New Brew

by Mark Lashway

  “Cam!” came a familiar voice that interrupted his thoughts.

  “Oh! Hi, Sonny.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Not much. Just sightseein’, I guess. Hey, Sonny, who’s that woman over there?” Cam asked, pointing to the strange woman. “I don’t remember her.”

  Lombardo squinted for several seconds, then shrugged. “I don’t know, Cam. I’ve never seen her. But I can tell you one thing: That is one ugly woman!”

  “I was just wonderin’, that’s all.”

  “Well, my boy, there’s only one way of handlin’ this at GWIBE,” Lombardo declared.

  “Walk over and find out?”

  “Yep!”

  They strolled over, in no hurry. When they reached the gathering, Cam realized that there was nobody here whom he really knew. It was like different creatures of the forest spotting each other. Compatible or not, they accepted the presence of the other. However, it turned out that there was one figure whom Cam had actually met before: Dale Sassie.

  “Dale, we meet again,” Cam said, extending his hand.

  “Cam, Sonny, good to see you back,” Sassie replied, shaking hands with both of them.

  “I hear that you’re becomin’ one of the big men now,” Cam remarked. “At least with the anti-Utah people.”

  “I suppose,” Sassie mumbled unenthusiastically. “Someone had to come forward and take over Trub’s role. Uh, sorry, Cam. I know that you two had gotten to be good friends. It must have put you in a really tough spot.”

  “Ah, it’s nothin’!” Cam shot back. “All I suffered was disgrace, a six-month suspension and my reputation in ruins. But what’s all that compared to the brotherhood of GWIBE?”

  “That’s the spirit!” Sassie exclaimed, missing the sarcasm. “You’re a good guy, Cam.”

  “Mmmm….Dale, didn’t I see a woman here when I was walkin’ over?”

  “Huh?” Sassie was confused. Everyone stood around, staring. “You’re married, Cam.”

  “No, no! I just thought that I saw some woman here before, that’s all.”

  “Oh yeah, her. That was probably Betty you saw.”

  “Betty? I never met her before. Is she your woman?” Cam asked. He didn’t expect the laughter that erupted among the group.

  “Nooooooo!” Sassie replied, smirking. “My wife stays home and is actually one hot-looking number. I don’t think that Betty is anybody’s woman.”

  “Where is she from?”

  “Christ, Cam, I don’t know! This is the first year we’ve seen her here. For a married man, you’re awfully interested in her.”

  “Nah, I was just curious, that’s all. She just seemed out of place, you know?”

  Sassie shrugged. Cam caught several guys rolling their eyes. Yeah, that was stupid of me. What would be out of place in this circus except boringly normal?

  “We’ve gotta go,” Lombardo announced. “Shauna isn’t gonna be too happy if you leave her alone for too long.”

  “Good seein’ you guys again,” Cam said, waving goodbye.

  “Now that you’ve wasted that time,” Lombardo said as they walked away, “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I spoke with Abbot John about you talking to him. It’s a no-go, Cam.”

  “What?” Cam gasped in disbelief. “Why not?”

  “It’s because this is Inkwell’s territory, and here you’d be nothing more than a private investigator. Inkwell’s a hardass and the abbot doesn’t want to cause offense and create problems, so he’s gonna paint by numbers, got it?”

  “Yeah. Message received.”

  “Look. You’re here to have a good time, you blockhead. So is Shauna. The last go-round almost finished your fucking career, my boy. Let the bulls from North Dakota handle it. They’ll get the guy eventually while you’re at home living normal, everyday life.”

  “You know what, Sonny?” Cam replied with a smile, his mood lightening greatly. “You’re right. I need to stop bein’ curious and mind my own damned business.”

  He mulled it over as they walked back along the main road. Inkwell, although a prick, was probably a very competent investigator, as was demonstrated by the way he had worked the crime scene before Cam had left. Put your ego aside, let it pass, and stick to GWIBE stuff.

  Some commotion ahead caught their attention and they quickly saw that it was coming from the direction of Little Germany. There appeared to be two groups of mostly men jostling each other on the street. Then Cam saw Jan Vosloo’s setup, which everyone called Belgium Town, across from Streicher’s place. He shook his head, then said to Lombardo, “Right across from Little Germany again this year, huh? Why do I doubt that it’s coincidental?

  It was this year’s installment of the Johann Kopp vs. Jan Vosloo event, Cam realized, as the snarling German and grunting Belgian were rolling on the ground, arms locked around each other. The two groups were obviously partisans of the two camps and appeared to be on the verge of a brawl. “Christ, at least they waited until daylight, the day of the opening ceremony, before they did this last year,” Lombardo groaned.

  “You two, enough!” Shauna screamed, coming out of the tent and kicking both men in their sides. “Stop it right now!”

  Even this was not enough to stop the fight. Streicher nodded to one of Vosloo’s men and they grabbed their respective comrades, pulling them off from each other and to their feet.

  “Typical Germans!” Vosloo bellowed. “You can’t handle competition!”

  “Belgian monkey!” Kopp yelled. “Rizzo did a favor by killing your IPA last year! It would have been crushed in competition just like I crushed your dunkelweizen!”

  “But all that matters is that I conquered….repeat, conquered Gerhard in the open wheat category! See my blue ribbon?” Vosloo took the award out of his pocket and waved it mockingly. Streicher’s face turned purple and the veins stood out on his neck as his grip on Kopp weakened. The two groups began shoving each other.

  “Cam, do something!” a voice cried out. Amazingly, the two groups paused their fight, expecting some strong reaction from Witter.

  “I will do somethin’,” Cam announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m takin’ my wife and we’re goin’ inside to have some drinks and enjoy ourselves tonight. I’m through bein’ the lion tamer for this fuckin’ circus. Have at it, folks. Go ahead and beat each other’s brains in. I just don’t care. Let’s go, Shauna.” Shauna gladly took his hand, not even reprimanding him for swearing. Lombardo nodded, smiling as he walked away. He was so proud of Cam. He had the makings of a very solid GWIBEr. The two groups began insulting and shoving each other again.

  -6-

  Cam checked his watch impatiently. Six minutes to go, he told himself, before the opening ceremony began. Like last year, he was anxious for it to be done, since he hated being in the middle of crowds. Droves of people were now streaming in. He gazed at the makeshift stage, which was pretty much the same setup he’d seen his first time. Before coming here, he’d risen early and set off to do the same routine as he had last year, while Shauna slept: A stop at the shower place to clean up, then off to the same vendor as before for breakfast. I am such a creature of habit, he thought.

  Last night had been a good first night, he figured. After leaving the unruly factions fighting in the street, he and Shauna had gone back into Little Germany and spent the rest of the night there, where the Germans had plied them with one exquisite beer after another, encompassing every style that Streicher and Kopp had made. He had been well-lit by the time the gathering had broken up and they’d returned to their tent. Even Shauna had had more than her normal amount since the beers had gone down so smoothly.

  He and Bobby Bobb now stood around silently while Shauna chatted with Helen, Sonny, the Germans and their girlfriends. Although there was definitely a different feel this time around, Cam was wise enough not to get carried away by that. Surface calm at GWIBE often hid great turmoil underneath.


  A sudden, unexpected racket occurred as several small rockets emitting red, white and blue smoke shot into the sky, leaving a heavy pall of smoke enveloping the site. The crowd roared its approval. Off to a far side of the field, a band that nobody had really noticed started playing, the cutting twang of a well-played electric guitar drawing everyone’s attention as the group belted out the notes of a tune that was familiar to Cam, although it took him several seconds to identify it as an older ‘70s hit. Even the usually restrained Shauna smiled at the show and began pulsating to the beat along with many others. This was definitely a livelier start to the festival than last year, as the crowd worked itself up while the band went through the song.

  The appearance of four young women dressed in bikinis, beginning a pole dancing routine about 20 seconds or so into the song, wiped the smile from Shauna’s face. Helen’s, too. Cam was grinning at first, at least until he noticed Shauna glancing at him. All of the women in their group wore grim expressions while the men remained silent, even though almost every other male on site cheered the dancers on.

  “Oh God, this is just awful,” Cam declared, trying his best to sound sincere.

  “Ja, this is demeaning to all women,” Streicher nervously added, Tina glaring at him.

  “It reduces women to sexual objects,” Kopp chipped in with a rather urgent tone.

  “You guys make me sick,” Lombardo piped up. “You love it as much as I do. What do you do, have a basket on your porch where you deposit your balls before entering the house?”

  “Oh, shut up, you fat, old, garlic-reeking lump!” Helen barked.

  The bickering went on for the rest of the song until the sound of a microphone being turned on drew their attention. Like last year, Sean Essex had gotten up onto the stage to announce the opening ceremony. Some in the crowd booed him, due to his ties to Utah’s crew.

  “Mmm, I want to thank you all for coming to this year’s GWIBE, the Great World Invitational Beer Event,” Essex announced, “although the fireworks and the band stuff wasn’t in the itinerary. Anyway, we’re all, I’m sure, looking forward to a joyous event this year, especially in light of last year’s tragedies. Without further ado, I will turn the mike over to our MC, Mr. Phil Utah!” The crowd really began booing now.

  “Why, hello there!” Utah said as soon as he had taken the microphone, wearing his trademark smile and flashing those pearly whites. “It’s so good to be back. We’ve missed each other, I’m sure. This year’s event is going to be such fun, fun, fun!”

  The booing got louder. Some tomatoes and empty bottles went flying in Utah’s direction. The Ace Brewing rep, a seasoned old hand by now, simply dodged them.

  “Well, let’s get on with the roll of names,” Utah said, “although, personally, I don’t like the customs attached to it and think they should be done away with….”

  “Shut the fuck up, you slime, and just do it!” someone screamed.

  “Alright, then, I’ll announce the roll,” Utah sighed. An immediate, overwhelming silence from the crowd ensued, a sign of respect for all of the dead GWIBE people.

  As Utah began droning on with one name after another, noting their dates of death, Cam’s mind drifted. Lemme see, there were 32 names last year. Add Trub’s name to that. Hopefully, no others. Not that it matters to me anymore. I did my time in Hell last year drinking to that. Thank God that Shauna is with me now to put the kibosh to that nonsense. Getting blotto drunk to honor somebody? Right. Puking my guts out, walking like a four month-old, some guys pissing on their feet since they couldn’t hit the pot….yeah, it sounds like a really noble way to honor the dead!

  “Tom Beamer!” Utah finally announced the last name, snapping Cam back to the present. “AKA Trub! End of keg, September….”

  The rest was drowned out by a loud roar of both enthusiasm and anguish from a large part of the crowd, many individuals holding up beers and then draining them. However, Cam noticed several men on the other side of the crowd staring at him with those hard looks. He stared right back at them. Fuck you all, he thought. I was just doing my job, that’s all. Goddamnit, Trub was my friend too! I miss him just as much as the rest of you….

  “And that concludes the roll,” Utah declared. “The next matter is to announce that the charity booth is set up and will be next to my Ace Brewing tent. So again, although I know I don’t have to tell you this, since you’ve been generous: Please give. Thank you!” The crowd had now quietly down considerably.

  “Now, for the next matter,” Utah continued on, wearing a frown. “I wanted to talk to you about all of the theatrics for this opening ceremony. It was totally inappropriate, people! Shooting off pyrotechnics without proper permitting and safety procedures in place is bad enough, but the pole dancing was soooo unacceptable! I thought we’d turned that corner last year when we managed to eliminate it, but noooo! A few of my associates were unfortunately murdered and I didn’t have the staff to control things, so this popped up again. Unacceptable! When the cat was away, the mice played!” The crowd began booing him again and some garbage began to rain in on the stage.

  This didn’t deter Utah in the least. It actually made him bolder. “And one more thing, people! You don’t know how hurt I was last year when you cheered as Trub was chasing me with a knife! I could have been gutted like a deer!”

  The crowd went wild, cheering themselves hoarse at the thought of what might’ve been.

  “I don’t know why I stopped to talk when I could’ve killed that little bastard last year in your tent,” Sonny muttered to Helen.

  “Much of life is spent mourning lost opportunities,” Bobbie Bobb philosophically observed, getting nods of approval from the Germans.

  With an almost imperceptible wave of his hand, Utah summoned somebody from the back of the stage. The crowd hushed in anticipation. Cam’s mouth opened wide in shock as Ned Inkwell, the state criminal investigator whom he’d met yesterday, emerged, followed by the same blonde female trooper. Inkwell went up the stairs to take a position beside Utah. Everyone knew the significance of the cops’ presence and an angry buzz went through the crowd.

  “Hi, I’m Ned Inkwell, criminal investigator,” the investigator announced with a somewhat unfriendly tone. “I just wanted to speak to you people after Mr. Utah here met with us a few days ago and filled us in on what this event is all about. I can see from your opening that this thing is indeed as unruly as he said it is, with a few criminal events thrown in. I’m just going to tell you once that this circus will not get out of hand or I’ll make sure it gets shut down in a hurry. I’m not responsible for overseeing this thing, but I can make a call. Do the smart thing, folks, and follow Mr. Utah’s lead is having an orderly, safe and peaceful gathering, OK?”

  “And to help me serve you folks more efficiently, I have recruited a couple of new faces!” Utah yelled to the now booing crowd. “Maria Sanchez, a Hispanic lesbian, so show her a lot of respect, she’ll be great for our image! And last, but not least, Duke Lando, founder of Flatlands Malting Company!” Sanchez gave a warm smile and enthusiastic wave to the crowd. Lando, more attuned, merely gave a discreet raising of a hand, not wanting to draw attention.

  “You’re fucking dead, Phil!” some unknown voice yelled from within the crowd.

  “Who said that?!” Inkwell screamed, balling his hands into fists, then appearing completely surprised when there was total silence. Cam rolled his eyes and sighed.

  “You were a quick learner, Cam,” Sonny remarked. “Hopefully, he will be too.”

  “Ha ha! Always the jokers! Don’t mind them, Mr. Inkwell, they really don’t mean it. Anyway, let me give recognition to a few others who do so much to make this event so much better: Tom Deville and Clay Sharper!”

  Unlike Lando, Deville and Sharper gave great smiles and waves, making clear their enthusiasm for Utah. They remained unaffected by the booing. “And with that, the opening ceremony is now complete,” Utah announced, and the crowd quickly dispersed.

  As his group walked
away, Cam laughed harshly. Shauna knew what that meant and cautioned him, “Remember what we talked about, dear.”

  “Oh, it’s not me, honey. It’s just a reaction to what we all know but are afraid to mention: More uproar for this year.”

  “Witter!” They all turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Ned Inkwell was trotting over their way along with the blonde trooper, wearing a tight smile.

  “That’s me,” Cam replied as Inkwell reached in, grabbed his hand and shook it. “Let me introduce you around.”

  When that was done, Inkwell asked him, “Can you spare a few minutes? I’d like to speak with you in private.” Cam nodded for the others to continue on without him.

  “Thanks,” Inkwell continued when they were alone. “Hey, first of all, I just wanted to say sorry for yesterday. I just had to show territorial behavior, alright? Like a dog pissing on a phone pole, or a mailbox. You know how it goes. Anyway, I’d like to you fill me in with some background on this GWIBE thing.”

  “I would’ve thought that Utah gave you the complete rundown,” Cam replied.

  “Yeah, but I always like getting a view from a different angle.”

  “I can’t tell you the whole history. Last year was my first time around the track.”

  “Sure, sure, but tell me about the people. They’re different, you had to have seen that.”

  “You’ve got that right!” Cam chuckled mirthlessly. “They almost sent me onto a different career path.”

  “Difficulties, I know. I’ve heard some things. So, what’s up with this bunch? Nobody will say anything to me, not even to talk about the damned weather!”

  “You’re an outsider,” Cam explained. “These people are clannish as hell. If you’re not part of their brewin’ world, you’re suspect. Cops are seen as trouble, interferin’ in their affairs, which they like to handle in-house.”