"Thirty-three," Chrisman said.
Oh dear, I thought. I'd been concentrating on my suspect list and hadn't realized my number was coming up. I was the next to be called and it seemed clear I was going to be waited on by the older clerk who was just finishing up with her current customer. Thinking fast, I scanned the room for the chubby gentleman who had entered the building just after I had. His number would have to be thirty-five, I reasoned. If I could convince him to trade numbered tags, Chrisman would have to wait on me.
I darted across the floor, making the target of my sprint a bit uneasy. Seeing me hurdle two fussy toddlers and a decrepit old man was probably his first clue I was someone to be leery of. As I drew near, the man took a step back in a defensive manner. It didn't help I was having one of my bad hair days, which usually fall on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and/or random weekend days, with an occasional Tuesday or Friday thrown in for good measure. My curly salt and pepper hair was even more of a mess today than usual because I hadn't taken the time to check it out in a mirror, much less comb it.
Just as I reached the gentleman, I tripped over an invisible obstacle on the tile floor. At this stage, I'm reasonably certain I appeared to be a lunatic who'd managed to escape from an institute for the mentally insane by crawling through the drainage pipes of the local sewer system. Breathlessly, I said, "Excuse me, sir. Could you do me a teeny, weenie favor?"
The overweight man opened his mouth but did not respond. Fixated on me, his eyes never blinked or lost contact with mine. Trying to act less panicky, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, and said, "I'm sorry. I just realized I left a document in my vehicle that I'll need if I'm to get my license renewed today. Would you mind trading numbers with me? It'll give me time to retrieve the item and will put you next in line to be called up, which I'm sure you'll be grateful for after such a lengthy wait."
His mouth still agape, he silently extended his arm, offering me his number thirty-five paper tag. He'd yet to bat an eyelash. With a trembling hand, I took the tag from his fingers and handed him mine.
"Thirty four," a familiar deep male voice called out from behind the counter.
Crap, I thought. Customers were being sent home right and left to obtain required, but missing, documents. Chrisman's last customer must have fallen into that category and been quickly dismissed. Many irate customers had left the room in varying degrees of wrath. One Vietnamese gentleman cussed the elderly female clerk all the way to the door, causing quite a stir among the waiting crowd that was growing more restless and infuriated with each minute that passed.
Although the man spoke in his native language, his message had been clear to everyone in the room. The angry fellow switched over to broken English as he hollered over his shoulder, "Why you no tell me I need 'official' birth carnificate, not 'record of borthe' last time I here?"
"Because you didn't ask!" The lady hollered back. Who'd have thought the geriatric employee would be so feisty? I would have applauded her spunk had I not been more in favor of knocking her off her stool.
I can't repeat what the Asian said as the door was closing behind him. Suffice it to say, it was a graphic expletive, pronounced perfectly, that had all the women in the room blushing. Despite the nature of his remark, the agitated crowd cheered in response. And now I was on the verge of losing my opportunity to speak to Royce Chrisman. I didn't have a moment to waste.
"Changed my mind," I said, snatching my original tag out of the portly man's hand and dropping his on the floor in my haste to reach the counter before another number was called. As I turned to race to the counter, I apologized to the dumbfounded man, "Oops! Sorry. Just realized I have everything I need, after all."
Royce Chrisman was angry when he looked up to observe my face. He asked, "What's up with you, anyway?"
"Small world, huh?"
"It ain't that small, lady. You got a problem with me or something?"
"No, of course not. I need to renew my driver's license and you pulled my number. It was purely the luck of the draw. As a matter of fact, I was quite surprised to discover you worked here." I set my documents down on the counter to validate the reason I was standing in front of him at that moment.
"Yeah, lucky me. And even luckier for the gentleman you nearly bowled over to make sure I called your number. Purely the luck of the draw, of course." His sarcasm was uncalled for as he picked the documents up off the counter in front of him. And as if spotting the ghost of his late grandmother in the back of the room, he blanched at my next remarks.
"However, now that I think of it, I do have something I wanted to ask you, Bob. Or should I say, Royce?"
The solidly built man, whose hairline had receded prematurely, nodded in obvious disbelief. When he didn't reply verbally, I preceded to grill him like a slab of ribs.
"You aren't fooling me, Mr. Chrisman. I'm not the airhead you may think I am. I know you were involved in Cooper Claypool's death. So, exactly what part did you play in the murder of the man? My son-in-law is being unfairly scrutinized by the detectives and had absolutely nothing to do with his partner's death. I want to put an end to that nonsense and see the real killer brought to justice."
"I had nothing to do with his death either, lady. And I'm under no obligation to answer to you, anyhow. You're no more in law enforcement than I am."
"Uh. Well, I was, uh..." I was at a loss for words, uncertain how to respond to a statement that was unarguable. Then, an inspiration hit me and I played my ace in the hole. "Are you aware my husband was better known in these parts for years as Sheriff Ripple?"
"Lady, I don't care if your husband was better known as Queen Latifah. Did you happen to notice how many people are waiting in line behind you? I have no time to chat with you about a crime I know nothing about. And my supervisor is already upset with me for being two hours late to work. Dental appointment delayed me this morning, as you are keenly aware."
"Yeah. Did they gouge you as blatantly as they did me? The cost of dental work these days is atrocious." I was getting off track and needed to veer back toward the subject at hand before I was tossed out on my behind.
"Man, you can say that again." Unconsciously, Royce flashed a quick smile as he picked up my little pile of paperwork and handed it to me. "Now take your stuff and go so I can wait on people who sincerely do need to be assisted."
"I really do need to renew my license, Mr. Chrisman. These are my actual documents to take care of that matter." I grabbed my fistful of paperwork from his outstretched hand and waved them in his face. "I spoke to Ms. Congeniality over there on the phone before I drove over here, to see what I needed to bring with me. So, while you're assisting me with the matter, you can explain your involvement with Cooper Claypool."
Chrisman shook his head in disgust. His increasing displeasure with me was reaching the boiling point. "Ain't happening, lady. I've got a job to do. This room is full to the rafters already, and I don't need to make the situation worse by spending all day talking to someone to whom I have nothing to say."
"Hey now. It's plum rude and unprofessional for a civic employee to speak to a customer that way!"
"Good. Glad you noticed. Listen, lady. I couldn't have killed Claypool. I spent my entire Saturday at the Sunset Acres nursing home visiting my grandmother. Every nurse in the facility could vouch for me."
"So did they?"
With a sheepish expression, Royce lowered his head and replied. "It hasn't been necessary. I haven't been questioned by the police and don't feel as if I have much to offer that'd help them in their investigation. I'm practically as clueless as you are, ma'am."
Not thrilled about being labeled "clueless", I asked, "So why didn't you volunteer a statement and your easy-to-verify alibi just in case it might prove beneficial in some way?"
"Let me briefly explain what happened. Cooper and I were classmates in high school. In fact, we were good friends until he stole my girl right before the senior prom. Our relationship has been very contentious ever since."
Royce stopped talking and glanced over at the old lady who was busy spitting nails at her current customer and oblivious of Royce's conversation with me.
"Go on," I prompted.
"I ran into him at the boat launch the evening before he was killed. He sucker-punched me in the mouth when I made a comment about his girlfriend, Avery Curry. Incidentally, she was the homecoming queen our senior year."
"You made a disparaging comment, I assume?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Not disparaging enough to knock my teeth out, though."
"So, what about the name 'Bob'? Why the alias?"
"Listen, lady. I have to get to work before I get fired and have another problem to deal with."
A couple of minutes later it was my turn to complain as I was departing, "Why didn't anyone tell me I needed two items to serve as proof of residency when I called this morning to see what I needed to bring?"
"You probably didn't ask," the white-haired spitfire replied, while the entire crowd watched the door hit me in the rear end as I was storming out.
Chapter 19
"Yikes!" I hollered out when I opened the driver's side door of the truck and saw a large body in the passenger seat. I'd used the public bathroom before I'd left the building, delaying my departure. I certainly hadn't expected a low-resonating voice to say, "Hurry up and get in," when I opened the drivers-side door. I was relieved, and I'll admit, a bit terrified when I realized it was Royce Chrisman in the passenger seat.
"What the—" I screeched.
"I haven't got much time, lady," Royce said, cutting me off. "I told my boss I felt nauseated from the Novocain I'd been injected with this morning and needed to use the restroom. I don't want her to find me out here talking to you. I had to beg to use the restroom as it was."
"How'd you get in my truck?"
His raised eyebrows clearly indicated I should have already known he could break into Fort Knox if he so chose.
"Okay. Whatever. Why did you sneak out here to talk to me? Not that I'm not happy that you did."
"Because I knew you would dog me until I did. That's why!" he exclaimed, before exhaling in a heavy extended sigh. "You're an exasperatingly determined woman, Rapella."
I merely nodded, knowing there was no way I could dispute his assessment of me. I was surprised when he called me Rapella. I'd begun to think Royce thought my actual given name was "lady."
"So, listen, lady." Royce looked around anxiously, clearly uneasy about being seen in my truck. "I realize your husband is the former sheriff. And I know Cooper Claypool was your son-in-law's best friend and co-owner of MC Hammerheads. So I understand why you want to find out who killed the guy. But if you think I had anything to do with his death, you are barking up the wrong tree."
"I assume that's the same wrong tree my husband keeps accusing me of barking up."
"Huh?" He asked, clearly confused by my remark.
"Never mind. Go on with what you wanted to tell me."
"Okay, look. Cooper and I were classmates in high school like I told you earlier. And, of course, Milo, too. They were a lot tighter back then than I think they've been lately."
I wondered at his last statement. Did he have reason to believe they were at odds enough for Milo to want Cooper dead? Was Royce aware of MC Hammerhead's financial situation and the rift it had caused between the two long-time friends? I would have dug deeper, but I didn't want to interrupt Royce while he was on a roll.
"As I was telling you, the three of us had a rather contentious relationship after Cooper started sniffing around my high school sweetheart while I was confined at home for two weeks with a highly infectious case of mono."
"Did your girlfriend cheat on you with Cooper, then?" I asked.
"No. And she and I broke up a month later over a totally different issue. But that's not the point!" He spoke indignantly as he explained. "Cooper never scored with her, or anything. But, it's the principle of the thing, you see."
"Oh, yes," I replied, nodding my head. "That dreaded old 'principle of the thing'. More feuds have been ignited by that pesky 'principle' thing than anything else. So, how does this tie into Cooper's death?"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you, lady. It doesn't!"
"Huh?" Now it was my turn to be confused.
"Cooper and I have pretty much avoided each other in the years following high school. We'd see each other around on occasion. But we never approached or spoke to one another. I've had very little contact with Milo since high school, either."
"What's all this got to do with you using an alias? I was beginning to think you also went by the nickname, Captain Hook."
"Captain Hook? What in the world are you talking about?" He'd used a very explicit word in place of "world" which I won't repeat. "Excuse my language, ma'am, but I don't have a clue where you got that name."
As if a light bulb flicked on in his mind, he suddenly looked down at his left arm, and asked, "Is this what you're talking about? The metal-claw prosthetic I used on the boat yesterday?"
"No, not exactly. Long story, but I'll try to be brief. Someone who calls himself Captain Hook had been making threatening calls to Cooper regarding some money he owed a loan shark. And, I'm not proud to admit this, but I thought someone might have nicknamed you that because of the hook attachment on your other prosthetic."
I was afraid I'd tick the guy off so was taken aback when he laughed loudly. "I have to say, Captain Hook would have been preferable to some of the names I was called back in my school years. Kids can be brutal, you know."
"Do you mind sharing with me how you lost it?" Royce shook his head, so I asked, "Was it a birth defect?"
"I wish. I was in a helicopter accident when I was young." His eyes misted over and I knew it was an emotional subject for him. "I'm lucky my arm is all I lost."
"I'm so sorry, Royce. So, have you any idea who this Captain Hook might be?"
"I can't say for certain, but my guess is Paulie Winterkorn who works in some capacity for a loan shark down in El Paso. I'd bet he's the dude who'd been hounding Cooper."
"Yes, I agree. Milo told me he thought Captain Hook's boss lived in El Paso. Is this man, Paulie Winterkorn, as dangerous and scary as he sounds? I'm a little afraid for my entire family's sake."
Royce laughed again. "Hardly. That weasel-faced little dweeb might sound threatening on the phone, but in person he looks less Hulk Hogan, and more Pee-wee Herman's crazy uncle after a sex change operation gone bad. Trust me. He couldn't whip a girl scout selling thin mint cookies on his front porch."
I chuckled along with Royce at his depiction of the man he believed was dubbed Captain Hook. "That's really funny, and quite a relief, I might add."
"I'm sure it is. And, by the way, Pinto doesn't know my real name is Royce Chrisman. I didn't want him to mention my real name to Cooper or Milo, who I knew were good friends of his. You see, I really need the extra cash I earn working on his boat on the side, and I didn't want to give him a reason for not hiring me, or firing me after he'd spoken to Cooper and/or Milo about me. I'm trying to save up to buy myself a small house. I'm tired of renting and want to settle down and have a family one of these days."
"I'd never mention your real name to Pinto. The man doesn't seem to have an inquisitive bone in his body."
Royce laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that. He's never asked me one thing about my personal life. Not even how I lost my arm."
"So, what does Pinto think your name is?"
"I introduced myself to him as Bob Valentine."
"Valentine?" I asked, in amusement. "With a zillion and seven surnames to choose from, you of all people picked Valentine?"
"Hey, I'm a romantic. What can I say?" Unexpectedly, Royce's demeanor relaxed and he looked at me with a broad smile. He was quite handsome with the temporary teeth Dr. Shaft had given him. Maybe the dentist is worth his salt, after all. I thought. However, I remained silent because I wanted to hear all Royce had to say but not get him in trouble with his boss.
"Absolutely! Please continue." I smiled back at Royce, amused at the unflattering, but fitting, moniker he'd created for his boss.
"The weekend before Cooper's death, I ran into him at the boat launch at Cove Harbor Marina. When he recognized me, he cut right in front of me with his boat trailer so he could utilize the only available boat ramp before I did. Naturally, I insulted his mother."
"You insulted his mother?"
"I called him a son-of-a—"
"Got it. Carry on."
"I got out of my truck and walked over to the ramp and like I told you earlier, the big prick sucker-punched me in the mouth after I told him Avery was crazy to want to hang out with a guy like him."
"Sounds to me like you were intentionally trying to provoke him into a fight."
"Well, I wasn't, although I can see now why it might have appeared that way to him, too. But, truly, I had no intention of getting into a physical confrontation with him. Just wanted to ask him why he was in such a hellfire hurry to launch his boat that he had to cut me off the way he did."
"Aha!" I said as something dawned on me. "That explains your missing teeth, and the abrasions on Cooper's knuckles that were already beginning to heal over when we found his body."
"Yeah," Royce agreed, hanging his head. I sensed a touch of humiliation in his response. I'm sure it was because he was embarrassed his opponent had gotten the better of him, despite the fact he outweighed Cooper by a good fifty pounds. Then as if my last comment had just registered in his mind, he asked, "You and Sheriff Ripple found Cooper's body? Holy crap! I had no idea."
"Former Sheriff Ripple. And yes, my husband and I were out on a fishing excursion with Milo when we found him dead and floating on top of the water."
"With a spear in his chest, I heard."
"Yeah. Awful, isn't it?"
Royce nodded in agreement and said, "I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised. Cooper always was an impulsive, reckless kind of guy. No telling who he ticked off."
Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) Page 22
