card for a storage warehouse off of Washington Avenue in Minneapolis. Interesting. If this stuff were hidden here, it must have some kind of significance.
One of the envelopes contained the title to a 1983 Caddy in Kinky’s name. I’d seen the car in the Bingo Barge parking lot. The behemoth was all big tires, tinted windows, and curb feelers.
“He must have used his video-making hideout as some kind of safety deposit box,” Coop said. I stuffed the business card and the gas receipts in my pocket and we put the rest of the boxes back. Coop carried the video equipment into Kinky’s office. Eddy was still in Kinky’s chair, in the act of carefully ripping off the top two pages of the big calendar on the desk.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Kinky’s not going to miss these where he is. Might come in handy, never know. Could be secret codes in the doodles.”
My hand shot out and stopped her in mid-rip. “Stop! What if the police need these for something? I’m sure they’ve already seen them. You can’t take what’s sitting here in plain sight. They’ll know someone was here.”
Eddy rolled her eyes at me. “Okay, you might be right. But what if one of those doodles holds the dirt we need?”
I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Fine. Anyway. I’ve decided I can’t call that man by his given name after seeing his goods on the video. ‘Kinky’ damn sure fits the man.” She nodded once emphatically. “So. What’d you find?”
Coop set the box on the desk. “The camcorder and probably a VCR.” He fingered the padlock. Then he pulled out his keys and tried to fit each key into the slot on the bottom of the lock, but none of them worked.
I remembered the key ring in the desk drawer. “What about these?” I lifted out the ring I’d seen earlier and tossed it to Coop, who one-handed them in a jingle of metal. The third key he tried opened the lock with a soft click. Eddy and I crowded around as Coop lifted the lid. A tiny VCR occupied the box. I pulled it out and plugged the power cord into the wall.
“Ah, there’s the power button,” Coop muttered with satisfaction. A humming and a soft grinding came from the machine, and a video tape popped out. “And what do we have here?”
I grabbed the playing-card-sized cassette and turned it over and around. It was unlabeled, and the tape inside was at the start or had been rewound to the beginning. I walked over to the VCR, looked around for some kind of converter. The mini cassette slid into a VCR-sized doohickey that sat next to the player. I popped the carrier into the VCR and pressed play. Familiar gray snow filled the monitor. Then the picture, although still fuzzy, cleared up enough to show Kinky’s loveseat. No one was in the frame. I pushed the fast-forward button. Pretty soon Kinky speed-walked in and disappeared behind his desk. A couple of long minutes of nothing passed. Then a scruffy-looking man popped in, made some animated movements, and zoomed out of the room.
Coop crossed his arms. “That was Buzz. Buzz Riley.” A name on Rocky’s list.
The tape kept zinging along. Pretty soon Kinky left and then returned, followed by Lavonne of Lovin’ Lavonne . They chatted some, then moved over to the loveseat and proceeded to reenact the scene we’d already witnessed.
Thanks to fast-forward, they finished quickly, then resituated their clothes and stood discussing something. Lavonne appeared mad as a wet cat when she stormed out.
I said, “You don’t think this is from the night Kinky was killed, do you?”
Coop said, “If I show up, you know it is.”
Kinky popped in and out of the picture a few more times, and then another woman appeared, who, thankfully, kept her clothes on. She and Kinky exchanged words.
“God, I wish this thing had sound,” I said.
The woman, obviously agitated, waved a finger with a long, blood-red polished fingernail at Kinky. “That’s Rita Lazar,” Coop said.
Rita and Kinky soon exited.
The tape
One of the envelopes contained the title to a 1983 Caddy in Kinky’s name. I’d seen the car in the Bingo Barge parking lot. The behemoth was all big tires, tinted windows, and curb feelers.
“He must have used his video-making hideout as some kind of safety deposit box,” Coop said. I stuffed the business card and the gas receipts in my pocket and we put the rest of the boxes back. Coop carried the video equipment into Kinky’s office. Eddy was still in Kinky’s chair, in the act of carefully ripping off the top two pages of the big calendar on the desk.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Kinky’s not going to miss these where he is. Might come in handy, never know. Could be secret codes in the doodles.”
My hand shot out and stopped her in mid-rip. “Stop! What if the police need these for something? I’m sure they’ve already seen them. You can’t take what’s sitting here in plain sight. They’ll know someone was here.”
Eddy rolled her eyes at me. “Okay, you might be right. But what if one of those doodles holds the dirt we need?”
I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Fine. Anyway. I’ve decided I can’t call that man by his given name after seeing his goods on the video. ‘Kinky’ damn sure fits the man.” She nodded once emphatically. “So. What’d you find?”
Coop set the box on the desk. “The camcorder and probably a VCR.” He fingered the padlock. Then he pulled out his keys and tried to fit each key into the slot on the bottom of the lock, but none of them worked.
I remembered the key ring in the desk drawer. “What about these?” I lifted out the ring I’d seen earlier and tossed it to Coop, who one-handed them in a jingle of metal. The third key he tried opened the lock with a soft click. Eddy and I crowded around as Coop lifted the lid. A tiny VCR occupied the box. I pulled it out and plugged the power cord into the wall.
“Ah, there’s the power button,” Coop muttered with satisfaction. A humming and a soft grinding came from the machine, and a video tape popped out. “And what do we have here?”
I grabbed the playing-card-sized cassette and turned it over and around. It was unlabeled, and the tape inside was at the start or had been rewound to the beginning. I walked over to the VCR, looked around for some kind of converter. The mini cassette slid into a VCR-sized doohickey that sat next to the player. I popped the carrier into the VCR and pressed play. Familiar gray snow filled the monitor. Then the picture, although still fuzzy, cleared up enough to show Kinky’s loveseat. No one was in the frame. I pushed the fast-forward button. Pretty soon Kinky speed-walked in and disappeared behind his desk. A couple of long minutes of nothing passed. Then a scruffy-looking man popped in, made some animated movements, and zoomed out of the room.
Coop crossed his arms. “That was Buzz. Buzz Riley.” A name on Rocky’s list.
The tape kept zinging along. Pretty soon Kinky left and then returned, followed by Lavonne of Lovin’ Lavonne . They chatted some, then moved over to the loveseat and proceeded to reenact the scene we’d already witnessed.
Thanks to fast-forward, they finished quickly, then resituated their clothes and stood discussing something. Lavonne appeared mad as a wet cat when she stormed out.
I said, “You don’t think this is from the night Kinky was killed, do you?”
Coop said, “If I show up, you know it is.”
Kinky popped in and out of the picture a few more times, and then another woman appeared, who, thankfully, kept her clothes on. She and Kinky exchanged words.
“God, I wish this thing had sound,” I said.
The woman, obviously agitated, waved a finger with a long, blood-red polished fingernail at Kinky. “That’s Rita Lazar,” Coop said.
Rita and Kinky soon exited.
The tape
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