Ripped Apart (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 5) Page 7

  “That doesn’t narrow it down very much, does it?” Rip asked.

  “No. I passed more than twenty white SUV’s this morning alone when I drove over to H-E-B’s parking lot,” Regina said. H-E-B was a chain of more than 350 grocery stores in Texas. It seemed as if there was one in every Texas town we passed through. “They were handing out cases of water, so I picked us up a few. Drinking water is a hot commodity right now. Thankfully, the Red Cross and so many other charitable organizations are stepping up to the plate to help out the hurricane victims in the area. They almost insisted I bring home a half dozen cases of MRE’s, as well.”

  “Did you?” I asked.

  “MRE is an acronym for Meal, Ready-to-Eat,” Regina continued without responding to my question. She acted as if she was explaining the birds and the bees to a class full of eager-to-learn sixth graders.

  I listened patiently so as not to burst her bubble. “How does it work?”

  When Regina shrugged, Rip supplied the answer instead. “The package contains a flameless heater and is designed to actually heat up the food inside of it when water is added to a flexible pad containing magnesium dust, salt, and a little iron dust. A chemical reaction occurs that causes the playing-card sized pad to reach a boiling point, bubble, and steam. It takes about ten minutes to heat up the food inside the pouch. The U.S. Department of Defense hands out these MRE’s during natural disasters such as Harvey, when organized food facilities are not available.”

  “Yes,” Regina said. “As you know, H-E-B sustained roof damage, and it will take some time to get it back up and operating.”

  “Yes. Not too long, I hope. Hard to do without a local grocery store.” I was glad I’d heeded Regina’s advice to stock up on necessities before heading to Rockport. The five items she’d picked up for me in Portland that afternoon were handy, but hardly essential.

  “Despite H-E-B’s own loss, they are donating supplies for local citizens who’ve been impacted by the storm,” Regina said.

  Then Rip spoke up again. “I’m not surprised by H-E-B’s generosity and kindness. It’s very nice that businesses, relief organizations, and selfless volunteers hand out water and MRE’s to storm victims. Years ago, when I was serving in Vietnam, we had to eat our C-rations cold, or light a little chunk of C4 explosive in a small can and―”

  “C-rations?” Regina looked confused. I noticed her glance at her father’s left ear to see if he was wearing his hearing aids. Naturally, he wasn’t.

  “MRE’s are the modern version of what used to be referred to as C-rations. That’s what your dad ate when he was serving in Vietnam,” I explained.

  “Except for when I had nothing but a bag of dry rice to sustain me for weeks on end.” Rip spoke between bites of his filet. “They used to put a four-pack of cigarettes, like Lucky Strikes, and a can opener in the C-rations packs. The can opener, or P-38, which we called a ‘John Wayne’, was needed to open the tin cans. Some of the meals weren’t too bad, like the beans and weenies, but I still have nightmares about a few of them.”

  “I remember your dad griping about the ham and lima bean meals in letters he sent home to me. He hasn’t touched a lima bean since.” I then repeated my earlier question. “Did you bring any of the MRE’s home this morning? I’m curious to see what’s included in one and how it tastes. And I’m sure your dad’s interested to see how the meals have changed.”

  “Not really,” Rip said around a mouth full of tender beef.

  “No,” Regina replied. “I only brought home water today. I finally assured him there were a lot of other people who needed the MRE’s a lot worse than we did.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment must have been evident in my voice because Regina was quick to reassure me.

  “But we already had at least ten cases of MRE’s in the house from a couple of weeks ago when the Red Cross was going house-to-house handing them out.” She smiled before continuing. “We actually had to rely on the pre-packaged meals for a few days after our supplies ran out and no store in town was open where we could buy groceries. They aren’t bad, Mom. Better than the dry rice Daddy had to eat at times, for sure. What do you say we have them for lunch tomorrow so you can see what they’re like?”

  “That would be nice.” I was anxious to try one, but it was clear from Rip’s expression he’d just as soon eat some of Dolly’s Fancy Feast cat food. “If you’d prefer, dear, you can have whatever veggies we have left over.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I could tell by his tone the idea of sharing Dolly’s lunch with her was sounding better and better.

  “That’s right,” Regina said. “No sense wasting whatever we can’t eat tonight. You know what Mom always says. Waste not, want not.”

  “Suddenly an MRE sounds a lot better to me than it did a minute or so ago.” Rip looked at both Regina and me with a comical expression. We all laughed in unison. It was so nice to spend time with our only child, even under not so nice conditions. “But, I promise you, Reggie, if my MRE has ham and lima beans in it, your name will be swiftly removed from our will.” His warning was accompanied by a stern expression, followed by a teasing wink. Regina could be arrested for conjuring up a Ponzi scheme that took us for every dollar we had, and yet still be the executor and sole heir of our estate. The joke would be on her, however, as we'd have no money left to inherit.

  After a satisfying supper, and a relaxing nightcap later on, Rip and I went to bed around ten. I tossed and turned half the night, thinking about what might have happened to Reilly Reynolds after she’d climbed into the unknown driver’s car during the lull in the storm.

  Had she been tricked into getting into the car? Or, alternatively, had she called someone and asked them to pick her up? Was it a man or woman driving the car she’d gotten into? Had she thought it was an opportune time to fake her death and escape an abusive husband? Or, perhaps, a cheating husband? Was it she who was being unfaithful? The blonde who’d left a note for him to meet her could have factored into a decision to leave him, I thought. Did she have a mother, sister, or close friend in the area who might have been hiding her out the last three weeks? Was Reilly alive and well, and waiting for her moment to reappear? Or was she hoping to be passed off as dead so she could live out her life in peace, somewhere far away?

  It was just as likely she been murdered by an abductor I realized, but I didn’t want to even think of that probability quite yet. I wanted to operate on the assumption she was still among the living, as remote a possibility as that was.

  There were so many questions and possible scenarios filtering through my mind that I couldn’t turn my brain off long enough to fall sleep. It was almost dawn before I finally drifted off into slumber, no doubt from sheer exhaustion.

  Seven

  I felt a little groggy and out of sorts the next morning, but the fog cleared after I’d indulged in several cups of strong coffee. I usually limited myself to two cups per day, except when visiting with Lexie Starr at the Alexandria Inn. For some reason, there the coffee flowed like lava from an erupting volcano and a piping hot cup, filled to the brim with a robust brew, was always sitting right at my fingertips. It was easy to over-indulge in caffeine when it was eternally present. For that reason, I’d experienced some of my most restless nights in Lexie and Stone’s lodging facility. Of course, some of my restlessness might be attributed to the fact Lexie nearly always seemed to be knee-deep in a mysterious murder case when we were there.

  As I was sipping on my third cup, Regina stuck her head inside the door of the trailer. “Mom? You up and at it?”

  “Well, I’m up anyway.”

  “One out of two ain’t bad.” She laughed and stepped inside, closing the door behind her as she’d been taught always to do as a child. I’d imagine she’d heard the questions, “Were you born in a barn?” and “Are you trying to cool down the entire neighborhood?” too many times to count by the time she was a teenager.

  “What’s up?” I asked. I offered her a cup of coffee, which she declined
.

  “I wanted to see if you’d go to Corpus Christi with me this morning. Daddy's going to be tied up doing something else for Milo."

  “Sure. What’s in Corpus?”

  “Milo has his daily list of things he needs at a hardware store there. Unfortunately, the ceiling caved in at the Lowe’s in Aransas Pass, and it’s closed indefinitely. A lot of work needs to be done to the building before it can reopen.”

  “That is unfortunate. Their merchandise is in great demand right now and Lowes is a lot more convenient to folks in Rockport than the hardware stores in Corpus. What time would you like to leave?”

  “The store opens at nine, so let’s leave at eight-thirty.”

  “Okay. I’ll be ready.” It was seven o’clock and I wanted to bake several batches of cookies. I also wanted to make a small batch of sugar-free chocolate chip cookies from a recipe I’d found online. I’d feel bad not taking a batch for Bruno, the diabetic drywaller. I’m sure it was hard enough dealing with the terrible disease without having to watch your co-workers gobble down cookies all day. “Well, you run along now. I have a few chores to do before we leave.”

  Regina gave me a funny look and nodded her head before departing. “See you at eight-thirty then. I’m looking forward to spending as much time as I can with you and Daddy. Now that you’re retired and traveling all the time, I don’t get to see you as much as I used to.”

  “I miss spending time with you too, sweetheart. It’s one of the drawbacks of being full-time RVers.”

  I was getting my first view of some of the storm damage as we drove through Rockport and Aransas Pass on our way to Corpus. The towns south of Aransas Pass, like Portland and Gregory, had not been as adversely affected by the hurricane, because the storm had headed north after ravaging Rockport. Like Rockport, Port Aransas, also known as Mustang Island, which is considered the northernmost stretch of Padre Island, had sustained severe damage. Corpus Christi, the largest city in south Texas, had been spared for the most part. Population-wise, it had truly been a blessing the hurricane had turned north in the final few hours before making landfall in the much smaller town of Rockport.

  “This is so sad,” I muttered at one point during the ride.

  “Yeah, I know.” Regina was driving Milo’s work truck so we could haul our purchases in its large bed, and seemed to be deep in thought. I left her to reflect on whatever had her so distracted. Or at least until she had veered into the path of an oncoming sedan.

  “Look out!” I shouted.

  Regina yanked on the wheel and pulled the truck back into the proper lane just in time. I felt my stomach doing cartwheels as my chest pounded like a four-year-old with a new set of bongo drums. “Whoa! That was close. Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Clearly,” I replied. “Would you like me to drive?”

  “No. I’m fine. We’re almost there anyway.”

  “Thank goodness! My entire life just flashed before my eyes.”

  “That was a lot of flashing, wasn’t it?” Regina asked playfully.

  I laughed and smacked her on the shoulder. “Better straighten up or you’ll be lucky to see your fifty-second birthday, much less your seventieth.”

  “At this point, I’m not sure if I want to see my next birthday.” The playfulness was now gone from Regina's voice.

  “Come on, honey. Keep your chin up. As they say, this too shall pass.” It pained me to see her down in the dumps. I hoped getting their home back to normal would brighten her outlook.

  After loading up the building materials and supplies at the hardware store, we headed back to Rockport. I’d been so interested in viewing the damage Harvey left in its path that I hadn’t even brought up the subject of the missing neighbor lady. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to question Regina in case she had more information to divulge, so I broached the subject before we’d left the parking lot.

  “Have you heard who the anonymous eyewitness was who saw Reilly get into a car in front of her home during the storm?”

  “No. You do know what anonymous means don’t you, Mom?”

  “Of course I do. I just spoke without thinking.” I swatted my daughter on the shoulder again. “Don’t be so sassy. You are not too old for me to bend you over my knee.”

  “Yeah, I think I am too old for that. You never spanked me as a child, so I’m not too worried about you doing so now.” Regina chuckled as she spoke. She grew more serious as she added, “I’m assuming the anonymous tipster was one of our neighbors who rode out the storm like we did.”

  “Last night you referred to the eyewitness as ‘he’ a couple of times. Does that mean you’ve heard it was a male?”

  “No. I really have no idea. I just used that pronoun out of habit. My guess is that it was Suzanna Pandero. I don’t know about my other neighbors, but I know she rode out the storm in their house next door to us. I heard her about-to-be ex-husband, Percival, requested shelter from the storm in their house. Their separation has been anything but amicable, but it’d be tough to leave anyone outside to fend for himself in a situation like that.”

  “So she let Percival in?” I asked. I was thinking the husband must have arrived during the “lull” Regina had spoken about, for he could hardly have been out driving around with wind speeds approaching 140 miles per hour.

  “Nope! Like I said, their separation is anything but amicable.”

  “Wow!” I shook my head. “That’s pretty heartless, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. Even if I suspected Milo was having an affair, as Suzanna suspects Percival was doing, I couldn’t be that merciless.”

  “What kind of car does Percival drive?”

  “An ivory-colored Subaru Forrester.”

  “SUV?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Just curious,” I replied. “You told us the eyewitness said Reilly got into a light-colored car that was probably an SUV. Is it possible Percival picked her up after being denied entry by his estranged wife?”

  “Yeah,” Regina said. She thought silently for a moment before continuing. “Actually, it’s very possible. Reilly is the woman Suzanna suspected Percival was cheating on her with. I hadn’t really thought about that. She would definitely call in the tip if she suspected Percival was involved in Reilly’s disappearance.”

  Now I was suddenly thinking less about her neighbor, Suzanna, being the possible eyewitness, and more about Suzanna’s husband being the man who abducted Reilly. “It sounds highly likely then that Percival was the driver of the car the tipster said Reilly got in to.”

  “I don’t really think―”

  “It’s something to consider though, isn’t it?” I asked. It would be nice if I could get Regina, Milo, and Rip all interested in helping me look into what really happened to Reilly Reynolds. I was optimistic about this outcome until Regina’s next remark.

  “No. Not really. If Percival had picked Reilly up, she’d have contacted someone by now. He just isn’t the type of guy to physically assault a woman. Any woman. He can be kind of loud and belligerent, but he’s basically a harmless dude. And if Percival truly was interested in Reilly in a romantic way, why would he do anything to harm her? She’d have been heard from by now.”

  When I didn’t respond, Regina went on to say, “Although I still think Suzanna might be the eyewitness, I highly doubt it was Percival who picked up Reilly. As hateful as their separation has been, she’d have recognized him and his vehicle and definitely reported him to the authorities as the abductor of the missing woman. She wouldn’t call the hotline with a tip that might or might not lead them to Percival.”

  Regina had a point, I realized. But, on the other hand, there was no confirmation that her suspicion of Suzanna Pandero being the “eyewitness”, that now being mentioned by the media, was correct. Granted, a high majority of the properties on Key Allegro were second homes and few were occupied by full-timers. Still, it had been reported that nearly forty percent of the full-time Rockport citizens rode out
the storm in their homes. I'm pretty sure nearly one-hundred percent of that forty-percent would never ride out another one, as those I'd talked to that had admitted it was a terrifying experience they'd never want to go through again.

  "There could easily have been another neighbor who witnessed Reilly get into a light-colored SUV-type vehicle," Regina reasoned.

  “Yeah, I suppose. It's hard to imagine a couple who haven’t been married a full year both having affairs with other people,” I said, again without thinking it through first.

  “What are you talking about?” Regina asked. Her mouth had dropped open so far, I could have removed her tonsils with a pair of hedge clippers. “What makes you think Walker was having an affair?”

  I swallowed so hard, the breath mint I’d just popped into my mouth got lodged in my throat. I began to hack harshly in an attempt to dislodge the disc. Concerned by the fact my face was turning purple, Regina pulled over to the shoulder and began to wallop me on the back. Even though I was on the verge of passing out from being unable to breathe, I was glad to have a momentary respite from trying to explain my comment. Finally, the mint flew out of my mouth and bounced off the glove compartment. I inhaled deeply, and said, “Thank you.”

  “Of course. Are you okay now?” Regina asked.

  After I’d nodded, she pulled back onto the road and repeated her earlier question. “What makes you think Walker was having an affair?”

  “Give me a moment,” I said in a ragged whisper, trying to sound as if I was barely able to speak. I had deemed it best not to spread unsubstantiated rumors―rumors I had concocted myself, no less. When I couldn’t delay my response any longer, I said, “I’m sorry. I must have misunderstood something you said earlier. I thought you said Walker was having an affair when you actually probably said he was having the house repaired.”