To Brew or Not to Brew (14 page)

I remembered what Annie told me about the man trying to get into the pub the same night the kitchen drain had been tampered with. I was more sure than ever it was Dominic who'd attempted to enter. I wondered if someone had lured him there that night as well. That night the door had been locked, though. He'd never made entry. Dominic had tried the door, found it locked, and left.

I was too exhausted to think about it anymore. I didn't even bother washing my face or brushing my teeth. I gave Hops a few treats, then collapsed into bed with the kitten curled up beside me.

I
hoped the previous evening had been a bad dream, but it was hard to ignore the yellow crime-scene tape strapped across the door to the brewing area. Until my dad and Rich Bailey released the scene, I was basically banned from my own brewery. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I needed to get in there today, tape or no tape.

The neighborhood was quiet when I arrived at six a.m. It was barely light out and the businesses were closed, except for Kristie's—she opened at five-thirty for the early risers. The bakery opened at seven, so Candy was likely putting the final touches on her wares.

I had tossed and turned all night, with weird dreams of Kurt's face morphing into Dominic's alternating with dreams of Jake getting back together with Victoria. I finally gave up on sleep. After a brutally strong cup of coffee and a hot shower, I headed to work. It was going to be a long day,
and I didn't want to leave Hops alone again, so I brought her with me. I locked the door behind me, and after I deposited the kitten in my office, I went to the kitchen to make coffee. I could have gone across the street, but I wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet. Although the murder had been kept quiet so far, surely someone had noticed all the police activity. It was just a matter of time before everyone—not to mention the media—found out. The longer I could put it off, the better.

When the coffee was done, I took a mug back to my office and sat at the desk. I slid a notepad in front of me and thought about what I needed to do today. My pen tapping on the desktop was like a beacon to Hops, who jumped up to investigate. It still amazed me she could do that with one leg out of commission. I gave her the pen to play with and picked up another one.

First on the list was to call Nicole, then the other staff we'd just hired. I also had an interview to reschedule. I didn't want prospective employees coming in when there was crime-scene tape still hanging. By the time seven o'clock rolled around, I had twenty things to do on my list. That required the kind of fortification that only Cupcakes N'at could provide.

The bakery was busy for a Tuesday, but one of Candy's part-timers was helping behind the counter. As soon as she spotted me, Candy told her she was taking a short break and practically dragged me into the back room. I braced myself for the inevitable bear hug.

“It's so terrible, Max,” Candy said as she released me. “I can't believe it happened again!”

“I can't, either.” I didn't ask how she found out. Her grapevine could give the NSA a run for its money.

“Poor Dom,” she said. “What in the world was he doing there?”

“That's the question of the day.”

“To think he was lying there while we were sitting in the pub.” She shuddered. “It's creepy.”

I couldn't disagree with that. “I don't understand how he got in without setting off the alarm.”

“Are you sure you set it?”

“I don't remember. I thought I did. I'm absolutely positive I locked the door, though. In any case, I need to have the alarm company come out again. If I did activate it, either I'm doing something wrong or it's not working right.”

“Or someone is bypassing the alarm.”

Candy never ceased to amaze me. “Wouldn't there be some evidence of that?”

“Not if it's done right.”

“And you know this how?”

She shrugged. “I read a lot.”

One of these days I was going to have to find out what kind of work she'd done before she became a baker. Espionage wouldn't surprise me in the least. I hadn't considered the possibility of someone bypassing the system. It was a question I'd have to ask the alarm company. “Who would know how to do something like that?” I said.

“Certainly not Dom,” Candy said. “We'll figure it out, though. I suggest we get together later and brainstorm.”

The last brainstorming session at our book club meeting hadn't accomplished anything. I wasn't sure a repeat would be any better. “I don't know when I can fit it in. I have a lot to do today.”

“I'm not taking no for an answer.” She raised a hand
when I objected. “I've already discussed it with Kristie and Elmer. We'll do whatever it takes to figure this thing out.”

Elmer, too? I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes but Candy saw them. She crushed me to her black-and-gold chest.

“Don't you worry, Max,” she said, patting my back. “It's going to be all right.”

With friends like this, how could I go wrong?

*   *   *

“W
hat do you mean I can't go into my own brewery yet?” I said to Rich Bailey later that morning. “I need to check the fermentation tanks and start another batch.”

“It's only for another hour. Surely you can wait that long.”

“I don't understand why.”

Rich scratched his salt-and-pepper mustache, a gesture I'd seen him do a thousand times. Mostly when faced with an obstinate reporter on TV. I had called my dad earlier and left a voice mail asking if I could take the tape down. Instead of calling me back, he'd sent Rich. “We want to take one more look to make sure we didn't miss anything. As soon as your dad gets here, we'll be out of your hair as quickly as possible,” he said.

Another hour wouldn't make or break me, but I was tired and cranky. I wanted to take control of at least one thing—even something as minor as checking my tanks. “I really need to get in there.”

“One hour.” Rich could be as stubborn as my dad, so arguing further wouldn't do any good.

“Fine,” I said, and stalked back to my office. I was glad I'd told Nicole not to come in—there wouldn't have been
anything for her to do. I'd spoken to Jake earlier and assured him that I was all right. I'd tried to talk him into taking the day off as well, but he wouldn't hear of it. He was coming in at one.

Hops was sound asleep on a pile of invoices on the top of my desk. As good a reason as any not to pay bills today. I had worked my way through most of my list after returning from the bakery that morning. Someone from the alarm company was coming at four to check the system and go over a few things with me. As I sat there, I thought more about what Candy had said—that maybe the alarm had been tampered with. It was the only explanation that made sense. It didn't explain, however, why Dominic had been in the brewery to begin with.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Since I had an hour to spare, maybe I could try to find out. I locked my office door behind me so the kitten didn't escape if anyone came looking for me. As I crossed the pub, I spotted the Channel 11 news van through the window. A blond-haired reporter was setting up with a cameraman right in front of the door. Great. That was the last thing I needed. It was just a matter of time before the other stations sent reporters, and I didn't want to talk to any of them. I turned around, cut through the kitchen, and slipped out the back door.

I stayed in the alley that ran parallel to this section of Butler Street. The alley happened to end at the cross street where the Galaxy and the Good-Value Hardware Store were located. I took a deep breath before I entered the hardware store. There were no customers at the moment and Ralph Meehan looked up expectantly when the bells on the door jingled—until he saw me, that is.

“You have a lot of nerve showing yourself here after what happened to Dom. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be dead.” He reached for the phone on the counter. “I'm calling the police.”

“Go ahead. I'll be happy to wait.” I pulled my cell phone out of the front pocket of my pants. “I'll even call them for you.”

That must not have been the response he expected because he put the receiver back down. “Don't bother. Just tell me what you want, then get the hell out.”

I took a seat on one of the stools in front of the counter. “I want to know why Dominic broke into my brew house last night.”

“I don't know what you're trying to pull. Dom never broke in anywhere.”

“He most certainly did.”

“Bull. Dom showed me the note you left for him.”

“Note? I never sent him a note.”

“I saw it with my own eyes. You told him you wanted to settle things once and for all and to meet you at the brewery at seven o'clock.”

A chill went through me. “That wasn't from me.”

“It had your name at the bottom.”

My voice shook. “Mr. Meehan, I never sent Dominic any kind of note.”

“I told you I saw it—”

“Whatever you saw wasn't from me. Last night was the memorial service for Kurt. Everyone knew I'd be there—and most of my neighbors as well. Whoever sent him that note knew the brew house would be empty at seven. It was probably the same person who was threatening him, and
the same person who's been vandalizing my place and making it look like Dominic did it.”

“Anyone ever tell you you're pretty good at making up stories?”

I wasn't getting through to him. “I'm not making this up. I've made police reports about the vandalism.”

Ralph snorted. “That doesn't mean anything.”

“Think about this then. Dominic was worried that my pub would do well and run him out of business. If that were the case, all I'd have to do is wait it out. I had absolutely no reason to threaten him.”

“But that's not what you did,” Ralph said. “You wanted him out of the picture so bad you resorted to smearing his good reputation. When that didn't work, you sent him threats. And because of that, he's dead.”

“Whether you believe me or not, someone is doing everything they can to keep me from opening the brew house. I'm convinced that same person killed Kurt, and now Dominic.”

Ralph stared at me. “You're delusional. The police said he died from a head injury. No one said anything about murder.”

“I'm so sorry. I just assumed you knew.”

“I bet you're sorry. I've had enough of this conversation. If—and that's a big if as far as I'm concerned—Dom was murdered, we both know who did it.” He pointed at me. “You did. And you can bet I'm going to let the police know all about you, and the threats you made to Dom. You're not going to get away with anything.”

“Mr. Meehan . . .”

“Get out of my store.”

I didn't want a repeat of what had happened when Dominic had thrown me out of his bar, so I turned and left. I should have realized Ralph Meehan would react badly to Dominic's death. They were friends, after all. While I didn't expect him to welcome me with open arms, I never thought he'd accuse me of murder. He couldn't possibly think that I'd killed Dominic. The idea was totally ridiculous. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became and the faster I walked.

“Miss! Wait a minute.”

I stopped and turned around. It was the clerk who'd been helping a customer the last time I was in the hardware store. He jogged down the alley until he reached me.

“Thanks for waiting.” He paused to catch his breath. “Sorry. I'm not used to running like that.”

“That's okay,” I said, at the same time wondering why he'd run after me. Maybe Mr. Meehan sent him.

“I was in the storeroom and I overheard your conversation with Ralph,” he said. “Don't take what he said literally. He's just upset.”

“I know he is, but that's no reason to call me a murderer.”

“That's why I wanted to talk to you.”

I had no idea where this was going.

“I mostly keep to myself when I'm working, and I hear a lot. People forget I'm even there because I don't say much.”

Unlike now. I wished he'd get to the point.

“When Costello came to see Ralph, he was really bent out of shape. He kept ranting about that note Ralph told you about, saying “that little girl has a lot of nerve” and “she's gonna be sorry she messed with me.”

“That's nothing new,” I said. “Dominic said as much to my face.”

“Ralph didn't tell you that he and Costello had an argument about it. Costello was going to take that note to the police but Ralph told him that wouldn't do any good. Told him the only way he was going to settle things once and for all was to meet up with you. He even told Costello he'd go with him.”

“Did Mr. Meehan go with him?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I was done work at five and went home. I just thought you'd want to know the whole story.”

“I appreciate it.”

He nodded. “Don't pay Ralph no mind. He's usually real nice. I'm sure he didn't mean what he said to you.”

I thanked him for the information and we went our separate ways. So Ralph Meehan had talked Dominic out of reporting the note he'd received to the police. And Dominic hadn't been going to show up at the pub until Ralph talked him into it. Was it possible Ralph had written the note? But why? Dominic was supposedly his friend. If Ralph wrote the note and accompanied Dominic to the brewery, that meant only one thing: Ralph Meehan had killed him.