Tangled Up in a Brew

by Joyce Tremel

  While we’d been putting up the tent, I started to fill Jake in on everything he’d missed the previous day. By the time we’d finished setting up, I’d gotten only as far as telling him about the Alvarados when I spotted Ginger heading our way with Phoebe Atwell. I nudged Jake. “Better brace yourself. Look who’s back.”

  He grinned. “Jealous?”

  “Only if your type is feral cat.” Or blond and gorgeous.

  He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “I prefer petite black-haired beauties who brew beer.”

  “That’s good to know. Nice alliteration, by the way.”

  “Thanks. Besides, I can handle Phoebe’s type.”

  He didn’t have to say it was because he’d been engaged to someone much like how Phoebe appeared to be. I could imagine Phoebe trying to run his life the way Victoria had. His ex-fiancée had wanted a famous hockey player man-about-town for a husband and dumped him when he didn’t live up to her expectations. Jake preferred old T-shirts and jeans, not the tuxedos and expensive suits Victoria had wanted him to wear. Thank goodness.

  “You remember Max and Jake, don’t you, Phoebe?” Ginger said when the duo reached us.

  Phoebe’s reaction was much the same as it had been last week. Even though Jake’s arm was around my shoulders, she ignored me and gave Jake a very slow once-over. “Oh, I remember all right,” she said. “How could I forget?”

  “It’s nice to see you again,” Jake said. “I’m sure you remember Max.”

  “Of course.” She gave me a quick glance before focusing on Jake again. “I heard your burger is as delicious as you are.” The feral-cat comment I’d made before wasn’t far off. She practically purred.

  Jake shrugged. “It’s nothing fancy.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Phoebe said.

  Ginger rolled her eyes behind Phoebe’s back and took her by the elbow. “Shall we? We have a lot of people to talk to yet.”

  Phoebe sighed. “Duty calls. Too bad.”

  When they were out of earshot, I said, “If Phoebe has any say in the matter, you can probably declare yourself the winner of the burger competition. We can just skip the whole thing and go home.”

  “That wouldn’t be any fun. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “I seem to have misplaced it for the moment.”

  Dwayne Tunstall had pulled his van up to his spot while we talked, and he got out and stalked over to us. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” he said. “What is that woman doing back here?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “What are you talking about?” I said. “Why would we have anything to do with Phoebe coming back?”

  Dwayne shoved his hands into the front pockets of his white baggy pants. He must be going for the eighties Miami Vice look today. “Because you two hate me,” he said. “You did it to make sure I lose.”

  “You’re way off,” Jake said. “Phoebe told Ginger she wanted to come back.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “You can ask Ginger if you don’t believe us,” Jake said.

  “Maybe I will.”

  “What do you have against Phoebe?” I asked. “She seems like she’ll be a fair judge.”

  “Fair?” Dwayne snorted. “She wouldn’t know fair if she tripped over it. All she cares about is her next conquest.”

  I couldn’t help myself. “Like you, Dwayne?”

  “I’m not even going to answer that.”

  I took that to mean she wouldn’t give him the time of day. At least Phoebe had good taste. “How do you know she won’t be fair? I’ve read some of her articles. They’re a lot more reasonable than the things your brother-in-law wrote.”

  “Leave Reggie out of it.”

  “That’s a little hard to do considering everything that’s happened,” I said. “Why is it such a big secret that he was married to your sister?”

  “I’d kind of like to know that, too,” Jake said. “It makes it seem like you’re hiding something.”

  “It’s not a secret. Not that it’s any of your business. I didn’t broadcast it because I didn’t want anyone to think I had an unfair advantage. That’s all.”

  I didn’t believe that was the reason why he didn’t say anything. He certainly had an unfair advantage with his brother-in-law judging the contest. If Ginger had known, Dwayne probably would have been disqualified. And he’d definitely been afraid for some reason when he stopped at the brew house. “That’s not the impression I got,” I said.

  “Well, your impression is wrong.”

  He couldn’t or wouldn’t look me in the eye. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was lying or because he didn’t want to show that he had been afraid of anyone discovering the relationship. “If it wasn’t a secret, why weren’t you at the funeral home to support your sister? Why wasn’t your name mentioned in the obituary? Come to think of it, it didn’t even mention your sister’s maiden name. What are you two hiding?” I was on a roll and would have kept going, but Jake put his hand on my arm. I clamped my mouth shut before I accused him of murder.

  “For your information, Little Miss Neb-Nose,” Dwayne said, “I was at the funeral home, just not when you and your weirdo friends were there.” My surprise must have shown on my face, because he said, “Yeah, I know all about your visit. Melody is sharper than most people give her credit for. She knew who you were, but she’s a pretty good actress.”

  He obviously didn’t realize it, but he’d just given me more reason than ever to suspect that Melody had killed her husband.

  “Why all the secrecy, then?” Jake asked.

  Any fear Dwayne had shown earlier had disappeared. He clenched his fists. “I told you why. If the public knew Reggie was my brother-in-law, I’d never get the respect I deserve. That’s all. I suggest you both mind your own business from now on.” He started to walk away, then turned around and pointed his index finger at me. “Your father, too. I’m sure you’re the one who squealed to him. Just butt out and leave me alone.”

  When he was gone, I turned to Jake. “I still think he’s hiding something.”

  “Yep. I wonder if your dad got anything from him.”

  “I hope he did,” I said. “It’s hard to tell a cop to mind his own business.” We walked over to Jake’s truck and began unloading the half barrels while we continued the discussion. I told Jake about my conversation with Cory Dixon and how Mobley had sent a letter that put a halt to Cory’s brewpub application.

  Jake shook his head. “It’s hard to believe that guy had that much influence. There’s some money changing hands somewhere.”

  “Either that or there were more objections than Cory knew about. I have a feeling Dwayne and Melody had something to do with it, too.” I told him what I’d found in my search the previous night. “I can’t help but wonder if it’s connected to Melody’s gambling.”

  “I can see her marrying a rich guy so she’d have the money to pursue it, but how would her problem tie into a rejected brewpub application?” Jake opened a bag of ice and dumped it over one of the kegs.

  “I have no idea.”

  He tossed the empty plastic bag into the crate we were using as a makeshift recycle bin. “If we do this again next year, I’m buying a portable refrigeration setup.”

  I didn’t want Jake to use his own money for something that should come out of pub funds, but I let it slide for the moment. We could discuss it later. I opened another bag of ice and passed it to Jake. “Here’s an idea. What if Melody found something out about one of the officials gambling?”

  “Maybe,” Jake said. “But that’s not enough for blackmail—if that’s what the Mobleys were doing.”

  “What if he was using state money to do it? Or what if he was in so much debt he was stealing from department funds?”

  “That would do it. And considering how some sta
te officials have been caught doing just that over the last few years, it’s not a stretch to think there would be another one.”

  We finished setting up well before the festival’s planned opening at eleven. I watched for Randy Gregory to arrive. He finally made it at ten minutes before eleven. Nothing like cutting it close. Jake hollered over to see if he needed any help.

  “All I can get,” he yelled.

  We crossed the gravel aisle to Randy’s spot. “I was starting to wonder if you were coming today,” I said as the three of us easily popped open his canopy.

  “We had a little emergency at the brewery,” he said. “Stuck mash.”

  “Oh no.” Grains and hot water stuck in the mash tun didn’t happen often, but it was a mess to deal with when it did.

  “We had to open the door and let it drain that way, and most of it ended up on the floor. It took all morning to clean up and get it unclogged.”

  “Anything we can do?” Jake asked.

  “Nah,” Randy said. “We’re fine now. Thanks for your help with this.”

  The gates opened a few minutes later, so I went back to our space, while Jake stayed with Randy to help him get set up. More than a few attendees had taken an early lunch hour, but most still took the time to chat, saying they’d be back sometime over the weekend to sample more. When Jake came back from helping Randy, he filled me in on what they’d talked about.

  Randy had tried to pry information out of Jake just like he had done with me at the brewers’ meeting. Jake played dumb and told him he didn’t know anything. “But I was able to get some information from him,” Jake said. “I told Randy you had talked to Cory and he told you about Mobley’s interference with the brewpub application.”

  “And?” I said.

  “You were right. The same thing happened to Randy, and he had even stronger words than Cory had about Mobley. The last time I heard that kind of language was in a locker room.”

  “Did you tell him Cory is thinking of reapplying?”

  Jake shook his head. “That wasn’t my place. I figured I’d leave that up to Cory. If he wants Randy to know, he’ll tell him.”

  Good call. “Anything else?”

  “He mentioned something about Mobley that didn’t really make any sense to me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That Mobley finally got what was coming to him.”

  “That’s nothing new,” I said. “He’s said that before.”

  “Yeah, I know. But this time he added something like ‘I hope in his last moments he thought about the other ones.’”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “I told you it didn’t make any sense.”

  “You didn’t ask him what he meant?”

  “I didn’t have a chance. He changed the subject and the opportunity never came up again.”

  I rose from my seat when a couple who appeared to be tourists headed toward our booth. “It sounds to me like we need to move Randy to the top of the suspect list.”

  * * *

  Jake returned to the pub a half hour later to check on a new kitchen employee who was starting that afternoon. He trusted the kitchen staff, but he genuinely liked being hands-on. He wanted to make sure the new hire got off on the right foot.

  In between talking to festivalgoers about my brews, I tried to figure out what Randy had meant by “the other ones.” I finally came to the conclusion it must mean others who had applied for brewpub licenses and were turned down. It just seemed like a strange way to put it.

  The three judges—Leonard Wilson, Marshall Babcock, and Phoebe Atwell—made their rounds again at one o’clock to taste the beers. One of the things they were judging was consistency. We were to serve the same three beers as the previous week and we’d be judged on whether they tasted the same as they had last week. They carried their clipboards—Phoebe had a tablet computer—with last week’s scores. I wasn’t quite sure how Phoebe could score the consistency category since she hadn’t been here last week. Even with their scorecards, I didn’t know how they would remember what last week’s beers had tasted like. When Leonard and Marshall crossed the gravel to our tent, Phoebe stayed behind to flirt with Randy. He seemed to like her attention. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him smile so much.

  I shouldn’t have been, but I was more nervous than I’d been last week when I poured their samples. Winning the competition would be nice, but I wouldn’t be devastated if I didn’t win. There were many excellent brewers here who had been making beer long before I had. I told myself to just relax and enjoy the process. Easier said than done.

  Just like on the previous weekend, Leonard and Marshall both tasted their samples from light to dark.

  “This ale is exactly how I remember it from last week,” Marshall said. “The citrus notes up front are spectacular.” He took another sip. “And the hops give it just enough bite without being overwhelming.”

  “Agreed,” Leonard said.

  Both thought the IPA was average, which I was okay with. You can’t hit them all out of the park. Leonard especially liked the stout, as he had the previous week, but Marshall thought the malt was a little too roasted for his taste.

  When Phoebe joined them a few minutes later, she shocked me by her attention to the tasting, because I’d been invisible to her up until then. Maybe she finally noticed my presence because Jake wasn’t there to distract her. And he was definitely distracting. In a good way, of course.

  She smiled at me when she finished. “These are quite good,” she said.

  I could have fainted. “Thanks.”

  “You shouldn’t be surprised, Phoebe,” Leonard said. “Max knows what she’s doing.”

  “I’m happy to hear that,” she said. “I’d like to hear more about your brewery sometime. Maybe I’ll stop by when the festival is over.”

  Dumbfounded, I watched the three of them move on to Dwayne’s tent. I’d never seen anyone do a complete turnaround like that. Weird. Definitely weird.

  * * *

  Since Jake was at the pub, I’d enlisted Mom and Kate and put them to work. They were more than happy to oblige and they arrived around two. Kate had left Maira and Fiona with her husband, which was a nice change, since Mike was usually the one helping me out.

  “Was Mike okay with babysitting?” I asked Kate once I’d instructed her on the procedure I’d been using.

  Kate grinned. “He was thrilled. Although I’ll probably have a mess of laundry to do. They’re going out for ice cream.”

  She wore white shorts and a baby blue tank top, and with her hair in a ponytail she looked like she could be sixteen instead of thirty. It reminded me to tell her to ask for ID before serving anyone who might be underage. I’d gotten into the habit of asking mostly everyone regardless of how old they looked. I came close to being the new best friend to several women who were well past the age of twenty-one.

  “We’ll be fine, sweetie,” Mom said. “Why don’t you take a little break? We’ll call if we need anything.”

  I hesitated.

  “Go.” Mom made a shooing motion with her hands.

  I told them I wouldn’t be long. A quick trip to the restroom would be all I’d need. I’d already eaten the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’d brought with me, so I didn’t need to find food anywhere. Not exactly a gourmet meal, but it would tide me over until dinner. Jake’s parents were looking forward to stopping at the festival later, and Dot had insisted on bringing dinner.

  After using the facilities, I walked around and talked to a few other brewers. I ran into Dave at a booth where he was discussing flavored beers with a brewer from New York named Nancy. She gave me a sample of a shandy she’d created with another New York brewery. Instead of the traditional beer and lemonade combination, Nancy used strawberry lemonade. It was delicious. She gave me her card and said if I was ever inte
rested in collaborating on a brew, to give her a call. It was an interesting proposition, and I told her I’d keep it in mind.

  “How did that shandy compare with my huckleberry ale?” Dave asked as we left Nancy’s booth.

  “Hard to say,” I said. “They’re not the same thing.” Dave’s ale was all beer brewed with huckleberries, while the shandy was only half beer. “I liked them both.”

  Dave laughed. “You could never be a judge for one of these things. Everyone would be a winner.”

  I laughed along with him. He was right. “I would definitely have a hard time choosing.”

  “What do you think about Phoebe Atwell coming back?” Dave asked. “I was surprised.”

  “So was I when I first heard. I was more surprised that she was friendly to me this afternoon.”

  “She seems like she’ll be good.”

  He wanted to know if I’d talked to Cory and Randy, so I told him what I’d found out. I also told him about Dwayne coming to see me at the pub, and about Dwayne and Melody’s relationship.

  “You’re kidding me,” Dave said.

  “Nope. I was as surprised as you are. When Dwayne came to see me, I brought it up and asked why it was such a big secret. He did a complete one-eighty from wanting me to ask you about him getting into the Brewers Association to telling me to forget it. He seemed like he was afraid of something. I just can’t figure out what it could be.”

  “Me neither.” Dave shook his head. “I still can’t believe they’re related. That kind of explains a lot, though—like why Mobley seemed to like, or at least pretended to like, Dwayne.”

  “Pretended is more like it.” I was just about to ask him if he had any idea what else Dwayne could be hiding when my phone buzzed.

  It was Kate. “Sorry to bother you,” she said almost in a whisper, “but are you on your way back yet?”

  “I can be. Is there a problem?”

  “Sort of.”

  I heard a commotion in the background. “What’s going on?”