Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) (22 page)

I could tell by Reggie's body language she wanted to tear this guy a new one. She clearly didn't take kindly to having her husband referred to as a "buffoon," much less a "bonehead." I didn't want to split hairs, but if it weren't for my allegiance to my only child, I'd have agreed with Mack. I hadn't known Milo very well, or for very long, but I had detected a measurable amount of boneheadedness in his character. And before you look up "boneheadedness," if it's not recognized by Funk and Wagnall, it should be. In fact, it should be found frequently on every politician's Wikipedia page.

I turned to my daughter and could almost visualize tiny puffs of steam escaping from her ears as she moved a couple of steps closer to Mack Schilling. Before she could ask to borrow a step stool from Mack so she could bitch-slap him, I said, "I'm sorry to hear you've had such disturbing issues with Cooper and my son-in-law, Milo."

Mack took a step backward as his eyes blinked rapidly several times. He stared at Reggie and me before glancing over at a forklift sitting next to the delicately balanced pile of well casings. It was as if the idea of using the piece of equipment to manually remove us from the building was flitting through his mind. Before the opportunity was lost, I needed to get him talking, even if it took provoking him to do it.

"Actually, Mack, I thought you looked like one of their spear-fishing buddies Milo introduced us to the day we were signing the paperwork in his office. Have you ever gone out spear-fishing with him and Cooper? Are you the buddy they introduced us to?"

"No, definitely not. You must be referring to Pinto, who I can't believe even associates with those two blowhards. Pinto's way out of their league, as am I. Those two are definitely not buddies of mine. I've never stepped foot in their office, nor do I ever plan to."

"Out of their league? Really? And just what league are you in?" Reggie was fuming. When Mack didn't respond, Reggie asked, "I'm curious. Exactly what league
does
pond scum fall into?"

"Listen lady. I not only don't enjoy fishing of any kind, I also don't take any pleasure in being in the company of those two bast—"

"Gee, can you think of any more insulting B-words to call my husband and Cooper? Buffoons? Boneheads? Blowhards? And now bast—"

I decided it was time to step in before the two came to blows. It'd be like watching a full-grown fox wrestle with a baby bunny. Not that my next remarks were any less provoking than Reggie's. "I doubt they were too fond of your presence either. Nor would they want to take you out fishing with them. It's not like you're much of a prize, you know."

My cutting remark flew over his head like a paper airplane. Mack said, "However, I did see them when I took my wife, son, and daughter-in-law out for an evening cruise on my new ultra-expensive yacht," he boasted. His vanity left a bad taste in my mouth. "They were standing next to Cooper's boat, hiding their spear-guns and trying to pretend they were working on the motor. But I'd already spotted them with binoculars before they even realized we were in the vicinity. They were bailing off the boat with their guns when I first saw them."

"Why would they hide their spear-guns?" I asked. I was baffled by why Mack would consider their actions shifty.

"Why else? Spear-fishing season wasn't open at the time. If a game warden had been anywhere in the area, I'd have turned them in. Poachers are a plague to sportsmen everywhere, but Moore and Claypool are the two most despicable offenders around. And Cooper Claypool was the worst of the worst when it came to being unprincipled."

"Oh, my. Your hatred of the man obviously runs very deep. You didn't have anything to do with his recent death, did you?" I don't know what made me ask him point-blank if he was involved with Cooper's gruesome death. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Reggie's mouth drop open as she rapidly scanned the room. Looking for the nearest exit, I'd guess.

With bugged-out eyes, Mack Schilling pointed to the door and bellowed, "Get out! Both of you! What are you two, anyway? Undercover cops? I had nothing to do with that jerk's death, and that's exactly what I'll tell the investigators if they hassle me about it. The way I see it, he got what he had coming. Karma's a bitch, you know. Now get off my property before I throw you off."

We believed him and high-stepped it out of the building. I swear it was an accident when my foot caught the edge of a well casing on the bottom of the delicately-balanced stack, causing the entire pile to begin cascading down, one by one rolling across the large concrete floor. Restacking them would keep this boorish man busy for quite awhile, I thought spitefully. And, I admit, gleefully.

Back in the car, with Mack standing on the doorstep of his shop, meaty hands on his hips, glaring at us, Reggie peeled out of the parking lot. It took several long seconds for her wheels to get traction in the muddy puddle the recent rain had created. The ensuing spray of dirty water coated the front window of the irate man's shop and turned his light blue sweatshirt a speckled brown. He lifted his arm to shake a fist at us before extending his middle finger just as we reached the asphalt pavement.

"By his reaction, I'd say if he wasn't the perpetrator, he knows who was," I remarked. "My question sure put a burr under his saddle, didn't it?"

"You have any doubt it wouldn't?" Regina replied incredulously. "Could you possibly have been any brasher when you pointed your finger at him and practically accused him of being a murderer?"

"I know I could have been a bit more tactful, but I think—"

"Tact is not in your DNA, Mom. I'm just relieved we didn't get filled with lead on our way out. Didn't you see the little snub-nosed revolver lying behind his butt can on the desk?"

"No, actually I didn't. But, I suppose you're right," I agreed. "I should have been more discreet. I have to ask you, honey. Did you know Milo and Cooper were spear-fishing illegally?"

Her face flushed at the question and she remained silent.

"Okay, that's all the answer I need, Regina. I have to say I'm not very proud of your new husband. Or you, for that matter. What I don't understand is why Milo would toss my redfish overboard like it was nuclear waste for being a fraction of an inch too short, but think nothing of poaching fish with a spear-gun."

"It was always Cooper's idea, Mom. He pressured Milo to go until Milo caved in and joined him. Cooper was ticketed by a game warden twice, by the way. Thankfully, Milo was not with him either time. Cooper was out alone and probably had his back to the game warden's boat and didn't see or hear him approach. I'm pretty sure the second time, he was banned indefinitely from spear-fishing in the entire state of Texas. Not that something like that kept him from doing it anyway. He tried several times to get Milo to go flounder-gigging out of season too, but Milo always refused."

"I'm beginning to question Milo's choice in both friends and business partners. So, how about these lawsuits I'm hearing about? Were you aware they existed?"

This time Reggie vehemently denied knowing anything about them. She said, "But that might explain why in the last couple of months Milo's been turning every nickel over a dozen times before he spends it."

Although I didn't say anything about their financial woes to my already distraught daughter, I thought,
It also explains why since the day we arrived in town, we've had to pick up every tab when out with Milo and Reggie, no
matter how small the bill.
I didn't want Reggie to feel bad when it wasn't of her doing, so out loud I said, "At least our visit with Mack provided some very intriguing information. We have a few new leads I think we should follow."

"If you say so, Mother."

"I do." I sat back in my seat with a satisfied smile on my face.

"Oh, no!" Regina gasped. "We forgot you had ice cream in one of your grocery bags. That's going to be a mess."

"It'll clean up. It's not having the ice cream on hand to appease your father that concerns me. In fact, let's stop back by the store, after I pick him up some Crown at Spanky's, so I can purchase another carton of Blue Bell."

"All right," Regina agreed. "But for both our sakes, why don't you just stay in the car and let me run in and buy the ice cream."

My daughter can be so uptight and fussy at times.

Chapter 14

"Fine detective work, my dear Watson," Rip remarked after I'd told him about our encounter with Mack Schilling. Naturally, my description of our interaction with him was abbreviated, omitting the part of being ordered off his property following my rash accusation and the ensuing accidental well-casing avalanche. What Rip didn't know wouldn't hurt me. He flashed me an endearing smile and added, "Now I remember why I love you so much."

"Oh? So it's not my penchant for getting thrown in the slammer?"

"Not hardly. You spent too much time with Lexie Starr, and her impulsiveness rubbed off on you, I'm afraid. But despite your aggravating habit of being over-the-top lackadaisical about the risky situations you get in the middle of, and being too set in your ways, there's still no other woman in the world I'd rather share the rest of my life with."

"Same here, honey." I leaned over to kiss Rip, convinced Regina had not already spilled the beans. I was thankful Rip had gotten over his little snit. He'd always been the type of person who couldn't stay mad at someone for very long. He certainly never held a grudge, as I have been known to do.

Rip and I were sprawled out on the couch in front of the television with my head nestled into the crook of his arm. On TV was an old rerun of
Family Feud
, from back when Richard Dawson was the host. We'd finally upgraded to a thirty-two inch flat screen the previous winter, even though I was reluctant to spend money on a new one when the old twenty-inch model still had a pixilated, but visible, display. Rip's persuasive pitch for a better television finally won me over. He'd hung it on the wall, and I had to admit it was nice to have the extra room in the living area. A crystal clear picture with which I could actually distinguish between John Wayne and Betty White was handy too.

Deep in thought, Rip caressed my back for a few moments before saying, "It certainly sounds like Mack Schilling had a motive and the temper to go along with it. You didn't happen to get a chance to ask him about his whereabouts Saturday afternoon, did you?"

"No. It was the next question I'd hoped to ask. But something came up and we weren't able to continue the conversation. And I'm sure he'd have clammed up and refused to respond even if I had."

"Hmmm. Is the iPad handy?"

"Yes it really is. Very handy, in fact. I find myself using it all the time now to research information about something, or someone. You wouldn't believe how many times I've been able to find out—" I shut up when I realized he was staring at me like three or four marbles had just escaped my head via my right ear. "Oh! Did you mean, 'Is it where I can retrieve it easily'?"

At Rip's nod and disrespectful, "Duh," I stood to pick it up off the kitchen table. "What do you want me to search?"

"See what you can find out about Mack Schilling. Now that we have a name, there might be something on the Internet that's revealing."

"Good idea. Mack called Trey, the younger man, 'son,' and Trey called Mack 'Papa,' so it's clearly a family business." When I searched Mack's name, I found many sites mentioning his well-digging business. He seemed to be highly respected in the community and had received many positive reviews from former customers. The only less-than-flattering comments were that Mack needed to wash his overalls more frequently, and his help should watch their language around impressionable children and ladies. Nothing too earth-shattering.

Then I happened upon a Mack Schilling in the society pages of a previous edition of the
Rockport Pilot
. "This is odd, Rip. It's a birth announcement for a baby named Chandler, born to a Joyce and Mack Schilling, III. Mack was too old to have a baby unless he'd divorced Trey's mother and married a woman young enough to be his daughter."

"Think about it, though. The father of this baby has to be Trey. Trey's not an uncommon nickname for the third in line to be called when three generations in a row share the same name. It could get confusing if you don't give at least one of them a nickname. It's quite possible Trey had a bone to pick with Claypool and Milo, too."

"You're right. Possibly even more provoking than his father's 'pissed-off bone', as Julio Sarcova put it. Now that I think about it, Trey would be in the same age bracket as the two boys. Let me Google 'Trey Schilling' and see what pops up."