A Deadly Draught (10 page)

“Michael!” I jerked open the door to the brew barn and yelled. A worker checking the fermentation kettles pointed toward the house.

Claudia opened the front door, a glass of water in her hand. I hadn’t thought I might run into her. Foolish of me. It was her house. I put aside my discomfort. Besides, I still wasn’t ready to talk about Dad. Maybe I’d never be ready for that conversation.

“I came to see Michael. I need to see him. Now.”

Claudia ignored the abruptness in my tone of voice. “Hera, dear. Come in. You look as if you’ve run a marathon. Would you like something? Iced tea, a glass of water?”

“Nothing, nothing.” I repeated my request. “I need to see Michael.”

“He’s off somewhere with that girl of his.”

“Today? He’s off today? It’s Saturday, the biggest brewery tour day of the week. He should be here overseeing the tours.”

“I do that now,” said Stanley, emerging from the office. “Besides, today we had to cancel the tour because of the weather. Don’t tell me you had any takers today?”

I spun around to confront him. God, I hated that smug look of his. A long cut on his face ran from his ear to his chin, from shaving perhaps. It pleased me, that cut. It was another flaw in the man, along with dressing as if he had just picked his clothes off the floor.

“I didn’t come to talk with you. I came to talk business with Michael.”

“I make the business decisions here, don’t I, Mrs. Ramford?”

Claudia sipped her water, then nodded in a manner that said she couldn’t care less who did what in the place. She turned and headed toward the kitchen. “If you want anything, just help yourself. It’s in the fridge.”

“If you want anything other than a beverage, I think you’d better talk with me. How about in my office?” he said. He gestured toward the door on my right.

“Your office? Isn’t that Michael’s office now?”

“It’s company headquarters. I don’t have all day. Do you want to talk or not?”

I watched him walk to the other side of the desk and sink into the leather chair, moving as if he’d done this all his life. He placed his hands behind his head and pushed the chair back. “Get to the point.”

“You told Jeremiah that you sold your old bottling line to Francine. That’s not true. I need … I mean, I want to buy it.”

“Not for sale. It’s junk. I was going to sell it to her, but I changed my mind. I wouldn’t consider selling it as a bottler to anyone. I can get something for it as scrap metal.”

“Jeremiah can get it to work, I know he can.” I tried to keep the sound of pleading out of my voice. I would not, would not, beg from this man.

“I’m sure he can, but I don’t want to chance your suing me when something goes wrong with what I sold you.”

“I won’t sue you.” I was begging. I could hear it in my voice, and I hated myself for it.

“I only have your word on that.”

That did it. I leaned over his desk, my face only inches from his. “If I give you my word, I give you my word.” I bunched my hand into a fist and held it in front of him.

“If you’re threatening me …”

“She’s not threatening you,” said Michael. He stood in the open doorway. “If she wants the damn thing, sell it to her.”

“She’s our competition. She’s got no money, and if she’s got no bottler, she’s out of business. Don’t be stupid, Michael.”

Suddenly, a smile broke out on Michael’s face. “You’re right. She is our competition. Let’s see what you can do, Hera.”

“I’ve already made arrangements to have it sent for scrap metal,” Stanley said.

“Make other arrangements. Next time, clear these decisions with me first.”

I was about to rush over to Michael and give him a hug, but a voice called to him from beyond the room. I recognized it as Cory’s.

“Honey, come on.”

“We just came back for something, and we’re going to be late. I’ll have the bottler delivered tomorrow.” Michael gave a rueful smile as Cory entered the room, grabbed his hand, and tugged him toward the door.

I looked at Stanley’s face, which was purple with rage, but my heart was singing.
I have my bottler, I have my bottler.

“Michael left it to me to negotiate price,” he said.

“Did he? I didn’t hear that part. I’ll give him a call soon on the price thing.” I left Stanley standing behind the desk not looking quite so in control of the situation as when I had entered. I won one, with Michael’s help, of course. I couldn’t count on his generosity to get me through in all business matters. Now I had to tackle the bank, but I was glowing as I left the office.

I could use some water, I thought. I’d sweated more in the office with Stanley than I did dashing across the fields and up and down hills to get here.

“Claudia,” I called. She wasn’t in the kitchen, which was fine with me. I hardly knew what to say to the woman. When I opened the fridge, I spied a container of cold water on the bottom shelf. I grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and poured the liquid to the top. Here’s to business, I said to myself, holding my glass aloft in a silent toast. I gulped and coughed. Not water at all but pure vodka. Was that what Claudia was drinking all during the funeral and today?

Nine

The next day the bottling assembly arrived, just as Michael promised. The best part was, he came along and helped Jeremiah set it up after we dismantled the old one.

“Remember when you bought this one from us?” asked Michael. “It was the year after your fa … after you took over the business, and you were strapped for money, so Dad offered you our old bottler. I think he never bargained on your being such a good brewer. But I knew. I knew you’d do well. Okay, let’s see if this baby works.”

I flipped the switch, and the apparatus let out a loud screech followed by a rumbling noise. The line began to move. The clatter of the bottles traveling down its length and the howl of the grinding gears sounded like a concerto to me. Jeremiah looked shocked and ran for the wall switch. I headed him off as Michael and I broke into peals of laughter.

“That sounds about right,” Michael said. I agreed.

“Yep, that’s the chatter and bawl I remember from your place.” I looked over at Jeremiah whose mouth had dropped open and remained so. “Well, Jeremiah will want to fine tune her a little.”

Michael clapped him on the back and encouraged him to have a run at smoothing out the operation. With a nod of agreement from me, Jeremiah walked the line listening for the worst of the screaming and clunking, then returned to the switch and flipped it to the off position.

“I’ll have her purring in no time,” he said. Michael and I left him there with tools in hand. As we walked toward his car, Michael slipped his arm around my shoulders.

“Feels like we’re back in high school, huh?”

I agreed. “It does.” It felt like the days when we were teenage friends, and our interchanges and work together came with ease. There was no strain in our relationship, and the deaths of our fathers didn’t somehow come between us.

Michael accompanied me into the kitchen. “Coffee?” I asked.

“No, thanks. I’ve got a few, uh, errands to run.”

I wanted to ask him if he had a date with Cory, but I feared the answer would be yes. Instead, I said, “We never talked about a price for that piece of junk out there.”

“As I understand it, that piece of junk is saving your life, brewing wise.”

“Okay, so what do you want for it?”

“I don’t suppose you’d give Stanley and me a chance as your partners, would you?”

“Stanley doesn’t want to be my partner. He wants to eat me for dinner.” That got a grin out of him.

“Okay. Look, I’m sorry that you don’t like him, but he’s a great brewer. You should talk to him sometime. The two of you have a lot in common.” Michael arose from his chair at the table and approached me, laying his hand on my shoulder. Talking about Stanley set my teeth on edge and ruined the camaraderie I had experienced this morning with him. I resented his bringing up Stanley’s name in our conversation.

“No way.” I shrugged off his touch and walked across to the sink, grabbing a glass and turning on the faucet. The water flowing into the glass reminded me of the pitcher in the Ramford fridge yesterday.

“How’s your mother doing lately?” I asked.

“As well as you would expect,given the violence of my dad’s death and her worry over Ronald.”

“Ronald?”

“Yeah. We’re trying to locate Ronald. The terms of Dad’s will left the business to Mom, Ronald and me. We’ve hired a private investigator to find him, but so far, no luck. I have to tell you, I’m baffled that Ronald would get anything, considering the way Dad felt about him. I dedicated my life to that place and to Dad, and he goes and gives Ronald the same piece of the pie that I have.”

Michael continued to babble on about his disappointment in the terms of his father’s will, but my mind was miles and years away, back to the fire at the hop house and Ronald’s last words to me:

“I know what you’re thinking. Bad Ronald can’t control himself. Another fire. So I’m going away. If I can get beyond Dad’s reach, I’ll be okay. I’m never coming back. Never! Tell your folks thanks from me. They’ve been great.” Ronald turned his face toward the fire, his features outlined by the leaping flames, his eyes black with fear and disgust.

“Hmmm?” I said as Michael called my name, drawing me back to the present.

“You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

“Me? Why would I be in touch with him?”

“Well, you know how your dad interfered with Ronald and our father.”

“He didn’t interfere. He was trying to help Ronald. Someone had to. Your father was horrible to him. You know that.”

“Well, he was horrible to me, too, and I didn’t run off.”

This was the first I heard that Michael’s dad had treated him badly.

“He was strict with you, but did he hit you or humiliate you like he did your brother?”

“He didn’t have to. I saw what he did to Ronald, and I towed the line, I guess. He was cruel in many ways, distant to both me and Mom. He ignored me until I was old enough to be of use in the brew barn.” He gritted his teeth, working his jaw, then stopped. His next words indicated he had gathered himself together.

“But that’s over now. I just thought maybe, since Ronald liked your mom and dad, he might have gotten in touch with them at some point.”

“I’m sure Mom and Dad never heard from him after that awful night when he burned the old hop house down.”

But I had heard from Ronald. It was a secret I’d kept for years, and I wasn’t about to betray him now.

“If you heard anything, you’d let me know, wouldn’t you?” I walked him to the door. On the stoop, he turned and put his hands on my arms, pulling me to him. “You’d let
me
know, wouldn’t you?” He bent down as if to kiss me, but the sound of someone clearing his throat startled us, and we sprang apart. It was Jeremiah.

“That new guy you hired and wanted me to train? He’s here.”

“Just go ahead and get him started. Might as well bring him in from the beginning.” I turned to Michael, glad of the interruption. “Sorry, but today I’m beginning more summer brew, and I’m training a new man, so I’ve got a lot to do. Now, about the price.”

“Five hundred bucks, payable when you get that summer brew out and sold. No hurry. I’m almost as curious to see what you do as I am what Stanley can do for me. Good luck.” He turned and headed toward his truck, then stopped and walked back up to me. In a low voice, he said, “About that deputy sheriff’s suspicions … “

“What do you mean?”

“You know, his wild speculations about my dad and your dad’s death. You don’t buy any of that, do you?”

“I don’t know, but I have had second thoughts about Dad committing suicide. How about the gun? Your mother bought that gun, you know.”

“So I was informed by the authorities, but I can’t believe Mom would buy a gun. She’s not the type. So, I’m thinking maybe …”

“Maybe your dad forged her signature.” If I thought voicing my suspicions to Michael would startle or offend him, he evidenced no surprise or anger in his reply.

“Come to think of it, Dad and your father seemed to have some kind of a falling out before the suicide.”

I knew now it had to be murder, and I knew the motive. Mr. Ramford found out about his wife and Dad. Should I tell Michael what I knew? No, but I certainly should tell Jake about the contents of those letters.

“Hera? Boy, you sure are drifting off on me this morning. Are you okay?”

“I’m just fine. Now you’d better hurry, or you’ll be late for whatever. Don’t worry about Jake. I’ll talk to him about all of this.”

“You, but why? Oh, I get it. You still have a thing for him.” Michael gave me a thumbs up and retreated to his truck before I could deny his words.

I watched his truck turn onto the main road and started to contact the sheriff’s department, then flipped my cell phone closed. A thing for Jake. That was absurd.
I disliked the man. He was rude, insolent, officious—and damned sexy. In law school, our coming together oozed sex, but our competitive natures also colored the relationship. Jake and I vied for top honors in all our classes. Had it not been for the sexual attraction, I don‘t think we would have spoken to one another. So with all that lust in the past, what did we have now?

I knew something he didn’t about Dad’s death, information he ought to have, information I could use to find my father’s killer. That would take the arrogant smile off his face. But there was more than defeating Jake at his own game. I fancied seeing him knocked down a peg for abandoning me when I needed him most after my father died.

As much as these meanderings gave me pleasure, there was something much more important at stake here. I wanted to find the truth about Dad’s death, to be released from the load of guilt I continued to carry. I owed it to his memory to remove the stain suicide left on his reputation in this community. How could I not take action? I had been so remiss about the gun.

I threw the cell phone on the kitchen counter and headed for the brew barn to see how Jeremiah and my new hire were making out with Hera’s Honey.

*

In the late afternoon, I fed the wort liquid from the heated malted barley put into the brew kettle. Sometime during the week, one of my neighbors who still had a milking herd would come to pick up the grain left in the bottom of the mash lauter tun. Cows loved the mash, and it was good for them. It would be my new hire Brian’s job to remove it from the vessel and pile it behind the brew barn.