of a toy hauler, ever think of that?” Mac asked.
Cooper grinned. “Could be. Well, now that I have the lay of the land, I can get eggs and coffee a lot easier. Straight across the beach in the Rhino. Except, I think I got what I came for—I wanted to know what the hell happened to Ben. Have I heard everything I’m going to hear?”
“The coroner ruled on it, but I’m keeping my eyes open. It’s not an open case, but this is my town and Ben was a good guy. If I hear anything suspicious, I’ll be investigating myself,” Mac said.
“What about this Rawley Goode?” Cooper asked.
“Weird Rawley?” Gina asked with a curl of her lip.
“Aw, Rawley’s got his troubles,” Mac said. “I just hope he doesn’t wander off, now that Ben’s gone and the place is closed.”
“I was kind of hoping he would wander off,” Gina said.
“You have a problem with Rawley?” Cooper asked.
“I have a problem with the way he looks you in the eye like he can see straight through you and says ab-so-lutely nothing. It’s creepy.”
Mac chuckled. “That’s pretty much why Ben gave him a dishrag and a broom and some kitchen chores. They seemed to understand each other.”
“This place—everyone works together, understands each other, cleans up after each other, a regular Stepford...”
“We have as many idiots, assholes and troublemakers as any town, but you know what the difference is between this town and any other town?”
Cooper leaned his head on his hand. “I can’t wait. What’s the difference?”
Mac pushed his coffee cup toward Gina for a refill. “I know who they are.”
Three
C ooper learned a few things about the town and Ben. Ben had helped Gina keep her old Jeep running, for one thing, and never charged her except for parts. He’d bought ads for the backs of kids’ soccer and Little League team jerseys—Bailey’s Bait Shop. He had a bird sanctuary on his land that stretched all the way out to the high, rocky cliffs above the ocean. In addition to the eagles, there were seabirds who lived off the water but returned inland to nest, mate and lay eggs. Cooper remembered Ben emailing him something about that, more than once.
Ben apparently hadn’t done particularly social things, like volunteer as assistant coach for kids’ teams, but he attended town gatherings and meetings and ate out at the diner and Cliffhanger’s. He contributed a lot, not the least of which was the beach. This was the Ben that Cooper had known—not shy or antisocial, but satisfied with his own company. He hadn’t had a long career in the Army, just a few years. As Coop’s helicopter mechanic at Fort Rucker, he was meticulous and verged on extraordinary, but he had issues with rules, probably one of the reasons Cooper took to him. “Bailey, where’s your hat?” “In my pocket, sir!” “Why isn’t it on your head?” “Because I can’t get my head in my pocket, sir!”
He learned the marina was small in comparison to others in the region. The crabbers and fishermen who docked there lived in the town, but took most of their catch to larger harbors, although they kept some of it to sell to locals or to Cliffhanger’s. Some of the commercial fishermen had been in business for generations. The marina also held sport and pleasure boats, mostly used by Thunder Point’s residents. The bay was a safe, quiet place, protected by the promontories from hostile weather.
When Cooper parted ways with Mac after his breakfast, he said, “I don’t think there’s much reason for me to hang around, except maybe the view from Ben’s deck. What will happen to his place?”
Mac shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe there will be a search for a next of kin, or maybe it’ll sit until it’s in default of liens or taxes, then auctioned. That’s not Sheriff’s Department business. Damn shame, though. People enjoyed the beach, the bar.”
“It’s pretty run-down,” Cooper pointed out.
“If you think the outside is a little
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