Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) by Jeanne Glidewell Read Free Book Online Page B

loading vest, but Cooper didn't. He'd have bruises on his chest from the impact sometimes, but still wouldn't break down and buy a vest."
    "Stick to the basics." Rip was getting impatient. I remained silent.
    "Okay, so anyway, with the butt against your chest, you use both hands to pull the first band toward you and hook the wishbone into the front notch. Then you pull back the second band and hook it in the rear notch."
    "Sounds easy enough."
    "It is, once you got it down pat. It's more a matter of technique than strength."
    "I see." Sometimes Rip had the attention span of a blade of grass. I could tell he was losing interest fast in Milo's detailed descriptions.
    "You always load the guns in the water and keep the safety on until you're ready to fire, or it can be very dangerous."
    "I see."
    "Coop wasn't much on following safety procedures, but I never met anyone who could hold his breath as long as he could. I'd have to surface three times before he surfaced once. Pinto, who's older than us, would have to come up for air even more frequently. Cooper had unbelievable lung power for a guy who used to smoke."
    "That's nice," Rip replied absentmindedly.
    "I'm glad I bought the more expensive gun, even though sometimes, with a new model, the manufacturers haven't had time to get the bugs worked out."
    "That's nice," Rip repeated. He clearly was not paying attention to Milo's babbling.
    "One drawback of the cheap gun Coop bought is that the trigger mechanism was sensitive and had a habit of jamming when you tried to fire at a fish. Still, all-in-all, we were all pleased with our purchases. Because we all bought one at the same time, we were given a thirty percent discount."
    "I totally agree," Rip mumbled. Milo's rambling remarks had not registered. The exchange between them sounded like it was on auto pilot and neither man was paying a lick of attention to what the other was saying.
    When Milo's chattering ceased, Rip cocked his head in puzzlement, and asked, "So, what I still don't understand is what led you to instantly think the spear in Cooper's chest was fired from his own personal gun?"
    "I dunno. Just a gut feeling, I guess," Milo answered awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact with either Rip or me.
    Rip held up the frayed end of the line attached to the spear, and asked, "Is this spear designed specifically for the nineteen-inch model Cooper purchased? Or is it basically the same used on every gun? And how about the line attached to the spear? Is it generic or custom? This line's been severed, presumably so the killer could take the spear-gun, or in this case, the murder weapon, with him."
    "I dunno," Milo repeated. He shook his head, donning the expression of someone being backed into a corner with no escape route in sight. "I really have no idea."
    I began listening more intently to the discussion between the two men, and started to feel uncomfortable. But not as uncomfortable as Milo appeared to be. He started babbling once again, about red snapper recipes, spear-gun fishing techniques, and a new brand of fish fry batter he wanted to try. Milo chattered nervously about anything and everything but the spear in Cooper's chest and the line that connected the spear to the gun, which allowed the fisherman to retrieve a fish once it had been speared.
    When the cat finally grabbed a hold of Milo's tongue, he turned his back to us and ran his sleeve across his eyes. He was blotting tears with the fabric of his shirt, I was certain. I could sense Milo was not only on edge about Rip's questioning, but also embarrassed to show his emotional side to his in-laws.
    Meanwhile, Rip was performing another cursory inspection of the body lying across the forward casting deck. "He's got abrasions on his left knuckles, but taking into account they've nearly healed, I'd estimate they're at least four or five days old."
    I didn't bother to respond because it was evident to me Rip was talking to himself, not Milo or me. He turned Cooper's