Bingo Barge Murder by Jessie Chandler. Page A

this conversation took place?”
    “It was eleven days, three hours,” Rocky tugged the sleeve of his jacket up and peered at a large watch attached to his wrist, “and fourteen minutes ago, Shay O’Hanlon.”
    Holy shit.
    Coop’s vocal abilities returned before mine did. “Do you know who was sending the almonds to Mr. Stanley?”
    “Mr. Stanley said one name exactly five times when he talked about the truckload of nuts. Then he also talked about the truckload of ‘stupid nuts’ to a bingo lady.”
    Thank God Kinky overlooked Rocky. I suspected that Kinky often forgot that Rocky was more than a vehicle for errands and menial tasks. Mr. Word-For-Word had a comfortable position: under the radar but well within listening range.
    “What names did you hear?” Coop gently asked.
    “Mr. Vincent Ragozzi.”
    The elusive and threatening Vincent now had a last name.
    “And Ms. Rita.”
    That revelation was a bombshell. Coop raised his eyebrows at me. “Do you know what Ki—Mr. Stanley was going to do with the nuts?”
    I smiled weakly at Coop’s near slip.
    “You should always keep your tires inflated to the exact manufacturer recommendations printed on the tires of your vehicle.”
    I put a hand to my forehead and slid it over my face, concealing the smile I was unable to squelch. Rocky had done a good job of managing to stay with us. Now we were losing him to his mind’s inner machinations.
    Coop said with a grin, “I’ll remember that. Did you hear where Mr. Stanley was going to store the nuts?”
    Rocky nodded dramatically. “He was going to put them in Ms. Rita’s storage warehouse, Nick Coop.”
    Coop said, “Do you know where this storage place is?”
    Rocky’s eyes shifted to the ceiling as he thought about it. “It is Lazar and Company Dry Storage, 1047 Washington Avenue Northeast, Minneapolis, Minnesota 55550.”
    I pulled a pen from my pocket and scrambled for something to write on. Rocky repeated the name and address for me and I scrawled it on an unused napkin. We sat quietly for a minute, processing the information our pal had coughed up. Then we asked Rocky about the other two conversations, but there wasn’t anything critical in either one. However, before we brought him home, I wanted to run one more name by him.
    “Rocky,” I said, reaching across the table and giving his hand a squeeze to bring his attention to me. “You’ve done a great job. Now I have one more question.”
    He silently gazed at me, his golden eyes gleaming.
    “When we talked last time, and you told me the names of the people who’d been angry when they’d spoken to Mr. Stanley. One of the names was Buzz Riley.”
    “I remember, Shay O’Hanlon.”
    “Why was Buzz Riley mad at Mr. Stanley?”
    “I don’t know. But he’s a very mean man. He scares me.”
    Coop said, “I know he’s scary. But he’s not going to hurt you, okay?” He patted Rocky on the shoulder. “How do you know that Buzz was mad at Mr. Stanley?”
    “Because Buzz Riley told Mr. Stanley, ‘If you don’t fork over the dough, I’m going to pop your eyeballs out and have them for supper.’”
    We cleared the table, and Rocky suckered us into buying him two more orders of rice and beans, an order of fried chicken, a chocolate-strawberry shake, and large fries—all to go.
    The return trip was a quiet one. Rocky hopped out, loot in hand, in front of his boardinghouse. He said, “I hope I helped you, Nick Coop, and your friend, too. Thank you for the most excellent food, Shay O’Hanlon.” He took a couple of steps and then turned around to face us. “You should keep your house at a comfortable sixty-eight degrees for optimal energy usage and monetary savings.”
    _____
    I ran into the Hole shortly past two to grab a couple cups of emergency caffeine. I steamed milk and pulled two double shots of espresso. Kate eyed me as she put the finishing touches on a customer’s order, concern shadowing her face. “Is there anything I can