake when we’d left Grizzly, but as we made it safely through the city, exhaustion tugged at every muscle in my body. My eyelids felt like they weighed ten pounds apiece, and I struggled to keep them open. I resorted to vigorous head shaking, which helped a little, but did nothing to alleviate my headache.
Dawg grunted softly in the grip of some dream, and I rounded the big curve that merged 35W and 35E a few miles south of Forest Lake. Few cars were on the road this far north, and as I came out of the curve, my eyelids inadvertently slid shut again. The wheels hit the warning grooves in the shoulder, sending a loud, thrumming jolt of adrenaline through me, and scaring the bejesus out of Dawg. I swerved in automatic reaction, nearly hitting a car that was passing me on the left. The car stepped on it and squirted past us like a greased piglet.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled under my breath and realigned the pickup on the road. Just another thirty minutes and I could collapse for a few hours. I needed to keep it together a little bit longer. Dawg sat stiffly with his front legs splayed wide on the seat. He stared warily at me, his eyes shiny, and one of his eyebrows appeared higher than the other, as if he were questioning my driving abilities. “Gimme a break,” I told him. “You try driving a straight line after going through all this crap.” He just blinked.
A couple more miles skimmed past. Both sides of the road were now aglow with billboards. As we approached the Forest Lake exit, the Famous Dave’s sign shone neon red, and car dealerships lit the night sky. One of the automotive dealers had a gigantic scrolling sign that made me feel like I was in Las Vegas every time I passed it.
A few hundred feet past the exit we plunged back into darkness as street lamps thinned out. I yawned and noticed the flickering of the car lot sign still reflecting red and blue in the cab of the pickup. Odd … I could still see the strobing lights. I checked the rear-view mirror. My stomach fell to the soles of my feet when I realized that the flashing wasn’t coming from one of the signs, but from a police car riding my bumper.
My legs went weak. I had to make a concerted effort to ease onto the brake pedal instead of jamming down on it. Dawg’s head whipped toward me when my foot first touched the brake, and he gave me a que
stioning woof.
“Easy, boy,” I muttered, putting a hand on his neck. Here we go, I thought, about to lie to the cops. Again. My track record for honesty in the last twenty-four hours was at an all-time low.
I stopped on the shoulder of the freeway, shifted into park, and groped for the button to roll the window down. The cruiser’s bright spotlight reflected off the truck’s mirror, effectively blinding me. The seconds stretched painfully as I waited for the police officer to approach my open window. Under my hand Dawg’s body started to quiver as he sensed my agitation. The last thing I needed was for him to decide to assert his male dominance and go after the cop. I gripped his collar tight in my fist, the tell-tale tag emblazoned with Buzz’s name jingling softly. Thoughts zipped crazily around my head. Did they know about the break-in at the Lazar warehouse? Had they found Luther’s body? Had we left some clue as to our identities and they were going to arrest me for murder? Maybe Buzz reported our trespassing on his property and the kidnapping of his dog. Most likely I was about to be arrested for making off with a truckload of stolen nuts.
Just as I was sure I was going to pass out, a flashlight beam shone through the open window into the cab. I attempted to twist around to see the owner of the deep voice that said, “Ma’am, can I see your driver’s license and proof of insurance?”
I could barely get turned enough to catch a glimpse of the officer standing behind me as he shone the flashlight directly into my face. He swept it around the interior of the pickup. I blinked against the glare and fumbled in my pocket for the items he requested, which was awkward because I was holding onto Dawg for dear life with my right hand. Dawg bristled but remained still, his ears as far up as they could go. He stared out the window at the cop.
“That’s a mighty big dog,” the man said as I worked to dig my wallet from my pants.
“Yeah, he is.” I managed to wiggle the wallet out of my pocket. I was going to have to let go of that “mighty big dog” to retrieve the identification the officer wanted.
Bingo Barge Murder Page 13