To Brew or Not to Brew (17 page)

When I turned the corner onto Butler Street, I spotted some new blue flyers stapled to telephone poles advertising the meeting tomorrow night. It wasn't enough to completely ruin my good mood of the morning, but it did tamp it down a bit. I realized Frances Donovan was the one person I hadn't researched last night. I needed to do that. Maybe it would give me a hint as to why she was so dead set on turning the
old brewery into a museum. To my way of thinking, a working brewery was not only better use of the space, it paid homage to all those who had made brewing what it is today.

I waved to Candy, who was at the counter in the bakery as I passed. Across the street, Kristie's coffee shop looked busy. Even Adam was an early bird this morning. I could see him unloading merchandise from boxes inside Handbag Heaven.

After I deactivated the alarm, the first thing I did was check the motion detectors to make sure they were in the same position. I was relieved to see that they were. Maybe Dominic's death—whether intentional or not—had been enough to make the killer think twice about coming back. Probably not, but I could hope.

I dumped my purse and keys on my desk and headed for the storage area. With summer on the way, I thought I'd brew my own version of a summer ale. I chose hops that would give the beer citrus notes and lugged the hops and malt to the brewery. After I got the grains into the mash tun, I checked the gauges on the hefeweizen and the IPA in the fermentation tanks. It wouldn't be long until they'd be ready for kegging. I then returned to the storage area to check the inventory. I wanted to get a little ahead on the brewing before the pub opened. It would be terrible to run out of beer.

At one time, the storage area had been a garage. It was located at the far end of the brewery and, just like the kitchen, opened to the alley. During the renovation, the contractor wanted to get rid of the double garage door, but I talked him into replacing it instead. The large opening made it much easier when supplies were delivered. The trucks could back in or back up to the door and unload.

As I made notes of the items I'd need, I thought I smelled smoke. Figuring someone had just walked down the alley with a cigarette, I ignored it. Instead of dissipating, the odor got stronger. I put my pen and paper down on an empty spot on the steel shelving and walked over to the garage door. Wisps of gray smoke seeped under the bottom of the door. I raced through the brewery and the pub, and into the kitchen. I flung open the door to the alley. The Dumpster that always took up the spot on the other side of the alley had been pushed against the garage door. And it was fully engulfed in
flames.

I
ran back inside and called 911 from the kitchen phone, then yanked the fire extinguisher down from the wall and sprinted back to the fire. My fingers slipped off the pin. My hands shook so much, it took three tries to get the pin out. I got as close to the fire as I could, but when I sprayed the extinguisher, it didn't reach the top of the Dumpster. I tried again with the same results. I frantically searched the alley for something to stand on. Nothing.

I remembered the two-tiered step stool in the storage room and dragged it out into the alley. I was tall enough now, but the extinguisher barely made a difference. Sweat trickled down my neck from the heat. My eyes burned from the smoke and I coughed as I got a lungful. The thick smoke finally drew people from the neighborhood. Candy was the first to arrive, followed by Ken Butterfield, plus a few
people who must have been just passing by. One of them took the extinguisher from me, and Kristie showed up with one from the coffee shop and passed it off to Ken. Candy took my arm and pulled me back away from the fire. “Stay here,” she demanded, then went to help the others.

I bent over and sucked in fresh air. My throat was raw and parched. When I could breathe again I straightened and saw the flames licking the wood frame surrounding the garage door. I was going to lose everything! I couldn't let that happen. I went toward the Dumpster as the fire department arrived.

While the firefighters worked on putting out the fire, I spotted Jake running this way down the alley. He reached me and pulled me into his arms. “Are you all right? Please tell me you're okay.”

I heard Jake's heart pounding as he held me. “I'm fine.” My voice was raspy.

“Thank God,” he said. “When I saw the smoke and the fire truck . . .”

I pulled back so I could see his face. His expression certainly wasn't the usual kid-sister-of-my-best-friend one I'd seen numerous times. This was different. “I'm fine,” I said again.

“What the hell happened?”

“I was doing inventory in the storage room and smelled smoke. When I checked, someone had moved the Dumpster up against the door and set it on fire.”

“That son of a—”

“I tried to put it out, but it was too far gone.”

It wasn't long before the firemen had it under control, and the fire captain came over to where Jake and I stood.

“Excuse me.” He looked at Jake. “Max?”

I stepped forward. “I'm Max.” I wondered for the umpteenth time why my parents hadn't named me Mary. It would have made things so much easier.

“Oh. I wanted to let you know we got the fire out. We'll be moving the Dumpster away from your door, just in case it starts up again.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“That's a stupid place for a Dumpster, by the way. It shouldn't be up against your door like that.”

No kidding. “That Dumpster belongs on the other side of the alley. Someone moved it in front of my door. That fire was set deliberately.”

“Now, we don't know that, young lady,” he said. “Don't you go starting rumors like that.”

“Rumors, my ass,” Jake broke in. “That fire was arson, and I want to know what you're going to do about it.”

Apparently, Jake had more sway than me because the fire captain said, “I'll have the arson investigator have a look-see.”

“What a pompous, condescending”—I fished for a word that wasn't vulgar—“idiot,” I said to Jake after the fire captain walked away. “And he actually called me
young lady
!”

Jake laughed. “That is what you are.”

I jammed my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “That's not the point and you know it.”

“Of course I do.” He put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. I felt like something changed between us, but I wasn't sure what. I didn't have time to analyze it now.

With the Dumpster out of the way, I got my first glimpse
of the damage to the building. It was bad, but it could have been much worse if I hadn't discovered the fire when I did. The paint on the steel garage door had blistered badly from the heat. It would need to be replaced as well as the frame around it. The best news was that the brick structure was undamaged except for some soot on the bricks.

Kristie and Candy stood with Ken Butterfield, Daisy, and Annie from the card shop. The Good Samaritan bystanders were already gone. Somehow, I missed the arrival of Daisy and Annie. I thanked them all for their help.

“We didn't really do anything,” Candy said.

“Yes, you did,” I said, “and I appreciate it.” I invited them all inside. “It's a little early for beer, but I can make coffee.” I would have some cleaning up to do in the storage area, but it could wait until later.

“I've tasted your coffee, Max,” Kristie said. “I'll go get some.”

“Hey, I can make coffee,” Jake said.

“Not like mine you can't. I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail as my mother likes to say.”

“And I'll get some donuts,” Candy said.

Ken wasn't about to be left out. “I'll send over some sandwiches for lunch.”

Daisy and Annie looked at each other. “I guess we'll just mooch,” Annie said.

I was behind Daisy, Annie, and Jake at the kitchen door, and I glanced down the alley. Ralph Meehan was heading this way. I did a double take to be sure it was him. He had a lot of nerve. Jake had been the first through the door, so I told Annie to let him know I'd be a minute.

My anger reached the boiling point by the time Ralph
reached me. “If you came to gloat, you'll be disappointed to know it didn't work.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The fire. The one you set in that Dumpster. That fire destroyed my garage door and could have burned down this whole building.” It wasn't the smartest thing to say if Ralph was the killer, but I'd had enough. “You're not going to get away with it. There's going to be an arson investigation—”

“Hold on there, young lady.” Ralph held up his hands. “I didn't set any fire.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Why would you even think something like that?” He seemed puzzled, but it could have been an act.

“To drive me away. Because for some reason you don't want the pub to open.”

“That's ridiculous. Next you'll be accusing me of killing Dom and your friend.”

I was about to do just that. Instead I said, “Then why are you here?”

“I came to apologize.” He ran a hand through his comb-over. “I have to get back. I'm by myself today and I don't want to stay closed for long. When I saw that smoke and saw where the fire engines were going, all I could think about was what you told me, and about Dom.”

I wasn't buying the apology. “That fire was set deliberately.”

“It had to be.” He paused like he wasn't sure what to say next. “I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time before. I meant to talk to you sooner. Detective Bailey came to see me after you left the store. He asked about the note.”

“And?”

“For some reason, the detective thought I might have come here with Dom that night. Believe me, I wanted to, but once I persuaded Dom he needed to talk to you, he insisted on going alone.”

Not convinced, I waited for more.

“If Dom had gone to the police instead of listening to me, he'd still be alive. That's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. You don't know how much I regret not going with him. I should have closed the store early.”

“You were at the store when Dominic came here?”

Ralph nodded. “I was. I had to show Detective Bailey my surveillance tapes to prove it.”

The anger I'd felt minutes ago settled like a ball of lead in my stomach. “You didn't kill Kurt and Dominic.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” The corners of his mouth turned up.

Now I was the one who was puzzled. “Why the turnaround? You threw me out of your store. I just about accused you of murder, and now you want to apologize. I don't understand.”

“Believe me, I was mad as a hornet when Detective Bailey questioned me. You have him to thank for making me see things clearly. He vouched for your character and told me everything that's been happening here. I didn't believe him at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I was wrong.”

“Apparently, so was I.” Boy, was I ever.

Ralph stuck out his right hand. “How about we call a truce and start over.”

I shook his outstretched hand. “Agreed.”

“Anyway, as my way of setting things right, I want you
to let me know what you need to fix this up. It'll be on the house.”

I had as much reason to apologize as he did. There was no way I'd let him do that. “I'll let you know what I need, but I'm paying for it.”

Ralph smiled. “We'll see about that, young lady.”

What was with the
young lady
stuff today? I promised to keep him posted and went inside to join the others.

*   *   *

T
he moment I entered the kitchen, I remembered the grain in the mash tun. I glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see only a little over an hour had passed. I wasn't too late. Jake sat at a table in the pub with Daisy, Annie, and Ken. Candy and Kristie hadn't returned with coffee and donuts yet. I explained that I needed to tend to the batch of beer. They all offered to help, but the saying about too many cooks spoiling the broth also applies to brewing.

I left Jake to hold the fort and went into the brewery. I drained the liquid from the bottom of the mash tun and recirculated it through the grain, then added heated water to make sure all the sugars were removed. The next step was the brew kettle. When it was boiling, I started adding hops.

Daisy came through the door just then and held up what she was carrying. “I felt bad you were in here while we were all scarfing down donuts, so I brought you one.”

“Thanks.”

Her gaze roamed the room. “This is the first time I've been in here. It's pretty impressive. I've never seen beer brewed before.”

I explained what I was doing.

“I never realized how much there was to it,” she said.

“It doesn't seem like a lot when it's something you love to do.”

“I guess not.”

I told her more about the process while I put the rest of the boiling hops in. When I finished, I asked her how her evening with Adam had gone last night.

She sighed. “All right, I guess.”

“You don't sound like it was.”

“I just wish he'd make up his mind about what he wants. One minute he's like the nicest guy in the world, and the next he ignores me. Frankly, I'm getting tired of it.”

“Have you tried asking him what he wants?”

“Of course I have. He always says”—she deepened her voice—“‘I want you, baby.'”

Yuck. I recalled what he'd said when I ran into him at the deli. “Is he having business problems? That could be worrying him.”

“He's been having trouble getting some of his inventory, but he told me he had that all under control and it wouldn't be a problem much longer.”

“That's good. He must have gotten a delivery, then. I saw him through the window of Handbag Heaven unloading some boxes when I came in this morning.”

“You saw him this morning?” Daisy said.

I nodded.

“Are you sure?”

“I'm positive. Why?”

She frowned. “He sent me home early last night because
he had a six a.m. flight to New York this morning. He said he had a meeting with some new suppliers.”

“Maybe he changed his mind, or the meeting was cancelled,” I said, although I didn't believe it myself. There was no doubt in my mind Adam was giving her the runaround.

“That must be it, but I wonder why he didn't call me.”

I hoped she didn't expect me to supply an answer.

“He probably didn't have time,” she said. “If he called the shop, he'd get my machine because I've been here,” she said. “I guess I'd better go check.”

He should have called her well before she showed up to help me. My guess was that he had no intention of taking an early morning flight to New York or anywhere else. Poor Daisy. I watched her leave thinking she was in for a whole lot of heartache.

*   *   *

I
finished the batch of ale and it was now in the fermenting tank where it would stay for about two weeks. By late evening, Jake and Mike had replaced the framing and the garage door. Ralph Meehan didn't carry that size door, but he contacted a company that did and Mike picked it up in his truck. Ralph supplied everything else we needed, and since I insisted on paying, he gave me a big discount.

While they worked, I made a quick trip home to feed Hops and play with her a bit, then got my car and returned to the brew house to clean and sanitize the brewing equipment. The brewing part was fun. The cleaning afterward, not so much. At ten o'clock, the three of us finally sat down
and ate leftover sandwiches from the platter Ken Butterfield had sent over for lunch. Mike took off right after he wolfed down two sandwiches, and Jake and I weren't far behind him.