Death & the Brewmaster's Widow

by Loretta Ross

  “What kind of seminar?”

  “Telecommunications in modern police work,” Eric said. He puffed up his narrow chest. “The chief is always sending me to these training opportunities. He can tell I’m gonna be a key player in the future of law enforcement.”

  “Eric,” Wren said, “he’d send you to Mars if he could figure out how to sneak you onto a rocket ship.”

  “What would he do on a rocket ship?” Death asked, interested.

  “Well, if they ever wanted to study the effects of stupidity in space, Eric could be a payload specialist.”

  “You shut up. You just don’t know a good man when you see one. Not like my sexy little Maddykins, here.” He jiggled his knee and pinched her ass and she jumped and shot him a look that was more rictus than a smile. “He does have a certain je ne sais quoi,” Madeline offered lamely.

  “Oh, je sais quoi,” Wren said. “But I’m not going to say quoi. Death still thinks I’m a lady and I’d hate to disillusion him.”

  “So!” Death said. His cheeks were starting to ache from trying not to laugh. “What brings you to our door this evening?” Madeline and Eric glanced at one another awkwardly.

  “Oh, well, you know,” Madeline said. “We’re going out on the town tonight and we thought we’d see if you’d like to make it a double date. Wren probably doesn’t have a thing to wear, though, does she?”

  “That’s okay,” Death said. “I like her even better when she doesn’t have a thing to wear.”

  Madeline pressed her lips together and turned red. Wren was already pink and shaking slightly and Death didn’t know if there was a greater danger of her laughing hysterically or throwing punches. Eric tipped his head speculatively.

  “Are you … suggesting some kind of orgy?” he asked, interested.

  Death and Madeline both froze, speechless. Wren, though, erupted at the small man. She jumped up, got him by his lapels, and shook him. “NO!” she bellowed in his face.

  “Well, jeez. You don’t have to go all Godzilla on me. I was just asking.”

  “Don’t! Don’t ask! Not ever again! Don’t even think about asking. Don’t even think about thinking about asking. Don’t even think about thinking about thinking about … crap! I lost track of my thinkings.”

  “It’s okay,” Death said, laughing. He pulled her back down beside him. “I think he gets the picture.”

  Madeline rose, trying to gather the tatters of her dignity. “Maybe we should go,” she said.

  “That sounds like a good plan to me,” Eric agreed. He pinched her again, making her jump. “All this talk about orgies has got my engine running. I say we should just skip the restaurant and head back to your mother’s for a little nookie in the basement.”

  “Nookie in my mother’s basement—” Madeline echoed with a sort of horrified fascination.

  “Yeah! We can always order Chinese when we’re done. We can ask your mom if she wants to join us.”

  Death put his hand over Wren’s mouth before she could say “for what?” and in a few minutes East Bledsoe Ferry’s newest and oddest couple had gone. Wren closed the door behind them and turned to lean against it, finally laughing out loud. “You know what that was?” she said finally, and Death could hear a hint of vulnerability under the humor. “They were trying to make you jealous. They were both trying to make you jealous.”

  Death smiled at her and let the warmth he was feeling seep into his words.

  “The only way either of them could ever make me jealous would be if one of them somehow got you.”

  _____

  “How long have you had this cough?”

  Talia pushed Death’s shoulder, signaling him to lean forward on the couch, and pulled up his T-shirt so she could position her stethoscope against his bare back.

  Wren was torn. On the one hand, she was relieved that an actual medical professional was taking an interest in Death’s health. On the other hand, the pretty, blonde paramedic was climbing all over her boyfriend.

  “Wren, could I get you to help me bring in another round of beer and junk food?”

  With a reluctant glance at Death, now with his shirt completely off, Wren followed Annie Tanner into her bright, airy kitchen. She and Death had been invited over on this Sunday morning for a day of rest. Practically the whole fire crew was there, most with their families or significant others. There were plans for watching a string of baseball games on television and Rowdy and a couple of the other guys had set up three grills outside in the shade, ready to light when it got a little closer to midday.

  “Tal’s not hitting on your boyfriend,” Annie said, as soon as they were alone. Her voice was warm and slightly amused.

  Wren looked back dubiously. Talia was practically sitting in Death’s lap now, peering down his throat with a tongue depressor in one hand and a penlight in the other. “I promise,” Annie said. “She’s in a committed relationship.”

  “She’s got a boyfriend?”

  “Girlfriend, actually.”

  “Oh.” Wren studied the pair in the living room again, reevaluated. “And you’re sure she’s not considering switch hitting?”

  That made Annie laugh openly. “Believe me, I’m sure. Normally her girlfriend would be here, too. Trinka. She’s a sound tech for a radio station and she’s at work right now, though she may show up later. She likes to make inappropriate jokes to embarrass Tal and try to get the boot to blush.”

  “She sounds great. I’d like to meet her.” Wren worried her lower lip with her teeth. “So, do you think she thinks Death is really sick? Talia, I mean? He’s promised me he’ll see a doctor tomorrow, but I can drag him to the ER right now if I have to.”

  “She’ll say if she thinks he needs to go,” Annie said, “but I wouldn’t worry yet.” Her voice turned sad and introspective. “I think she’s looking for redemption. She blames herself for losing Bogie, you know. Because she worked with him for years and never realized he was sick. Because she couldn’t keep him from going down and couldn’t get him back when he did.”

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Wren said, compassionate but yet a little exasperated. “There wouldn’t have been any warning signs. There was nothing anyone could do.”

  “I know. But she and Bogie were good friends. The guys at our station are all pretty cool, but not everyone on the fire department is thrilled to be working with a woman, let alone a lesbian. Bogie stood up for her. He never let anyone give her any crap. Besides, she’s a paramedic, that’s just how they are.”

  “That’s how big brothers are too.” Wren sighed. “Death was halfway around the world when it happened, critically injured, hiding in a dirty cellar from some really nasty people who wanted him dead on principal. But he blames himself for it, too. So does Cap, I guess because he was in command.”

  “So does Rowdy,” Annie said. “He was Bogie’s partner, and he was there when it happened. Hell, for that matter, I blame myself. He spent his last night on Earth under my roof. I cooked his last meal and made him eat it and I never noticed anything wrong with him.” The two women stood in silence for a long moment.

  “Wow,” Wren said, finally. “This got really depressing, really fast.”

  Annie wiped her eyes. “It did, didn’t it? Here, let’s get the mongrels fed and then we can find something else to talk about.” She started dumping assorted chips and snack foods into large bowls and Wren took over ferrying them in to set them on the coffee and end tables. When there was food on every available surface, Annie looked askance at a large cooler sitting under the table.

  “I need to get one of the guys in here to take the beer in the other room.”

  “It’s in the cooler?”

  “Yeah, but it weighs a ton.”

  “I can probably get it. I’m stronger than I look.” The cooler was heavy, but Wren put her legs into it and managed to drag it into the other room. Annie followed her, looking impressed. Wren dropped the cooler at the end of one of the sofas and then she and her hostess retreated t
o the kitchen.

  “Thank you,” Annie said. “You know, it’s awfully rude of me, inviting you over and then putting you to work.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I like being useful, and I like being strong enough to do things like that.” She laughed suddenly. “Death’s ex came by his office last week when I was there and he wasn’t. She tried the old ‘helpless female’ routine. ‘I’ve got something for Death, but I’ll have to wait for him to come carry it because it’s heavy and I’m just a poor, weak, girl.’ Thing didn’t even weigh ten pounds, I bet.”

  “I’ve heard stories about Madeline, but I never met her. What’s she like?”

  “She’s hot,” a new voice said.

  They turned to find Talia standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just came in to see if I could get a glass of milk?”

  “Oh, honey. You don’t even have to ask. You know where it is. Help yourself.” Talia got a glass and poured herself some milk.

  Wren sighed. “She’s right, you know. Madeline is hot. Really hot. Like a super model, even.”

  “I didn’t know you’d met her,” Annie said to Talia, a bit accusingly.

  “I haven’t met her, but I’ve seen her. Bogie pointed her out at their parents’ funeral, and he used to print out pictures of her a lot.”

  “Really?” Wren asked.

  “Oh, yeah. When their parents were killed, she pretty much just stepped back and left Death to deal with it all by himself. Bogie never talked to Death about it, but he took offense in a big way. For months afterward, if he was a little bit down about something or missing his brother, he’d cheer himself up by printing out her picture and finding creative ways to destroy it. He’d draw fangs and horns and tails on her, use it for a dartboard, blow it up with firecrackers—”

  “Wow.” Wren smiled. “You know, the more I hear about that boy, the more I like him. Talia,” she said suddenly, worried, “is Death really sick?”

  Talia smiled and it lit her face. “He’s not that bad. I think it’s just a cold, but, with his medical history and the state of his lungs, he needs to be extra careful. He said he promised you he’d see a doctor tomorrow.” Wren nodded.

  “He should be fine until then. Don’t let him wriggle out of it, though.” She sipped her milk. “Y’know, I’m surprised. I’d expected to find the two of you in here talking about auctions. Annie’s an auction buff,” she explained to Wren. “Though I understand she’s no longer allowed to bid on antique pump organs.”

  “It’s a long story,” Annie said ruefully. “Do you like auctions, Wren?”

  “Didn’t anyone tell you?” Talia smiled. “Wren’s an auctioneer.”

  _____

  “You’re on vacation,” Annie said. “I shouldn’t be dragging you away to go bargain hunting with me!”

  “It’s okay,” Wren assured her. “I enjoy watching other auctioneers work. If they have a good technique I can always learn something. And if they don’t, I can make fun of them later, behind their back.”

  “Ooh. How catty! I like that.”

  The Sunday paper was spread over the Tanners’ kitchen table and Wren and Annie were poring over the auction listings. Death was settled comfortably on a couch with three paramedics keeping an eye on him. Rowdy had given their outing his blessing, if that’s how one chose to interpret a vague wave and an absentminded, “Sure, Honey. Whatever.”

  “So where shall we go?” Annie asked.

  Wren scanned the ads and her eye fell on a familiar name. “Einstadt Road! Like the brewery. It must be named after the brewing family, too.”

  Annie leaned over to look. “Oh, yeah. That’s the road that runs past in front of the brewery, actually. The factory’s on one side and there are a bunch of fancy old houses on the other. The auction must be at one of them.”

  “We should go to that one, then!”

  “Are you sure?” Annie frowned. “I try not to go to that part of town. I haven’t been by there since … you know?”

  Wren touched her shoulder sympathetically. “I know. But Death thinks the Greys, the Einstadt heir and his wife, are involved in the thing with Randy’s badge. They live on that road. The auctioneers will have spent time there getting ready for the sale, and probably some of the neighbors will stop by out of curiosity. This could be our chance to learn something.” The fireman’s wife looked dubious, but acquiesced.

  “Don’t tell Death exactly where we’re going,” Wren said. “If he knows, he’s apt to want to come with us. I’d rather have him here taking it easy and being looked after.”

  _____

  The auction looked and smelled and sounded like a thousand other sales Wren had been to in her life, though it was a little weird to be part of the crowd rather than part of the staff. It was well under way by the time they arrived. Annie parked in the brewery lot amid a flock of other vehicles and kept her eyes averted from the dark, looming building as they made their way across the street and followed the sound of calling and the inevitable scent of barbecue.

  An hour and a half later, with the afternoon sun beating down on their heads, they made their way to the cash tent. Annie had scored a nice wooden toy chest for her children’s play room, several boxes of toys, a 1970s-era record player, and a random collection of odd records. Wren had a jar of assorted buttons; a small jewelry case; and a vintage 1930s tuxedo with tails, in excellent condition, that she was positive would fit Death with only a few small alterations.

  The line was short and after they’d paid Wren struck up a conversation with the women working the cash box. “I’m an auctioneer myself, from the other side of the state.”

  “Are you looking to transfer?” the older of the two women asked. Her name tag read “Madge” and her tone was a mixture of skepticism and interest.

  “Oh, no. I’m just here on vacation with my boyfriend. I work for a small, family run business, Keystone and Sons out of East Bledsoe Ferry.”

  Madge perked up. “Good Lord! Roy Keystone?”

  “Uh, yeah. Roy and his brother, Sam. You know Roy?”

  “I was at the Missouri State Auctioneers’ Association potluck dinner year before last. Yeah, I know Roy.”

  “Oh,” Wren grinned. “The crawfish pie. Right.”

  “Crawfish pie?” Annie asked.

  “Once or twice a year, usually, the state auctioneers’ association gets together for a big meeting/convention kind of thing. Year before last they did a potluck dinner and asked everyone who attended to contribute a dish. Roy promised them a crawfish pie they’d never forget.”

  “He was right about that,” Madge said wryly.

  “The night before the dinner, Roy and his wife Leona made up a pie crust. They put the bottom crust in the pan, filled it to heaping with dried navy beans, and then draped the top crust loosely over it, after scoring the rim to make it look like it had been sealed. They baked it and then dumped the beans out and wound up with a beautiful, empty pie shell with the top crust loose. They took it to the dinner and, just before they got there, they filled it with live crawdads and put the top back on. Then they just set it in the middle of the table and waited.”

  “Bob DeVrie was one of the association officers that year,” Madge said. “You probably don’t know who he is. He’s from down south somewhere and he was running for some minor public office at the time. He decided to give an impromptu benediction and campaign speech while he had a captive audience. So everyone’s standing around waiting to eat, and the food’s getting cold, and no one’s really happy, and then somebody’s little boy called out, ‘Look, Mommy! The pie has legs!’”

  “Naturally, everyone looked to see what he was talking about. Leona had cut ventilation holes in the top crust,” Wren explained. “Real pretty ones. They looked like flower petals. And, if you looked, you could see things moving inside the pie. Then a long, black, insect-like leg came poking out of one of the holes. Then the whole top crust started shifting.”

  “It was pande
monium.” Madge was giggling and she had to stop and wipe her eyes on her sleeve. “People were running and screaming. It was like a scene from one of those old Japanese horror movies.”

  “The Thing That Came Out Of The Pie!” Wren gasped.

  “Oh, that’s classic,” Annie said. “Hey! Do you think they’d mind if I stole their idea? There’s a fire department picnic coming up in a couple of weeks.”

  “Knowing Roy and Leona,” Wren said, “I can assure you they would be honored if you used their special crawfish pie recipe.”

  A delicate but very pointed cough interrupted their conversation and Wren turned to find another woman had entered the tent. Wren had noticed her earlier, standing a little apart from the rest of the crowd, carefully not touching anything and looking over the items on sale with an odd mix of longing and disdain. “Excuse me,” she said now, “but is this where I pay?”

  “Yes, ma’am, “ Madge said. “What do you have?”

  The woman offered the square of card stock with her number on it and Madge checked their records. “I’m only seeing one item, an antique steamer trunk. Is that all?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  Annie made as if to move toward the tent opening, but Wren caught her arm and gave a tiny shake of her head. They hadn’t found out anything about the neighbors or the neighborhood yet, but her senses were tingling. They waited quietly while the woman paid by credit card. Wren had to bite down on a triumphant grin when Madge handed over the receipt and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Grey. You have a nice day, now.”

  Alaina Grey just stood there, looking bewildered. “Don’t you need to know where to deliver it?” Madge blinked and exchanged a brief glance with her coworker.

  “Ah, ma’am, this is an auction. We don’t deliver. You’re responsible for removing your own purchases.”

  “But that’s absurd. How am I supposed to get it home? Do I look like a delivery man to you?”

  “Look, it’s right there on the auction bill. ‘All items must be settled for before being removed.’”

  “Right. And I settled for it. Now remove it for me.”