by Joyce Tremel
Ginger frowned as Phoebe gave Dwayne a dazzling smile. “I hope our gracious hostess doesn’t mind, but I’d like to start a new tradition for the winner.”
I could see that Ginger had no idea what Phoebe was doing, but she played along. “I would be honored,” she said. “I love to start new traditions. That’s one reason we’re having this festival.”
I glanced back at the audience. If Phoebe pulled something now, the officers were still too far away. So was Jake—he was inching up the steps at the side of the stage.
Phoebe passed the stein to Dwayne. “I took the liberty of filling the stein with your best brew.”
Oh no. She was going to murder him in plain sight of all these people. I wasn’t about to let that happen.
She put her hand under his and prompted him to raise it to his lips. “Drink it down, my prince.”
“No!” I charged forward and knocked the stein from his hand. It clattered to the floor, the contents spilling onto the stage.
Phoebe leaped from the back of the stage and took off running. I did the same. I heard officers yelling at people to move out of the way. Phoebe’s legs were longer than mine and the gap between us widened. But I had the advantage of wearing sneakers as opposed to her heels, and I narrowed the gap when she slowed to kick off her shoes. I heard sirens as we reached the stairs that led up to the David McCullough Bridge. I was about fifty feet away when she scrambled up onto the railing near the center of the bridge.
“Don’t come any closer,” she said. She sat on the rail and swung her legs over the side. “I’ll jump.”
I stopped in my tracks. “You don’t want to do that, Phoebe.”
She laughed. “Why not? I don’t have anything to lose at this point.”
“That’s not true. You have everything to lose.”
“I lost everything fifteen years ago when that man killed my mother.”
“From what I’ve heard about Ronald Moore, he never meant for anything like that to happen. It was a tragic accident.” I didn’t know what to say to her. I wasn’t trained for anything like this. All I knew was that I needed to keep her talking until real help arrived.
“It doesn’t matter whether he meant to or not,” she said. “I don’t care what the court said. He never should have served something like that. He killed my mother and he had to pay for it.”
“What about Melody? She shouldn’t have died.”
“That was a mistake,” Phoebe said. “It was meant for Dwayne.”
In her mind it seemed to be all right for her to make a mistake and cause a death, but it hadn’t been for Ronald Moore. I noticed that traffic on the bridge had stopped. I hoped that meant the police were on scene. I looked back and saw squad cars blocking both ends of the bridge. My dad and Vince, as well as Jake and Randy, were slowly walking toward us.
Maybe Randy could help talk her down. I told her he was here.
Tears ran down her face. “I can’t talk to him. I never should have let him get close to me. He probably hates me now.”
“He loves you, Phoebe. When I talked to him, he refused to believe anything bad about you.”
Just then, Randy called her name and stepped forward.
“Stay away, Randy,” she yelled.
He came closer. “No, Phoebe. Please let me help you. We’ll make it right. My dad’s partners can help you.”
“Go away! I don’t want your help! I don’t want anyone’s help!” Suddenly she pushed off from the railing.
I stood frozen at the sickening splash as she hit the water below. There was a flash of movement beside me. I turned my head in time to see Vince sail over the railing after her. I held my breath until he surfaced. He was holding on to Phoebe.
River Rescue had been notified as soon as Phoebe took to the railing, and they were already on their way. They arrived in less than a minute. Dad and Jake stood beside me as the crew pulled Phoebe onto the boat first, and then Vince. He gave us the thumbs-up.
Dad let out a breath. “It’s a good thing he survived that jump,” he said. “Because I’m going to kill him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dad and a soaking-wet Vince had taken Phoebe into custody. They were transporting her to one of the local hospitals to be checked and it was likely she’d end up in Western Psych for an evaluation. Randy went with them and by now had probably arranged for someone from his father’s former law firm to represent Phoebe.
Most of the festivalgoers had gone by the time Jake and I returned. Ginger stood with her husband, Leonard, and Marshall. When they spotted us, they headed toward the stage, where Mom, Jake’s parents, Nicole, and Candy were gathered around Dwayne. He was sitting with Dave and Cory on the edge of the stage. Everyone except Dwayne started talking at once, wanting a full accounting of what had transpired.
I put up a hand. “In a minute.” I touched Dwayne on the arm. “Are you all right?”
His face was pale and his hand shook when he put it over mine. “Thanks to you, I am. I will never be able to repay you for saving my life. Dave told me how you figured it all out.”
“I didn’t figure it out on my own. I had lots of help. It was just a matter of putting all the pieces together.”
Ginger was almost as pale as Dwayne. “I still can’t quite believe it was Phoebe who killed Reginald and his wife. She seemed so . . . normal. I’m going to have to think long and hard about doing this again next year.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense any longer,” Candy said. “What happened after you took off after Phoebe?”
“Yes,” Nicole added.
There wasn’t a whole lot to tell. I related how I’d chased her to the bridge and tried to keep her talking until help arrived, and how Randy had tried to talk to her. I told them how she jumped into the river and Vince dove in and rescued her. My voice cracked at the end of my tale, and Jake put his arm around me. The adrenaline was finally wearing off and now I felt teary and exhausted.
Mom came over and hugged the both of us. Jake’s parents did the same.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Mom said with a smile. “You are definitely your father’s daughter. I hope you’re not planning a career change.”
I smiled back. “Not a chance.”
Jake ruffled my hair. “It’s only because she knows I’d ruin the beer.”
“Yeah, he’d much rather drink the stuff,” Bob Lambert said.
Dwayne got to his feet. “Speaking of beer, I have a few things I want to say.”
Everyone turned to look his way.
“First, it goes without saying that I want to thank Max for saving my life. And thanks to everyone who helped.”
“Hear, hear,” Bob said.
Dwayne hooked his thumbs on his pockets. “I don’t feel like I’ve earned the prize that was given to me today. It really belongs to those two.” He nodded his head toward Dave and Cory. “I want to publicly apologize to them and say that I shouldn’t have used their recipes. I wanted to brew beer—really good beer—so bad and thought that was the only way to do it. It was wrong of me and I won’t use them again. I’m really sorry.”
When Dwayne reached out his hand, Dave shook it. Cory hesitated a moment, then did the same. It looked like the long-standing feud was over.
* * *
I was surprised at the turnout at Dwayne’s party a few weeks later. He’d had a definite change of heart after coming so close to death, not once, but twice. I didn’t know if it was permanent, but so far it seemed to be. He’d apologized to Cory and Dave numerous times since the festival and vowed never to use their recipes again. The funny thing was, the ones he came up with on his own were pretty good. He’d also admitted he had been the one who sent the letters to the state in Mobley’s name to put a stop to the brewpub applications.
Even Vince was in a better mood these days. He was on somewhat better terms
with Dad now, even if he did still think he knew everything. It didn’t help that he’d earned a commendation for saving Phoebe’s life and liked to let everyone know it.
Candy had done some more research and discovered that Ronald Moore’s finances hadn’t been as good as everyone seemed to think. He had lost more than he’d won at the table games, and any winnings and inheritance he’d had were gone. He’d been mortgaged to the hilt and there was nothing left in the estate. The only inheritance his son got was a fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance payout. Linda hadn’t been happy about that.
Jake and I sat at a folding table that Dwayne had set up in his brewery. He had just poured everyone his latest brew. He tapped on a glass to get everyone’s attention.
“I’m so glad yinz guys were able to come tonight,” he said. “You don’t know how much it means to me.” He held up his glass. “This is the recipe I came up with just before all this happened. I’d like to propose a toast to my sister, Melody. May she rest in peace.”
“To Melody!” Everyone raised their glass and took a sip.
I coughed and almost spit it out. It tasted like a Jolly Rancher on steroids. I looked around the room and everyone seemed to have the same reaction.
Even Dwayne made a face after he’d tasted it. “I guess it needs some work.”
Dave went over and patted him on the back. “I know just what it needs.”
I smiled as I watched them head to a chalkboard on the other side of the room. “For some reason that made me think of the end of the movie Casablanca,” I said to Jake.
“Why is that?” he asked.
“It looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
RECIPES
JAKE’S BREW BURGER
Makes four burgers.
1 lb. lean ground beef
2 tsp. Weber Gourmet Burger seasoning
1 12-oz. bottle of ale or other medium-bodied beer
1 green pepper, coarsely chopped
1 small sweet onion, coarsely chopped
½ cup sliced mushrooms
4 slices Swiss cheese
4 pretzel buns (or buns of your choice)
Place ground beef into a large bowl. Add the burger seasoning and ½ cup of ale and mix well. Refrigerate until ready to cook. Form into four patties and grill to desired doneness.
While burgers are cooking, spray a skillet with nonstick spray. Heat skillet on medium-high and when skillet is hot, turn the heat down to medium-low and add peppers, onions, and the remaining ale. When peppers begin to soften, add mushrooms and cook until the liquid has evaporated.
Place Swiss cheese slices on buns and then add a cooked burger to each. Top with the vegetable mixture and serve either plain or with your favorite condiments.
APPLE CINNAMON MUFFINS
Makes one dozen muffins.
1 egg
⅔ cup milk
¼ cup canola oil
1½ cups flour
1 tsp. salt
2 tsp. baking powder
¾ cup sugar
2 Tbsp. cinnamon
½ cup finely chopped apple
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In a large mixing bowl, beat egg, then add milk and oil. In a separate bowl, mix the dry ingredients together, then add the dry mixture to the egg mixture. Mix only enough to moisten. The batter should still be lumpy. Gently fold in apple. If desired, sprinkle the top with streusel. Bake in a greased muffin pan (or use cupcake papers) for 15 to 20 minutes or until muffins test done with a cake tester or a toothpick.
STREUSEL TOPPING:
2 Tbsp. firm butter
¼ cup flour
¼ cup brown sugar
½ tsp. cinnamon
Mix with fork until crumbly.
CARAMEL PECAN BROWNIES
Makes approximately 48 brownies.
1 cup butter
1 12-oz. package semisweet chocolate chips
1⅓ cups sugar
2 tsp. vanilla
4 large eggs
1 cup flour
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a cookie sheet or a mini-muffin pan with approximately 48 foil cups (2-inch size). Melt butter in large saucepan. Add chocolate chips and stir until melted. Add sugar and vanilla and mix thoroughly.
Remove from heat and add eggs one at a time, stirring thoroughly after each one. Stir in flour gradually until mixed well. Fill cups to approximately ¾ full. Bake for 25 minutes. Do not overbake.
CARAMEL TOPPING
25 pieces chewy soft caramel candies, unwrapped
1 Tbsp. water
1 tsp. vanilla
Chopped pecans (enough to sprinkle over tops of brownies)
Melt caramels and water in saucepan over low heat, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla.
Drizzle caramel over cooled brownies and sprinkle with chopped pecans.
TOMATO BASIL CHICKEN
Serves four.
4 boneless chicken breasts
1 28-oz. can crushed tomatoes
½ cup balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced or pressed
¼ cup finely chopped fresh basil
Parmesan or Asiago cheese
Mix tomatoes, vinegar, oil, garlic, and basil. Pour over chicken breasts and marinate for at least 30 minutes.
Chicken can be either baked or grilled. If grilling, discard marinade and place on grill over low to medium heat, approximately 6 to 10 minutes each side depending on thickness of chicken. If baking, place chicken and marinade in pan sprayed with nonstick spray. Bake in a preheated oven at 375 degrees for 30 minutes or until juices run clear.
Sprinkle with Parmesan or Asiago cheese before serving.
Keep reading for a special preview of Joyce Tremel’s next Brewing Trouble Mystery,
A ROOM WITH A BREW
Coming soon from Berkley Prime Crime!
I slid onto an old piano stool as Daisy Hart placed the fall centerpiece she’d designed on the distressed wood counter in her flower shop, Beautiful Blooms.
“That looks great,” I said. “It’s exactly what I had in mind.”
“When you said something for Oktoberfest,” Daisy said, “I wasn’t sure whether to go with autumn, beer, or Germany, so I looked it up and incorporated all of them.”
“Well, it’s perfect.”
Daisy clapped her hands together, making her blond braids sway. Her choice of hairstyle made her look fifteen instead of early thirties. “I’m so glad.”
It really was perfect. She’d used the traditional Oktoberfest colors of blue and white. The centerpiece consisted of creamy-colored mums and blue asters, and in the center was a miniature German beer stein. I’d ordered fourteen of them—enough to dress up all the tables in my brewpub. In two weeks, the Allegheny Brew House would be hosting its first Oktoberfest weekend.
Daisy came around the counter and took a seat on the other piano stool. “Explain one thing to me, Max. You’re having this celebration in September. Shouldn’t something called Oktoberfest happen in October?”
It was a common misconception. “The official Oktoberfest in Germany begins in mid-September and lasts for about two weeks. So it ends in October. Besides, Septemberfest doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.”
Daisy grinned. “No, it doesn’t. How come you’re wimping out and only having yours for a weekend?”
I laughed. “I’m having enough trouble coordinating everything for just the weekend. Do you know how hard it is to find an oompah band?”
“I never thought of that. But you did find one, right?”
“Yes,” I said. “Candy, Kristie, and I are going to hear them play and make the final arrangements tonight. Why don’t you come with us?”
“I don’t know. . . .”
&nb
sp; “It’ll be fun. A Friday girls’ night out.” I didn’t add that she needed to get out and do something besides work on flower arrangements. She’d gone through a rough patch last spring when the man she’d been in love with turned out to be . . . well . . . someone who didn’t care for her at all. She’d been devastated and had even considered closing her shop and moving away. She was gradually becoming more like the old Daisy, but still had a little way to go.
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Maybe I will. It does sound like fun.”
We talked a few more minutes and decided I’d pick her up at eight. I was glad she agreed to go with us.
And it would be fun. Candy and Kristie would be sure to bring Daisy out of her self-imposed shell. Candy Sczypinski owned the bakery—named Cupcakes N’at—that sat between the brewpub and Beautiful Blooms on Butler Street in the Lawrenceville neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Candy was a Pittsburgher—or Yinzer, as natives were sometimes called—through and through. I’d never seen her wear any colors but black and gold, and I always thought she looked like Mrs. Santa Claus in Steelers garb. Despite her age, she had more energy than a twenty-year-old. Kristie Brinkley was the owner and barista at Jump, Jive & Java, the coffee shop across the street. She bore no resemblance to the supermodel whose first name began with a C. Kristie looked more like Halle Berry, especially since she’d recently sheared off her dreadlocks and now had only a few streaks of purple in her hair. Purple this week, anyway. She changed color as often as some people changed their socks. I had a sneaking suspicion that her recent hairstyle change had something to do with her new love interest, which she denied having. Candy was on the case, though. If anyone could discover who it was, she could.
As I passed the bakery on the way back to the brew house, Candy’s assistant, Mary Louise, waved to me and I returned her wave. I was tempted to stop in for a treat, but I had a batch of stout in the brew kettle and it was time to get it ready for the fermentation tank. Inside the pub, my staff was preparing for the lunch rush, and delicious aromas emanated from the kitchen. Nicole Clark, my part-time manager, was stacking glasses behind the bar, so I stopped to see her.
