by L. M. Fortin
“Remember the day we came here with Hops and someone had cleaned up the spilled beer ahead of us? They had to use the back door where the break area was because Officer Myers was out front. I thought Hops was barking at the cigarette butts, but I think he was barking at Chris right after he left.”
Scott nodded. “So, knowledge of Floyd’s beer we can investigate at Alterspice. Where did the mushrooms come from? Without those, this will be pretty circumstantial.”
“They don’t grow in this part of Oregon. However, if you had someone check the area around the new Sylvan Ales brewery in California, I think you’ll find they grow there. Unfortunately, all of this came together right when I was standing in front of him, and he realized how much I knew,” she paused. “And if that’s not good enough for you, the fact he just hit me on the head and tied me up in a barrel is a pretty big giveaway.”
Scott got on his phone. “Let’s bring in Chris Ashton. You’ll find him most likely at Sylvan Ales or the Johnson Pavilion.” He hung up.
“Now that we’ve satisfied your need to know how the murder was done, can you tell me why?” asked Scott.
“Floyd had discovered the beer Sylvan Ales was making wasn’t one hundred percent organic and he wanted Chris to go public with that.”
“Ouch. That would have ruined his reputation as a brewer.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It seems that Floyd thought he would be able to bounce back. Floyd had been in the industry a long time and had probably seen a lot of this sort of thing.”
“Chris hasn’t been around long enough to know that,” said Scott. “It’s too bad Floyd didn’t share this with others right away.”
“Floyd was a good guy. He wanted to give Chris a chance.”
“How did Chris think he would get away with this?” asked Scott.
“You just proved that theory yourself. Ethan kills me, and then dies of smoke inhalation setting a fire to hide his crime. I think you’ll find Ethan has either a bump on the head or bruises that will show he was held against his will so he wouldn’t be able to escape the smoke. Ethan’s been so belligerent about going national when his dad didn’t want to, he made the perfect scapegoat.”
Sitting in Scott’s arms, she felt a little like she was floating and she was actually a bit sorry when the EMT’s arrived moments later.
Chapter Fifteen
Callie stood gingerly and surveyed the main room of the Johnson Pavilion for a final time. The Friday night opening had gone well and there was nothing else going on that Jackie or Walt couldn’t take care of. In fact, she hadn’t been needed at all, but she was incapable of not showing up at an event she had worked so hard on.
Walt saw her standing and came over to her. “Hey, don’t be moving around too much. Is there something I can get you?”
“No, I think I’ll get out of your hair now. You’ve spent enough time keeping an eye on me. I’m going to head on home.”
“Callie, I don’t know how to thank you. Tonight as gone better than Yuki and I expected. She loves the jam jars so much, we’re going to start using them for tasting glasses at the taphouse.”
The jam jars had been a bigger hit than Callie had anticipated. The small faceted jars made perfect tasting glasses and fit nicely within Skinner’s hippie vibe. They were also very attractive when filled with the wide variety of beverages available. Callie couldn’t wait to tell Grandma Minnie she was the one who had inspired the idea.
Walt gave her a hug. “I’m on ice bucket duty, so I’ll get back to it. Stop by the taphouse when you’re up to it and we’ll talk about how we can make this even better next year.”
Callie was more than happy to leave the ice and the myriad of other details to him.
The votes for Skinner’s most unique beer had been tallied and, although the announcement wouldn’t be made for an hour or so, she knew that Zeke’s Cellar Special had won the day by a small margin. Surprisingly, second place had gone to Gerta Weiss’ Straight Up Wheat beer. Support for Chris Ashton’s beer had fallen, not because he was being held on murder charges, but because people had found out his beer wasn’t one hundred percent organic. There were just some things that didn’t go down well in Skinner.
The doctor had told her to rest. She had managed the first few hours with numerous breaks in a chair behind the popcorn machine. Walt had settled her in with strict instructions to stay there. However, even with those measures, her headache was slowly getting worse, and she knew she’d be better off leaving the rest of Bru-topia to others.
She saw Scott crossing the room and wondered if through her headache she had the strength to deal with him.
“Hey, slugger. How are you feeling?” His gray-blue eyes showed concern. “You look tired.”
“I feel tired. I think I’m done for the night and probably for tomorrow too. There’s not much more for me to do here. Walt is in his element.”
He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. “Callie, look, when I thought you were missing… you really have to stop doing that, you know.”
“Doing what?” she asked, puzzled.
“Taking risks. Running into nut-job killers. You’re going to put me into an early grave.”
“Believe me, it’s not intentional.” There was an awkward silence. She came around to the front of the table and started gathering up her materials. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, I mean, yes… What I mean is,” he faltered. “Can we start again? I think I messed up our last attempt at dating.”
Her heart seemed to feel warm momentarily, but she thought of their shared past, both ancient and recent. “No.”
He looked startled. “What?”
“Starting again implies erasing what went before and I don’t want to do that. Do you?” she asked.
Scott shook his head uncertainly. “No? Yes? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“How about this? Let’s move out of high school. Want to be an adult with me?” The headache was making her lightheaded.
His blue-gray eyes looked at her warily. “What does that mean?”
“I acknowledge I like you. You acknowledge you like me.” This was definitely the headache talking.
“That sounds easy.” The look of relief on his face when he realized what she wasn’t sending him on his way made her temperature go up once again.
“I’m not done. I also get to call you my boyfriend. That’s not an exclusive relationship or one that requires any long-term commitment from either of us.”
“And I get to call you my girlfriend with the same parameters?”
“You’re catching on. Yes, and we acknowledge this to people we know and accept the consequences.”
He stood silent for a second and she knew he was thinking of Audrey. He moved forward, wrapping one arm around her waist. “I think I’m ready to move out of high school.”
“Now you’re getting it,” she said smiling. “Adults do that sort of thing.”
“Then I definitely don’t want to start over again. I want to start from here,” he said pulling her close and kissing her in front of everyone.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to those who enthusiastically responded to the first book in the series, Crowning the Slug Queen. Writing a book can be a perilous process and when your mind is full of doubt it is an amazing feeling to have friends and family supporting you. Thanks to Julia Sherman for her helpful comments and to Kelsey South for the hours we spent in the coffee shop writing on our own respective projects. A special thanks also to Esther Campbell for her comments and assistance.
Thanks to Planktown Brewery and WildCraft Ciderworks for informative tours on the brewing process. Any inconsistencies, errors, or fictional liberties taken in regards to those processes are entirely the responsibility of the author.