To Brew or Not to Brew (21 page)

“I like the personal touch. I want to keep my hand in
every aspect of the business, and I don't think I'd be able to do that if we were producing hundreds or thousands of bottles. I just want this to be a place where people can come and relax. Come and have a good beer and some good food. I don't need more than that.”

She reached over and touched my arm. “I need to apologize to you. I'm afraid I misjudged you terribly.”

“You don't need to apologize.”

“But I do. I wasn't sure what I would find when I came here. I was almost afraid to be right, that this would be a horrible place.” She smiled. “A den of iniquity, as your Mr. Fairbanks said.”

“Elmer does have a way with words.”

“You've brought this place back to what it should be. A museum would be wrong here.”

“You haven't given up on that entirely, I hope. All those things you showed me last night were amazing.”

“I'll find a place for them,” she said.

“That's something I want to talk to you about.” Before I could tell her my idea, Elmer swung open the door and poked his head through the doorway.

“Are you going to show us these tunnels or not? Let's get this show on the road.” He went back out.

“Definitely a way with words,” Fran said. “Shall we?”

Jake was sitting with Elmer when we returned to the pub. I'd never felt awkward with him before, but now it was hard not to think about that kiss when I looked at him. I was glad we weren't alone, because I could keep my thoughts on the matter at hand. I introduced him to Fran, and after a little small talk, Fran turned to me.

“It's so different in here than when it was offices.” She walked around the room, looking at it from different angles. “I remember a reception desk here.” She pointed to an area near the door.

I led the way down the hallway, opened the door to the basement, and led the way down the steps.

“It's not the same down here, either,” Fran said.

I told myself not to be annoyed, but what did she expect? Of course it looked different.

“It used to be jammed with file cabinets, old office furniture, you name it. There was hardly room to walk.” She moved to the wall where the safe was. “I remember this, but I don't think it was here. And those shelves. I don't remember all these shelves.” She crossed the room and confidently pointed to an area behind two shelves. “There. Right there.” She turned to me. “That's where you'll find the door to the
tunnel.”

“I
'll be right back.” I jogged upstairs and grabbed the bag I kept a few basic tools in, thinking I should have brought it with me in the first place. I handed Jake a hammer and I took a crowbar. The shelves were bolted to the concrete block wall. The bolts were old and rusted, and it didn't take us long to pry the shelves from the wall. Jake moved them aside while I began to examine the wall. The old concrete blocks were mostly intact. The wall was cold and damp under my fingers. Jake, Elmer, and Fran soon joined me, and between the four of us, no spot was left untouched. There was no door, and no sign a door had ever been there.

“Hmm. Maybe it was the other wall,” Fran said.

Jake and I pried the shelves from the other wall with the same result. Concrete blocks with no door or opening anywhere.

“That can't be.” She shook her head. “I distinctly remember it. It may have been a long time ago, but I'm sure it was here.”

“Nutjob,” Elmer said, loud enough for me to hear. I gave him my sternest look.

“How long ago?” I asked.

“The last time was right before my father retired. He wanted to show me where the tunnel entrance had been. It was covered with plywood. He didn't want the history to be forgotten after he passed on.”

“What year was that?” Jake asked.

Fran gave not only the year, but the month as well.

My heart sank. Over forty years ago. Forty years since she'd been in this building. Forty years to imagine something that wasn't there. Jake put his arm around my shoulder. I wanted to cry. This was all for nothing.

Fran circled the basement studying the walls closely. “I don't understand it. It should be here. I'm sure of it.”

“Fran,” I said, “it was a long time ago. Sometimes I can't even remember what happened last week.”

“Are you telling me I'm wrong? That you don't believe me?” She sounded indignant.

“I'm only saying it's been too long to remember everything about it.”

“I know what was here,” she snapped. “There's nothing wrong with my memory. You saw the picture of the tunnel. And my father took me down here more than once.” She stabbed her index finger in the air. “It was here.”

I had seen the picture. But it was only a photo of a large space with kegs. I wanted to believe it had been taken in one of Fran's tunnels, but I wasn't sure it was. I tried to let her
down gently. “There may have been tunnels here at one time. You yourself said they'd been closed up. If they're still under these buildings, we may never find them. I don't see any way into them from here.”

Fran placed her hands on her hips. “The entrance is here. I did not imagine it. We just need to find it. And I know just how to do that. I'm going to look through all my father's papers and see if he documented anything about the tunnels. I also have some blueprints of the old brewery complex. I'll dig them out as well. I should have done that in the first place, but I was so excited, it didn't even cross my mind.”

I wished her luck. I wasn't hopeful she'd find anything worthwhile.

Sweaty and grimy, I plopped down on a chair in the pub after she left. “Well, that was a massive waste of time.”

“Maybe not,” Jake said.

Elmer snorted. “You're as delusional as that woman.”

I was in no mood to put up with him right now. I told him to take the rest of the day off. He didn't want to, but Jake told him he'd keep an eye on me.

“I bet you will,” Elmer said, grinning.

Jake laughed, and I said, “Go home, Elmer.” He grumbled all the way out. He probably complained to himself all the way home.

I leaned back in my chair and sighed. If I hadn't been preoccupied and disappointed over what I thought of as “the tunnel business,” I might have felt strange being alone with Jake. The kiss was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I'd been so sure Fran would lead me to finding how the killer was getting in. I was positive that information would have somehow led me to find who killed Dominic and, more
important, Kurt. I'd let him down once again. I didn't understand how Fran had been so wrong about the tunnel entrance. If there even was one.

Jake reached over the table and put his hand over mine. “Stop it.”

Annoyed, I pulled my hand away. “Stop what?”

“Beating yourself up,” he said. “It's written all over your face.”

“I'm not beating myself up.”

“Right.”

“Okay, maybe I am. I just feel so stupid for thinking what I did. For believing her. There's probably no truth to anything Fran told me.” Jake took my hand again, and I tried to ignore the warmth that shot up my arm. I didn't pull away.

“You're not stupid,” he said. “You saw the photograph she had of one of the tunnels. And Elmer said he'd heard of them. Just because Fran was confused doesn't mean there's not another way into them.”

“Where? The walls are concrete block. There was nothing there that showed where a door would have been.”

“Maybe it's behind the block.”

“If that's the case, that's not how the killer got in. We're back to square one.”

“Then there has to be another way in,” Jake said. “This building was vacant for a long time, right?”

“Yep. Several years.”

“Chances are, whoever is coming in here was able to come and go as he pleased before you bought the place. He didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him. He was using the tunnels under the building for—whatever—then the building was sold and he was afraid he'd be found out.”

“That makes sense, but we already assumed whoever it is was using the tunnels.”

“Hear me out. If we're sticking with that theory, the guy still wanted to use the tunnels.”

I didn't quite get where this was going, but I agreed.

Jake got up and paced beside the table while he talked. “He knew that whoever bought this place would see the opening, explore the tunnel, and discover what he was up to. So he covered it up.”

“If he covered it up, how is he getting in?”

He grinned like a kid. “That's what we need to figure out.”

“You're insane. I'm not tearing out the foundation.”

“I didn't say you had to do that. My guess is it opens up somehow.”

“Like a secret passageway?” I laughed. “And you accused me of playing Nancy Drew.”

He stopped pacing, rested his hands on the table, and leaned over. “I never did get a picture of that.”

“And you never will.” He was too close, and the warmth when he touched my hand a few minutes ago was nothing compared to what I felt now. I didn't look at him because I was afraid of what I'd see in his eyes. Or, more important, what wouldn't be there. I couldn't have stood that.

I pushed my chair back and went over to the bar. The bottled water on the shelf was warm, but I opened one anyway and took a long drink. I didn't want to think about tunnels anymore. It was barely afternoon and I was exhausted already. And hungry. “What were you cooking earlier? It smelled really good.”

“Garlic and tomatoes for flatbread pizza, since you have that on the menu.”

“Do you have the rest of the ingredients?”

“I do. I was just about to put a couple together when Elmer came to get me.”

“Great.” I smiled. “Get back to work, then. I'm starving.”

*   *   *

J
ake's flatbreads were delicious. One had the typical
Margherita
toppings—tomatoes, basil, and fresh mozzarella. The second was topped with roasted red and yellow peppers, mushrooms, and goat cheese. I was glad he was trying out the menu items and taking care of the kitchen. I didn't know what I'd have done without him.

I got my second wind after I ate. I finished the report I'd been working on, organized the papers on my desk, and made a list of things I still had to do before the opening. All the staff I'd hired were scheduled to come in Monday morning to learn the ropes. I hoped a week of training would be sufficient. I wasn't worried about the waiting-tables part, but learning the beer styles and being able to suggest a beer to go with a certain food might not come easily to some. Nicole had picked it up quickly. Hopefully the others would do the same.

One of the things on my list was to check on the order I'd placed with Daisy. This was as good a time as any, so I told Jake where I was going and headed out. Daisy was putting the finishing touches on a bridal bouquet when I entered her shop. Sprays of baby's breath mingled with white tea roses, and Daisy had somehow weaved antique lace ribbon throughout the bouquet. The same lace wrapped the stem, or holder—whatever it was called—and lace streamers trailed from the bottom.

“That's gorgeous,” I said. “I've never seen anything like it.”

She just about beamed. “Thanks. It's my own design. The bride wanted something a little different than your run-of-the-mill nosegay.”

“Looks like you achieved it.”

She sighed. “Always a bridal-bouquet maker, never a bride,” she said, putting her own spin on the old adage.

“I take it Adam is still being . . .” I searched for a word.

“A pain in the rear.” Daisy finished it for me.

“Why didn't you tell me Adam was the one telling people I was selling the brewery?”

Daisy's face reddened. “I'm sorry, Max. I should have said something, but he didn't actually say you were selling, he said he
thought
you would.”

That was the same thing in my mind. “Well, I talked to him yesterday and straightened him out. But that's not why I'm here. I wanted to check to see if everything was on schedule.”

She said it was, and we discussed when she should start putting things in place. We decided on Wednesday of next week.

Before I left, she asked me how the meeting had gone. I told her about the meeting, Fran, and the tunnels.

“Ooh, secret tunnels sounds almost romantic,” she said. “Can't you just picture Eliot Ness raiding the place and smashing all those beer kegs?”

I laughed. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“I guess it would,” she said. “Keep me posted on those tunnels. If you find a way in, I'd love to see them.”

“Will do.”

When I got back to the pub, Jake was waiting for me with a big grin on his face. “Guess what I just got,” he said.

I had no idea. “Salmonella from eating your food?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. You can do better than that. I'll give you a hint. It has to do with ice.”

“You bought a new ice bucket.” I was having fun with this now.

“And sticks.”

I could tell he was dying to tell me, so of course I couldn't give in to that. “I know. A snowman. With stick arms.”

“Ice and sticks. What does that make you think of?”

“Popsicles? Klondikes? Oh, wait. Klondikes don't have sticks. Plus, they're ice cream.”

He groaned. “Max, you're killing me.”

“I give up,” I said.

“I just got off the phone with a guy I know in the Penguins' front office. He's holding two tickets for me for the playoff game tomorrow afternoon.”

“That's great,” I said, although I didn't even know the Pens were in the playoffs. “Is Mike going with you?”

“I haven't asked him yet. I thought I'd see if you wanted to go first.”

I considered it for a split second, then declined. I needed to keep my distance after what happened this morning. At least for the time being, anyway. It wasn't that I didn't want Jake to kiss me again—on the contrary. I probably wanted it too much, and that was a problem. Until I knew the kiss wasn't just a fluke, it was hands-off. I didn't make up an elaborate excuse, I just told him I needed a day to do nothing. He seemed to accept that and went to call my brother.

The phone rang as I was getting ready to leave for the day. Jake had already gone and, by four, I'd decided to call it quits, too. I was tempted to let the call go to voice mail, but I made myself answer it. I wished I hadn't. It was someone from the Bureau of Building Inspection. I'd called days ago to schedule the final inspection, and now they wanted to know if I'd be available tomorrow morning. They usually worked only Monday through Friday, but they were backed up and were trying to schedule some of the inspections on Saturdays. This was the big one that would permit me to open the pub, so I couldn't very well say no.

So much for a day off doing
nothing.