Putting the Mystery in a Mystery

mystery:  secrecy  /  ambiguity  /  whodunnit  /  enigma  /  puzzle / conundrum / riddle / unsolved problem

The gals thought today’s post should review the mystery genre—specifically, how to write one.  Sounds good to me.

As you know, mysteries can fall under various categories: cozy, amateur sleuth, professional sleuth, private eye (like our trio, JJ, Rey and Linda), police procedural, noir, suspense, historical, mixed genres, literary, and caper, which is a crime story that leans towards comical (didn’t know that one had a category until recently, so there you go; you do learn something new every day).

Let’s stick to an overall review of penning a mystery, because each category has its own specific components and that would take up several pages.  But, hmm, that’s a thought; maybe we’ll feature each one separately over the next few weeks.  Ah, Rey’s giving two thumbs up.  <LOL>  I guess that’s what we’ll be doing.

You’ve decided to write one but aren’t sure what type?  Well, which mysteries do you enjoy reading?  Cozies?  Then go for that, something familiar.  Later, if you’re so inclined or are looking for a challenge, try something else.

Regardless of the type, you need a compelling story, one that yanks the reader right in.  Have a murder or three (or an enthralling crime/riddle to solve), also known as “plot”.  There should be conflict and tension, and action (but this doesn’t necessarily have to be of the racing-against-time or hit-over-the-head intensity).  Provide an interesting and preferably likable central character—the protagonist and person solving the mystery—and ensure your other characters have life.  They mustn’t be flat or wooden, or sound/seem the same.  I haven’t said this in a while, but variety is the spice of life . . . and stories.

Something else I’ve not stated in some time: show, don’t tell.  Weave the aforementioned conflict and tension between dialogue and activities/adventures.  Neither need be there continually, but certainly often enough to keep the reader on the edge of his/her seat, yearning to read on and discover what transpires!

Give thought to the crime.  If you’re stumped as to what the crime should be, search the internet for real-life ones and adopt/adapt one.  Imagine yours in every detail—how it was committed, what happened before and after, why it took place, and who did the dastardly deed.  Think about clues that the central character might stumble upon and follow.  Toss in a red herring or two.

WPgiphyGive thought as to why your character would be inclined to solve this mystery.  A professional reason perhaps?  He/she is a private investigator or detective, or works in some sort of legal or medical capacity, as examples.  An amateur sleuth may stumble upon a crime or murder and aspire to determine what transpired—but how did said amateur sleuth happen to be there?  Visiting a relative?  Attending a conference?  Moreover, might there be a personal reason the character wants to solve the mystery?  Add a few layers, but don’t stifle your character or reader (which translates into zzzzzz).

Who are your suspects?  You should have a few to keep your readers intrigued, guessing [detecting] along with the central character, and wanting to discover who the culprit is!  Try to surprise your reader, but don’t make the outcome outlandish or implausible.  On the flip side, don’t make your outcome too predictable or easily “reader solvable”.

Assemble your concept, characters, clues and suspects like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle to create a complete picture.  Outline/chart how your protagonist [eventually] solves the mystifying crime.  Consider scenes and events.  And don’t forget your setting, either.  Make it come as alive as your character(s), dialogue, and actions.

Happy writing.

But We Don’t Wanna, Either!!

Hey, it’s Rey.  A wee while ago our boss posted about how she wasn’t really into posting that day/week.  We so-o get it.  With a lot of lanai-lounging and no major case-solving, we’ve gotten a little lazy.  Cousin Jilly, Lindy-Loo, and I are not too motivated to write these days—well, those two more than me, that’s why I’m posting today.

Finding something interesting though . . . that’s another issue.  What would followers/visitors want to read about that hasn’t been posted about?  I don’t want to create a big yawwwnnnnnnnnnn.

Hmm.  How about something fun and totally frivolous—our favorite lanai-lounging cocktails (when we’re inspired to do more than flip a cap, he-he).

My cousin JJ likes the local favorite that tourists suck back by the gallon—the ever-popular Mai Tai.  Here’s her [double-vision] version.

1 1/2 oz dark rum

1/2 oz white

1/2 oz orange liqueur (Grand Marnier is another personal preference)

1/2 – 1 oz coconut liqueur or coconut water

1 tsp grenadine

blend of orange juice and pineapple juice (you decide how much)

crushed ice

plumeria as garnish/decoration (if none available, use a spear of pineapple or slice or orange, or something imaginatively “cute”)

** fill a glass with crushed ice     ** pour all the ingredients, except the dark rum, into a shaker or blender; shake/blend and pour over the ice     ** float the dark rum on top     ** garnish and serve

My best friend Linda has recently started enjoying the occasional Papaya Martini.  She makes a pretty good one, too.  Simple recipe, sophisticated taste (so she claims).

1 oz fresh papaya juice

1 oz Cointreau (or Grand Marnier, if you’re so inclined)

2 oz vodka

a shot (or two) of sparkling wine

squeeze of lime

garnish of choice (Linda likes adding something floral, like a pansy)

** add crushed ice (or cubes if you’re not up to crushing) to a shaker     ** shake well for several seconds and strain into a traditional martini glass (sight counts as much as taste)     ** garnish and serve

And, lastly, you have my current favorite lanai-lounging libation . . . the Mockarita.  I still like my rye and ginger, but when it comes to cocktails, these days, I’m leaning toward the “pretend” ones.

4 ounces limeade

4 ounces lemonade

1 ounce orange juice

1 tsp powdered sugar

sparkling water, lime or orange flavor

garnish with lime slice/wedge

salt for the rim

** use a chilled glass (so much nicer)     ** put salt on a saucer/plate     ** run a lime slice/wedge around the rim of the glass and dip it into the salt     ** add ice and all the ingredients, except the sparkling water, into a blender and blend well     ** strain the mocktail-cocktail into the glass     ** top with the flavored sparkling water (you determine the ratio)

And there you have it: a we-don’t-wanna-either post, with a pleasant “uplifting” twist.

Drunk Good Vibes GIF by sofiahydman


The Repentant Juggler

Normally, I stick to the “theme” of this blog—providing tips related to writing/blogging and editing, and what the P.I.s are up to at the Triple Threat Investigation Agency.  Today’s post is a tale . . .

. . . the tale of a repentant juggler.

Repentant because, of late, Faith has stepped back from her periodically neurotic self and viewed life, and herself, with new/different eyes.  The result: she feels quite remorseful, if not ashamed.

Juggling a demanding full-time job and caring for an elderly parent (a full-time job in itself) is very difficult for a sole caregiver.  Faith hasn’t slept more than three-four hours a night in many years; as such, she tends to be perpetually exhausted.  So, when She isn’t leaning toward sad or resentful, Faith may feel sorry for herself.  Silly, but true, she thinks with a wry smile and troubled heart.

Faith loves that parent but may not always like her . . . and only because she hasn’t learned to completely forgive and forget.  In her heart, Faith believes she is a good person and attentive caregiver, a decent daughter, but then decides she’s not.  Good people simply do not whine, cry, despair, or question life or the Big Guy.

Perhaps it’s also that her parent is old and fragile, and that may also frighten and fret her.  Faith remembers the strength that once was . . . and remembers who and what they both once were: youthful and robust.  Aging has its merits, becoming “old” does not.

There have been bouts of depression and they have proven debilitating . . . and downright annoying.  Faith has had it with that, though.  Depression has drained her once too often; it’s time to go!

Faith wants to return to the person she once was: a good-humored, easy-going, caring person with dreams, hopes, and faith.  Fortunately, Faith’s moving in the right direction. With the help of a kindly naturopath, healthy diet, and her own [very firm] desire to turn her life around, she’s taking purposeful baby steps forward.

She recalls a once popular expression: when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.  She likes that and says, “Look for a huge pitcher!”  And while she’s at it, Faith is going to juggle those tart little citrus fruits, too!  She’s going to flip vexing anxiety into sweet calmness.

The juggler is truly repentant . . . and prays that the Big Guy forgives her . . . and that, going forward, she will embrace, even welcome, the challenges that come her way.  All acts and actions truly lend themselves to learning and growing.

Faith recalls yet another once popular expression: don’t give up, give over.  (Sometimes those trite expressions are just so spot on.)

Life’s too short to be apprehensive or angst-ridden.  She’s looking forward to a wholesome new life and outlook.  It’s all about love—for others and self.

Faith laughs softly and a couple of expressions juggle within her mind [maybe they’ll become personal mottoes] . . .

Be strong, not wrongStay true, not blue.


But I Don’t Wanna!!

Familiar words?  Possibly you’ve heard them from your child, spouse, partner, parent, relative, coworker, buddy-bud?  Or perhaps you’ve uttered them?  He-he.  Been there, many times.

Take today’s post.  It’s been a but-I don’t-wanna post week . . . because, honestly, I couldn’t think of anything [bleeping interesting] to post about.  T’is true.  Oh, I could rack my brains and come up with something—I usually do—but I don’t wanna!!

There’s just too much on my daily plate with the demanding 9-to-5 (which is more like 5-to-5) and mom-care.  That’s a me dilemma, but you have your own, so we’re not alone.

So how does one quell the I-don’t-wanna issue that flits in and around your head like a pesky mosquito?

The first thing would be to decrease a sense of being overwhelmed, which seems to be part of the I-don’t-wanna equation.  Yes, you’re working.  Yes, you have family obligations.  Yes, yes, yes.  Still, you want to post/write, or engage in a hobby, pastime, and/or project.  Whittle the list; make it manageable.  Determine where you can schedule some time to fulfill that “me need”.  Even if only 10 minutes, assign them to yourself and take them.  Focus and do what you can do.  Always remember, regardless of what outside factors are dictating, you count, too.  So honor that!

If you’re experiencing blank moments, search for inspiration and ideas.  The internet is chockablock full of information—concepts, views, notions, opinions.  Find something that interests/stimulates you.

Sometimes, posting or sharing your intended goal helps; then you have no option but to commit to it and follow through.  I know I wouldn’t want to state I’m doing something and then not do it.  I’m a gal of my word … unless something truly unforeseen and unavoidable transpires, but then I’ll get to it as soon as possible/doable.

If you’re like me these days, kind of “slumpy” <sigh, sigh, sigh>, look for someone or something to move or motivate you.  Contact your know-it-all sis.  Email your no-worries-hiking-in-the-mountains cousin.  Text your man-I’ve-got-an-awesome-life aunt.  Ask for input/guidance.

Social media is a wonderful tool for reaching out to others for encouragement and support.  Join a forum or community or three—maybe one that revolves around something you’ve never even vaguely been interested in.  Learn something new.  It may take you down a new—and exciting—path.

Try not to let the but-I-don’t-wanna-do-it blues get you down.  Flip them around.  It’s not easy getting rid of negative thoughts or feelings, this I know, but it can be done.  Consider your “slumpy”—recognize it and address it.  Yes, maybe it’s not changeable right this moment.  But it will be.

We all struggle with the slumpies, those blank moments, the I-really-don’t-wanna-do-it trials at some point.  Keep the faith, my friends, keep the faith—grab it, embrace it, wrap it all around.  You’re truly not alone.

Day Five, Last Promo Drive

Hey, it’s Rey on the last day of the $0.99 promo drive for our second case, Coco’s Nuts.

Our Triple Threat Investigation Agency is hired by socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer to prove she didn’t shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo, or her best friend, Eb Stretta.  A challenge because the cops and the evidence all point to her pulling the trigger.

As we begin searching for the real killer, we discover a number of people who might fit the bill.  There’s Annia, Picolo’s daughter, who owes mega bucks to folks in Vegas and on Oahu; receiving money from the sizeable inheritance would sure help her from having that pretty face rearranged.  Jimmy Junior might have decided he’d like to take on Daddy’s businesses for himself; he seems super tired of standing in the big guy’s shadows. Then we have Coco Peterson, a company driver, who’s been AWOL since the two murders—and rumors have it he’s a major nutbar.  Then there’s Picolo brother and Stretta’s, too.  And let’s not forget that hottie, Kent, a valuable Picolo employee.  Yup, a number of people certainly fit the killer bill.

Maybe you’d be interested in checking out who the culprit is?  I promise, it’s a twisty-turny f-u-n mystery trip.


See ya all soon!

Four, One More

Hey-ho, it’s Rey, back for the fourth day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion.  Silly Cousin Jilly–I didn’t drink that many Mai-Tais.  Anyway, Coco’s avail for $0.99 for yet one more day (not counting tomorrow ‘course).  Yay!

The Triple Threat Investigation Agency has to prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer didn’t shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo or her best friend, Eb Stretta.  Who cares what the police believe or the evidence suggests?  We know Buddy’s been set up and as we start looking for the killer, we find a few people who could fit the bill.

As we attempt to solve this challenging case, we step into the world of gambling and debt collectors.  Annia, Picolo’s daughter, owes a lot of money in Vegas and on Oahu.  Did she kill her father to obtain a sizeable inheritance so she could pay off these bone-breaking bozos?  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, might have wanted to take over his father’s multiple and prosperous businesses before the old guy passed naturally.  There’s kooky Coco Peterson, a Picolo nutbar, er, employee who’s been missing since the murders took place.

Here’s an excerpt:

“You’re positive he left sometime last Friday?” I asked Jem Stretta over the phone. Like Buddy, he lived in Lahaina, but in the Kelawea Mauka neighborhood near his late younger brother, Eb.

“No. Like I told the cops, Eb called me the previous Thursday evening telling me he had a mission on Oahu and he’d be leaving the following evening. Pay was better’n good, he said. He was pretty excited, even mentioned champagne and a trip to Kona on Big Island, which meant it had to pay excellently well. Then he hurried off to do stuff.” Jem’s exhalation sounded like the whistle of an old steam locomotive. “I phoned three times and texted twice between fix-it jobs because I wanted him to get some stuff, but he never answered. I checked with Andy, his coffee pal, and he hadn’t heard from the Ebster in a few days.”

According to Buddy, the fellow trucker had always been extremely responsible and dependable, so his not contacting his brother had been very peculiar.

Jem, short for Jeremiah, lived two streets over from Eb, in an identical single-family, two-bedroom dwelling. According to Buddy, both long narrow houses were trimmed in shades of raven black and tree-toad brown, and had identical four-by-six windows with gun-metal-gray blinds, the same fencing and similarly decorated lanais, with two avocado trees smack-dab center on miniscule lawns. They weren’t twins, although from Buddy’s descriptions, you might have thought so. Besides identical houses, both sported spiky bleached hair, shell surfer necklaces, and lots of polyester. The bothers also had things for greasy food and easy women. Eb was the baby in the family, five years Jem’s junior and fifteen years Hutch’s.

Hutch, short for Hutchkins (their mother’s maiden name), had been the eldest brother. He had died crossing a boulevard while visiting an ex-wife in Mississippi last year — hit, decked, and crushed by a two-ton turkey. The heavyset gobbler had been part of a small-town Thanksgiving Day parade, the thirty-fourth in its history, and possibly the last. A traumatic experience it had been — for the stupefied young driver beneath the large bird, the stunned crowd, and certainly Hutch, who prior to staggering across the path of the wattle-headed bird had indulged in a liquefied version of same (i.e. Wild Turkey).

“Will you check the garage again for Buddy’s gun?” As Buddy had told Ald, she’d left the Glock with Eb when she’d headed to Oahu.

“I said I would.” He belched. The Stretta brothers weren’t known for good manners, but they seemed to be decent souls from what Buddy had claimed. “But if the cops didn’t find her gun, I don’t see as I’ll have better luck. Where’s best to get you?”

I gave the numbers for the agency and my cell.

“Are they still thinking she did it?” His laughter reminded me of a badger: low-pitched, and rumbling.

“She’s at the top of the list. In both cases, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Additionally, her card was in your brother’s wallet, she happens to know both men, and she owns a 10-mm, the murderer’s weapon of choice.” I watched two honeycreepers soar past the lanai window like small colorful comets. “She’s also the right height and left-handed.”

His snort sounded like a puppy’s sneeze. “Maybe they should put me on the list, too. I knew them both, I’m left-handed, and my name and number were in Eb’s wallet.”

“Let me know if you find or hear anything.” I hung up and saw Rey standing by the kitchen counter, perturbation lining that pretty face. “Upset? Or constipated?”

Hopefully, I’ve peaked interest.


Back tomorrow, the last day of the promo.  Aloha Sunday!

Day 3, Oh What Glee

It’s JJ on the third day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion, taking over for Rey, who attended a social-distancing-respected luau last night and ended up drinking too many Mai-Tais.  Somehow, she ended up under the bed—wedged between the 4” between the floor and box spring.  She’s got an icepack plunked on her head.

Coco’s available for $0.99, not free, but close; what glee (yes well, it was a long night and the brain is a tad tired).

Coco’s Nuts is our second Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, through June 15th, it’s available for $0.99.  The three of us must prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.  Nor did she kill her best friend, Eb Stretta.  Despite what the police believe, and the evidence suggests, we’re convinced that Buddy’s been set up.  As we seek clues and answers, we encounter a number of people who could conceivably killed both men.

Several persons hated Picolo, so finding the one who pulled the trigger is challenging.  As we try to find the culprit, we find ourselves in the dodgy world of gambling and debt collectors (who don’t mind breaking bones, if necessary).  Annia, Picolo’s daughter, owes a lot of money in Vegas and on Oahu, which may have inspired her to her to kill her father to obtain a sizeable inheritance.  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, could have decided to take over his father’s multiple businesses before the old man passed of old age.  There’s also nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee who’s been missing since the murders took place.  He’s a driver for Picolo and the odd little guy appears to play a principal piece in this challenging puzzle.

Here’s an excerpt:

“Of course Buddy Feuer didn’t do it. Who told you she did?” I demanded, already knowing who had tattled to Ricardo Mako Picolo. It could only have been one person: Kent “The Source” Winche.

“Winche,” the health-food freak confirmed, munching noisily, probably a mung-bean, pea-sprout muffin, his favorite according to an article I’d read earlier. “Actually, he said she was a person of interest . . . or did he say suspect? Whatever. He doesn’t believe she did it.”

I paced my kitchen like a tin duck target at a fair ground concession booth. Every time I passed the counter, I poked a trio of bananas perched in a white wicker basket.

It was hard to say why Jimmy Picolo’s slick (as in oil-spill, slippery-slimy) brother proved annoying. Maybe it was the self-satisfied, perpetually tanned face I’d viewed in photos. He sported a nose too perfect to have been born with. Evidently, he and his niece shared the same cosmetic surgeon. He was as handsome as his brother, but more a combination of Bobby Darren of T.J. Hooker fame and Ryo Ishibashi as Detective Toshihuru Kuroda in Suicide Club. Asian-cast root-beer brown eyes seemed to challenge; they, like the thin lips pulled into a smug smile, expressed a sense of superiority. As it had in interviews, the man’s mega ego blazed like a Times Square billboard.

“Thank heavens for the pretty boy’s support,” I responded wryly.

“He’s a big fan of Buddy’s.” Munch, munch. Crunch, crunch. Must be macadamias in that muffin, too. “Winche’ll give his eye teeth — letteralmente — to reinforce that she didn’t do it. He claims she could never kill anyone in a million years. She’s too cute.”

Too cute?

“He’s got a real thing for her. Anyway, with you helping, she shouldn’t worry herself none.” I could hear the simper. “I heard you girls did a solid job working the Howell case.”

“Really?” I was nonplussed.

“When I got your message, I had you checked out. I do that with everyone whose call I’m thinking of returning.”

When I didn’t respond, he chuckled and slurped. Was he also indulging in one of his famous wheatgrass-beetroot smoothies? “I got a proposition. You interested?”

“If it will clear our client’s name, of course,” I responded casually. Poke, poke. The bananas were beginning to look as if they’d encountered a frenzied chimp.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”


“We’re going to find the prick that killed my brother. The why would be a bonus, but the who is the important answer.”

I dropped onto counter stool and rested my chin on the granite counter. “What’s in it for you, Mr. Picolo?” Poke, poke. Oh-oh. The bananas lay on the polished hardwood floor like washed-up marine creatures. Button ambled over, pawed them, sniffed, and flopped onto the floor with a loud sigh.

“Like I said, knowing who killed my brother. The other guy who got rubbed out I could care less about . . . but his family would like to know, I’m sure. Anyway, I’ll add some incentives.”

“Incentives?” I asked, puzzled.

Ricardo’s laughter was reminiscent of microwaved popcorn: staccato, abrupt. Heh-heh. Heh-heh-heh. “Yeah, incentives. First one: twenty-five K.”

Nice incentive. “Second?”

“Coco Peterson’s tattoo and jewelry. It wouldn’t do for the cops to find them, would it?”

If I’ve encouraged some interest, please check out Coco’s Nuts out:


My cousin’s back tomorrow, sans icepack.

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day Two, 99¢ For You

Hey, it’s Rey on the second day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion—our second action-packed Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, through June 15th, it’s available for just $0.99.

In a nutshell, JJ, Linda and I have to prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.  And she certainly didn’t off her best friend, Eb Stretta.  Regardless what the police believe and the evidence suggests, we’re sure that Buddy’s been set up.  As we search for clues, we encounter a slew of possible suspects.

A lot of people hated Picolo enough to kill him, so finding the one who pulled the trigger is challenging.  As we try to find the killer, we take a few detours—into the dark and dangerous world of gambling and debt collectors, who’d just as easily break limbs if ya haven’t paid up as look at ya.  Annia, Picolo’s daughter, owes major dollars to dodgy dudes in Vegas and on Oahu.  Maybe this motivated her to kill her father; she could collect that sizeable inheritance.  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, may have gotten over-eager to take over his father’s multiple businesses; he couldn’t wait for the old man to die of old age.  Then there’s nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee who’s been missing since the murders took place.  He’s a driver for Picolo and the odd little guy appears to play a principal piece in this crazy puzzler.

If you’re interested, please check out Coco’s Nuts out:


Catch ya tomorrow!

NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day 5, 99¢ No Jive

It’s [still] Linda on the fifth and final day of the Forever Poi promotion, our third Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, it’s still available for only $0.99.

JJ, Rey and I are hired to investigate two art gallery fires that also claimed two lives: gallery owner and partner, Carlos Kawena, and former queenpin Mary-Louise Crabtree.  The day before the fire, Carlos had a fiery break-up with his long-time partner, James-Henri Ossature.  Could James-Henri have murdered his long-time lover to collect insurance money?  Considering Mary-Louise’s dicey past, had a former foe murdered her?

The three of us encounter several potential suspects and most have ties to the art world—like beautiful Cholla Poniard, James-Henri’s half-sister.  She’s a mysterious woman with a dark, intriguing past.  Artists associated with her have died.  Two of her divorces have ended with ugly consequences for the exes.  As both men advise when asked, Cholla is a dangerous woman who will have her way at any cost.

If you’d like to check out Forever Poi, please go to:


         NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

Day One, One More

Hey, it’s Rey on the first day of the Coco’s Nuts promotion—our second action-packed Triple Threat Investigation Agency case.  Today, through June 15th, it’s available for just $0.99 (can you spell b-a-r-g-a-i-n?).

JJ, Linda and I have to prove socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.  Nor did she kill her best friend, Eb Stretta.  And despite what the police believe and the evidence suggests, we’re convinced that Buddy’s been set up.  In our search for answers, we come across a slew of suspects.

A lot of people hated Picolo enough to kill him but finding the one who pulled the trigger proves tough.  As we follow clues to locating the killer, we travel along a few detours—like the world of gambling and debt collectors, also known as limb-breakers.  Picolo’s daughter, Annia, owes thousands of dollars to some nasty folks in Vegas and on Oahu.  Maybe this motivated her to kill her father—so that she could collect a sizeable inheritance.  Jimmy Junior, Picolo’s son, may have been super eager to take over his father’s multiple businesses—and couldn’t wait for the old man to pass naturally.  What about nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee who’s been MIA since the murders occurred?  A driver for Picolo, the odd little pest, er, fellow, appears to be a major piece in this perplexing puzzler.

Yeah, it was challenging–and dangerous–but we had some fun solving this case, too.  e0c519dfe1f34fcf1cd12601fe696bd5If you’re interested, please check out Coco’s Nuts out:


NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.

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