A Rip Roaring Good Time

by Jeanne Glidewell

  Rip laughed and took his handkerchief out of his back pocket to start swabbing up the spilt beer. I ran into the kitchen and came back with a dishtowel, knowing the handkerchief wouldn't be adequate to clean up the mess.

  We worked together to sop up all the liquid. Fortunately, the floor was concrete and no permanent harm was done. Rip smiled at me as we finished and asked, "Drinking alone again, huh?"

  I playfully punched him in the shoulder and asked him what they'd been up to all day. When Rip started to explain, I sat back down to listen to his remarks. The murder case was getting more intriguing every day.

  * * *

  "Stone and I drove over to the country coroner's office on the pretense of taking Wendy to lunch, which, by the way, we did. Guess what Wendy's favorite restaurant is," Rip quizzed me with a smile.

  "Red Lobster?"

  "No, it's a fast-food joint."

  "Kentucky Fried Chicken?"

  "No, it's a burger joint. Guess again."

  "McDonalds?"

  "No, it's a—"

  "Oh, for God's sake, tell me!" I insisted, tiring of the guessing game.

  "Duh—it's Wendy's! So anyway, while we were finishing our 'baconators,' Stone asked Wendy if she could somehow get us a copy of Trotter Hayes's autopsy report. We thought there was a remote possibility that something in the report might prove valuable in getting Lexie released from custody."

  "Was there?" I asked impatiently. My husband had a bad habit of taking forever and a day to cut to the chase. Like Lexie, he tended to get mired down in the insignificant details. It was particularly annoying when I was waiting on pins and needles to find out something important.

  "Don't know. We couldn't get a copy. As I expected, not even Trotter's father, Chief Leonard Smith, was permitted to receive a copy of the autopsy report in this homicide case. Wendy told us that, unfortunately, it was considered a conflict of interest for her to even view a copy. She hasn't been allowed in the lab since, out of necessity, Nate, the county coroner, called her in to assist by sniffing for the presence of cyanide. I'm sure you recall her telling us about her being the only one in the lab who could detect the telltale presence of a bitter almond scent."

  "So you're telling me you accomplished absolutely nothing but boosting your cholesterol levels over burgers and fries?" I asked.

  "Not exactly. Here's where it gets interesting," Rip replied. He was now resting in the chair beside me, sipping on a tumbler of Crown and ice and rubbing his bad hip as he talked. "While on the way back to the lab to drop Wendy off, she commented on the fact that Falcon Jons had been in earlier, also requesting a copy of the autopsy report. He said he was merely curious about his old classmate's death, but was denied a copy, too, of course. But Wendy said that Falcon had been at her birthday party, and Mattie had told her that Falcon was fixated on his ex-girlfriend, Joy White, who had come to the party with Trotter as her guest. Joy and Falcon had split up when he learned that she'd hooked up with Trotter."

  "Hmm," I replied. "I recall Wendy also telling Lexie and me that Joy had just recently dumped him for Trotter and she wondered if Falcon wasn't trying to make Joy jealous by slobbering all over Rayleen Waters, his date for the evening."

  "According to what Falcon told Wendy, he had planned to attend the birthday party alone. But then, Rayleen called him earlier that morning and practically begged him to let her attend the party with him. I'm not sure how happy she was about the overly zealous affection at the party that you told me you witnessed, because she'd never been particularly close to Falcon before that night, according to Wendy. Mattie had told Wendy she hadn't invited Rayleen to the party since they'd only hung out with her on occasion in high school and neither had seen her in years. Rayleen, Wendy explained, was kind of a loner who only interacted with a few select friends, primarily Alice Runcan and Joy White." As Rip talked, he kept referring to a yellow Wendy's napkin that he'd scribbled notes on.

  "Joy told me this morning she hadn't seen Alice in years," I said. "And she didn't indicate having seen Rayleen recently either. Could the notion of reuniting with her high school buddies be why Rayleen was so determined to be at the party in the first place? Maybe she felt left out because she knew both Alice and Joy had been invited. I can understand why she'd want to be included."

  Rip shrugged and said, "That's probably it, but if time allows, it might be worth looking in to." I nodded and wrote some notes in my own little notebook. I'd taken it out when Rip began outlining his day. I had remembered Lexie telling me in Cheyenne that she always utilized a notebook to keep track of all the details. At the time, I'd thought she was being too anal about her impromptu investigation. However, I was quickly learning the importance of keeping a meticulous record of every single issue and clue we unearthed in a quagmire like the one we were involved in. It helped to have all the intricate details in writing to refer back to should the need arise. Especially with so many young people involved in this convoluted web of friends and lovers.

  While I scribbled down the particulars, Rip went inside to get me another beer, and I was guessing he would refill his half-finished drink too. When he returned I said, "Alice Runcan described Falcon as having a 'screw loose,' and Mattie had said he'd just recently been dumped by Joy White, who came to the party as Trotter's date. Joy was a reasonably close friend of Wendy's in high school, according to Mattie, who was the one who invited her to the party. But apparently Joy had no knowledge of the sexual assault Trotter had perpetrated against Wendy not long before Wendy began dating Andy."

  "How have you come to that conclusion?" Rip asked.

  "If Joy knew about the attempted rape incident and was close to Wendy, I can't believe she'd show up at her friend's surprise party with the man who'd assaulted her friend. If for no other reason, wouldn't she worry the same fate might befall her too?"

  "Your reasoning makes perfect sense to me. Who'd have thought the little Mayberry RFD town of Rockdale, Missouri, could be such a cesspool of relationships gone bad?"

  "Yeah, no kidding! It's more like Peyton Place than Mayberry. Still, I can't imagine any of their petty grievances escalating to the point they'd murder the feller. I'm wondering how Joy fits into this whole equation and what possible role, if any, she might have played in Trotter's death." I was thinking out loud as I was trying to fit the pieces together in my head.

  "To me, Joy appeared genuinely grief-stricken about her boyfriend's death," Rip replied. "I don't know how she could have pretended to be that overcome with despair directly after the murder. She'd be a movie star if she were that convincing of an actress. They had to transport her to the hospital in an ambulance, if you remember."

  "And because of that, she was the only person at the party who wasn't interviewed at the crime scene by the detectives. Could that have been her intention if she was somehow able to pull off such a remarkable acting performance?" I asked Rip. "Wendy's due here any minute. I need to find out more about all of the players in the picture from her. But first she's going to teach me how to use that silly iPad that Reggie gave us for Christmas."

  "You mean that over-sized coaster you use to protect the end table from getting water marks?" Rip asked.

  "Yes. At least it's been useful for something other than just taking up valuable space. Wendy assures me it will be very handy for researching all sorts of—"

  "Before you know it, you'll wonder how you ever got along without it," I heard Wendy's voice from the doorway.

  "Speak of the devil," I replied. "Are you ready to teach an old dog new tricks?"

  "Good luck with that," Rip said to Wendy as he walked back into the house.

  Chapter 10

  As it turned out, one of those dreaded alpaca emergencies came up, preventing Wendy from being able to teach me about my iPad. She only had a few minutes to hang around the inn before she had to leave to meet Andy at a veterinarian's office. The animal clinic was in Atchison, Kansas, which was located near Andy's cattle ranch, where they lived. They had adopted
two baby alpacas the previous fall and named them Mork and Mindy. Mindy had stopped eating and become very listless. The vet suspected gastric atony might be the cause, according to what Andy had told Wendy on the phone.

  Wendy was scheduled to meet Andy at the vet's at five o'clock to find out what the prognosis was, and what, if any, treatment could be given. If those two are going to be as hovering with their future babies as they are with their glorified llamas, they'll be helicopter parents for sure, I thought with a chuckle.

  As Wendy was telling me more about the alpaca's health woes, her best friend, Mattie Hill, walked in the back door and entered the kitchen. We exchanged greetings and Wendy said, "I asked Mattie to stop by to show you a few things about using your iPad. She's way more tech-savvy than I am anyway. She works with a computer daily, inputting data in the neo-natal department's computer files. Plus, she just lives a couple of blocks from here."

  Before Wendy headed out, I was able to ask her a few questions. "How close are you to Joy White?"

  "About the same as I am with Alice Runcan. Joy and I met in junior high. The two of us never hung out together much, but throughout our remaining school years, we ran in the same circles. Mattie has been my best bud since elementary school and Joy White was Alice Runcan's closest friend. But Mattie thought she should invite them both to the party since they still live in relatively nearby towns." Wendy and I glanced at Mattie, who nodded in agreement.

  "How about Rayleen Waters?"

  "Rayleen was sort of a loner and only hung out with Joy and Alice. Rarely ever did she have any interaction with Mattie and me, but we did have mutual friends, so we ran into her at school functions and parties fairly frequently."

  Mattie, who'd been nodding the entire time Wendy was speaking, chipped in her two cents. "Rayleen always acted like a whipped puppy around us, as if she didn't feel she was as worthy as the rest of us. We all felt we needed to include her, if for no other reason than to boost her self-esteem and let her know we truly cared for her. I think her low self-esteem has something to do with what we heard Rayleen chose to do for a living. Don't you think so, Wendy?"

  "Could be."

  "Wendy is as close, or closer, than a sister to me," Mattie continued. "We were both only children. My mother died of complications during my birth, and with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, I almost did too. I don't know what I'd have done without Wendy to lean on all these years. I'm curious why you asked Wendy about Joy and Rayleen. Have you guys found out anything that might indicate one of them might have had a hand in Trotter's death... I hope?"

  "No, not really," I replied. "I've just been trying to figure out how the personal dynamics of all the party guests fit into place. If there's any way possible, my husband and I'd like to help get Lexie out of jail and the real killer behind bars instead."

  "I really do appreciate your help, Rapella. As does Stone," Wendy said. I wasn't sure if she was blowing smoke up my skirt or sincere about her gratitude. I could certainly understand if Lexie's daughter thought Rip and I were more of a nuisance than a help at this point in the game, but I smiled at her nonetheless.

  "That's so sweet of you, Rapella. I wish you the best of luck," Mattie added. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help. I practically lived with Wendy growing up, and Lexie was like a mother to me. I'd do anything for her. And when it comes to Joy and Rayleen, I agree wholeheartedly with Wendy's assessment of them."

  "Wendy, was Joy someone you'd confide in if you had anything bothersome going on in your life that you felt you needed to talk to someone about?"

  Wendy had a strange expression on her face when I asked her this question. It had been her mother who'd told me about Trotter's attempt to molest her, and I hadn't wanted to let on I knew about that traumatic experience. I could understand that it might not be something she wanted to share with folks like me whom she barely knew. But I got the impression she'd read between the lines when she replied that the only friend she'd ever felt comfortable enough with to confide in was Mattie. And, of course, she told me she shared everything with her mother as well.

  I glanced over at Mattie who nodded her head again and added, "And I feel the exact same way. I've even confided in Lexie at times because she was the only mother figure I had growing up."

  That cleared up my confusion about why Joy would come to her long-time friend's party with someone that friend had serious issues with. She probably knew nothing at all about Trotter's assault against Wendy. I didn't want to pick at that sore any longer and cause Wendy to close up and stop freely sharing information with me, so I switched my line of questioning to Falcon Jons and addressed both girls.

  "Alice Runcan gave me the impression that this boy's bubble was not quite on the level. What are your impressions of him?"

  Mattie expressed her opinion first. "The guy owns an aerospace engineering firm in St. Joseph, so he's not exactly the lowest rung on the ladder when it comes to brains. But, in the same vein, he seems to have made a lot of really questionable choices in his life."

  "I agree," Wendy added. "He's a strange mixture of really smart and really stupid."

  "I know the type," I replied. "I've known a few highly intelligent individuals who didn't have the common sense God gave a peanut when it came to their personal lives."

  "That's Falcon in a nutshell," Wendy said.

  "Pun intended!" The two young ladies spoke in unison.

  * * *

  "So, my dear, are you ready to show me my way around this iPod thing?" I asked Mattie after Wendy had departed.

  "It's called an iPad, Rapella."

  "Oh, yeah. Same thing though, ain't it?"

  "No, an iPod is an entirely different device." She acted a little queerly, as if she'd just tackled an eight-hundred pound bear and wasn't sure what to do next with it. But her puzzled expression quickly morphed into a pleasant one. I could tell she was delighted to have such an eager student to instruct.

  "Oh, yeah, well, po-tay-toe, po-tot–toe. I'm ready to learn about whatever it's called."

  Mattie shook her head and launched into a long-winded explanation of how the device worked. I only caught about every tenth word, but I figured most of what she was explaining would never apply to me anyway. I really only wanted to know how to find information out there, in what I've heard referred to as 'cyberspace,' a place I wasn't at all familiar with. But I didn't want to be rude to the young gal, so I sat there with a dazed expression, no doubt, and nodded at what I hoped were appropriate intervals.

  At first I really was trying to concentrate on what Mattie was explaining to me about my iPad, but words like hashtags, modems, USB ports, as well as swiping, flicking, tweeting and scrolling, were running around in my mind like a blind kitten looking for its mother's teat. She was explaining how I could bookmark my favorites, highlight, copy, and paste things to my clipboard, surf the web, put things in the cloud for safe storage, and, believe it or not, skype my daughter.

  Do what to my daughter? I wanted to ask. The only reason I didn't is that I was afraid Mattie would give me a thirty-minute answer I wouldn't understand anyway. Besides, I was sure Reggie wouldn't agree to having me "skype" her anyway. It had a painful ring to it.

  I obviously knew what a cloud was, but I didn't have the foggiest notion how a person could put anything into one for safe storage. Even God couldn't put anything into a cloud that didn't eventually escape in the form of precipitation. Where is this cloud by the way? I wanted to know, but again was afraid of the long, detailed reply my question would evoke. I almost felt as if Mattie was so frustrated with me, she was trying to encourage me to give up the idea of learning new skills. These computer nerds, like Mattie, are really into these things, I thought. I'll pretend I'm taking in all the confusing information she's putting out so I don't offend her. I've been offending too many people lately as it is.

  I spoke very little throughout the tutorial. I was too embarrassed to tell Mattie she was explaining all this technical mumbo-jumbo t
o someone who wasn't even entirely sure how to turn the complicated doohickey on.

  "You know what?" Mattie asked excitedly. "You should get your own Facebook page! It would be a great way for you to keep in touch with your family and friends, and reconnect with people you haven't seen or even thought about for years. I can help you with it if you'd like me to."

  "Well, I guess it would be nice to keep in closer contact with my daughter and my friends back home in Texas. Where do I buy one of those things? I noticed there was a bookstore in town. Can I pick one up there? Or perhaps at that office supply place on Main Street?"

  "Um, no, Mrs. Ripple, you don't actually have to purchase a Facebook page. You just need to set one up. I'll show you how to do it. Then I can show you how to post photos and comments, how to 'like' other people's posts, how to share posts and tag people in your photos. I can even teach you how to block people from being able to access your posts."

  "So you're saying I'm supposed to 'post' things on my Facebook page and then block folks from seeing them. What's the point?"

  "Well, you wouldn't want to block all people, Ms. Ripple, just—"

  "As I said before, I'd prefer you call me Rapella, dear. And this 'social media' stuff you've been talking about sounds like more than I want to tackle right now. So, let's just stick to showing me how I can use this thing to search for information. Wendy used the word 'Google,' I believe."

  "Okay, but actually 'Google' is just one of the many search engines you can utilize. I prefer Bing, but there's also Blekko, Yahoo, DuckDuckGo—"

  "Oh, swell." Suddenly I sensed a migraine coming on.

  * * *

  I was afraid it would require a lot more patience than Mattie Hill possessed, but she did manage to teach me how to type in anything I wanted to know more about and bring up multitudes of web pages containing information on the subject. I was sure the young lady had given up on me by that time because she flew through her demonstration as if the room was on fire and she needed to get out of it before the roof collapsed.