by Joyce Tremel
“If Kurt and Dominic were killed with some kind of tool,” Candy said, “and Ralph went with Dominic last night, that gave him both means and opportunity.” Once again I wondered about her previous career. I’d never heard anyone outside of law enforcement use those terms.
“That’s true,” I said. “But I can’t figure out what his motive would be. I can’t think of any reason why Ralph would want to stop the brewery. Or why he’d kill someone who was supposedly his friend.”
“Maybe Costello’s murder wasn’t planned,” Elmer said. “What if Ralph got him there to set him up, but Costello figured out what he was doing? He had to be eliminated or he’d blow the whistle.”
He was onto something. “That makes sense,” I said.
Kristie spoke up. “It still doesn’t tell us why he’d want to keep the brewpub from opening. I’m not buying it.”
She was right. Until I could figure out a motive for Ralph, I needed to consider other suspects as well. But who?
“So we’re back to the question—who doesn’t want the brewery to open?” Elmer pointed the pen at me.
The blue flyers came to mind again. “Frances Donovan.”
“Who’s that?” Elmer said.
“The blue-flyer lady,” Candy said.
I explained who she was and what she wanted to do with the building.
“Sounds like a nutcase,” Elmer said. “Now that we got a couple of suspects, what’s our plan?”
Candy lifted the pen from Elmer’s hand. “I know exactly what we’re going to do. Pass me that tablet, old man.”
Ten minutes later—even with Elmer’s grumbling about Candy taking her own notepad back—we had a plan. Or rather, Candy did. I didn’t especially like it—except for going to the Save Our Lawrenceville meeting on Thursday night. At this point, I was too tired to argue. The three of them planned to take shifts when they could to keep an eye on the brewery. Kristie was going to watch in the early evening from her viewpoint inside the café. Candy was going to take the late evening and planned on sitting in her car in the parking lot, where she could see the back door. My job was to canvass the neighborhood like I’d been doing. And Elmer? Well, starting the day after tomorrow, Elmer planned on sitting in the brew house. All day long. It seemed I now had a ninety-two-year-old security guard.
* * *
Instead of going straight back to the brew house, I headed to the deli up the street to pick up some sandwiches. It was almost three and I hadn’t eaten lunch. I didn’t think Jake had, either, since he’d been stuck finishing the cleanup. This time of day, the deli wasn’t crowded. Adam Greeley sat at one of the tables with a man I didn’t recognize. They were engaged in what appeared to be an intense conversation, with Adam waving his bandaged hand around. I figured I’d wait to say hello.
Ken Butterfield was at the counter. “I heard the news, Max. I couldn’t believe it happened again. Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so, but thanks for asking.” I ordered two turkey sandwiches with the works. After I had my order and paid for it, I turned around to leave. The man talking to Adam suddenly slammed his fist down on the table.
“I told you no.” He stood so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. The man straightened his chair, then tugged his black polo shirt into place. There was some kind of logo on the left side, but I couldn’t see exactly what it was. “Don’t ever ask me something like that again.” He stormed out.
I looked at Ken, who shrugged. He didn’t know what it was all about, either. Adam sat rigid in his chair, then reached up and pressed his palms against his eyes. I went over to his table. I said his name twice before he noticed I was speaking to him. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
He smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he said. “Just a little business issue that didn’t go my way.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I settled for the same thing Ken had asked me. “Anything I can do?”
Adam stood. “Only if you can turn back time, which I think is out of your league.”
I watched him leave, thinking that had been a strange thing to say, even for him. Whatever had gone on between him and that other man really wasn’t my problem. I put it out of my mind and headed back to work.
* * *
Jake and I sat in my office eating the sandwiches I’d bought at the deli while I filled him in on Candy’s plan.
“It doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me,” Jake said. “Isn’t it basically what you’ve been doing already?”
I chewed what I had in my mouth before answering. “Pretty much. For me, anyway.” Hops sat on top of my desk, and I watched as she sniffed a piece of turkey that had fallen out of my sandwich and onto the paper wrapper. She decided it might be edible, licked it, and started nibbling.
Jake picked off a tiny piece of cheese from the last bite of his sandwich and dropped it beside the turkey. I was glad he didn’t have a problem with a cat sharing our lunch. “It’s nice they want to help, and at least it gives them something to do.” He grinned. “Especially Elmer. I think he has a thing for you.”
“I hope you’re not serious.”
He crumpled up his wrapper and dropped it into the trash can beside my desk. “Of course I am.” He stood and walked to the door. “How could anyone possibly not have a thing for you?”
I stared openmouthed at the door after he left. Did Jake’s words mean what I thought they did? Or was I reading something into them? “What do you think, Hops? Did I hear that right?”
Hops looked up from her treat, decided my question wasn’t worth answering, and went back to eating.
“You’re a lot of help.” I let out a sigh. It had to be wishful thinking on my part. I needed to get the idea out of my head that Jake’s feelings would change. Especially now. He hadn’t said any more about the job offer in New York. If he’d made a decision either way, he’d tell me. And it had to be his decision. As much as I wanted him to stay, I couldn’t interfere.
The kitten finished eating, jumped down from the desk, and plopped onto her blanket. It was almost four, so I gathered up the rest of the sandwich debris and tossed it in the can, then I closed my office door behind me and headed back out to the pub.
* * *
Gary, the alarm guy, was right on time. I watched as he opened the panel and checked everything there was to check. “I don’t see any problems here,” he said. “Let’s take a look at your keypad.” He had me set and deactivate the alarm several times. It worked just fine.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Could someone have tampered with it?”
Gary shook his head. “If anyone messed with it, it would set off a tamper alarm. You have motion detectors, don’t you?”
I told him I did and explained that they had actually been set off the night the kitchen drain had been disconnected.
He crossed the pub to the motion detector that faced the brewery door and pointed to it. “There’s your problem. It’s turned toward the ceiling. Not gonna get any motion there.” He checked the others. All three had been pivoted on their mounting brackets to face upward.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My anger hadn’t dissipated much by the time Gary left. He’d repositioned the motion detectors and advised me that I might want to add a surveillance system. When he told me the cost, I advised him that I couldn’t afford one.
Jake listened to my ranting without complaint. We sat at the bar after he drew two glasses of stout. Which he did perfectly, I might add. “So moving the motion detectors explains why the alarm hasn’t gone off,” I said, “but it doesn’t explain why there’s no sign of a break-in.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “Any ideas?”
“None. I’m totally stumped.”
“The motion sensors were activated once, right?”
I nodded. �
�The night I found the kitchen drain disconnected.”
“Maybe that’s the night they were moved.”
“That makes sense, depending on how long it took for the police to respond,” I said. “The alarm company called me first to make sure it wasn’t a false alarm. I think it took me about fifteen minutes to get here and the police only beat me by a minute or two.”
“Then it was probably another couple of minutes before you entered. Definitely enough time to move them.”
I glanced up at the nearest motion sensor. “You wouldn’t even need a ladder. I saw how easily they swiveled. You could use the end of a broom.”
Jake finished his beer. “I think you should consider the surveillance cameras. There’s a good chance this person will just do the same thing again.”
“I know what to look for now. Besides, money is tight as it is. Those cameras are way out of my budget.”
“Not if you let me help you out.”
“Absolutely not.”
“And why not?” Jake went behind the bar, rinsed his glass, and placed it in the other side of the sink.
“Because it’s not fair to you.” Especially if he was thinking about not being here. “It’s my responsibility.”
He leaned across the bar. “It’s not like you’re forcing me. It’s fair if it’s something I want to do.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
I pushed my drink away. “This place—this brewery—is my dream. Not yours.”
“You don’t know that.”
But I did. “Hockey has always been your dream. For as long as I’ve known you, you never wanted to be anything but a hockey player.”
“Well, things changed. That dream is over.”
By the set of his jaw, I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t going to let him change the subject this time. “So, what changed, Jake?”
He stared across the room, and for a minute I thought he wasn’t going to tell me. Finally he came around the bar and took the seat beside me. “I guess you have the right to know.” He took a breath and blew it out. “You’re right. I never wanted to do anything but play hockey—ever since my dad took me to my first game. Even before that I loved flying across the ice on my skates. I never feel so alive as when I’m on the ice. I guess I should be happy I had the chance to play on a professional team.”
He still hadn’t said why he wasn’t playing anymore. I didn’t want to push him, so I waited.
“Two years ago, I was tripped and my head slammed into the boards.”
Jake must have seen me wince, because he said, “Yeah. I blacked out and had to be carried off the ice. I had a concussion and didn’t play for half the season. When I finally returned to the ice, I still wasn’t a hundred percent. Every once in a while, my vision would blur, or I’d see double.”
“And they let you play like that?”
“They wouldn’t have if I’d have told them.”
“Jake! You should have—”
He put his hands up. “I know I should have, but you know what they say about hindsight. I didn’t even tell Victoria. Not that it would have mattered. Even if she realized how serious it was, she wouldn’t have stopped me from playing. It would have ruined all her plans.”
The more I heard about the ex-fiancée, the more I disliked her.
“Anyway, I made it through the rest of the season thinking all I needed was some rest. I was right for the most part. My vision improved and I thought everything was okay, and then halfway through last season I got hit again.”
“Oh no.” My heart went out to him. I took his hand without even thinking about it and he squeezed mine.
“It was worse this time. In addition to another concussion, I had to be treated for a blood clot in my brain. The doctor told me I was lucky I didn’t die. And then he gave me the really bad news. If I kept playing and got hit again, there was a good chance it would kill me.” He gave me a little smile. “I kind of like being alive, so I opted for a career change.”
“I am so sorry.” I never in a million years imagined it was anything so serious. No wonder he didn’t want to talk about it. I thought about us playing football in my parents’ yard. It was touch football, but I was worried anyway. “Are you out of danger now?”
“Yeah, I am. I just can’t play hockey.” He stood. “Don’t look so sad. It’s not the end of the world. I had at most three or four more years before I’d have to retire anyway. And I do love what I’m doing now.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Especially working here. I couldn’t ask for a better place to be.”
I had to ask. “Does that mean you’ve decided to stay?”
“Definitely. Victoria called me again. It seems she had an ulterior motive—no surprise there. That chef position also entailed being in a reality show. And guess who’d get her big shot at being on national TV—as my fiancée, no less?”
“I guess she wasn’t too happy with you.”
Jake laughed. “I never knew she could swear like that.”
Good thing he hadn’t gotten to the brewery any earlier this morning, or he would have heard cussing in three languages.
We talked a while longer. Jake offered to buy me dinner, but I asked for a rain check. Not only was I exhausted, I had to get the kitten home. She’d been stuck in my office all day, which really wasn’t fair to her. My workdays weren’t going to get any shorter, so I needed to come up with a way to accommodate both of us.
After Jake left, I gathered up Hops, set the alarm, and locked the door behind me. Adam Greeley had just exited Handbag Heaven, and I waved to him. He didn’t acknowledge me and kept walking toward the parking lot next door.
Seeing Adam reminded me of Daisy, so instead of going to my car, I turned in the other direction. Daisy looked up when Hops and I entered Beautiful Blooms.
“You still have that cat?” She sounded surprised.
“Yep.” I scratched the kitten on her head. “Hops and I are pretty good friends now.”
“I never took you for a cat person. Didn’t you tell me it’s a stray? It could be vicious.”
I laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. She’s very sweet.” I held Hops out to her. “Would you like to hold her?”
Daisy backed away and waved her hands. “No, thanks. I’m not taking any chances. How is everything over there today? I saw the TV news van. You didn’t have to talk to them, did you?”
“No, thank goodness,” I said. I gave her a rundown of my day. “So, we’re managing, and if someone tries to break in again, the motion detectors should work.”
“That’s good.” She glanced at her watch.
“Am I keeping you from something?” I asked.
She blushed. “Not really. I mean . . . it’s just . . . I’m supposed to meet Adam.”
“I saw him leaving his store right before I came in. I think he was headed for the parking lot.”
“I’d better get a move on then,” Daisy said, reaching for her keys. “I don’t want to keep him waiting.”
We walked to the door together, and while she locked up I asked her where Adam was taking her.
“Oh, we don’t go out.” She blushed again. “We’re not ready to make our relationship public yet.”
More like Adam wasn’t. I was sure it wasn’t Daisy’s idea. It’s one thing keeping your feelings to yourself when you know the other person doesn’t feel the same way, but I didn’t understand why Adam wouldn’t want anyone to know he was seeing Daisy. Maybe he was one of those guys who had a wife in another city. Or maybe my imagination was running away with me.
I didn’t want to see Daisy get hurt. Hopefully Adam would come to his senses, declare his love, and they’d live happily ever after.
Right.
There was about as much a chance of that as Jake doing the same.
Hops and I were both glad to get home. I played with her for a while, then fed her dinner. I didn’t feel like eating, which was good, because I didn’t feel like cooking. Ice cream and cereal were the only things I had that didn’t require cooking. Not that there was anything wrong with eating cereal for dinner. I’d done it many times. Ice cream would be a bonus.
I stretched out on the sofa. I owed my mother a call—I’d only talked to her briefly that morning, but I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The kitten climbed up and made herself comfortable on my stomach. She purred as I stroked her head. I closed my eyes thinking I’d just rest them for a minute.
I woke up two hours later. Hops was still asleep, so I gently lifted her and placed her back on the couch after I got up. I fixed a bowl of cereal and took it to my desk in the bedroom, where I switched on my laptop. If computers had feelings, this one would surely feel neglect because I rarely used it. I either used my phone or the computer at the pub, since I was there most of the time. Also the one at the pub was much newer. And faster.
I wasn’t sure what it would accomplish, but I’d decided to Google every business on my block of Butler Street, as well as the hardware store and Dominic’s bar. I probably should have done it days ago, but this was really the first large chunk of time I’d had to devote to it. I started with the Galaxy. Nothing much came up, other than an old article in the paper about the police responding to a bar fight. The only thing on Dominic was one of those sites that read, We found one Dominic Costello in Pittsburgh, then try to get you to pay to get his phone number.
There wasn’t much on Ralph Meehan, either, other than that he was on Facebook. The hardware store didn’t have a website. Neither did Ken Butterfield’s deli. Crazy Cards, Jump, Jive & Java, Beautiful Blooms, and Cupcakes N’at all had websites. I spent way too much time checking out Annie Simpson’s craft classes. When the pub was established and I was able to take a night off here and there, I’d have to sign up for one. I liked the idea of making a scrapbook about my time in Germany. Nothing in my search of the store owners stood out.