Hey, it’s Rey and I have an amazing guest post-er for Day Four of the Coco’s Nuts 99-cent promotion—Buddy Feuer, our pleased-as-punch client. Take it away, Bud!
Thanks Rey. I’ve never posted before. Too busy helping run a Maui-based distribution company these days. I still drive a truck now and again (like it too much to stop completely).
I hired the three private investigators when the police thought I’d killed my boss, Jimmy Picolo (who had some dubious dealings outside of his many successful businesses). If that wasn’t enough, my best friend was killed a few days later. And guess who they wanted to blame for that, too?
Rey, Linda and JJ went up and beyond, I thought. They talked to all sorts of dicey, dangerous individuals—a few who’d have liked to take them out, I’m sure. They asked a lot of questions and wouldn’t give up searching for clues and evidence.
Coco, by the way, was a coworker who disappeared in and around the time Jimmy was shot. He leaned toward weird and a lot of people didn’t particularly like him, myself included.
“I’ll get back to Coco, Mr. Lookeeng Goo-ood, in a few.”
“Mr. Lookeeng Goo-ood?” Linda chuckled.
I grinned and rolled my eyes. “Coco believed he was—is—the reincarnation of Freddie Prinze of Chico and the Man fame. At thirty-five, given the math, this is highly unlikely, but who knows how this ‘rebirth’ thing works. Moreover, Coco wasn’t—uh—isn’t even remotely Latin. He’s a Hawaiian-Irish mix, courtesy of Makani Kalama and Druson Patrick Peterson, with taro-colored hair and freckled skin an odd shade of sand-beach brown.” I sipped some of Linda’s delicious lavender-lemon iced tea. “Jimmy Junior is—”
“No you don’t,” Rey cut in, pointing her fork and the chunk of cake it loosely held fell onto her lap, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You can’t move on to the kid until you finish with this peculiar Coco dude.”
Linda and JJ concurred. Coco Peterson definitely had their curiosities piqued.
My description of Coco was quite extraordinary, but very real. Hooded bile-green eyes ogled anyone remotely female. Apparently, when you looked into those gawking, goggling eyes you could almost feel those unusually short stumpy fingers of his clutching you with libidinous zeal. And that tongue—he flicked it as if he were a gecko on amphetamines. It was all the more gross because he had a gap the width of the Suez Canal between two big front teeth. But Coco truly believed he was cute and sexy when he did that tongue thingy.
I have to laugh as I recall that afternoon when I’d first sat down with the three P.I.s What a wise decision I’d made in hiring them.
Coco’s Nuts was a great case, according to Rey—it enabled them to develop private-eye skills, allowed her to adopt an adorable bunny named Bonzo, and got them some steady cases, even if they were wayward-hubby and missing-poodle ones.
You can check out Coco’s Nuts at:
https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368
NOTE: $0.99 promotions are active only in the US and UK stores.
The Writer's Grab-Bag 