Coco’s Nuts, Day Five, Another High-Five . . .

. . . to the 99-cent promo.  For one more day, you can get Coco’s Nuts for under a dollar.

Nuts is the third mystery in the Triple Threat Investigation Agency series and the second official case for budding private eyes JJ, Rey, and Linda to solve.

All the trio has to do is prove that socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer didn’t kill her boss or best friend—regardless of what the evidence suggests.  As  they navigate the dark world of debt collectors (folks who will do anything to get their gambling “clients” to pay up), a few more bodies fall.

The list of suspects is long and the task of locating the real killer is a daunting if not dangerous one.

Maybe you’d like to find out how they do?  Please check out the P.I.s at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Coco’s Nuts, Day Four, Just Two More

That’s it . . . just two more days to get Coco’s Nuts for 99 cents.

Coco’s Nuts is the third mystery in the Triple Threat Investigation Agency series.  The three novice private eyes—JJ, Rey, and Linda—are out to prove that socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer didn’t murder her boss, the infamous Jimmy Picolo, or her best friend, fellow trucker, Eb Stretta, or . . .

As the body count increases, so does the list of suspects and odd if not dangerous characters.  But nothing will deter the persevering P.I.s from finding the culprit (and successfully solving their case).

“It seems a pretty sure thing that Coco’s chatting it up with Jimmy, Razor, and Stretta.”

“What makes you so sure?” I asked offhandedly.

“That was Denton. He and Jimmy Junior and Coco are close friends — have been since grade school, softball, and summer camp,” he elucidated. “Neither has heard from Coco like in two weeks.”

“Were they supposed to?” Linda asked.

“Coco has never missed Denton’s birthday, but he did this time.”

“Not a good sign, is it?” Rey asked with a crinkled brow. “Maybe strange little Coco met up with our gun-happy dude?”

Kent glowered and gulped back wine like a barfly trying to forget yesterday’s hangover.

“Should we add that to the tasks list?” Rey jested. “Find strange little colleague?”

Kent regarded us eagerly.

“We could look, if you like, but that’s a lot of turf to cover.” I wasn’t prepared to tell him the truth about Coco at the moment; revealing the truth would be the same as taking out a front page ad in the Honolulu Star Advertiser. Gerald Ives would not be pleased to have been one of the last to know.

He released a lengthy exhalation. “I’ll make a few calls and find out who saw him where and when. We can map a timeframe and take it from there.” He rose and grabbed the bottle of wine.

“Maybe you should start with his landlord,” Linda suggested, holding out her glass for him to top up.

Kent shrugged. “Coco once told me he never mingled with neighbors or the landlord. He had a run-in with Mr. Spamball about his pet rat, Willard. I doubt you’d get much help.”

“Spamball? Rat?” Rey asked, bemused. She found rodents as appealing and useful as reality shows featuring has-beens.

“The fat dude has skin the color of Spam,” Kent explained.

Rey’s expression wavered between distaste and disgust. “What happened to the rat?”

“Winkee, Mrs. Thomasino’s cat, happened. She was a retired meter maid, originally from Pasadena, who lived in the apartment above Coco.” He looked woeful. “When they found Willard, there was nothing left but a tail.”

We all looked woeful as we pushed away pizza and focused on wine.

If you’d like to see how they deal with threats and perils, please check them out at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Coco’s Nuts, Day Two, Woo-Hoo

It’s promo day #2 for Coco’s Nuts—available for just 99 cents.

Coco’s Nuts is the second paying case our Triple Threat Investigation Agency undertakes.  As [still] rookie private eyes—Rey, and Linda and JJ (me)—search for evidence that demonstrates socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, Jimmy Picolo (an entrepreneur with “questionable ties”, who had an enemy or ten).

We’re certain Buddy has been set up.  But how to prove it when all the proof proves otherwise?  It’s a challenging case that keeps us on our toes and takes us into some curious and dangerous (if not deadly) realms—like debt-collector territory, where they “collect” any way they deem fit.

Here’s an excerpt:

A fine mist enveloped me like steam-room vapor, but a dark sky suggested dense rain would soon return. It was gusty, too, as if we were experiencing the tail end of a tropical storm. As I waited for Ric to finish addressing an assistant, I slipped off the PVC rain jacket hood and rearranged a bulky nylon water-resistant drawstring bag so it wasn’t pulling my left shoulder.

“If you find something of note in my brother’s North Shore refuge, I want to know about it.” A threat lingered beneath Ric’s honeyed words

Standing at the designated intersection, I scanned puddle-heavy streets. Kent, driving a Cherokee-red Mustang, should be pulling into view any moment. He’d dropped by Fugger’s to pick up a spare key for the North Shore retreat. The chauffeur hadn’t been keen on passing it on when initially approached, but Ric’s okay ensured the key was ours for the day.

“Did you hear?”

“I heard,” I replied curtly.

“Are you going to call me when you’re done, hon?”

“I’ll call, but what are you expecting us to find?”

“Remnants of Coco Peterson maybe.”

“Remnants?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral. “As in . . . ?”

“Jewelry maybe. A tattoo maybe.”

Again, mention of both. By the way, do you know if there’s any truth to the rumor that Coco’s sucking up the big one? Kent’s question tumbled around my head like dice in a crap game.

“Is he dead?” I demanded. “Did you or your brother kill him?”

“You’re the detective, hon. You tell me. Check in around nine tonight — hold that thought. I’ll check in.” Ricardo Mako Picolo disconnected.

I stared at the cell phone, not sure whether to curse or laugh at the man’s audacity. And just because he’d previously mentioned an incentive, who’d decided I was on the Picolo payroll?

A horn that belonged on a freight train and not a classic car sounded. Kent Winche waved cheerfully from the driver’s seat of a very bright, highly polished 1965 Mustang Convertible.

“Very nice,” I commented nonchalantly upon opening the passenger door.

He winked. “It’s got character . . . like me.”

“You, Mr. Winche, are a character.” With a droll smile, I slipped onto the leather seat.

If you’d like to learn how we fit the [many] pieces of this crazy puzzle together, please check us out at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Coco’s Nuts . . . Day One, What Fun

It’s promo day #1 for Coco’s Nuts—you can get it for a mere 99 cents.  (You can’t even buy a chocolate bar for that anymore, unless you maybe go to the discount store.)

Coco’s Nuts, the third mystery in the Triple Threat Investigation Agency series, finds the three rookie private eyes—JJ, Rey, and Linda—entrenched in their second professional assignment: proving socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.

Despite what police believe and evidence suggests, JJ, Rey and Linda are convinced that Buddy has been set up.  In their quest for answers, the trio contends with a slew of suspects.  Several persons hated Picolo enough to kill him, but locating the one who pulled the trigger proves challenging and the threesome strives to uncover a killer amid a cast of curious and unconventional characters.

Their detecting travels lead them 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 them in Vegas and Oahu.  Could this have motivated her to kill her father—so that she could collect a sizeable inheritance?  What about Picolo’s son?  Was Jimmy Junior overly eager to take over his father’s businesses?  What of nutty Coco Peterson, a Picolo employee who has been MIA since the murders occurred?  The odd little fellow is a central piece in this perplexing puzzler.

Why was Eb Stretta, Buddy’s best friend, gunned down a few days after Picolo?  For that matter, why did someone pump five bullets into Mr. Razor, Picolo’s assistant?  Exploding bombs suggest the gals from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency have ruffled feathers by asking too many questions.  With any luck, legitimate answers will be obtained before something significant blows up—like the trio.

If you’re interested in learning whether the women succeed, please check them out at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Brain Drain . . . ?

Hey, it’s Rey.  The Boss has left us high and dry this week.  So, it’s on us to put together a post.

I can’t think of a thing.  You guys?

It’s JJ, hey.  He-he.  Can’t think of anything terribly exciting . . . you, Linda?

Given this isn’t a wine-review blog, I’d have to say no.  I’ve got brain fatigue this week.

More like brain drain.  It’s Rey again, hey.  We-ell, that puts us in a bit of a bind.  I say, let’s give a quick synopsis of our five cases—

Four.

Don’t be picky, Lindy-Loo.  Connecticut wasn’t an official case, but it did give us the idea to become private eyes.

You decided that.

Funny, you two . . . not.  I simply put the idea out there.  And you two agreed.

Not initially.

Did too, Cousin Jilly!  Did too!

LOL.  Okay, did too . . . but not really.  Anyway, Cousin Reynalda, honeybun, why don’t you give our friends a quick rundown of our five “cases”?

Love to!

The Connecticut Corpse Caper

This has the three of us gathering for a week-long stay at wacky Aunt Mat’s haunted mansion (guess where it’s located?).  There’s a sizable inheritance to be collected by those who manage to stay to the end.  Those that decide to leave early—maybe not by choice—must give up their share.  Bodies start to drop and the suspect list grows.  Add to that a resident ghost, dark and dank passageways, and weird sounds behind walls, and you’ve got one heckuva mystery.

Can You Hula Like Hula Hattie?

The three of us have moved to Oahu and opened the Triple Threat Investigation Agency.  Our first paying case has us trying to discover the “secret” of the young and pretty wife of an elderly millionaire.  Sadly, she dies before we get too far.  Several persons seem to have wanted her dead so we have our hands full figuring out who the murderer is.  As luck would have it, a few more bodies turn up—and the perp list grows.

Coco’s Nuts

Buddy Feuer’s a gorgeous former socialite turned truck driver who’s been set up to take the fall for two murders.  We don’t believe she’s guilty, no matter what the police believe and the evidence suggests.  There’s one oddball character, Coco Petersen, who appears to be the key to solving this puzzler, but he’s disappeared.  We have our P.I. work cut out for us!

Forever Poi

Who torched two Chinatown art galleries and left two charred bodies in the rubble?  That’s what we have to figure out.  Are the arsonist and killer the same person?  We think so and there is no end of possible perps.  The day before the fire, Carlos Kawena, one of the arson victims, had an “ugly break-up” with his partner, James-Henri Ossature.  There were financial issues, too.  Could James-Henri have done the dastardly deed to collect insurance and be rid of his lover?  What about the second victim, Mary-Louise Crabtree, a former queenpin?  Given her sketchy past, might some former foe have murdered her?  If so, was Carlos merely collateral damage?  It’s a head-scratcher . . . but we do so love those.

HA-HA-HA-HA (or Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha if you’re on Amazon)

This case finds us on a serial killer’s “buddy” list.  When he’s not taunting us, he’s challenging us to “play the game”—by his rules.  The GrimReaperPeeper, as he introduced himself not long after we solved the art-gallery case, proves to be as intelligent as he is devious and dangerous.  GRP, as we prefer to call him, leaves a lot of calling cards . . . and victims.  DNA and fingerprints are never found; the guy’s good, unfortunately.  But we’re not bad, either.  <wink, wink>

So, maybe not that much of a brain drain.  Maybe we’ve been relaxin’ a bit too much on the beach of late.  <he-he>

Day Five, Time Flies

. . . and another one of those five-day book-discount promos ends.  Hey, it’s Rey, and it’s the last day (for a wee while), to get Coco’s Nuts for 99 cents.

For those not familiar with us—JJ, Linda, and me are private eyes from the Triple Threat Investigation Agency.  Coco’s Nuts, our second professional case, has us trying to prove our client, Buddy Feuer, is innocent of two murders.

We do pretty good, despite the cast of curious (often crazy) characters, (additional) bodies and bombs, ongoing threats and hostilities.  It’s dangerous and thrilling, and we get to hone our “newbie” P.I. skills.  Sure, we make some gaffes—who doesn’t when they’re first starting out?  The thing is, we learn from them!

If you’d like to learn how we do butting heads with some seriously nefarious (Linda’s word, not mine) individuals, please check us out at:

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Day Four, Only Two More . . .

. . . days to get Coco’s Nuts, the Triple Threat Investigation Agency’s private eyes’ second case (and third mystery), for 99 cents.

Coco’s Nuts finds the three rookie private eyes entrenched in their second major assignment: proving socialite-turned-trucker Buddy Feuer did not shoot her boss, infamous entrepreneur Jimmy Picolo.  Perplexingly, her best friend, Eb Stretta, is found dead a few days later in a nearby alley.  And not long after that, Razor, Picolo’s assistant, takes five fatal bullets.  The police are adamant Buddy is guilty and all evidence certainly points to her.

In the quest for answers—to prove Buddy has been set up—JJ, Rey and Linda contend with a slew of suspects.  Several persons hated Picolo enough to kill him, but locating the one who actually pulled the trigger proves challenging.

The trio’s detecting travels lead them along a few detours—like the world of gambling and the “limb-breaker collectors” that reside within it.  Picolo’s daughter, Annia, owes thousands of dollars to them in Vegas and and on Oahu.  Might this have served as motivation to kill her father, so that she could collect a sizable inheritance?  Or might Picolo’s son, Jimmy Junior, have aspired to take charge of his father’s multiple and highly successful businesses?  Could it be that Jimmy’s brother, Ric, wanted to take over his entrepreneurial successes?

And what of nutty Coco Peterson?  A driver for Picolo, the odd little fellow (pest, some might call him) has been missing since the murder of his boss.

If you’d like to see how JJ, Rey, and Linda solve this challenging and complex case, please check them out here . . .

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Day Three, Close to Free

Today, for 99 cents, you can pick up a copy of Coco’s Nuts, the Triple Threat Investigation Agency’s private eyes’ second case.

JJ, Rey, and Linda have to prove that their client, Buddy Feuer, a former socialite turned trucker, didn’t shoot her employer, Jimmy Picolo, and her best friend, fellow trucker, Eb Stretta.

All evidence points directly at Buddy.  A set-up?  The trio believes so, but how to prove it?  They start following various trails; some [eventually] lead to answers, others [frequently] to hazards.  Potential perps include “debt collectors”, bomb-makers, go-getter employees, and ambitious family members.  One person of interest is the nutty Coco Peterson, who is MIA.  If anyone could provide a resolution to this perplexing puzzler, he could . . . but why is he in hiding?  Fear?  Guilt?

If you’d like to see how JJ, Rey, and Linda solve their second exciting (if not dangerous) case, you can find them at . . .

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Day Two, Woo-Hoo

Coco’s Nuts is available for 99 cents over the next few days.  So, as Rey likes to say (shout) woo-hoo!

It’s the second case the Triple Threat Investigation Agency private eyes—JJ, Rey, and Linda—undertake.  The trio is out to prove that their client, pretty Buddy Feuer (a former socialite turned trucker), isn’t responsible for two murders: that of her boss, the infamous Jimmy Picolo, her best friend, fellow trucker, Eb Stretta.

The evidence suggests she’s guilty, but the private eyes are certain that Buddy has been set up.  By?  Picolo’s gambling, money-owing daughter?  His aspiring son?  How about the ambitious, equally infamous brother?  Then there’s nutty Coco Peterson, another Picolo employee.  But where is he?

There are a sundry of curious characters, any one of them the potential culprit.

The food arrived. Speaking of “fry”, Linda took a hesitant nibble and found it tasty. “Do you have any names to share?”

Razor bit into a thick club sandwich and chewed slowly, thoughtfully, as if deciding whether he wanted to divulge information. “Jeff Havlock and Lilo Dorfmeister.”

Linda jotted the names on a napkin while Rey stopped dousing her fries with catsup long enough to ask, “How long have you worked for Picolo?”

“Eight years. I started out at his ranch, shoveling manure and straw.” He appeared proud. “Mr. Picolo was in need of a new assistant in town and one of the cultivator guys, who knew me pretty good, put my name forward.”

Rey smiled. “He treated you well.”

“He gave me money to help my sister, Luisa, get off drugs. The man put food on her table, dressed the kids in decent clothes, and got them out of a fleabag apartment. He even got her a job. She’s an office manager at a real estate company now. He offered to help Mom, too, but the woman’s real proud.” A bittersweet smile pulled at his lips as he stared into the distance. “No matter what other people thought of him, to me and my family he was a good guy, and a fair and kind boss. He was a straight shooter and never lied or made promises he couldn’t keep.”

“Did you know or hear anything about your fair and kind boss taking out a contract?” Linda asked casually.

Razor’s eyes narrowed. “Contract?”

“Yeah, an agreement in writing that guarantees the rubbing out of a fellow human being,” Rey elucidated with a flat smile.

The man stuffed three fat fries past thin lips and chewed at length. “Never heard about one.”

Rey and Linda exchanged glances: the former’s suggested disbelief, the latter’s uncertainty. Neither, however, chose to push it and Rey moved on. “What about brother Ric?”

Razor drained his beer, popped three more fries into his mouth, and once again either chuckled or grunted. “That’s a guy who acts kind enough and appears easy-going, but . . .”

“But?” Rey leaned forward eagerly.

“Appearances can be deceiving. Isn’t that what they say?”

The gals murmured agreement and Rey said, “You don’t owe Buddy anything — ”

“You’re right, I don’t.” The statement was delivered with neither disdain nor displeasure.

“But you do owe Jimmy Picolo something — specifically, bringing his shooter to justice.”

A concentrated expression suggested he was deliberating. “I owe him, yeah. Look, I’m heading over to the Bishop Street office shortly to pack up my personal stuff, but I’ll go one step further and nose through files, appointment books and journals, and see what I come up with.”

Maybe you’d like to check out how the trio fares in this roller-coaster of a thrilling ride, er, case . . .

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Day One, Could be Fun

. . . 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.

Maybe you’d like to check us out?  (We’d love it if you did!)

https://www.amazon.ca/Cocos-Nuts-Tyler-Colins/dp/1078374368

Avisha Rasminda

Hi, I'm Avisha Rasminda. Twenty years old.

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