To Brew or Not to Brew (12 page)

“Me? I haven't done anything.”

He shook his finger at me. “He's been a good neighbor to me for more years than I can count. That bar is his livelihood—at least it was until you came along. I thought he was wrong about you, but threatening to run him out of business . . . I never thought you were that kind of person.”

“Whoa. Hold on a minute.” I placed my palms on the counter, mainly to keep my hands from shaking. “I don't know where you got that information, but it's not true.”

“Dom told me himself. And I saw you go in there yesterday and run out not five minutes later.”

I kept my voice calm and measured. “Mr. Meehan, I have never done anything to Mr. Costello. For some reason, he's gotten it into his head that I'm out to get him. Nothing could be further from the truth. I went to see him yesterday to try and smooth things over. He threatened me—not the other way around.”

“Likely story.”

“It's true,” I said. “You can ask the two guys who were in the Galaxy when I was. He threw them out, too.” I wished I'd have gotten their names, but it was too late to worry about that now. “Dominic Costello threatened to do everything in his power to keep me from ruining his business. I can't help but wonder if that everything included murdering my assistant.”

Mr. Meehan's eyes narrowed. “I thought your assistant died in an accident.”

“It wasn't an accident,” I said. “Someone killed him.”

“Now you're being fanciful. If it was a murder, it'd be all over the news.”

“Not necessarily.” I was kicking myself for opening my big mouth. I shouldn't have said anything at all to someone I barely knew. And a friend of Dominic Costello to boot.

“Right.” Mr. Meehan's voice dripped with sarcasm. “Even if, for some reason, the news vultures didn't get wind of a murder, Dom had nothing to do with it. He's a peaceful person. He'd never kill anyone.”

“If he's so peaceful like you claim, why did he threaten me?”

“Simple answer: He didn't. End of story.”

I realized this was pointless. I wasn't going to change his mind. Not without proof. “I'm sorry you don't believe me, but every word I said is true.”

He snorted. “You'd better leave Dom alone or else. If I hear about you harassing him anymore, you'll be sorry.”

“That went well,” I mumbled to myself when I was back outside. I'd gone there to find out more about Dominic Costello. Instead, I now had a second person threatening me. I turned the corner onto Butler Street and headed to my next destination. Hopefully I wasn't going to make it three.

*   *   *

C
razy Cards was situated next door to Beautiful Blooms. As I reached the flower shop, Daisy was arranging a new display in the window, and I waved to her. She motioned for me to come in. She darted to the back of the shop and returned with the bright blue flyer Frances Donovan had passed out.

“Did you see this?” she asked.

“Candy showed it to me this morning.”

“There's no way anyone's going to let her put a museum in that building.”

“Are you going to the meeting?” I said.

Daisy nodded. “Definitely. And I'm sure Adam will, too.” Her voice softened and there was a hint of a blush in her cheeks when she said his name.

I put two and two together. “I didn't know you and Adam were seeing each other.”

The blush became more pronounced. “Is it that obvious?” She didn't wait for an answer. “We're keeping it hush-hush for now.” She smiled. “Actually, I'd like to shout it from the rooftops, but Adam thinks we should be discreet—you know how people gossip. He's afraid it would affect our businesses.”

I wasn't sure how any gossip could possibly affect them, but that sounded like Adam. Image meant a lot to him. In her overalls and T-shirts, Daisy didn't exactly fit with Adam's polished look. Then there was the twenty-year age difference between them. They were certainly an interesting combination. For her sake, I hoped it worked out. “Your secret's safe with me,” I said.

I asked if she'd be coming to Kurt's memorial service that evening. She said she was planning on it and she'd see me there. We talked another minute before I was able to make my exit and go next door.

Crazy Cards was a misnomer. It was more of an all-purpose paper goods store. They had a few racks of cards like you'd see in any card store, but they were known for the large quantity of handmade ones designed by local artisans. They also carried items to make your own cards, along with scrapbook and stamping supplies. Annie Simpson, the proprietor, was one of those women who made it hard to guess her age. She was slender and a head taller than me. Probably in better shape, too. She belonged to a rowing club across the Allegheny River in Millvale and rowed several times a week.

Annie sat on the scuffed hardwood floor, pulling cellophane packets of plain card stock from the cardboard box in front of her. “Hi, Max,” she said, jumping to her feet.

“You didn't have to get up,” I said.

“Yes, I did. My butt was getting numb.” A strand of light brown hair came loose from her ponytail and she tucked it behind her ear. “What can I do for you?”

Now that I was here, I wasn't sure how to ask what I wanted to ask. Then I spotted the infamous blue flyer in the trash can beside the cardboard box. It was covered with discarded cellophane wrappers, but the bright color stood out. I pointed at the can. “I see you got one of those, too.”

“I put it exactly where it belongs.” Annie shook her head. “Such nonsense.”

“Does that mean you're not going to the meeting?”

“I might have if I wasn't working. I have scrapbooking class that night.”

“Will you be able to make it to the memorial service tonight?”

“I'd like to, but tonight is stamping class.” She made a face. “I don't know why I scheduled two classes in the same week. On second thought, I do. Money. Pure and simple. I make more holding the classes than I do the rest of the week in the store. And everyone in the class needs to buy supplies for the next one, so they get them before they leave.”

“It sounds like you're here a lot of evenings,” I said. This was my opportunity. “Have you noticed any unusual activity around the brewery at night?”

“What do you mean by unusual?”

I told her about some of the vandalism that had occurred. I didn't mention murder, though. I wasn't going to make the same mistake I had with Ralph Meehan.

Annie tilted her head as she thought about it. “I can't say that I have. I haven't seen anyone in the neighborhood who
doesn't belong here. And I haven't seen anyone paying particular attention to your place.”

I was disappointed, although I'd figured that's what her answer would be. No one had seen anything. I bought a couple of packs of thank-you cards to send out to anyone who came to the service tonight. Kurt wouldn't have cared, but I felt it was the right thing to do.

When Annie finished ringing up my purchase, she said, “I just thought of something. I doubt it means anything, though.”

I'd take what I could get at this point.

“It was a day last week when I was closing up. I can't remember if it was Wednesday or Thursday night. I guess it could have been, either. I was here late both nights.” She paused for a second. “Wait. It was Wednesday. I remember because I went to the grocery store when I left and I was mad because it was the last day of the sale and they were out of the buy-one-get-one-free crackers.”

I wanted to tell her to get to the point, but I restrained myself.

“A guy was in front of the pub. He tried the door, and when he found it was locked, he rattled it a few times. Then he looked in the window—I guess to be sure you were really closed, then he left.”

She was right. It was nothing.

“I didn't think anything of it. He kept going past your parking lot and down the street.”

I perked up a bit. In the direction of the Galaxy, maybe. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

Annie shrugged. “He looked vaguely familiar, like I'd
seen him in the neighborhood before. I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a lineup, though. He was an older bald guy.”

“Do you remember what he was wearing?”

“Jeans and a white T-shirt. I think.”

A wave of excitement went through me. An older bald guy wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. Unless Annie was describing Mr. Clean, it had to have been Dominic
Costello.

L
ike it or not, I was going to have to pay the Galaxy another visit. I was itching to go now, but the rest of my day was booked. Plus, after Saturday's incident, I wasn't about to go alone. One thing I'd learned from having a police officer for a father was the importance of having backup. I didn't always take his advice, but this time I would, especially since I wanted to confront Dominic and find out why he had been trying to enter the brew house. Wednesday was the night the alarm had gone off and someone had tampered with the sink trap in the kitchen. It couldn't be a coincidence that Dominic had tried to get in that very night.

When I got back to the pub, Nicole was polishing the oak bar to a shine and the aroma of whatever Jake was cooking made my mouth water.

“I hope you don't mind,” Nicole said. “I finished my other project and needed something else to do.”

“Let me see. Do I mind that someone is cleaning besides me?” I tapped a finger on my lips and pretended to think about it.

Nicole laughed. “I guess not.”

“Seriously,” I said. “It looks great. You don't have to work so hard on your first day, though. There will be plenty for you to do once we open.”

“I don't mind. I'm used to being busy.”

My stomach growled just then. “Have you eaten lunch yet?” When she shook her head, I suggested we go and see what Jake was making.

I pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen, and Nicole followed. Jake stood at a stainless steel table rolling out dough. I immediately recognized what he was making when I saw half-circle pasta pillows on a tray. “Pierogies?”

Jake grinned. “You guessed it. You ladies are just in time to taste some.” He wiped his hands on a towel, then lifted the cover from a pan that sat on the warmer. The aroma of onions and butter filled the air.

Nicole closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “I think I may never leave this kitchen.”

Jake and I both laughed, and he said, “Maybe the boss will approve a transfer.”

“Not a chance.”

“Sorry, Nicole,” Jake said. “I tried.”

He placed pierogies on two plates, added forks, and passed a plate to each of us. “These are traditional potato-and-cheese pierogies.”

The half-circles were lightly browned from being sautéed
in butter, as were the thin strips of onion. I cut off a corner with the side of my fork. The dough seemed tender and the filling was substantial. And the taste? Let's just say I cleared my plate in record time. So did Nicole.

Jake handed each of us another plate. “Now try these and let me know what you think.”

These were definitely not traditional pierogies. They were still lightly browned, but sans butter or any kind of sauce. Something you could pick up with your fingers. Beside them on the plate was a dollop of ranch dressing. “I take it this would be an appetizer?”

“Yep.”

“What's in it?” I asked.

Jake grinned. “Eat it and find out.”

I dipped the pierogi in the dressing and took a bite. The flavor was familiar, yet not. I'd had buffalo chicken and the dip by the same name many times, but never stuffed in Polish pasta.

“Oh, wow. This is good,” Nicole said with a full mouth.

I agreed. The dough was crisp, but still tender. The filling was similar to buffalo chicken dip. I could taste cheddar cheese, and Neufchâtel gave it a nice creaminess. “Jake, this is fantastic. It'll make a great addition to the appetizer menu.”

“I hoped you'd say that,” he said. “I've been racking my brain trying to come up with something different. I'll confess I didn't exactly invent these, but I did put my own twist on the recipe.”

We talked about how to add the new items to the menu without having to reprint everything and decided we'd put the new foods on a marker board at the entrance. Instead of
adding everything at once, we'd run specials and have different ones each day.

By the end of the day, I had hired a waiter, and Jake hired another cook for the kitchen. I added another interview to the two I already had scheduled for tomorrow. Things were progressing nicely.

*   *   *

T
he memorial service for Kurt was to be held at my brother's church, Most Holy Name. Afterward, I'd ask everyone to stop at the brewpub for a toast to Kurt. Jake had made enough appetizers that afternoon to feed a small army. It wasn't exactly an Irish wake, but Kurt hadn't been Irish. I figured he'd have approved anyway. After I left work at five, I'd gone home and fed Hops. I played with her for a while, and by the time I was ready to leave for the service, she was sound asleep on the bed next to my pillow.

There were about ten cars in the parking lot of the church when I arrived—more than I expected. Although I'd invited everyone in the vicinity of the pub, I hadn't really expected them all to come. It warmed my heart to know that many people had cared about Kurt. On the way down the aisle, I thanked those I didn't know all that well for coming. Candy, Kristie, and Daisy—sans Adam—sat together. Amanda Morgan and Elmer Fairbanks were in the pew in front of them. I was surprised to see Elmer and wondered if the book club members had twisted his arm to come. Elmer hated to miss anything, though, so that may have been reason enough for him to attend. Of course, Dominic Costello and Ralph Meehan were absent. I would have truly been shocked to see them here.

Mom and Dad were already seated in the first pew, and I slid in beside them. Mike and his family came in shortly afterward and took the pew behind us. Mike squeezed my shoulder and I reached up and patted his hand. I turned my head to give him a smile and saw it wasn't Mike who'd squeezed my shoulder, it was Jake, who had slipped in beside my brother. He winked at me, and the feeling that shot through me was anything but churchlike. My cheeks started to burn and I faced front again before he noticed. Why was it I could be businesslike all day working with Jake, but as soon as we were out of the pub, a mere wink could turn me into mush? Thank goodness Candy was a few rows back, or I'd never have heard the end of it.

Sean appeared on the altar just then, which saved me from pondering Jake any further. The service was short—a few prayers and some hymns. I managed to make it through without crying. After it was over, I stood at the back of the church thanking everyone as they made their way out and inviting them back to the pub. Dad was at the rear of the line, but I didn't see my mother.

“Where's Mom?” I asked.

“She went with Jake. She's going to give him a hand setting things up.”

Dad and I walked to the parking lot together. “Good,” I said. “It gives me a chance to tell you what I found out.” We stopped beside my car. “I've been asking my neighbors some questions.”

“What kind of questions?” Dad leaned against the hood and crossed his arms.

“About the vandalism. If anyone saw anything. Things like that.”

“And?” His tone of voice told me he wasn't happy about it.

I filled him in on what Annie had told me that afternoon. “I'm sure it was Dominic Costello.”

Dad sighed. “Honey, that description could fit any number of men. Just because Costello kind of fits doesn't mean it was him.”

“Maybe not, but combine that with the threats he made—”

“Threats?” Dad straightened up. “You didn't tell me about any threats.”

“I'm telling you now.” Sort of. I was going to leave out some things. Most things. “Dominic doesn't like me very much. He thinks I'm going to steal all his customers. I went to his bar to talk to him and he said he'd put me out of business. Then he threw me out.”

“He threw you out.”

“Not physically, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” Dad could do a sarcastic voice with the best of them. “Was this before or after you talked to your friend?”

“Before.” When he didn't say anything right away, I said, “So, what do you think? It has to be him, right?”

Dad let out a long breath. “Not necessarily.” I opened my mouth to disagree and he put up his hand. “Hear me out. It could very well be that Costello is involved, but there's also a chance he's not. Just because he tried your door, doesn't mean he broke in later. Maybe he wanted to stop and talk to you.”

“I'm the last person on earth he wants to talk to. He made that clear. I'm sure he's the one breaking into the pub.”

“I know you are, sweetie.” He put his arm around me. “But like I said, there are dozens of bald men who wear jeans and white T-shirts. Unless I can prove it's Costello, and prove that he broke in, there's not much I can do about it.”

No matter what my dad thought, I was convinced Dominic had been the one Annie had seen. Dad wanted proof—well, he was going to get it. Tomorrow I'd make another visit to the Galaxy.

*   *   *

B
y the time I got to the pub, Jake and my mother had appetizers and plates arranged on the bar. Candy must have made a trip next door, because there was also a platter of cookies. Mike had retrieved pint glasses from the kitchen and was placing them near the taps. I crossed the room and went behind the bar. He'd ditched the tie he'd worn to church and the sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows.

“It's about time you got here,” Mike said. “Mom put me to work. That means I get the first brew, right?”

“Of course you do—after me.” I grabbed a glass and poured myself a lager. That afternoon I'd tapped a lager and a spring Maibock-style beer in addition to the stout that had already been tapped. By the time the brew house opened, I'd add the hefeweizen and the IPA. I handed Mike a glass. “You can even pour it yourself.”

“Gee, thanks. Next you'll tell me I'm bartender for the night.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “What an excellent idea. I don't know why I didn't think of it. You've got yourself a job.” I ducked out of the way before he swatted me like he used to when we were kids. He didn't grumble too much so
I knew he'd have fun with it, especially since he'd volunteered to man the taps a couple evenings a week. I made the rounds then, moving from table to table and made sure everyone had something to eat.

Mom and Dad were seated with Kate and my nieces. Fiona was on Mom's lap paging through a picture book, and Maire stood behind her mother trying to braid her hair. It didn't look all that bad considering it was being styled by a four-year-old. Kate grinned at me. “You're next, Max.”

Maire stopped and put her hands on her little hips. “I can't fix yours, Aunt Max. You have boy hair.”

“Maire! Aunt Max does not have boy hair,” Kate said.

I laughed and reached up and ran my fingers through my hair. “It's not that short, Maire.”

“It's not princess hair, like Mommy's and mine.” She sniffed and put her nose up in the air in a pretty good imitation of real royalty. “I like princess hair. You should get some.”

“Maybe someday,” I said, even though I couldn't imagine it. The last time my hair had been past my shoulders was in grade school. Between Sister Anne telling me to get it out of my eyes and my brothers pulling on it, I'd decided short hair was the way to go.

Maire went back to playing with Kate's hair, and I turned to my mother. “Thanks for helping Jake with the food.”

“It's the least I can do,” Mom said. “He's quite a cook. I was impressed.”

“He's very impress—” I stopped myself and felt my face get hot.

Mom had a twinkle in her eye. “You two seem to be getting along nicely.”

Trying to save face, I said, “He's an asset to the brew house.”

She smiled. “That's not what I meant, but yes, he seems to be.” She squeezed my hand. “You should let him know.”

“I've already told him I'm glad I hired him.”

“Not that. Let him know how you feel. He likes you, Max.”

“Like a sister, maybe.” I spotted Jake coming our way. He'd not only ditched his tie like Mike had, he'd changed into a black T-shirt and tan khakis. “Let's drop this, okay?” I said to Mom.

Dad finally spoke up. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

Great. Did everyone know how I felt? I went to intercept Jake before Maire decided to start singing,
Jake and Max sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.

“Thanks for everything,” I said when I reached Jake. “Your food is a big hit.”

“You're welcome. It was nice to have a little tryout.”

“Just like in training camp, huh?”

“Not quite. There's no getting checked into the boards here.”

“That could be arranged, you know.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “You can body check me any time.”

The temperature in the room went up about twenty degrees. That certainly wasn't a brotherly remark. Could Mom be right? I didn't want to get my hopes up. But I could still flirt with him. “You couldn't handle it, Lambert.”