Wicked Harvest

by Karen MacInerney

  "He was," she said. "Brilliant, charming, tremendous fun to be with... and selfish to the core. The only good thing about this whole mess is that that poor girl won't go through what I went through."

  "What poor girl?"

  "Teena, I think her name is? Max Pfeiffer told me all about her."

  "Right. I heard you were talking with Max; are you thinking of signing his brewery?"

  "We're talking about it. If he can get a better brewer and some marketing in place, maybe... he's trying to get someone to take over the brew room for him. I told him to get in touch with me when he's got things put together."

  "So he's got to remake the business," I said.

  "He was interviewing some local brewers last week... I think one of the assistant brewers at Sweetwater was one of them. But don't tell them I told you that; I probably should have kept that quiet."

  "Apparently the assistant brewer skipped town," I said.

  She looked startled. "When? Max didn't say anything about that."

  "Maybe he's secretly working for Pfeiffer?" I suggested.

  "Maybe," she said. "This whole thing has kind of been a soap opera, hasn't it?"

  "It has," I agreed, and once again took in her newly dark and conservative hair, her business attire. "You kind of remade yourself after the Swamp Thang debacle, didn't you?"

  She nodded. "I wanted to leave all of that—the bankruptcy, the failed relationship, the ruined business—behind me. The president of Brewlific took me on after I begged him."

  "And you got married somewhere along the line, too," I commented, indicating the rings on her hand.

  "I did," she said, and smiled for the first time. "Cameron is the love of my life. Solid, steady, and always, always in my corner. We're hoping to adopt a baby soon."

  She did look like she was happily in love, despite her remaining bitterness toward Felix. Was she still angry enough to have killed him? I wondered. "Good for you," I said aloud. "It sounds like things are finally coming together for you."

  "I've worked long and hard to prove myself, and it's starting to pay off. They recently promoted me to sales manager of the southwestern United States."

  "Congratulations. I'll bet a lot of people are lining up to talk to you now."

  "They are," she said, and a shadow of regret passed over her pretty face. "I was hoping to give Simon the opportunity, but with Felix gone..."

  "I'd think that would make things easier," I pointed out.

  She looked at me with sadness in her eyes. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? But the thing is, for all his talk, he really did have a way with brewing. I don't know if Simon has access to his recipes; even if he did, he's always been on the business side of things, not the production end." Her voice changed from soft and regretful to firm and businesslike. "Plus, I did some research; Sweetwater's pretty leveraged. It's a risk. And harder now that Simon's been arrested," she added. "With both partners out of the picture, who's going to run the business?"

  "That's why I want to find out what happened to Felix," I said. "Simon's already lost so much. If you're right, and he isn't responsible for what happened to his brother, it would be awful for him to lose everything and go to jail while the real culprit is walking free."

  "I see your point," she said, then gave me a direct look from her brown eyes. "I've only been in town for a few days, so I have no idea who else Felix might have made mad enough to drop a sack of barley on his head." Then she gave a short, hard laugh that told me just how much he'd hurt her. "But knowing Felix, I'll bet there's more than a few candidates."

  * * *

  I had plenty to think about as I left the inn a few minutes later and walked back across the street to the bustling Oktoberfest. The Buttercup High School band had taken the stage and was playing a marching-band interpretation of "Edelweiss", and the smell of roasting meat, candied nuts, and kettle corn filled the air.

  Even though Simon wasn't present at the Sweetwater booth, a crowd had gathered, and the young workers behind the table were busy filling mugs. I could hear the excited conversation as I walked by. "Rooster arrested him," a rancher I recognized was telling a friend. "Apparently he got fed up with his big-shot brother and put an end to things."

  "I heard it was over a woman," the man he was talking to said. "I heard Simon was after one of Felix's ex-girlfriends."

  "They were quite a pair, all right," someone else said. "I guess the brewery'll be back up for sale before you know it."

  My heart twinged as I returned to the booth to relieve Teena of duty. She'd just told me how much she'd sold and headed off to the Sweetwater booth when Molly and Alfie Kramer strolled up.

  "Hey, you!" Molly said, pulling me into a hug. I hugged her back, glad to see my friend.

  "I've been caught up in school stuff and things have been busy at the the ranch, but I've been meaning to invite you over to coffee."

  "That would be great," I said.

  "Shame about what happened at the brewery. I hear Nick Schmidt wanted to work there, but his dad said he couldn't. Probably a good thing after all."

  "He wanted to work there?" I asked.

  "I think he's got a thing for Teena… Brittany told me that's why A&M didn't work out. He's obsessed with her."

  "I didn't know that," I said, but I was thinking of the way he'd watched Teena the other day. Was there more to that than I knew?

  "Nick's dad wants him to stop mooning over Teena, insisted he go to work for Ed. Thought hard physical labor would help him get over it and maybe appreciate school more."

  "There's something to be said for that, I suppose," I replied. "He seems to be doing good work; I didn't know he was so into Teena, though."

  "It's kind of creepy," she said. "Brittany told me he was outside Teena's house one night; her dad had to tell him to leave."

  "Really?" I asked.

  "He's got it bad. But you can't tell anyone I told you! Brittany told me in confidence."

  "Got it," I said, but I was feeling uneasy.

  "Nick was furious when he found out Teena and Felix had something going on," Molly said. "If you ask me, Felix was a bit old for her, really... I'm sad about what happened to him, of course, but maybe for Teena it's for the best. I think she may have been postponing school to hang out here because of him," Molly said.

  "Wait," I said. "How do you know Nick was furious over Teena?"

  "I found him shootin' skeet and swearin' up a storm out on the lower pasture," Alfie said; he'd been listening quietly as we spoke. "The Schmidts' property is right next to ours. I went out to find out what was goin' on, and Nick was in a right state."

  "When was this?"

  "The first day of Oktoberfest," Molly said. "Alfie came back to the ranch because some of the cattle weren't doing well."

  "Nick was at my place earlier that day; the little Ulrich house almost fell down on top of him. Do you think that might be what it was?"

  "No," Alfie said. He glanced around. "Just between us, he'd gone to try and talk to Teena, but Felix got to her place at the same time he did. Told him he was a little boy and needed to leave Teena to a real man."

  "Ouch," I said, wincing. "I'm liking Felix less the more I find out about him."

  "What else do you know?" Molly asked, eyes bright with curiosity.

  "He's had a checkered romantic past, that's for sure. In business, too."

  "Really?"

  "I'll tell you about it if you guys come to dinner soon," I said. "But what's going on with the cattle?"

  "Half of 'em came down lame," he said.

  "Did you talk to Tobias?"

  "I called him right away. He's been out twice. He isn't quite sure what's goin' on; he's been running some tests, though."

  "I don't think you're the only one having that problem," I said. "I went out on a call with him the other day and it was the same thing, and Lotte at Heinrich Feed told me she's had a lot of ranchers with similar problems. She said something about a virus going around..."

  "H
ow are your livestock?" he asked.

  "So far so good," I said. "My squash and cucumbers are dead, I had a bit of a raccoon issue in the chicken coop, and I found a kitten in my chimney, but so far everyone else is okay."

  "You've had an exciting week!" Molly said. "And tell me more about the kitten? Are you keeping her?"

  I had opened my mouth to answer when a scream pierced the Buttercup Band's oompah music. I jerked around to find the source; it was a coming from the direction of the Sweetwater booth.

  I turned and sprinted over to the booth, hoping that Teena was okay, only to find her staring in horror at a barrel.

  "What is it?" I asked as Molly and Alfie trotted up behind me.

  "It's... it's a hand," the girl gasped.

  17

  "What happened?" I asked in a calm voice, catching the young woman's arm. Teena looked like she might faint again.

  "Tracy here was trying to tap another barrel. But the beer wouldn't come out, so we opened it to see what was wrong, and..."

  I followed the beam of the flashlight to the barrel and sucked in my breath. I could see more than a hand now; unless I was mistaken, the body in the barrel belonged to Sweetwater's assistant brewer, Billy Brindle.

  "Someone needs to call the sheriff," I said quietly, and pulled out my phone.

  * * *

  It was half an hour before Rooster bellied up to the booth, smelling like beer (not the Sweetwater variety) and looking extremely put out. The deputies in charge had cordoned off the area, and there was some quiet discussion of what to do next, but a grim pall had fallen over the whole festival. The band had taken a break and was playing again, but their usually perky music sounded more like a dirge.. Despite the bright blue-and-white buntings, the strings of lights, the music and the delicious smells wafting through the square, the spell had been broken, and there was a sense of hushed worry and fear among the scattering crowd.

  "All right," Rooster said, hitching up his polyester pants, which looked like they were starting to get a little tight under his burgeoning beer belly. At least he'd dressed in uniform, I told myself. "Who found him?"

  "We did," Teena told him, and she explained what had happened.

  Rooster grabbed the flashlight from his belt and shone it into the barrel. "Do we know who the poor fella is?"

  "I think it's Billy Brindle, the assistant brewer," I said.

  He turned and flashed the light into my face. "What are you doin' here?"

  "I heard a scream. I came to make sure everyone was okay."

  "Looks like you got here a little late," he remarked, then let out a heavy sigh. "I guess I gotta get forensics back out here, since I don't see how he'd manage to get himself in a barrel."

  He was right about that, I thought. As he dialed, I scanned the faces of the folks standing around. Most of them were young, and they looked scared. I'd entertained thoughts of Adriana or Beth/Bethany killing Felix to settle a romantic score, but this new discovery quashed that line of inquiry. I glanced around again; Nick was standing in the shadows behind the booth, eyes fixed on Teena, propped up on crutches.

  The boy in the barrel had liked Teena. Too much, and way too insistently. A chill ran through me as I looked at Nick, whose face was shrouded in shadow.

  Was he just a young man misunderstood by his father and trying to make his way in the world?

  Or was he an obsessive stalker who was willing to get rid of any obstacle between him and the object of his affection?

  * * *

  Molly stopped back by the farm's booth just as I finished boxing up the last of the soaps. "Hey," I said.

  "Hey," she replied. "You need help packing up?"

  "No," I said, glancing around, "but I wanted to ask you a few questions about Nick Schmidt."

  She blinked at me. "Why?"

  "You know how he likes Teena?" I asked.

  She nodded.

  "Well, I think he was so jealous of Felix that he put sulfur in the beer Felix tapped at the Oktoberfest opening to make it go off. I didn't think Nick could be responsible for what happened to Felix—someone cut the cable to drop the barley—but the young man in that barrel also had a crush on Teena, and I saw him hitting on her with him the other day at the brewery."

  "You don't think... you think Nick's a killer? But what about his leg?"

  "Maybe he killed Billy before he broke his leg," I suggested. "When did Billy go missing?"

  "Yesterday," Molly said.

  "And when did Nick break his leg?"

  "This morning," she told me.

  "So we can't rule him out," I said. Then, with horror, I realized that in both the case of the accidents to the construction sites and Felix’s murder, cables had been cut. And I'd seen Nick at the brewery just before Felix was killed.

  Even if he had murdered Felix, though, why would Nick cut the cables on a building he was working in?

  "But he's over at your house working on the renovation, and you're there alone with him!" she said, echoing my own thoughts.

  "I'm not interested in a romantic relationship with Teena," I pointed out, trying to hide my uneasiness.

  "No," she said. "But if he thinks you're onto him..."

  "We still don't know if he's responsible for any of this," I reminded her. "It's just a theory."

  "Be careful," she said. "Can you postpone the renovation till you know?"

  "I don't think so," I said. "If Ed gets that Buttercup Bank job, I need him to finish the house up before he starts on that. Otherwise I have no way of getting it done before the antique fair. And I don't want those appliances I bought just sitting around."

  "I see what you mean," she said. "Still..." She gave me a warning look. "Be careful."

  * * *

  Chuck was waiting at the front door for me, the kitten batting at his tail, when I got home about an hour later. "How are you guys?" I asked, bending down to pet them both. "I'll bet you're hungry," I told the rumbling kitten. "Let me just get the cold stuff put up and then I'll feed you, okay?"

  As I put the few remaining flans back into the fridge, the two animals galloped around the kitchen together, Chuck almost knocking me over as he raced across the floor. I was happy to see him so active; he'd been slowing down lately, and although I hadn't said anything to Tobias about it yet, it had been worrying me.

  I fixed their food dishes and put them down on the floor—the new arrival was becoming good at feeding herself—and then unloaded the rest of my wares from the truck, still thinking about what had happened that night.

  I hadn't seen Adriana at the Oktoberfest festival, but that didn't mean she hadn't been there. Besides, whoever had killed Billy had likely done it before the barrel ever left the brewery. And Adriana's beef had been with Felix and Simon, not Billy. At the thought of Simon, I wondered: Did finding another body while Simon was in jail help let him off the hook?

  Probably not, I decided. Billy had disappeared before Simon was arrested. Even though it would be horrible business sense to hide your dead assistant brewer in a barrel from your own brewery, I knew Rooster wouldn't quickly give up on an easy suspect. Besides, it was likely that Billy had died before Simon was arrested... and I at least knew of a potential motive, since Beth had told me Billy had probably interviewed with Max Pfeiffer for a job as head brewer. Was Simon so obsessed with his business that he was willing to kill both his brother and Billy to keep them from damaging it? After all, the assistant brewer had access to all of Felix's recipes. I was sure that was some of the appeal for Max; if they could replicate Sweetwater's brews and then market themselves to Brewlific, Max would have a good chance of putting Sweetwater out of business.

  Somehow, I decided, I needed to talk to Max Pfeiffer and find out if he had indeed interviewed Billy... and what they had decided in terms of his future. Or theoretical future, I thought with a pang. Although I hadn't liked Billy when I met him, it upset me that someone young had died. What had happened to him? I wondered uneasily. And was Nick really responsible?
/>   And if so, how had he managed to get into the brewery to kill him and put him in a barrel?

  I finished unpacking the truck, but was still restless. Chuck and the kitten were busy tumbling around the kitchen again, now happily fed, but my stomach was rumbling; with everything that had happened, I hadn't had a chance to grab something to eat.

  But first I had to take care of the livestock and check on my crops. Chores on a farm, unfortunately, wait for no woman.

  Everyone was waiting for me, anxious to be milked, when I stepped outside into the cool, star-studded evening. A breeze had come up from the north, ahead of a line of clouds that looked like it might promise rain again. Although we'd had too much rain earlier in the summer, we'd gone a week or so without much to speak of, so I'd be thankful for it now. The cool, green-smelling breeze felt good against my skin; despite the work still waiting for me, I paused to let it blow the hair back from my face, and took a long, deep breath. Then I opened my eyes and took in the peaceful, starlit scene. A trickle of water murmured from Dewberry Creek, and the breeze ruffled the sycamore trees, bringing me a whiff of their honey-scented leaves. The oaks and pecans, I knew, were heavy with nuts; it was going to be a mast year, with plenty for both the squirrels and me. There would be pecan pie, and dewberry cobbler from the berries I had picked that spring, and pear butter on toast from the two trees I'd put in when I moved to the farm; I'd harvested almost a bushel in August, and had made my first batch of pear butter just a few weeks ago. It was for moments like this that I'd moved to Buttercup, and even with everything else going on, I didn't want to forget to appreciate them.

  After another deep, sycamore-scented breath, I headed to the barn, resolved not to let the upsetting events of the day throw me completely off balance. I had led Blossom to the milking parlor and was about to start when I realized I'd used the last of the feed that morning; I had nothing to keep her busy while I worked.