Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) Read online

  Our twelve-inch Christmas tree had colored lights that shone through little holes in the ceramic which represented ornaments. It had been a trailer-warming gift from my Bunko club when we'd sold our home and become full-time RVers nearly six years ago. With limited space in our thirty-foot home on wheels, it had been the ideal gift.

  After a refreshing dip in the kids' pool, we were relaxing on the back deck overlooking Milo and Reggie's dock and boat lifts, enjoying our customary afternoon cocktails. I was drained from the seven-and-a-half hours of decorating Regina's home, followed by the minute and thirty-seven seconds spent decorating my own. I actually could have knocked our place out in less than a minute if I hadn't had to sweep up a half-filled box worth of pasta shells. Dolly had knocked the opened box over when she'd tried to jump up on the counter to quell her curiosity about the new holiday addition. She should have realized by now she'd devoured one kitty treat too many to successfully clear the height of the counter, and quit trying.

  Reggie was sitting at the patio table with its umbrella opened up. She was addressing envelopes in order to mail their Christmas cards out the following day. I kept my mouth shut when she put a stamp on an envelope addressed to Rip and me. Good grief! Couldn't she see I was sitting right next to her and saved the forty-nine cents?

  Rip was relaxing in the shade, holding his afternoon highball, as he told the kids about Sheriff Peabody stopping by the campground to speak to him early that morning. I'd been so relieved when Joe apologized to Rip for hurting his feelings and explained his reasoning for banning him from getting involved in the case. I had listened as the contrite sheriff talked to his former boss.

  "You were always my hero, Rip. Choosing me to take under your wing and promote meant more to me than you could imagine. I didn't want you to think that all the hours and hard work you put into grooming me to take over your position had been a royal waste of time. I knew ignoring standard procedures would have looked like unprofessional and sloppy police work to you. Looking in your eyes, Rip, and seeing you were disappointed in me would have broken my heart."

  "I totally understand, Joe," Rip had assured his protégée before the man continued.

  "But if we'd discovered any concrete evidence to arrest a perpetrator, trust me, you'd have been the first person I called. But, as you guys know, there was no perp to arrest in this case. Many thanks from the entire department for the work and time you put in on your own to solve the case for us. And, my friend, if a detective position opens up, I might be offering Rapella a job." Rip and I had both laughed, but knowing Joe appreciated our uninvited meddling was a relief to both of us. I was particularly proud Sheriff Peabody had singled me out for my efforts in resolving the puzzling case.

  Rip had shown the younger man a great deal of warmth and consideration, and assured Joe Peabody of his pride in the exceptional manner in which he handled the responsibility of such a demanding position. Rip's mood had lightened dramatically after the current sheriff's visit, as if a heavy load had been lifted off his shoulders.

  "Tell the kids what else Joe told you," I prompted.

  "Oh, yes, of course. Joe had to have his ankle X-rayed yesterday after he thought he might have broken it stepping off a curb awkwardly—"

  "And where exactly was that curb?" I asked mischievously.

  "In front of Rockport Donuts." Rip grimaced dramatically and then turned to look at me. He jokingly cautioned me. "And there best be no more wisecracks about cops eating doughnuts."

  The kids and I laughed before Rip continued. "Fortunately, Joe's ankle was only sprained. However, while he was at the health clinic, Dr. O'Keefe told him that he and his ex-wife, Avery Curry, were getting back together, putting their divorce on hold for now, and trying to repair their marriage. Avery had told Patrick she'd only taken up with Cooper Claypool to elevate her poor self-image following their separation. And Avery admitted she'd hoped to make her ex a little jealous too, which it seems to me she accomplished in spades."

  Then I related to the kids more of what the sheriff had said. "And Rip forgot to mention that Dr. O'Keefe has also agreed to let Avery enroll in a culinary trade school so she can pursue her dream of becoming a chef. She's a nice lady, so I was really happy to hear that news, especially considering that, just out of the blue, Jugs 'n Mugs let her go a couple of days ago." I didn't even have to look at Rip to know that once again his eyes were in danger of becoming stuck in the "rolling" position. It would serve him right if they did.

  Before Rip could make a smart-aleck remark, I prompted him again. "Don't forget to tell them what Joe told you about Paulie Winterkorn and the loan shark in El Paso."

  "Oh, yeah. Joe said they brought Paulie Winterkorn in for questioning but decided not to charge him with harassment since the defendant was already deceased and there seemed to be no purpose in spending taxpayer money on a case against him. He told the detectives he'd read about Cooper's murder in the paper and was afraid for his own well-being for not having collected the money owed his boss."

  Rip took a sip of his drink and turned to Milo. "Winterkorn decided to take advantage of the situation and try to manipulate you into paying off Cooper's debt, which explains why he showed up on your doorstep. Joe assured me that Paulie Winterkorn will never agree to work for a loan shark again, judging by how terrified he'd been of retribution by his merciless boss in El Paso when he failed to collect Cooper's debt. And, by the way, Winterkorn told Detective Reeves he hadn't expected to be met at the door by Milo's new wife, 'Bridezilla'."

  "What should I do about that unpaid loan, Pop?" Milo asked after we all stopped chuckling.

  "Nothing, son. It wasn't your loan to begin with, and the El Paso Police Department informed Joe that the loan shark was currently incarcerated for some unrelated crime and his goons would never harass you again. And the best news of all is that Peabody assured me the assault charges against you would be dropped too, Milo, for the same reason no charges were filed against Winterkorn. Cooper's death was self-inflicted and it would serve no point to fine you, or waste taxpayer money keeping you behind bars for the conflict at Crabby's."

  "Oh, thank God," Milo and Regina said in unison. The overwhelming sense of relief was palpable on the Moores' back deck that afternoon.

  "I have a bit of good news, too," Milo said with a joyfulness we'd never had the pleasure of witnessing before. "Coop had inherited his parent's paid-off home. With no family left to speak of, he left it to Pinto in his will. And Pinto has decided to sell his boat and retire, which is perfect timing because the Parks and Wildlife Department has just announced they're closing Copano and Aransas Bays to commercial oyster harvesting for awhile to let the beds replenish and become healthy once again."

  "We'll he be able to make it financially?" I asked, recalling the conversation we'd had with him about retiring.

  "With no mortgage payment and his new part-time job with MC Hammerheads, he'll get by all right. I'll make sure of it." Milo winked and smiled, genuinely delighted for Pinto. And I'm sure he was equally pleased at the idea of having his respected friend work with him in the future. Rip and I shared his happiness.

  "Tell your folks your good news, babe," Milo said as he patted Regina's thigh. Reggie had closed a deal for a client purchasing a multi-million dollar bayfront home on Finisterre, the costliest and most prestigious street on Key Allegro Island. "Location, location, location" was a very apt phrase for homes on the coast. We congratulated our daughter on the hefty commission she was going to receive from the sale; it would go a long way in helping the couple get back on a good financial footing.

  Regina went inside and fixed us all another round of drinks while Rip tried to help Milo devise a workable financial plan for both Milo and Regina, personally, and for the MC Hammerheads Construction Company. He was determined to help get the kids back on their feet before they lost their house to the bank and watched their business go belly-up.

  Rip offered to float the kids a loan to properly take care of the mold issu
e in the Sarcova's home and reimburse them for their son's medical bills, settle the outstanding debt to Mack's Wells, Inc., and take care of a few other obligations hanging over their heads. I was surprised to hear Milo graciously turn down the offer.

  "I want to do this on my own, Pop. I sincerely appreciate the offer, and will keep it in mind if worse comes to worse. But I think I can cover all those things if I sell my new BMW and all but a couple of guns in my firearms collection, a few of which are worth a mint. I don't need such an expensive truck to drive, either. I plan to sell it, too, and lease a truck without all the bells and whistles I never use anyway. And who needs three dozen guns and enough ammo to blow this entire end of the island off the map?"

  Rip smiled, clearly impressed and surprised with Milo's response. "If you're sure, son, but—"

  "No 'buts' about it. I need to work this mess out myself, and with Regina's help, we can save our home and our business. She's agreed to cut back on spending money for anything that's not absolutely necessary."

  Good luck with that, I thought. I eavesdropped as Milo continued.

  "As sole owner of MC Hammerheads now, I need to learn better business skills. I handle the bills at home, but as I said before, the financial end of the business was part of Cooper's responsibilities. It's a whole different ball of wax than our personal finances, but it's all up to me now. I'll never remove the "C" in the company's name, though. Cooper and I built MC Hammerheads together, and I want to make him proud of how well our business does in the future," Milo said.

  Not to mention, I thought, "M Hammerheads" sounds rather bizarre.

  I was happy to see Rip's opinion of his new son-in-law had softened in the last few days. I think knowing for certain Milo hadn't had a hand in the gruesome death of his partner had taken a load off Rip's mind, as it had mine. With affection in his voice, he reassured Milo.

  "I'm sure you'll make him proud. I know I'm proud of you. Rapella and I will be in Rockport for another three or four months before heading north to Montana. I'll help you line out the finances, and do whatever I can to assist in keeping the business going forward. You may want to think about hiring an accountant to take the pressure off you. You probably need to be out in the field overseeing the actual construction process instead of spending a lot of time in the office."

  "Yeah, I do. Good idea. I appreciate your offer to help me get lined out. And that's one offer I will accept. Sorry I didn't make your efforts to exonerate me any easier when the detectives were convinced I'd killed my best friend. Cooper's death totally rocked my world, and I was too shaken up to think clearly. I was even a little pissed off that anyone would seriously believe I'd do something that atrocious."

  I'd been listening half-heartedly to the men discussing the future success of Milo's house-flipping business, praying his plan would prove to be successful. However, I was skeptical about how much help Regina would be in Milo's quest to cut back on expenditures. Just that morning she'd purchased a gazing ball for their front yard. A gazing ball, for goodness' sakes! And no gazing ball would be complete without the dolphin statue the ball had been displayed on, she'd insisted. The ball with the reflective patina nestled securely into the space between Flipper's opened jaws. "A must for the landscaped island in the center of our circle driveway," Reggie had stated, as I was trying to figure out what purpose it would serve.

  Milo and Reggie's back deck was a great location to watch the hustle and bustle of life on the waterfront: the passing of boating vessels of every variety, from kayaks to million-dollar yachts. There were blue herons, snowy egrets, pelicans, osprey and cormorants all vying for the best post to perch on to soak in the sun and dry off their wings. And often, there were real dolphins frolicking in the water, right next to the deck on occasion. Best of all, the Moores' deck offered the most awe-inspiring view of the late afternoon sun setting on the horizon, reflecting a host of beautiful colors across the often tranquil waters of the bay.

  At the moment, my mind was on what we could do tomorrow for fun, now that all of our time and energy wouldn't be spent on trying to track down a non-existent killer. Looking back, I realized Milo had been correct. Fishing really had gotten into my blood. Hooking the scarcely undersized redfish had been so exhilarating; it had unwittingly made me anxious to try again in hopes of catching a keeper. A legal-sized one I could hold up for a photo to show off at my next Bunko club meeting. When there was a pause in the men's conversation, I asked, "How about going wade-fishing tomorrow?"

  "No way!" Rip, Milo, and Regina exclaimed in harmony.

  "The Christmas boat parade is tomorrow night. Let's grill hamburgers and sit out here to watch it," Reggie suggested as an alternative. Her idea was met with much enthusiasm. It stands to reason it would take the fellows a while to shake the memories of our last fishing trip. And watching the interesting array of boats circling Little Bay, all decorated and lit up like a—well, like a Christmas tree—sounded fun to me, too.

  * * *

  The ripple effect always amazed me. Cooper Claypool's single bad decision had instigated a wave, followed by a week's worth of wrinkles that had us chasing our tails and barking up a lot of wrong trees. But all that was behind us now, and we could finally settle down and enjoy the holidays with Regina and Milo in our own hometown.

  Even though I felt a bit miffled that no one had agreed to my fishing suggestion, and only a bang-up boat parade would change my miffedness to miffaliciousness, I was still proud to be the person who was most responsible for solving the perplexing riddle of Cooper Claypool's death and stemming the tide—a rip tide of sorts.

  The End

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  RIPPED TO SHREDS

  A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery

  Book Three

  Excerpt from

  Ripped To Shreds

  A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery

  Book Three

  by

  Jeanne Glidewell

  "Screech! Screech! Screech!"

  "What the—?" I started to ask Boonie Whetstone, the owner of the Rest 'n Peace RV Park, which was nestled amid the tall pines in the Bighorn National Forest. He was in the laundry room with me, emptying quarters out of the machines into a three-pound coffee can. He'd wrap and resell them to customers to use to do their laundry, he'd said. Now that was a recycling plan I could appreciate.

  "Screech!"

  "What in the world was that?" I asked. I'd dropped my basket of clean clothes, startled by the eerie noise. "It sounds like a woman screaming out there in the, um, out there in the—"

  "Boonies?" Boonie chuckled at his pun after finishing my sentence for me. As I bent over to collect my clothes, many of which would have to be refolded, he replied, "Could be a number of things. A screech owl, perhaps. Maybe even a female mountain lion."

  "Screech! Screech!" We heard emanating from within the not-so-distant forest again.

  "Yeah, my guess is a lion," Boonie said with a knowing nod, as if telling me there was a wild baby bunny running amok in the woods. If there was a bunny running out there, it was probably because a mountain lion was chasing it, intent on devouring the poor thing for lunch.

  "There are mountain lions that close to us? Couldn't they come right into the campground?" I asked nervously.

  "Yes, of course. The elevation's eighty-nine hundred feet here, and I don't have an electric fence around this RV Park, you know." He laughed and winked, not at all concerned about the possib
ility of having feral, customer-eating cats in the vicinity.

  "Maybe you should invest in one."

  As if he hadn't heard me, Boonie went on to explain. "Female mountain lions, or cougars, will scream like that when they're calling out for a mate. Their mating season usually runs from December through March. It's mid-April, but they'll mate at other times of the year sometimes."

  "Well, there goes the 'Rest 'n Peace' aspect of your park, Mr. Whetstone," I said with a shudder. When we'd first arrived, I'd thought the RV Park's name was a clever idea for such a quiet, serene campground, but now I found it more ironic than cute.

  "Don't worry. They're not apt to bother you. Wouldn't hurt to carry a can of pepper spray when you're out and about on the grounds, though. We sell some in the office for just that reason. Probably not all that effective, but it gives our customers a little peace of mind, anyway."

  "I'd settle for a little peace of mind at the moment. I'll go buy a can right now while my last load is drying."

  "Sorry, ma'am. The store's closed on Sundays. Only the check-in desk is open."

  Swell. "Not apt to bother you" and "not all that effective" were not comforting phrases to me. I didn't have pepper spray to carry on my way back to the Chartreuse Caboose, our thirty-foot travel trailer. What I had was a spray bottle of Shout; a stain remover, not a cougar remover.

  "Screech!" I heard again as I took a step outside twenty minutes later. Its source appeared to be eerily close. I quickly stepped back inside and closed the door, giving myself a few extra minutes to bolster some courage. Leave it to Rip to request the site at the farthest end of the campground. "Closer to nature," he'd said. Closer to wild, dangerous animals, too, I thought. And, at the moment, too blasted far from the laundry room for my liking.

  I can't stay in here forever. I told myself. When I'd left the trailer, my husband had been watching our team, the Dallas Cowboys, getting routed by the Patriots, and was no doubt snoozing on the couch by now. I'd have to move as briskly as possible returning to the trailer. If I come face to face with a cougar, my only option will be to try to 'Shout' it out'! Not a very reassuring concept!