Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) by Jeanne Glidewell

to you he might have had to go get his head stitched up?"
    "Um, no, not really."
    "Well, he did!" Rip said forcefully. "Gaping head wounds normally require attention, as someone your age should know. According to Detective Reeves, records indicate he was treated at the Care Regional Medical Center in Aransas Pass by a Dr. Rinehart on Saturday afternoon from twelve-oh-five to three fifty-five. Not only did he require sixteen stitches to sew up the gash, Cooper was also treated for a severe concussion and held there in the ER several hours for observation."
    "I'm sorry," Milo muttered. "I really didn't know I'd hurt him that badly."
    I was appalled. Would he show the same lack of concern if our daughter were to sustain an injury of that magnitude? In a venomous tone I couldn't contain, I lashed into Milo. "You didn't think to check on your so-called best friend directly afterward? You know, like to inquire about his injuries to make sure you didn't give him permanent brain damage or something? I find your actions and apathetic attitude deplorable. Should I be concerned about my daughter's welfare if she suffers a similar injury?"
    Milo's wide-open eyes were trained on me, as if the fight or flight response was kicking in, and he had only seconds to flee before I pounced on him like a mama bear whose cub he'd chased up a tree.
    Before Milo could choose an option, Rip shot me a look that said, "Sit back, shut up, and leave the questioning to me."
    I'll admit the hair on the back of my neck bristled at Rip's unspoken remark, and you can be sure he'd hear about it later. After nearly fifty years of marriage, he was accustomed to being in the doghouse for things he didn't say but I knew damn well he was thinking. However, I was also aware the current situation was in Rip's wheelhouse, not mine, so I reluctantly sat back, shut up, and concentrated on Milo's next remarks.
    "Oh, man! What did I do? I could have killed him. Oh, man!" Milo repeated, as a tear escaped and ran down his left cheek. Then, as if the gravity of the matter had just sunk in, he sat up straight and with a quivering voice, said, "I didn't kill Coop, Rip! I'd swear on a stack of bibles I didn't see him after I drove away from the bar following our tussle in the parking lot. Or, at least not until we found him floating in the Gulf."
    "Are you a religious man, Milo?"
    "Well, no, not really."
    "Do you attend church on Sundays—or on any other day, for that matter?"
    "Well, no, not really," Milo repeated, looking ill-at-ease. At that moment, I believe Milo would have sacrificed his left testicle to have attended at least a few church services in the previous couple of months so he could have truthfully replied affirmatively to Rip's question.
    "In that case, you swearing on a stack of bibles means about as much to me as you swearing on a stack of Bugs Bunny comic books. Maybe you should consider joining a church. I don't think a little spiritual guidance would hurt you at this stage of your life. And Rockport has a number of fine houses of worship to choose from. So, Milo, what did you do after you couldn't locate Cooper at his home?"
    "I drove over to Tin Can Point to sit on a rock and try to cool off. I was still a little hot under the collar, you see."
    "And then?" Rip wasn't going to let Milo off that easy. He wanted an accounting of every single minute of Milo's whereabouts on Saturday afternoon.
    "When I couldn't find him at home, I took my own boat out to see if I might catch him out at our most productive floundering area. That's why we had to get fuel before the three of us went out yesterday."
    "Why that particular area?" Rip asked, not interested in the empty gas tank.
    "On Friday, Cooper suggested we go out and try to catch some flounder with these Carolina rigs he'd bought, since gigging's not allowed in November."
    I had no clue what a "Carolina rig" was, and I doubted Rip did either. But Rip wasn't interested in insignificant details, anyway. He wanted