"Madison..."
"I know," I said. "You have a lot of questions. Just get on down here. And bring guns."
I kept the gun pointed at Bryce. It felt odd doing so. I'm not a violent person.
#
So that was it. That's the story of how I solved my first murder. And all it took was a working knowledge about how beer is made.
They got Hildy and Pitt, and they found Max Bosch, who was trying to flee to Mexico. He'd gotten scared when Pitt stopped in. And rightfully so. Pitt came with the intention of threatening him. And it turns out that Jack Daltry was Pitt's right hand man looking for the second shipment of diamonds that Max was supposed to leave out by the dumpster. The sweeper killed him. The sweeper was Pitt's cousin. Oh, and the Lola Tarkington lookalike? That was Pitt's niece, Karen Pitt-Fitchburg, an out-of-work actress and makeup artist specializing in facial mimicry. And I thought I was running a tight family business! Anyway, they worked this all out once they heard Dad was in the hospital. Hildy thought it would be a great time to move in on us, with everything in disarray.
Guess she didn’t count on me.
Dad would be proud. I can see him up there, holding up a pint of heaven's best stout, toasting his daughter. I hope it's good stuff. I'd hate the thought of Dad getting up on his soapbox and lecturing God about fermentation temperature and mash schedules and blah blah beery blah blah. So annoying. I don’t know how I lived with it for so long.
What kills me is that I'm my father's daughter for sure.
Heaven can wait, as they say. For now, the world better watch out for Madison Darby.
~~~
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Murder By The Pint (Microbrewery Mysteries Book 1) Page 10
