To Brew or Not to Brew (15 page)

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B
ack at the brew house, I went to find my dad and Rich. I was happy to see that the news van was gone and none of the other local stations had shown up to take its place. At least not yet. Not that I wished for anything bad to happen, but I hoped they'd find a more sensational crime elsewhere.

My dad exited the brewery just as I reached the door.
“There you are,” he said. “I was wondering where you got to.” He put an arm around me. “Rich told me you were a little annoyed with him.”

“He wouldn't let me into the brewery.” It seemed petty now. “But that's okay,” I added quickly. “Is he still here? I should probably apologize.”

“He left a few minutes ago. We're all done in there. I wanted to make sure we didn't miss anything, especially since . . .” He didn't finish the sentence.

“I know that look.” It was the same expression he used to get when he didn't want us kids to hear what he was talking to Mom about. “Since what? What aren't you telling me?”

“Let's have a seat.” He took me by the elbow and we sat at the nearest table.

“It must be bad if you're making me sit down.”

“First, I owe you an apology,” he said.

“For what?”

“For not taking you seriously when you were convinced Kurt's death wasn't an accident.”

“You don't need to apologize. If I know you, you were looking into it anyway.”

“Only because you're my daughter.”

I gave him a little smile. “That's one benefit of having a father who's a homicide detective, I guess. So, what did you not want to tell me? That can't be it.”

Dad leaned back in his chair. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Of course I do—especially if it has to do with Kurt.”

“I spent most of the morning with the medical examiner. To make a long story short, he now thinks it's possible the weapon that killed Costello was also used on Kurt.”

I
was tempted to tell him—again—that I'd known all along Kurt hadn't hit his head on the tank, but since he'd already apologized, I bit my tongue. Instead, I asked him what the weapon was.

“We're not sure at this point. Possibly something metal, like a crowbar, a bat, a pipe, or even a tool of some kind.”

“What kind of tool? A hammer?”

He shook his head. “No. That would . . . well . . . it wasn't a hammer.”

A hardware store was full of them. Ralph Meehan's access to so many tools definitely put him at the top of my previously nonexistent suspect list. I told Dad about my visit to the store and what the clerk told me in the alley.

“That would explain why Costello was here,” Dad said. “But we didn't find any kind of note. And there wasn't one
with any of his personal effects. Meehan said he saw this note? And the clerk heard them talking about it?”

“Yes.”

Dad stood. “I'd better have Rich go talk with him.”

“Why not you?”

“He's top dog on this one, since the murder occurred here.”

“Oh.” I should have known that. Since I was his daughter, the powers that be wouldn't want him leading the investigation. They could have pulled him off entirely, so I had to give them credit for not doing that.

I walked him to the door and went to my office. While I played with the kitten, I thought about what I knew so far. Someone didn't want me to open the brew house. When the vandalism didn't drive me out, he killed Kurt. When I didn't close up after that, the killer made Dominic think I was out to get him and then lured him here. But why? If the killer wanted me to blame Dominic for all that happened, why did he murder him? It made no sense to me at all. He had nothing to gain by doing that, especially if the killer was Ralph Meehan. Why would Ralph want the pub shut down?

The phone ringing interrupted my thoughts. It was Candy asking—actually more like demanding—that I meet up with her, Kristie, and Elmer at Jump, Jive & Java at two o'clock. That didn't give me much time to get a few things done. I put the kitten on her bed. “Sorry, Hops, but I have work to do.”

“Murp.” She circled a few times, then plopped down and closed her eyes. I was tempted to join her. I headed to the brewing room instead.

I pushed through the swinging door and switched on the
overhead lights. “Oh, no.” I froze, my hand still on the light switch. I anticipated there would be some mess, but this was beyond that. The room was a disaster. There was fingerprint powder on everything. And I mean everything. Crime-scene tape was crumpled up in a ball and left on the floor. There were footprints in the dust left by the fingerprint powder all over the concrete floor that I took great care to keep so clean you could eat off it. I used every swear word I knew in both English and German, and even one or two in Gaelic, as I gathered up what supplies I needed to clean things up.

I stood there with bucket and hose in hand. I didn't even know where to start. I mumbled more choice words to myself as I sprayed water from the hose into a bucket. Then I spotted the blood on the floor. Dominic's blood. Heat shot to my face. How could I be so callous to worry about the mess when two people had been murdered?

I put the hose down and sank onto one of the steps to the mash tun. For the first time, I wanted to quit. I'd known opening my own place would be hard, but I hadn't counted on all that had happened. My eyes burned as I fought back tears. “I can't do this.”

“Yes, you can,” Jake said.

I hadn't heard him come in. I remembered the phone call from Victoria last night. Jake possibly leaving was one more thing I couldn't deal with. “No, I can't.”

He took a seat beside me on the step. “Why don't you go back to your office and let me do this, then?”

He thought I meant cleaning up, but it was much more than that. I swiped at a tear that escaped and ran down my cheek. “Why did I think I could open a brewpub anyway?
It's caused nothing but trouble. Two people are dead. And for what? So I can brew beer? Maybe it's time to throw in the towel. Give it all up.”

“I never took you for a quitter, O'Hara.”

“I'm not. But this is too much.”

He took my hand in both of his. “If you give up, the killer wins, you know.”

I wasn't sure it mattered. “It seems to me like he's going to win anyway.”

“There's a chance of that, but there's no sense in handing it to him without a fight. Think about everyone who wants you to succeed. You'd disappoint a lot of people if you quit now.”

Mom, Dad, my brothers, Candy, Kristie—even Elmer.

“There are too many people who care about you, Max,” Jake said. “Me included.”

I slipped my hand from his and stood before he noticed his comment had turned me to mush. He was right. I couldn't throw it all away now. I put my hands on my hips and turned back to Jake. “If I'm going to open this place on time, I'd better get to work. I have a huge mess to clean up.”

Jake stood and grinned. “That's my Max.” Then he ruffled my hair.

And I didn't mind a bit.

He offered to clean the brewery alone. As much as I would have liked to hand it all over to someone else, it was my responsibility, so we worked side by side until it was time for Candy's meeting. I asked Jake to come with me, but he declined. Smart move on his part. I wished I could do the same.

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G
lenn Miller's “Elmer's Tune” drifted from Kristie's sound system as I took a seat next to Elmer Fairbanks. “They're playing your song,” I said to him. Today he'd traded his Stetson for a 101st Airborne ball cap.

“I hate that song,” he said. “One night back in forty-four a bunch of us were sittin' in a café in Gay Paree. I was making time with a cute little mademoiselle. At least I was until this song started playing and my buddies decided to sing along. Between their singing and my red face, she made tracks outta there.”

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I would have stuck around.”

“Not if you'd heard them singing,” he said. “Good thing they were better at jumping out of airplanes.”

“I'd like to hear more about that,” I told him.

“The history lesson is going to have to wait until another day,” Candy said. “We have some brainstorming to do.”

“Or brain drizzling in her case,” Elmer muttered.

I suppressed a laugh.

“Did you say something, old man?” Candy gave him a look that would have melted steel.

Elmer grinned and winked at me.

Fortunately, Kristie came to the table carrying a tray before fisticuffs broke out. She passed a decaf to Elmer, a mocha to me, and a plain black coffee to Candy. She took the seat next to Candy. “Did I miss anything?”

“Elmer was telling us about a girl he met in Paris during the war,” I said.

“Ooh, sounds romantic.” Kristie leaned forward. “I want to hear all about it.”

Candy loudly cleared her throat. “Can we keep on track here, please? We're here to help Max, not hear about Elmer's escapades.”

Hearing about Paris in 1944 was a lot more interesting.

“It really pains me to say it but she's right,” Elmer said. Agreeing with anything Candy said had to be a first for him.

“I call this meeting of Max's Marauders to order.” Candy rapped her spoon on the table.

I almost choked on my mocha. “Max's Marauders?”

“I told her it was a bit much,” Kristie said.

“We need a name. Every group has a name.” Candy held her nose in the air. “I happen to like it.”

“It's stupid,” Elmer said.

I waved my hand in the air before another argument broke out. “It's fine. Let's get on with this.” The sooner we did, the quicker I could get back to the brew house. Candy whipped a yellow legal tablet and a black pen from her bag. “So, what do we know so far?” She didn't wait for answers. “One—someone doesn't want Max to open her pub.” She scrawled this down on the pad. “Two—two people have been killed. Three—”

“This is a waste of time.” Elmer snatched the pad and pen from Candy. “We know all this crap. What we need is a strategy. Just like in the big war. Ike didn't sit around yapping about what he already knew.”

“And what exactly do you propose, General?” Candy asked. “If you're planning an invasion, I've got news for you—”

“Let him have his say,” Kristie said. “He does have a point.”

“And I have to get back to the brew house,” I chimed in.

Candy leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well. Looks like I'm outnumbered.”

“Okay,” Elmer said. “I ain't gonna rehash what we know. I ain't no cop, but it's pretty obvious that the same person killed Kurt and Dominic. Why?”

“I don't know,” I said. I held off mentioning the new information about Ralph or what the medical examiner had told my dad. I wanted to hear their thoughts first.

He sketched a quick diagram of the street and all the businesses. When he finished, he pointed to my place with the pen. “I've been thinking a lot about this. What's so important about the old brewery and who wants to keep it from opening?”

“That lady who plastered the blue flyers all over the place,” Kristie said.

Elmer nodded. “Yeah, I saw those flyers. I propose we all go to that meeting.”

“We're one step ahead of you,” Candy said. “We were already planning to go.”

I caught Kristie's gaze and we both rolled our eyes. If those two didn't knock it off, I was going to have to bang their heads together. Either that or give them boxing gloves and have them duke it out.

“So what other reasons?” Elmer said. “This is supposed to be a brainstorming session, you know.”

Kristie chimed in. “Maybe the killer wants the building for some other reason.”

“Maybe he wants to open his own brewery,” Candy said.

The three of them went back and forth with ideas. I tried to interrupt several times to tell them what I knew. I finally gave up and sat quietly. This was going nowhere. They could make a list a mile long, but it was all pure speculation.

Candy finally noticed I wasn't contributing. “Something wrong, Max?”

I didn't want to hurt their feelings, but if I didn't tell the truth, Candy would see right through me. “I appreciate everyone's help,” I said. “But I don't think this is working.”

“Why not?” Kristie said.

I continued. “They're all good reasons, but there's no way to tell which one is right—or even if one is right. And none of the ideas take Dominic into account. I thought he might have been the killer, but it turns out he had nothing to do with the brewery, other than that he thought I was bad for his business.”

“The girl's right.” Elmer patted my hand. “Don't take this the wrong way, but Kurt's death at least makes sense. It was a way to get to you.”

I smiled at Elmer. “No offense taken. And you were right that the two murders are related.” I relayed what the medical examiner had told Dad, then filled them in on my conversation with Ralph Meehan and what the store clerk had said. “I think Dominic was lured to the brewery. If that's true, though, I can't figure out why he was killed—especially since it seems like the killer wanted me to think Dominic was behind everything.”

“If Kurt and Dominic were killed with some kind of tool,” Candy said, “and Ralph went with Dominic last night, that gave him both means and opportunity.” Once again I
wondered about her previous career. I'd never heard anyone outside of law enforcement use those terms.

“That's true,” I said. “But I can't figure out what his motive would be. I can't think of any reason why Ralph would want to stop the brewery. Or why he'd kill someone who was supposedly his friend.”

“Maybe Costello's murder wasn't planned,” Elmer said. “What if Ralph got him there to set him up, but Costello figured out what he was doing? He had to be eliminated or he'd blow the whistle.”

He was onto something. “That makes sense,” I said.

Kristie spoke up. “It still doesn't tell us why he'd want to keep the brewpub from opening. I'm not buying it.”

She was right. Until I could figure out a motive for Ralph, I needed to consider other suspects as well. But who?

“So we're back to the question—who doesn't want the brewery to open?” Elmer pointed the pen at me.

The blue flyers came to mind again. “Frances Donovan.”

“Who's that?” Elmer said.

“The blue-flyer lady,” Candy said.

I explained who she was and what she wanted to do with the building.

“Sounds like a nutcase,” Elmer said. “Now that we got a couple of suspects, what's our plan?”

Candy lifted the pen from Elmer's hand. “I know exactly what we're going to do. Pass me that tablet, old man.”