Read Online Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) by Jeanne Glidewell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeanne Glidewell
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over this afternoon. I honestly know nothing about what happened to Coop and need to ask a favor of you, Rip," Milo said.
Phew! I let out an audible sigh of relief at his remark. I'd been dreading a confession of guilt.
"Anything," Rip answered. I felt a shiver run up my back. That one-word response had come back to bite us in the keister more times than I could count.
"Well, you were the former sheriff of the police department here."
"Yes, I was aware of that," Rip replied dryly.
Without skipping a beat, Milo continued, "For what? About fifteen years?"
"Ten. But I was in law enforcement here in Aransas County for thirty-seven."
"I'm assuming you still know a lot of the detectives here."
"Yes, of course I do."
"And you're probably familiar with at least a few of them who'll be working on this case."
"Yes, I am."
"And I imagine you still have a lot of pull with the—"
"Not necessarily," Rip interrupted. And with an impatient, drawn-out sigh, he added, "Cut to the chase, son. What do you want from me?"
"Well, I just, um, just want, you know, to maybe get a copy of the autopsy report when it's available. After all, I was not only his best friend and business partner, but I'm also the person who discovered his body. Or... you, Rapella, and I found it, I should say."
"This is a homicide case we're talking about here. The authorities don't just pass out copies of the autopsy report to any Tom, Dick, or Larry who walks in the—"
"Harry," I corrected.
With an expression of annoyance, Rip turned to me and asked, "What? Harry? Who's that?"
"You just used the phrase Tom, Dick, or Larry, and it's—"
"Whatever," Rip replied before dismissing me with an exasperated wave of his hand. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I sensed Rip wouldn't appreciate being corrected, even though he was the one who often accused me of using every cliché in the book. At least I use them correctly , I thought with a huff.
Rip turned back to Milo and continued. "It's already available; the medical examiner completed the autopsy early this morning. But I have no way to access a copy of the report. Nor do you. Particularly since you are probably high on their list of possible suspects."
"What?" Milo and Reggie exclaimed in stereo. Milo looked as if he'd just been informed he had an inoperable ovarian cyst. "How do you know that?"
"I stopped by the station on the way here and spoke with Branson Reeves, the lead detective on the case. He's an old buddy of mine. He's been on the force almost as long as I was. Branson told me the medical examiner determined Cooper's death most likely took place somewhere between four and six on Saturday afternoon. He'd noted that the postmortem rigidity was already beginning to dissipate and the body was regaining flexibility by the time it arrived at the morgue last night. That led him to believe Cooper's death had occurred at least twenty-four hours before the three of us located his body. As we were already aware, he told Branson that along with the fatal wound caused by the spear-gun, there were abrasions on the victim's hands and face and a gash on the back of his head. Both of the latter injuries were prior to the mortal spear wound, as we already knew."
Milo paused for a moment to wipe away a tear before he said, "That's awful, but why would they suspect me of killing him? Coop was my best friend, from way back in high school, not to mention my business partner."
"Exactly! You just explained why you're a suspect, son," Rip explained. "It's because you were Cooper Claypool's best friend and business partner. That automatically makes you a suspect, just like a murder victim's spouse or significant other is always evaluated for motives and alibis. The vast majority of homicides involve people who are closely associated. Seldom is a murder committed by a random stranger. And, of those who knew their assailant, something like thirty percent were family members. You'd fall into the other seventy
Phew! I let out an audible sigh of relief at his remark. I'd been dreading a confession of guilt.
"Anything," Rip answered. I felt a shiver run up my back. That one-word response had come back to bite us in the keister more times than I could count.
"Well, you were the former sheriff of the police department here."
"Yes, I was aware of that," Rip replied dryly.
Without skipping a beat, Milo continued, "For what? About fifteen years?"
"Ten. But I was in law enforcement here in Aransas County for thirty-seven."
"I'm assuming you still know a lot of the detectives here."
"Yes, of course I do."
"And you're probably familiar with at least a few of them who'll be working on this case."
"Yes, I am."
"And I imagine you still have a lot of pull with the—"
"Not necessarily," Rip interrupted. And with an impatient, drawn-out sigh, he added, "Cut to the chase, son. What do you want from me?"
"Well, I just, um, just want, you know, to maybe get a copy of the autopsy report when it's available. After all, I was not only his best friend and business partner, but I'm also the person who discovered his body. Or... you, Rapella, and I found it, I should say."
"This is a homicide case we're talking about here. The authorities don't just pass out copies of the autopsy report to any Tom, Dick, or Larry who walks in the—"
"Harry," I corrected.
With an expression of annoyance, Rip turned to me and asked, "What? Harry? Who's that?"
"You just used the phrase Tom, Dick, or Larry, and it's—"
"Whatever," Rip replied before dismissing me with an exasperated wave of his hand. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I sensed Rip wouldn't appreciate being corrected, even though he was the one who often accused me of using every cliché in the book. At least I use them correctly , I thought with a huff.
Rip turned back to Milo and continued. "It's already available; the medical examiner completed the autopsy early this morning. But I have no way to access a copy of the report. Nor do you. Particularly since you are probably high on their list of possible suspects."
"What?" Milo and Reggie exclaimed in stereo. Milo looked as if he'd just been informed he had an inoperable ovarian cyst. "How do you know that?"
"I stopped by the station on the way here and spoke with Branson Reeves, the lead detective on the case. He's an old buddy of mine. He's been on the force almost as long as I was. Branson told me the medical examiner determined Cooper's death most likely took place somewhere between four and six on Saturday afternoon. He'd noted that the postmortem rigidity was already beginning to dissipate and the body was regaining flexibility by the time it arrived at the morgue last night. That led him to believe Cooper's death had occurred at least twenty-four hours before the three of us located his body. As we were already aware, he told Branson that along with the fatal wound caused by the spear-gun, there were abrasions on the victim's hands and face and a gash on the back of his head. Both of the latter injuries were prior to the mortal spear wound, as we already knew."
Milo paused for a moment to wipe away a tear before he said, "That's awful, but why would they suspect me of killing him? Coop was my best friend, from way back in high school, not to mention my business partner."
"Exactly! You just explained why you're a suspect, son," Rip explained. "It's because you were Cooper Claypool's best friend and business partner. That automatically makes you a suspect, just like a murder victim's spouse or significant other is always evaluated for motives and alibis. The vast majority of homicides involve people who are closely associated. Seldom is a murder committed by a random stranger. And, of those who knew their assailant, something like thirty percent were family members. You'd fall into the other seventy
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