Ripped Apart (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 5)
Page 25
I assured her my sleuthing was over for the time being. I was ready to roll up my sleeves and do whatever I could to help them recover from Hurricane Harvey. The remarkable storm had been a terrible one, but it had also brought out a strength in people they didn’t know they possessed. I believe it proves there truly is a rainbow after every storm. Sometimes you just have to look hard to see it.
Afterword
Hurricane Harvey was the second-costliest hurricane on record, following Hurricane Katrina in 2005. It made landfall as a category 4 hurricane in Rockport, Texas, at 10:00 p.m. on August 25, 2017, with winds in excess of 140 mph, heavy rain, and a massive storm surge that swamped coastal areas. It was the first category 4 hurricane to hit the mainland since Hurricane Wilma hit Florida in October of 2005. After causing catastrophic devastation in southern Texas, Harvey moved up the coast, dumping over fifty inches of rain on the Houston area.
The destruction left behind by Harvey was overwhelming. Thousands of power poles were snapped in half in Aransas County alone, and they, along with many miles worth of downed power lines, littered the roadways. The incredible response from electrical companies across the country, that volunteered their assistance, had power restored to the area in a matter of two to three weeks. It was an amazing achievement, considering the pure volume of work required to accomplish such a feat, and greatly appreciated by all of the county's residents.
Clean-up and debris removal had begun by that time, and most of the downed trees, demolished RV’s and boats, and general debris from structures, were being stockpiled in the median of Highway 35 Bypass. Years earlier, the wide median had been designed for exactly such a potential disaster, and the inspiration had proven to be very beneficial. The growing mountain of trash seemed to stretch for miles. Two, then three, and finally a half dozen or more smokeless incinerators were set up to burn debris around the clock. Still, they could not keep up with the ever-increasing volume of rubble.
Meanwhile, residents were out working their tails off in the wicked heat and humidity, saving what could be saved, disposing of what couldn’t, and doing their best to help out their friends, neighbors, and even complete strangers. It was a prime example of how the worst of circumstances brought out the best in people.
Over one hundred people lost their lives as a result of the massive storm, either directly or indirectly. Incredibly, only one of those deaths occurred in Rockport. That in itself is remarkable because an alarmingly high percentage of residents ignored the mandatory evacuation order and rode out Harvey in their homes. Fortunately, many of the homes in the quaint little coastal town are vacation and/or short-term rental properties. Most of those who stayed behind now claim they'd never ride out another hurricane, as it was a terrifying experience they'll never forget.
Rockport, and other affected areas, continue to recover from Harvey, and the citizens of the Lone Star State continue to stay “Texas Strong”. Although Ripped Apart is based on an actual event, the story is completely fictional. I hope you enjoyed it.
As for future tropical storms who even think about hitting the Texas coast, please take heed to our state’s motto and “Don’t Mess with Texas”!
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Page Ahead for an Excerpt From:
RIPPED OFF
Ripped Off
A Ripple Effect Mystery, Book Six
“Surprise!” I exclaimed as I threw my arms around my granddaughter, Tiffany, in a long-awaited hug. We hadn’t seen her and her husband, Chase Carpenter, in two years. My husband, Clyde “Rip” Ripple, and I, Rapella, had traveled from Rockport, Texas to the foothills of the Sandia Mountains in Albuquerque, New Mexico to surprise her for her thirtieth birthday. As full-time RVers, we’d spent the last couple of months in Rockport helping our daughter, Regina, and son-in-law, Milo Moore, recover from Hurricane Harvey.
“Oh, Grams!” Tiffany began to sob as I embraced her at the entrance to her home. “I’m so glad you and Papa are here.”
I soon realized Tiffany’s tears were not ones of happiness like mine were. She was genuinely distraught. I’d hoped to make her day, not make her weep. “What’s wrong, Tiff?”
“Trey is dead.”
“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” I stroked her back as she continued to shed tears on my shoulder. “Who’s Trey?”
After a few long moments, her blubbering stopped. “Trey and his wife, Sandy, are two of our best friends. I met her at work, and she introduced us to her husband.”
“I see.”
“Trey was her husband, I should say.” At the thought of having to use Trey’s name in the past tense, Tiffany’s crying began anew. “Trey was our investment broker, as well. He convinced Chase to invest in an IPO, and we stand to make tons of money.”
“That’s wonderful.” I didn’t know what an IPO was, but I would Google it later. I didn’t want Tiffany to think Grams was behind the times. The last thing Rip and I invested money in had been our daughter’s college education. Regina had majored in marine biology, minored in secondary education, and ended up being a real estate agent. I’m not sure how well that expensive investment had paid off, since her college education had nothing to do with her chosen vocation. “How nice to have a venture pay off so splendidly.”
“Yeah. It was a tech stock that soared in its first quarter. Trey was going to sell it for us today. I sure hope he completed the transaction before he . . .well, you know.” For a brief second, I saw Tiffany smile; it was that of the rich kitty who’d eaten the solid gold canary. Had I blinked, I would’ve missed it.
“Yes, I know. But that’s neither here nor there right now. The most important thing is that your dear friend lost his life. What happened to this Trey―”
“His name was Trey Monroe.” A new round of sobbing commenced after using his name in the past tense once again. “We don’t know what happened yet. All Chase heard was that Trey was getting ready to board a plane at the Double Eagle II Airport and he suddenly dropped dead on the tarmac.”
“Oh, my! How awful,” I said in commiseration. I glanced around, and asked, “Sounds like a massive heart attack or possibly an aneurysm. Where is Chase right now?”
“Chatting with Papa in the garage, I think. Why don’t you two get settled into your RV site and return around seven for supper? I’m sure we’ll know more by then. I’m having a couple of pizzas delivered because I’m too upset to cook. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s more than okay. We both love pizza.” Not so much the agonizing heartburn that comes with it, I could’ve added. Naturally, I didn’t. Both seventy years old, Rip and I suffered from acid reflux. His was so severe I often wondered if he was having another cardiac-related issue. Rip had recently undergone a triple bypass while on our golden wedding anniversary cruise to Alaska, and that was not an experience either one of us wanted to repeat. “We’ll pick up the tab for dinner. Order some breadsticks too, if you’d like.”
Tiffany looked truly touched by my offer. “Okay, but you and Papa are our guests.”
“Regardless, we’d like to pay for supper. I’m sure we’ll eat our share at your birthday party tomorrow night. Chase told us he’s having it catered by Bruiser’s Barbecue.”
“I don’t know how we can celebrate anything after this horrible news.” Tiffany h
ad a point. To host any kind of party the day after one of your best friends suffered an untimely death sounded cold and heartless. “We’ll likely cancel and just have a quiet dinner here tomorrow night.”
“We’re fine with whatever you and Chase decide,” I said. We’d reserved a site in a nearby RV park so we wouldn’t be underfoot. Plus, travelling with Dolly, our overweight grey and white tabby, it was always best if we stayed in the Chartreuse Caboose. The unusual name of our thirty-foot travel trailer was based on the color I’d painted the exterior to make it stand out in a crowded campground or Wal-Mart parking lot. “See you in a couple of hours, honey. Again, I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.”
As we drove to the campground, I relayed my conversation with Tiffany to Rip, who nodded in response.
“Chase was very upset about his buddy’s death.” He cocked his head to the side and asked, “What’s an IPO?”
“An IPO is an initial public offering.” I’m sure I sounded full of myself despite the fact I’d only known what an IPO was for about fifteen minutes after Googling it on our phone. “It’s when a company launches into the stock market and sells shares of their company to institutional and retail investors.”
“Yeah, okay.” Clearly unimpressed with my knowledge, he asked, “What’s for supper?”
“Pizza and garlic breadsticks.”
“Oh, good grief. I can taste the acid reflux already.” Rip clutched his chest in mock anguish. “Don’t forget to bring the Tums.”
“I won’t. Oh, and we’re paying for the pizza, too.”
“In more ways than one, I’m sure.”
That evening, we discussed Trey’s death as we sat around the kitchen table and ate Chicago-style, deep-dish pizza. Our conversation stopped when Chase’s phone rang. Looking devastated, he listened to the caller for only a few minutes before ending the call. His expression was like that of a man whose favorite football team had just lost the Super Bowl by missing a twenty-seven-yard field goal attempt with one second left on the clock.
“What’s wrong, son?” Rip asked.
“I’ve got good news and bad news. It seems Trey was murdered. Someone injected him with a large dose of fentanyl shortly before he collapsed at the airport.” Chase now looked angry rather than upset.
“Oh, no!” Tiffany sniffled. “Who’d kill one of the nicest, sweetest guys we’ve ever met?”
Chase replied with a shrug. "My guess is there are many possible suspects."
“What?” Tiffany asked, clearly baffled by his remark. "So, what's the good news?"
“That was the good news.” Chase had all three of us putting our pizza down with that comment. “The bad news is he sold all of our stock two days ago.”
“So?” Tiffany had taken the one-word question right out of my mouth. “Isn’t that what we wanted him to do?”
“Yes, but Trey sold all of his clients’ entire portfolios and now the proceeds are missing. No one at his firm knows what happened to the money, and it hasn’t been deposited into any of his clients’ accounts. The private charter he was about to board was scheduled to fly him to the Grand Bahamas International Airport in Freeport. The logical conclusion is that Trey was skipping town with all the money when he was killed.”
We all sat in a suspended state of shock.
“I don’t get it.” Tiffany was the first to speak. “What’s that mean?”
“It means we’ve been ripped off!” Now Chase was royally pissed. “And that we’re almost broke. I invested every dollar I could scrape up to invest in that IPO.”
Tiffany replied angrily, “No-good, slimy rat bastard!”
Wow! Tiffany went from “one of the nicest, sweetest men she’d ever met” to “no-good, slimy rat bastard” in less than thirty seconds. I’d have to check the Guinness Book of World Records to see if she’d broken the record for the quickest 360-degree turn-around. Of course, that’s assuming she was referring to the man who’d ripped them off and not her husband who’d invested all their money in such a risky gamble to begin with.
I was setting a new personal record myself; my heartburn was already intense, and I’d only taken two bites of pizza. Or maybe that was just my gut telling me Rip and I were in for another bumpy ride. We couldn’t just sit back when our only granddaughter and her husband were in such dire straits. We’d have to do our best to find out where Trey Monroe had stashed the money he’d stolen from his clients. In the process of doing that, we might also discover who killed him. My mind whirled with questions. Had one of Trey’s former investors taken getting ripped off just a little too personally and exacted revenge? Only time would tell.
* * *
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RIPPED OFF
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Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank Mother Nature for supplying the inspiration for this novel, although I would have preferred a gentle summertime shower. I’d have been more than happy to name this book Rippling Streams rather than Ripped Apart. A big thank you to my editors; Judy Beatty, of Madison, Alabama; and Alice Duncan, of Roswell, New Mexico. Another big thank you to Nina and Brian Paules, of eBook Prep and ePublishing Works, for their confidence in me, and for all they do to promote my work. An especially big thank you goes to Shirley Worley of Merriam, Kansas; Sheila Davis, of Fairway, Kansas; and Sarah Goodman, of Olathe, Kansas; who willingly, but possibly unwittingly, volunteered for the monumental, and yet, unpaid task of proofreading my manuscript and catching typos and bizarre errors that slip by my editors and me. I appreciate all of these wonderful people very, very much!
Also by Jeanne Glidewell
A Lexie Starr Mystery Series
Leave No Stone Unturned
The Extinguished Guest
Haunted
With This Ring
Just Ducky
Cozy Camping
Marriage and Mayhem
The Spirit of the Season
Lexie Starr Cozy Mysteries Boxed Set
* * *
A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery Series
A Rip Roaring Good Time
Rip Tide
Ripped To Shreds
Rip Your Heart Out
Ripped Apart
Ripped Off
The Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery Boxed Set
* * *
Soul Survivor
About the Author
Jeanne Glidewell, lives with her husband, Bob, and chubby cat, Dolly, in Rockport, Texas, on Salt Lake, just off Copano Bay.
Besides writing, Jeanne enjoys fishing, wildlife photography, and traveling both here and abroad.
Jeanne and Bob owned and operated a large RV park in Cheyenne, Wyoming, for twelve years. It was that enjoyable period in her life that inspired Jeanne to write a mystery series involving a full-time RVing couple - The Ripple Effect series.
As a 2006 pancreas and kidney transplant recipient, Jeanne is an avid advocate for organ and tissue donation. Please consider the possibility of giving the gift of life by opting to be an organ donor should you no longer need them.
Jeanne is the author of a romance/suspense novel, Soul Survivor, seven novels and one novella in her NY Times best-selling Lexie Starr cozy mystery series, and five novels in her Ripple Effect cozy mystery series. She's currently writing Ripple Effect book six titled Ripped Off and expects to have it released in early fall of 2020.
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www.JeanneGlidewell.com
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