. . . could be fun, indeedy-do, getting a book, our second official case as the Triple Threat Investigation Agency private eyes . . . for only 99 cents!
Hey, it’s Rey and Coco’s Nuts is avail for less than a buck over the next few days. Woo-hoo!
So, what’s this exciting case about, you ask? We’re out to prove that our client, classy Buddy Feuer (a former socialite turned trucker), isn’t responsible for two murders. She had no motive to kill her boss, the notorious Jimmy Picolo, and she sure as heck didn’t murder her best friend, Eb Stretta.
Despite what the police believe and the evidence suggests, JJ, Linda and I are sure that Buddy has been set up. Nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee, seems to play a major part—too bad he can’t be found!
As we try to uncover a killer from a cast of curious and quirky characters, we get caught up in some hair-raising (and removing) moments, like when bombs go off. That tells us we’ve ruffled feathers by asking too many questions. Hopefully, we’ll get actual answers (and solve the case) before something significant blows up—us!
As beautiful as a Bamboo Orchid and as cool as an English cucumber, Buddy Feuer seemed neither fazed nor anxious, given the grave predicament. Tall and willowy, the thirty-four-year-old former society woman turned truck driver was easy on the eyes no matter what your predilection. A “looker” or “dish” she might have been called back in the days of gin rickeys, trilbys, and gumshoes. Some females truly lucked out in the comeliness lottery, as unconventional, chinchilla-faced Aunt Rowena Jaye was often heard to utter about a relation or friend (with a wistful, wishful sigh).
Buddy had contacted the Triple Threat Private Investigation Agency after researching our involvement — and success — with the handling of the “Gruesome Twosome Case” (as we’d jokingly dubbed our first P.I. job) and the ensuing arrest of our client, William Pierponce Howell. The now-deceased WP Howell had been as wealthy as he’d been eccentric (a tactful way of saying f’g zany) and the murder of his young, pretty wife was not the only crime he’d been guilty of. HPD’s Detective Gerald “Ald” Ives had been gracious enough during a media interview to credit the agency with providing “some valid crime-stopping information”, which had led to the apprehension of the millionaire and his equally culpable (f’g zany) partner. The truth was we’d done considerably more, but we were cool with letting HPD take credit.
Our latest assignment was fairly clear-cut: prove Buddy hadn’t murdered renowned entrepreneur Jimmy Silone Picolo III.
Jimmy Man-I’m-Fabulously-Rich Picolo was second-generation owner of a hapu’upu’u pickling factory called Braddah Jimmy’s Pickled Aquatic Delights (who’d have guessed preserved fish cheeks and eyes could be such popular delicacies). In addition, the shrewd man owned JSP Capital-Credit Corporation and Balz to the Walz Incorporated, a demolition-construction company that knocked down buildings as rapidly as it put them up. There were also pet projects here and there, little businesses he absorbed or annihilated.
Slim and trim and relatively short, Jimmy was a cross between Dean Martin and Sal Mineo in their heydays. Over the years, the attractive man had rubbed a few people the wrong way. You see, equally successful had been his loansharking and racketeering — excuse me, alleged loansharking and racketeering.
Unlike Jimmy Silone Picolo II, who’d been indicted on racketeering and murder in the 70s, “III” had never been convicted of anything. Equally charmed and charming, he’d navigated the tranquil waters of life and business with a multi-thousand-dollar smile and a playful monarch-like wave . . . of the middle finger. The odd time the folks in blue had become involved, paperwork transformed into ashes and lawsuits dropped like smoldering charcoal briquettes. Witnesses developed curious cases of amnesia or hopped continent-bound jets faster than Hollywood celebrities changed partners.
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