I had the advantage. Maybe there's something in the beer. Like Popeye's spinach or something. Who knows? But I got the gun.
And Detective Lester Moore entered.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He was even cuter than the last time I saw him. His face was scruffier. He looked tired and tough. I had to shake those thoughts out of my head. I still kind of hated him. Kind of.
"Just hang on a minute," I said. "You may want to get a gun on that guy down on the floor there. He's a big, blond gorilla."
"I got him," said Moore, drawing his gun. "Freeze!"
I went over to the fax machine.
"Don't!" yelled Maisie.
Detective Moore looked at her then at me. "What's this all about? You text me that you're all alone at the brewery and that someone is on their way to kill you?"
"Hang on a second, copper," I said, lifting the fax from the inbox. "Well now, look at this. Maisie here lucked out in the finance department. From the looks of this, it seems her tuition came in the form of a...well, I'd call it a ginormous grant, but I don’t know if that's a technical term. It was a grant, though, from the Gnome Brewing Company."
"I hate you," Maisie yelled.
"I'm very sorry to hear that, Maisie," I said, "because I really liked you."
"Can someone please not keep me out of the loop here?" said Moore.
Moore's backup entered the room, guns drawn.
"It's very simple. Zelda Calverton, more on her later, knew my day-to-day operations by virtue of an office phone tap. As I was patiently waiting for someone to pick up the phone at the Southampton Culinary Institute Office of the Bursar, stellar venue that is, by the way, I realized that this was the only way she could know. I also realized that she had to be the one who orchestrated this whole murder, and that if I was right and I was on the right track, then she'd send someone here to stop me from finding out the truth."
"It's a lie!" shouted Maisie.
"Easy does it," said Moore, and then motioned to me with his head. "Continue."
"Many thanks," I said. "Maisie had asked her uncle for a loan for college tuition. She figured he wouldn’t be able to give it to her if he was ruined, right Maisie?"
She said nothing.
"I'll take silence as a yes. You see, her uncle and Zelda Calverton, Eli Campbell's wife, had an affair. This happened and that happened and it all got very messy and Eli Campbell wound up dead over it. But Shawn Ward had nothing to do with it. It was Maisie who took the benzene from his garage, ground it up, and put it in Eli Campbell's inhaler. And how did she know what kind of inhaler he used? My guess is one of the thousands of fan sites you can access with a lot of time on your hands. It probably wasn't very hard to get it, was it, Maisie? Just as it wasn't very hard to get it into Campbell's trailer during the contest. How did I know? When I exited the trailer myself. You were right there. And why? Because you saw me go in. You were worried I'd find the inhaler you’d tampered with."
The girl was red-faced, tight-lipped, and breathing heavily through her nose.
"Zelda had Shawn Ward followed after his encounter with Eli. Her goons found out that it was Maisie who took the benzene. Zelda went into full damage control mode to see how she could manipulate events to benefit her. She was getting the lion's share of Campbell's will, but she was in fear of being found out. So she conspired with Maisie, whom she knew had a mutual interest in framing Shawn Ward: Zelda's was pure business; Maisie's was pure revenge. Too bad your father had to get in the way, Maisie. Zelda had him killed in order to frame Shawn even further. The two of you planted that coffee grinder in his dumpster, knowing I'd sooner or later come to search for it. Oh, by the way, tell Zelda she owes me a hazmat suit. Anyway, in the end, all was not for the worst, was it, Maisie? You got paid well for your loss. Zelda's company owns Gnome Brewing, and Gnome gave you a grant."
I looked at Detective Lester Moore, and I saw the first crinkling of a much-needed smile beginning to form on his face.
"I missed you," he said.
"I missed you too." Then I leaned down to my little fridge, opened the door, and surveyed its contents. "Anyone want a beer? I'm buying."
~~~
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Murder With A Chaser (Microbrewery Mysteries Book 2) Page 10
