Death on Tap Page 23

  Someone came up next to me as I watched from a safe distance. It was Garrett. “You’re fearless, Sloan. Crazy, but fearless.”

  “Ha!” I wished I were fearless. Was that how Garrett saw me?

  We watched as a helicopter arrived on the scene and directed a spotlight on the island. It whipped the leaves on the tops of the trees, and the light was so bright that I’d have sworn I could make out pinecones on the forest floor.

  “Are you still upset?” Garrett asked. I was acutely aware of the fluttery feeling in my chest.

  “I just wish you could have trusted me. I wouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I know, I wanted to tell you. I tried to at lunch the other day, but things have been…” He paused and searched for the right word. “Eventful since you started at Nitro.” Were his eyes misty, or was that from the reflection of the streetlamp?

  “That’s a nice way to put it. You know what’s ironic?”

  He shook his head and moved closer to me. Our shoulders touched, making my heart reel.

  “I’ve always prided myself on not attracting drama.”

  “What are you talking about? You didn’t attract any of this.”

  “That’s kind, but I think the last few weeks would show otherwise.”

  Sweat glistened on Garrett’s forehead. “I can’t believe he came back to town.”

  We turned our attention to shouting down below. Had they found him? Shrill whistles sounded from the police team on the ground. The helicopter darted near the bridge and illuminated the banks of the water. Sure enough, huddled under the bridge was a man’s figure. It had to be Van.

  Garrett and I watched as the team surrounded him and Chief Meyers belted out orders on a bullhorn. Van had to come out with his arms up in the air; otherwise they would move in.

  At first I thought maybe he was going to resist arrest, or try to wait it out, but after two more warnings from the police chief, Van emerged from under the bridge with both hands in the air like goalposts.

  They got him. In a spontaneous moment of relief, I hugged Garrett, who stood rigid, not returning my embrace.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m so relieved that they caught him.”

  Garrett started to say something, but stopped and offered me his coat. “You look cold. Should we walk back?”

  I nodded, knowing that there was much more to discuss, but for the moment, I wanted to be safe inside Nitro.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-TWO

  AS DESERTED AS DOWNTOWN HAD been an hour ago, it had now become a street party. The commotion and sound of sirens had brought the entire town out. I lost Garrett in the mix.

  I wrapped his coat tighter against my body and weaved through the growing crowd. People stopped me to ask if I was okay and what had happened, but the reality of the situation had begun to sink in. My teeth chattered, and I couldn’t stop shivering.

  “Sloan!” Mac plucked me from the crowd and threw his arms around me. “I heard you were involved.”

  “No, not really.” My voice sounded weak and quaky.

  “You don’t look so good.” He scanned the street. Shops and restaurants that had closed hours ago had reopened their doors. The owner of the bakery circled with a tray of coffee and cookies, one of the restaurant owners stood in front of his shop with a wagon full of water and sodas, and another had set up a small table with snacks and hot tea. Tears welled in my eyes. This was how my village responded to a crisis.

  Mac motioned to the bakery owner and handed me a paper cup. “Drink this. You need to warm up.”

  My hands trembled as I took the cup.

  “Did he come after you?” Mac puffed out his chest. “If he did, I’ll kill him.”

  “Mac, stop. He didn’t come after me. I went after him.”

  “What? Why would you do something like that?”

  I sipped the coffee, thankful for its warmth and strong flavor. “I don’t know.”

  “Sloan, you scared me.” Mac’s tone was so sincere that I almost considered forgiving him.

  “I’m fine.” I wanted to find Garrett and sit down, but the crowd around us had doubled. There must be three hundred people jammed into Front Street, I thought. Farther down the sidewalk near Der Keller, I spotted Hayley, who was draped over one of the brewery’s bartenders. Mac saw her, too. I waited for him to say something, but he just shrugged.

  “Baby, I know you don’t believe me, but she was a fling—a stupid fling—nothing more.”

  He ushered me underneath an awning. His eyes were almost frantic. “Sloan, I promise—it’s done. She’s crazy.”

  “I bet.” I laughed.

  “No, I mean crazy—like stalker crazy. I caught her parked by the house.”

  “What?” I finished the coffee, wishing there were more.

  “She’s been following me.” He kicked a leaf at his feet.

  “Does she drive a black sedan?”

  “No, she rides a motorcycle.”

  Of course. Hayley had been following me, not Van.

  Mac continued. “But her mom has a black sedan.”

  I crumpled the empty coffee cup. “She’s been following me, too, Mac. And Alex.”

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry.” The breeze picked up, sending a few leaves swirling in the wind and making me shiver again. Mac leaned closer and rubbed my arm. I stepped away and hugged Garrett’s coat around me. It smelled faintly of hops and whiteboard pens. “I think she might have been in the house. Someone slipped our wedding photo under the door at my hotel room last night. Our faces are both scratched out.”

  “Geez, Mac.” I shuddered. “That’s crazy.”

  “I know.” He tried to console me, but I pushed him off.

  “Did he really do it—Van?” Mac asked, taking my cue and moving to my side. “Everyone is saying he killed Eddie.”

  I nodded. “I think so.” Then I thought about Mac’s lighter. It had been bugging me how his lighter had ended up by Nitro’s fermenting tanks since the day I’d found it. “How did your lighter get back there, Mac?”

  He pointed up the street where Hayley and the bartender were now locked in a passionate kiss. “Hayley.”

  “How? She never came past the bar.”

  “You’re not going to like this.” Scuffing the sidewalk with his expensive leather shoes, he tensed and glanced back up the street at Hayley. “She broke in to Nitro and stole a recipe for me.”

  “What?” I responded loudly enough to make a group of people nearby stop their conversation and turn in our direction. “Are you kidding me, Mac?” I huffed. “You had her steal for you?”

  He held his arms up in a surrender. “No! I had no idea that she was going to do that. I mentioned something about Garrett’s beer in passing. I admit it, I’ve been jealous. Watching you with him is ripping my heart out.”

  Mac has a tendency to be melodramatic.

  “She wanted to impress me, so she snuck in and swiped the recipe. That’s when I realized that she was nuts. I fired her, Sloan. I’m done with her, and she’s done at Der Keller.”

  The crowd parted as two police cars rolled up Front Street. Their lights were still flashing, but the sirens had been turned off. I took that as a positive sign that the scene was winding down.

  “I need to go,” I said, stuffing the coffee cup into Garrett’s coat pocket.

  Mac stopped me. His voice became tender. “Sloan, I know I have a lot to prove to you, but I’m going to spend every hour of every day showing you that I’ve changed. We have suitcases of memories that we can’t toss away. We’re good together—you know that—and I’m lost without you.”

  The regret was apparent in his tearful plea. Gone were his sappy puppy dog eyes. Instead, they held a sadness I’d never seen. Once again he reached for my arm, but in a flash I was tugged the opposite direction.

  “Yoo-hoo! Sloan, there you are.” April exclaimed. “Come with me. They need you at Nitro.” She whisked me away from Mac and around the corner.

  �
�You can thank me later,” she whispered.

  “For what?”

  “Saving you from that snake, honey.” April bulldozed through the busy sidewalk and shoved me through the door when we made it to Nitro. “Chief Meyers needs you, and, Sloan, don’t be stingy with details. I want all the gossip when you’re done.” She placed her hands on her hips and waited by the door.

  Garrett and Chief Meyers sat at the bar when I stumbled into Nitro. I smelled coffee and noticed their conversation come to an abrupt halt.

  “Sloan,” Garrett said, pushing back his barstool and getting to his feet. “You disappeared.” Without asking, he poured me a cup of coffee and placed it at the open seat next to Chief Meyers.

  I took that as my cue and sat.

  “Garrett informed me that he gave you background on our investigation.” She removed a walkie-talkie from her belt, turned it off, and set it on the counter.

  “He did.” I cradled the ceramic cup. The heat warmed my hands.

  She sounded almost apologetic as she explained that not only had Van been arrested and taken into custody, but he’d also confessed to killing Eddie. “He realized that Eddie was on to him,” she said, drinking the scalding coffee like a shot of whiskey. “Eddie came here the night he was killed to talk to Garrett. He had a feeling that Garrett didn’t trust Van either, but Van was already one step ahead. He followed Eddie here, knocked him out, and tossed him in the tank.”

  My body shuddered at the memory. “Why did he come back?”

  Chief Meyers’s eyes lit up. “That’s where our perp went wrong. He stashed cash on Blackbird Island. Came back to get it. Not sure why he was sniffing around here. Maybe he hid something in the back.” She looked at Garrett. “I’ll have my guys give this place a thorough sweep. If he left a crumb, we’ll find it.”

  Garrett gave her a half smile. “Thanks, Chief.”

  Her stool scraped on the floor as she pushed to her feet. “I’ve got a pile of paperwork waiting for me. Good work, both of you. Leavenworth can sleep tight tonight knowing that Van is behind bars.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out two police badge stickers, and slapped them on the counter. “Usually I save these for the kids at Oktoberfest, but I’d make you both official deputies if I were authorized. Couldn’t have done this without you,” she said to Garrett.

  Garrett laughed. “I think I’ll stick to beer.”

  Chief Meyers turned to face me. “One sharp guy you’re working with here, Sloan.”

  “Yeah.” I wanted to ask her why she was including me. I hadn’t done anything. In fact, I’d missed the most obvious detail of her entire investigation—that Garrett was working with her.

  She clapped me on the shoulder. “Stop by headquarters tomorrow. I have a few follow-up questions for you, but they can wait.”

  Garrett watched her saunter out, then immediately shoo April and everyone else who had gathered to watch the commotion away. Thank God for small miracles, I thought.

  “Do you want a ride home?” Garrett asked, as he cleared the coffee cups.

  “I’m fine.” I shook my head and removed his coat. “Thanks for this.”

  “Don’t give it a thought.” He waved me off. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Sure.” I nodded. “I need to go check on Alex. I’m sure he’s oblivious to everything that happened tonight, but still…” I trailed off.

  Garrett came around the bar. “Listen, Sloan, I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you.”

  “It’s fine. I get it.” Tonight had been filled with too many apologies. My head pounded. I couldn’t process one more. I needed to be home and to hug my son. “See you tomorrow,” I said as breezily as possible, and walked to the door. Thoughts of Van, Hayley, Eddie, and Mac evaporated on the drive home. I was safe, Leavenworth was safe, and despite the many questions I had about my future, I was headed to the sanctuary I had created at the farmhouse and to hold Alex as tightly as I could. For now that was all I needed.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-THREE

  THINGS RETURNED TO NORMAL OVER the next few days. With Van locked away, I could focus on things like welcoming Ursula home from the hospital and figuring out how I was going to balance working at not one, but two pubs. Garrett was supportive and flexible. We agreed that I would work mornings at Der Keller until we figured out a more permanent solution or until Otto and Ursula returned to work. I had a feeling that her injury might be the end of their reign at Der Keller, but it looked like things were going to work out okay.

  Mac, Hans, and I had begun sifting through résumés. We had some hiring to do—especially when it came to barmaids. I agreed to oversee brewing operations, but wanted to keep the job at Nitro, too. Hans agreed that he would help in the evening until we hired someone. Mac would manage daily operations and was under house arrest when it came to spending. We worked up a contract that stipulated that he needed both Hans and me to sign off on any expenditures over five hundred dollars. He balked at the new agreement, but after his disastrous investment in Van’s nonexistent hop farm, he didn’t have any room to negotiate.

  Fortunately, Chief Meyers had caught Van before he’d cashed in on Der Keller’s investment. She couldn’t make any promises, but thought there was a chance Mac might get some of his money back. Van had already spent the rest, and Chief Meyers suggested it was better to write it off as a loss and move on. Van was going to prison for a long, long time, and the odds of us recovering any cash from him weren’t in our favor.

  Garrett and I continued to expand our offerings at Nitro, especially as we prepared for Oktoberfest. I perfected a batch of cherry Weizen, and Garrett experimented with a pumpkin stout and a fresh hopped pale ale. The new beers were a hit, but would be short-lived successes because we had no idea where Van had gotten the hops.

  One night about a week after Van’s arrest, I was wiping down the bar after the last customer had left and I had just flipped the sign on the front door to CLOSED.

  “Sloan, do you have a minute?” Garrett asked, holding a shoe box in his arms. “I want to show you something.”

  “Sure.” I tossed the rag in the sink and joined him at a high-top table.

  He opened the shoe box, which was filled with old photos. “I found another box of photos last night and started going through them to see if there were any more we could use for the collage.”

  I picked up a photo that had yellowed edges. In it, a young Garrett, probably in his late teens, sat at one of the old vinyl booths across from his aunt Tess. He hadn’t changed much in the last twenty years. He had filled out and his hair was a touch darker, but otherwise I would have recognized him right away.

  He watched as I thumbed through a handful of photos. Then his face clouded. “Remember how I thought you looked familiar when we met?”

  “Yeah.” I looked up at him.

  He slid a picture facedown across the table. “Look at this.”

  I turned the photo over and staring back at me was a picture of a woman who looked exactly like me swinging a young girl with olive skin and dark black hair in front of the Maypole.

  “Who is this?”

  Garrett shook his head. “I don’t know. I was up in my aunt’s room yesterday, and it was in a frame on her dresser. That’s why I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen the picture hundreds of times but never paid attention to it before.”

  I studied the picture. The resemblance between me and the woman was undeniable. I felt like I was staring into a mirror. And the girl. The young girl. My breath caught.

  “Sloan, do you think that’s you and your mom?”

  My heart dropped along with the photo. I’d often wondered about my parents and had even made a couple of attempts in my late teens and early twenties to find them, but once I’d met Mac and become part of the Krause family, tracing my roots became less important. The Krauses adopted me, and I adopted them back. Their family story became my story.

  “Are you okay?” Garrett looked at me with concern.

&n
bsp; I couldn’t force my jaw to close. “We could be twins, couldn’t we?”

  He held up the picture, then studied me and the woman. “Yeah.” Handing me the picture, he repeated his question. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t understand. I have no memory of ever being in Leavenworth until I met the Krauses.” One of the things that I had learned from my caseworker was that kids in crisis had a tendency to block out memories. It was a form of self-protection. But wouldn’t some memory have been triggered when I moved here? I must have passed the Maypole thousands of times, but I had no memory of dancing around it in my youth.

  The picture felt weighty in my hand, not because I was worried or scared about what it might mean, but because it held the promise of my past. How could I dream of a different future without understanding where I’d come from? The Krauses would always be my family, no matter what happened between me and Mac, but I had another story to find—my own. Garrett had given me hope. An excitement I didn’t even know existed began to build in me. This was my time. I knew exactly what I was going to do with the photo: I would use it to trace my lineage, and wherever that led me, I would be able to close a lingering hole in my heart—and make room for something new.

  ALSO BY ELLIE ALEXANDER

  THE BAKESHOP MYSTERIES

  Meet Your Baker

  A Batter of Life and Death

  On Thin Icing

  Caught Bread Handed

  Fudge and Jury

  A Crime of Passion Fruit

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ellie Alexander is a Pacific Northwest native who spends ample time testing pastry recipes in her home kitchen or at one of the many famed coffeehouses nearby. When she’s not coated in flour, you’ll find her outside exploring hiking trails and trying to burn off calories consumed in the name of “research.” She is also the author of the Bakeshop Mysteries, which began with Meet Your Baker. Find her on Facebook to learn more! You can sign up for email updates here.