Wicked Harvest

by Karen MacInerney

  "I was," I admitted.

  "What did you see?" she asked, pencil poised over her notepad.

  I shrugged as I rearranged the flowers. "They opened the big doors, and he was there on the floor, under a big bag of barley." I shuddered.

  "Was anyone else in the brewery?"

  "Not that I saw," I told her.

  "But you saw Adriana Janacek at the festival."

  "I did," I said. "Why?"

  "She threatened Felix a couple of days ago at the Hitching Post," she said.

  "Over the barley deal, right?"

  "You know about that."

  "The whole town knows about that," I said. "What did she say she'd do?"

  "I'll tell you, but only if you promise to tell me first if you find out anything else."

  "If it's something I can talk about, I will," I assured her.

  "Okay. For your ears only. Felix was there with a little sample of his Dubbel Trouble, and Adriana was already on her sixth or seventh Cosmopolitan, according to Frank Poehler."

  "Those do go down fast," I said. Frank was the bartender at the Hitching Post, and although he mainly slung beers, this being Buttercup, I knew he made a pretty mean craft cocktail, too. "But seven does seem excessive."

  "Right," Mandy agreed. "Anyway, she got up and chucked the remains of Cosmopolitan #7 at him, then threw the glass on the floor. And then she said that if her business was going down, she'd make damn sure his went, too."

  12

  "That seems a bit... passionate," I said.

  "I thought so too," Mandy said. "Do you know if they might have been seeing each other romantically?"

  "Not that I've heard," I said, although it sounded like a possibility. What would Teena make of that if it were true? I wondered. Or had he broken up with Adriana to start dating Teena? All speculation, of course, but worth investigating. "So you're thinking Adriana might have been responsible for whatever happened to that barrel of beer."

  "Maybe. Do you know anything about what happened?"

  "Only that Teena marked the barrel they were going to use ahead of time," I told her, "and that when they opened it, it was off. It could be something wrong with the barrel, but Felix was known to be such a stickler that it doesn't seem likely."

  "So assuming someone sabotaged it, anyone could have figured out which one to tamper with, if they were so inclined."

  "Exactly," I said. "And I don't think the Gustafsons kept a lock on the door. Nick Schmidt was back there, too, and he doesn't work for the brewery."

  "Nick Schmidt?" I nodded as she wrote it down, then wished I hadn't mentioned seeing him. "Interesting. What was he doing back there?"

  Looking for Teena, was my guess, but I wasn't going to tell Mandy that. "I don't know. I didn't talk to him about it."

  "Do you think he might have had a motive for... well, for what happened?"

  It was possible that Nick's crush on Teena might have led him to want Felix out of the way—after all, he'd seen them kissing that day—but again, I didn't feel right telling Mandy that. Nick hadn't told me he had a crush on Teena; I was just making an assumption. A well-founded assumption, but not anything I was willing to tell a reporter. "Not that I know of," I said, hoping I was right and that young Nick had had absolutely nothing to do with what had happened at Sweetwater Brewery that day.

  She must have sensed my hesitation. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure," I said firmly.

  "So," she said, checking her notebook, "do you know anything about Max Pfeiffer?"

  "Same as everyone else," I said. "That he was jealous of the Gustafson brothers' success."

  "And he was suing them," she added. Then she gave me a sidelong look. "I heard some rumors about Felix Gustafson having a shady past."

  "Oh?" I said. "What did you dig up?"

  "I'm not sure," she said, "but he seems to have been involved in some trouble in the past."

  "Like what?" I asked.

  Before she could answer, Tobias walked up to the booth. "Hey," he said, surveying the display. "I was coming to see if you needed any help, but it looks great." His blue eyes spotted the carrier. "Is that the kitten?"

  "It sure is," I told him. "I was afraid Chuck wouldn't let me take her with me; he's taken over the role of kitten parent. I found them all snuggled up in the living room this morning."

  "That's great news," Tobias said. "I was worried Chuck might be a cat-chaser."

  "Not so far," I said.

  "She eating okay?" Tobias asked.

  "She is, and seems to be quite alert," I reported as he opened the carrier and pulled out the little gray ball of fluff.

  "She's adorable!" Mandy cooed. "Can I take a quick picture?"

  "Sure!" I said, and Tobias assented to have his photo taken, the tiny kitten cradled in his hands. "That should sell some papers," Mandy said in a low voice, and I couldn't help grinning. "Anyway, I've got to go take pictures of the Buttercup Marching Band for the community page," Mandy continued. "Call me if you find anything else out!" she added, then hurried off toward the stage.

  "What was that all about?" Tobias asked.

  "She's writing an article on what happened," I told him.

  "Does she have any new info?"

  I readjusted the soaps and stood back to look at the table. "She told me Adriana threw her drink at Felix at the Hitching Post the other night."

  "Over what?"

  "Presumably the business, but we were wondering if there might have been something between Adriana and Felix." I adjusted the blue-and-white tablecloth a bit. "Have you heard anything?"

  He shook his head. "No, but then again I'm not exactly grapevine central. Quinn might have a better idea about that." He inspected the booth. "You did a great job with the booth, but where's your sign?"

  I slapped my forehead. "Thanks for reminding me! Can you help me put it up?"

  "Of course," he said as I hurried to the truck and pulled the rolled-up canvas sign out of the truck bed.

  As we stretched the sign out across the top of the pop-up I used for shade and tied the sign to the posts, I turned back to my conversation with Mandy. "Anyway, she told me Max Pfeiffer was suing the Gustafsons, but I already knew that," I continued. "And she mentioned that Felix had a bit of a shady past—Flora said the same thing—but I still don't know the details."

  "Shady?" Tobias cocked a dark eyebrow. "As in jail time?"

  I finished tying off my side of the sign and stepped back. "Like I said, she just used the word 'shady.' That's all I know."

  Tobias finished his side of the sign and brushed his hands together. "So she's thinking it might be someone from the past who killed him?"

  "There were a ton of people at the brewery that day," I said. "It's possible."

  "Did we ever find out who that woman was who was talking to Simon and Max the other day?"

  "I'm guessing she's with a distributor or something, but no, I haven't heard anything."

  "I'll ask around," Tobias said. As he spoke, the mayor's voice sounded on the microphone. "I think we're about to open," Tobias said.

  "Sounds like it," I agreed as Mayor Niederberger launched into her opening remarks. "I was going to grab a bratwurst before I opened; would you mind going and getting one for me? I ran out of time to eat."

  "I'll be right back," he said, and gave me a quick kiss. "Anything else? Maybe another Bluff lager?"

  "That would be great. And maybe a gingerbread heart from the Blue Onion?" I asked. As I spoke, my eyes strayed to where Simon was standing, arms crossed, watching his booth. "Bonus points if you can find out anything interesting."

  "I'll see what I can do," he said, and headed off on his mission.

  * * *

  The next few hours were so busy I hardly had time to think. The mayor and the committee workers had created a wonderful atmosphere, with several of the locals dressed in traditional German garb (think dirndls and lederhosen), and not one, but three separate oompah bands and the Buttercup Marching Band took the s
tage at various times. If I had thought the scene thoroughly German at the brewery opening yesterday, today I might have thought I was in Bavaria instead of Buttercup, even though most everyone spoke English, and there was more than the occasional pair of cowboy boots in evidence.

  The cool September weather had brought throngs of people, and I sold about half the flans from the cooler (thank goodness) and almost all the soaps and candles I'd brought with me; it was a good market. Bessie Mae came by the booth, moving slowly but under her own steam using a walker—she'd been under the care of the whole town for many years now, and lived in a house right by the old train depot, where she loved to sit and watch the freight trains go by. She had been confined to a wheelchair last fall, and proceeds from our last Christmas Market had gone toward renovating the house to widen doorways and avoid steps so that she could stay in it. She seemed to be making progress, and when she fell in love with the autumn spice soaps, holding them up to her cute snub nose and cooing, I gave her a bag for free. I smiled as a look of delight crossed her face.

  "For me?" she asked, with a childlike wonder that I often envied.

  "For you," I confirmed, and as she tucked the soaps carefully into her bag and thanked me, I couldn't help but smile. Nobody was anonymous in Buttercup. We'd had a few run-ins with poison pen letters and feuds, but for the most part, the townspeople looked after each other. I loved that about this place.

  As Bessie Mae pushed the walker toward the kettle corn booth a few stalls down, another horde of shoppers, well lubricated with Sweetwater Brewery's offerings, descended on my booth. One of the nice things about Oktoberfest (at least from a merchant's standpoint) is that the addition of beer seems to loosen the purse strings; it was turning out to be a very profitable venture for me. As I wrapped up yet another pair of beeswax candles, I sent a longing glance toward my dinner. Tobias had dropped off my food earlier, but I still hadn't had a chance to enjoy it.

  Finally, the traffic slowed, and I took five minutes to sit down and eat. As I finished off my bratwurst and bit into the spicy gingerbread heart Tobias had picked up for me, I glanced over at the kitten, who had come to the front of her carrier when she scented the bratwurst. I was letting her lick my fingers with her rough tongue when Teena came up to the booth.

  "Is that a kitten?" she asked. "It's so cute!"

  "I found it in my chimney last night. I think her mom is somewhere around the farm; we can't find any siblings, so we're taking care of her in the meantime."

  "She's adorable. What's her name?"

  "We haven't decided yet."

  "Are you keeping her?"

  "Haven't decided that yet, either," I said, although I kind of knew that wasn't true. Chuck was smitten with the little kitten, as was I... and besides, I'd been wanting to have a cat to scare off any mice who might brave the farmhouse kitchen. And was there anything better than reading with a cat in your lap? Except maybe reading with Chuck in your lap...

  "How are you feeling?" I asked, turning my attention from the kitten to the young woman. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her hair was lank around her young face.

  "Awful," she said in a stricken voice. "I just can't believe he's gone."

  "I know," I said. "It was so sudden."

  "Horrible," she said. Her eyes looked at me, pleading. "Did you find out anything about who did it?"

  "What? Why?"

  "I just... I just have a feeling there's something hidden," she said. "And you're good at finding out the hidden things."

  "Thank you," I said, and held up the cookie. "Want some?"

  "Not really. I... I just can't eat much. My stomach is all twisted in knots."

  "I understand," I said gently. "But what did you mean by 'hidden things’?"

  She shrugged. "You know. The things other people don't want you to find out."

  I'd never thought about it that way, but she wasn't wrong. "Given any more thought to what ‘repeating' means, by the way?"

  "That's what I said when I passed out, right?" she asked.

  I nodded.

  She bit her lip and thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe something else will come. Sometimes it does."

  I had a thought, then. Could I use Teena's psychic abilities to solve one of my own mysteries? "Just between you and me, I think someone vandalized the little house I moved down by the creek," I told her. "I put up a camera, but do you think you might be able to come up with some idea of who did it, and why, if you came by for a visit?"

  "I don't know," she said. "I don't have any control over it, really, but being in places can sometimes bring up stuff for me. I can try if you want. But will you promise you'll keep looking into what happened to Felix?" Tears filled her eyes again.

  "I will," I promised. "Is there anything you can tell me about him that might help?"

  "Like what?" she asked.

  "Like... was he angry with anyone? Do you know what was going on between him and his brother?"

  "Well," Teena said, "Simon wanted to expand the business, make more money. Allow Felix's beer to be brewed in other breweries, so they could get more national distribution. Focus the brewery on the big sellers, including recipes from other breweries, and cut way back on the creative experimentation."

  "And Felix didn't want to do that?

  "Oh, Felix was all about creativity. About making the perfect beer. He didn't want to spend time making other people's recipes, and he sure didn't want other people brewing his beers... he wasn't convinced they'd be able to do them justice. He was livid about it."

  "Mixing family and business can be hard," I said. "Did he ever talk about how the brewery was doing financially?"

  "We didn't talk about it, really, but I know Simon was always super uptight about it. I think he handled the money side of things more than Felix. They argued about it, I know, but I don't know what was going on."

  "Do you know the woman was Simon was talking with? Beth Collins?"

  Teena nodded. "She's with Brewlific... the co-op distributor Simon wanted to sign with."

  "Distributor, or co-op?" I asked, and took another bite of cookie.

  "It's a co-op of big craft breweries across the country. They kind of act like a distributor, but they're not exactly the same. Close enough that Felix wanted no part of it, though."

  "So the tasting was super important for the brewery in terms of signing on."

  She nodded. "If they agreed to it, then Sweetwater Brewery would be brewing beers from other breweries across the country. Aside from what happened to Felix..." her face fell, and sadness washed across it again, "...it didn't look good yesterday. If we can't even get it right for a big reveal, then why would other brewers trust us with their beer?"

  "I can see that," I said. "Do you have any idea what might have happened to that barrel Felix tapped?"

  "Someone messed with it." She was vehement. "I'm sure of it."

  13

  "Who?"

  "It would make sense for it to be Felix, I suppose, but he would never do something like that." She thought about it for a moment. "I know Adriana Janacek was there. Maybe it was her, or Max Pfeiffer."

  "What do you know about Adriana?"

  She shrugged. "She seems out to get Simon, that's for sure. After the barley fiasco, I can see why she'd want to get back at Felix by embarrassing him in public."

  "That was the only reason you know of?"

  "What do you mean?" Teena narrowed her eyes at me. "Is there something else you know? I know Felix said he thought she had a crush on him once."

  "Ah," I said. That would explain the incident at the Hitching Post. "Did they ever date?"

  "Felix said she wasn't his type," Teena said. Since Teena was almost twenty years his junior, I was wondering if maybe Felix's type tended to significantly younger women, which frankly I found a little icky. Adriana was in her early thirties, only a few years younger than Felix.

  "Do you still have access to the brewery?" I asked.

  She nod
ded. "I've got keys," she said. "Why?"

  "I think we should go take a look at the place," I suggested.

  "Okay. When?"

  "I don't want Simon to know we're there, necessarily. When would be a good time?"

  "He left ten minutes ago. He's supposed to be in LaGrange for some kind of meeting tonight," she said. "Maybe after the market closes, we can go over?"

  "Are you sure?"

  "He usually spends the night in LaGrange when he goes," she told me in a low voice. "Felix told me he was seeing someone, but I don't know who."

  "Teena!" one of the other employees called out. "We need help closing up!"

  "Oh... sorry!" she called back. "I'd better get back to work," she said. "Meet me in a half hour? We'll go in my car, so it doesn't look suspicious."

  "What will you say if someone asks about me?"

  "We were going out for a drink," she said, "and I realized I left something behind at the brewery, so you came with me."

  "Good enough, I suppose."

  "I'm parked in front of the Red & White," she said. "See you in thirty."

  As she headed back to the beer booth, Tobias returned to the stall.

  "What was that all about?" he asked as Teena scuttled back to her post.

  "Can you take the kitten back to the farm? I'm going over to the brewery with her tonight to look around," I told him.

  He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that going to be okay with Simon?"

  "He's not going to be there," I said.

  "I don't like it."

  "I know," I said. "But I promised Teena I'd help figure out what's going on. She doesn't think Simon is responsible for what happened to Felix."

  Tobias sighed. "I know better than to try to talk you out of it, but I don't think you should do it."

  "Noted," I said. "Now, will you help me pack the truck?"

  * * *

  Teena was waiting in her old Honda Civic when I headed over to the Red & White. Tobias was taking all my remaining wares back to the farmhouse in his truck; I'd follow once we finished at the brewery.