Brew or Die

by Caroline Fardig

  “Yes. The kind of investigative work that’s ninety-nine percent less likely to get me maimed or worse. I don’t mind going with Shane to talk to Cromwell to try to get him some better answers, but as for anything else, I’m out. Besides, I don’t have the time.”

  “Whatever. This place practically runs itself. There’s no need for you to work sixteen-hour days like you do.”

  “Like I did. I’ve been taking plenty of time off lately to work on my stuff for Maya. In fact, after the morning rush I’m going to be holed up in here doing some research for our newest case.”

  Sinking into a less confrontational demeanor, Pete nodded. “And if you have time for that, then you have time to talk to Shane and find out what he has in mind. At the very least, you could point me in the right direction and I could do some digging.”

  I frowned. “The last time I let you run point on ‘doing some digging,’ you had me playing the role of a call girl.”

  “See? I don’t always have the best ideas, so that’s why I need you.”

  After regarding his hopeful face for a moment, I asked, “Why are you doing this? Why are you willing to get mixed up in something that has nothing to do with you?”

  He sighed. “I’ve known Shane for a long time. He comes off as kind of an ass sometimes, but the one thing I’ve noticed about him is how much he loves Josie. This is killing him.” Staring down at his shoes, he added, “I know how he feels, and if there hadn’t been anyone around to be there for me when Cecilia died, I would have lost it.”

  When he turned and looked over at me, I noticed he had tears in his eyes. My heart ached for him. He still wasn’t over Cecilia. Pete cared so deeply for everyone who was close to him, it stood to reason he couldn’t just flip a switch and be fine. Seeing him unable to let go of the pain of losing his former girlfriend, it became one of those rare occasions that made me actually feel bad for his current girlfriend, Brooke. Sure, she was my friend, but that didn’t keep me from often being jealous of her relationship with Pete.

  I put my arms around him and pulled him to me. “You’re a good friend and boss to want to do this for Shane. Because of that, and since I really don’t want you to try to do any investigating on your own, I’ll help you.” I leaned back so I could look him in the eye. “But if this causes any trouble between me and the MNPD, I’m out. And I’m not ruining my relationship with Stafford over it, either. I’ve been there and done that with Ryder. A couple of times. Got it?”

  “Absolutely. Thanks, Jules. You won’t regret it.”

  I already did.

  —

  After a marathon session of researching my newest assignment, Wonder-Gen Fabricators, I was more than ready for a break when it was time to go out and help with the lunch rush. If Pete could only see this side (the main side) of my PI work, he wouldn’t be worried about me at all. The only thing I was in danger of was being bored to death from learning everything I could about the small metal fabrication company, which was located a few miles southeast of downtown.

  The lunch rush was as uneventful as my research, but when I saw Stafford come through the door and smile shyly at me, it suddenly became the best day ever. Hurrying over to him, I threw my arms around his neck and planted a big kiss on his lips.

  “I hope you don’t welcome all your customers like that,” he joked.

  “Only my favorites,” I replied, winking at him. “So do you want the special today? I recommend it—Brandon made his famous pesto.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I left him for a moment and went to put our orders in. Brandon, our head cook, had finally gained the confidence to begin experimenting in the kitchen, and the results were fantastic. The special today was a chicken, pepper, and pesto sandwich on house-made focaccia bread, which he had come in early to bake.

  Stafford had chosen to sit on the couch by the front windows, so I curled up next to him and laid my head on his broad shoulder.

  “Had a quiet morning?” he asked.

  “Yep. Same old, same old here, so I broke the monotony by doing a little mind-numbing research on a new case.”

  Nodding, he said, “Ah, the glamorous life of an investigator.”

  Before I could reply, Rhonda marched over and stood in front of us, hands on hips. “Juliet, you need to put your firing pants on,” she snapped.

  My eyebrows shot up. “What? Why?”

  She nodded with her chin toward the back hallway. “Our two lovebirds are at it again.”

  “In the supply closet?” I asked, cringing.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  Steeling myself for something I didn’t want to see, I hoisted myself off the couch and said to Stafford, “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.” I made my way to the storage room, Rhonda on my heels. When I got there, I could hear shuffling inside and a couple of bumps. I knocked on the door, and the noise inside ceased. There was definitely something going on in there.

  “Camille? Wayne?” I called.

  “Bust in there!” Rhonda cried. There was nothing she loved more than other people getting in trouble at work.

  “I’ll handle this, Rhonda,” I said evenly. I knocked again. “Camille!”

  Camille’s muffled voice replied, “Just a moment.”

  Oh, yeah, they were doing it. Gross.

  Camille slithered out the door and quickly shut it behind her, but not before I caught a glimpse of Wayne zipping his pants. “Hey, Juliet,” she said shakily.

  Rhonda blurted out, “We know you and Wayne were in there getting—”

  I cut her off. “I can take it from here. Camille, get Wayne and meet me in my office.”

  Not about to let this go, Rhonda followed me down the hall. “You said if you ever caught them again, you were going to fire them both. You nearly had an aneurysm last time. Why aren’t you yelling more?”

  Truthfully, I didn’t feel like yelling and getting worked up over this. Who was I to get in the way of true love? Granted, the room containing all of our non-food supplies, like paper and cleaning products, was not the best place for a romantic tryst. If the health department caught wind of this, they would not be pleased.

  “Rhonda, you’re the only one available to cover the counter right now. Could you go do that, please?” I asked, trying to deflect her again.

  She stalked away, grumbling.

  I settled myself at the desk in Java Jive’s office, and moments later a very frightened-looking Camille and Wayne came in and sat in the chairs facing me.

  His eyes strained, Wayne began, “We’re really sorry. We promise it’ll never happen—”

  I held my hand up. “Look, I don’t mind that you guys are in a relationship. It normally doesn’t cause any trouble during your shifts, so it’s not an issue. But I am serious when I say that you cannot, and I mean cannot, have any physical relations on the premises.” I gave them both a stern look. “It’s unsanitary, not to mention unappetizing and horrifying if our customers were to ever find out about it.”

  A tear slipped down Camille’s cheek. “Juliet, we are so sorry. I don’t know what came over us.” Choking back a sob, she said, “I understand if you want to fire me, but please don’t fire Wayne, too. One of us has to keep our job for—”

  “No,” he said, cutting her off. “Fire me. It was my fault. Let Camille keep her job.”

  These two were sickeningly cute even when they were in trouble. I smiled. “I know you guys are very much in love. Camille, I remember the spark in your eyes the moment you met Wayne.”

  She looked at him adoringly. “Which is why I want to be the one to lose my job over this. Besides, I won’t be working here for much longer, anyway.”

  Wayne shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I thought we weren’t going to say anything until later…”

  When I took a good look at Camille’s glowing face, I realized what was going on here. “You’re pregnant.”

  Tears spilled out of her eyes, and she nodded happily. “I went to the doctor on my lunch break
earlier, and he confirmed it.”

  A proud smile on his face, Wayne put his arm around her. “We were…celebrating.”

  “Well, congratulations to you both. And don’t worry. I wasn’t going to fire anyone in the first place. I only said it last time to scare you into keeping it in your pants. You’re both good workers, and it would be difficult to replace you. But seriously, from now on, keep it in your pants. The rest of us don’t want a front-row seat.”

  Camille jumped out of her chair to rush over and hug me within an inch of my life. “Oh, thank you, thank you! We will be the perfect employees from now on. Won’t we, Wayne?”

  “Absolutely,” Wayne agreed. “And if you don’t mind, would you keep our little secret until we’re ready to tell the world?”

  I nodded, happy to be out of Camille’s clutches. “My lips are sealed. Now freshen up and get back to work.”

  The elated couple left my office, and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as I wandered back to find Stafford.

  Our lunches had been delivered while I was gone, and he had already started eating. He looked up apologetically. “I would have waited for you, but this sandwich was calling my name. Tell Brandon it’s another winner.”

  I plopped down next to him and eyed the delicious-looking sandwich in front of me. “I wouldn’t have waited, either.”

  We talked and laughed while we ate lunch, totally off in our own little world. When it was time for him to leave he got off the couch and pulled me with him, into a hug.

  “I’m on shift again tonight. See you tomorrow?”

  I stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss. “Yes. Be careful out there.”

  “Homicide has that multiple shooting all tied up, so they’re back to handling most of the assaults. I’m in for a quiet evening of chasing ghosts at my desk.” He smiled. “But I appreciate your concern.”

  As I turned to walk outside with him, my eye landed on a couple sitting in the corner. It was Gertie, and she was having lunch with a man. He had his back to me, but I’d have known him anywhere.

  Chapter 7

  After I walked Stafford (who hadn’t noticed Gertie and Ryder) out, I stayed in the doorway for a moment, taking in a deep breath of fresh, albeit humid, outside air while I considered how to play the situation. I made my decision and walked back into the coffeehouse, being careful not to glance in their direction. I headed straight for the kitchen and busied myself with checking our food’s freshness and supply, which was a regular task I did. Not that it had to be done that particular moment, but it was better than being out front in the same room with him. I’d made it clear I never wanted to see him again, so why did he feel the need to come to my workplace?

  So I didn’t appear as awkward as I felt, I made small talk with Brandon and Wayne as I did my work. After only a few minutes, Pete burst into the kitchen and grabbed me by the arm, dragging me with him to the office.

  “What in the hell is that asshole doing having lunch with my grandmother? And why haven’t you put a stop to it?” he demanded.

  “Me? She’s your grandmother. Did you put a stop to it?” I asked.

  He hung his head sheepishly. “I tried, but Gertie gave me the evil eye, so I shut up.”

  Snickering, I said, “You should have known better than to get between that cougar and her crush.”

  “I thought only a few days ago you told him you never wanted to see him again.”

  “When has that man ever listened to me?”

  He frowned. “I wish he’d find another old lady to hit on.”

  “Me, too, but we’re not in charge of who Gertie chooses to be friends with. And it’s not our place to butt in where we’re clearly not wanted.”

  “It’s awfully Zen of you to not go rip him a new one for setting foot inside the place.”

  I shrugged. “Blame Stafford. I also didn’t fire Camille and Wayne for having sex in the storage room again.”

  His eyes bugged out. “Never a dull moment around here, is there?”

  There was a tentative knock at the door, and Camille stuck her head in. “Um…Rhonda is having an argument with a customer, and he’s demanding to speak with the manager.”

  “That’s my cue,” I said to Pete, following Camille out to the front of the house.

  “They got refills for free! But you charged me for mine!” a middle-aged man blustered across the counter at Rhonda.

  She rolled her eyes. “I told you—the people sitting next to you were drinking regular coffee. You had a Caramel Marshmallow Lush. You really think we give free refills on five-dollar lattes? That would be stupid.”

  Lovely. Rhonda had been making some slight improvements in her people skills lately, but she must have been having a bad day today, because she was on the warpath.

  I went around and stood next to Rhonda behind the counter, murmuring to her, “I’ll take it from here.”

  She gave the customer a dirty look and wandered over to the other end of the counter, where she could still listen in on the conversation.

  “Hello, sir, I’m the manager, Juliet Langley. What seems to be the problem?”

  The guy was still pissed, all red in the face and righteously indignant. “The problem is that you’ve hired rude and inept waitresses, your drinks are overpriced, and if you’d spend more time managing than playing kissy-face with your boyfriend, maybe I’d consider coming back here again.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as well. “I’ll take the charge for the extra drink off your bill.”

  “No! I want my entire meal comped to make up for how I’ve been treated today,” he said coldly.

  I wrinkled my nose. “You kind of picked a fight with my employee for being charged the correct amount for what you ordered. I think giving you the free refill is fair enough, sir.”

  “You’re every bit as much of a bitch as she is,” he snarled, shaking his finger at me and then pointing it at Rhonda.

  Rhonda snorted out a laugh.

  Before I could reply to the customer, Ryder was suddenly standing next to him, flashing his badge. “Sir, you’re out of line. You’re going to pay this nice lady what you owe for your lunch and your sissy drink, and then you’re going to get the hell out of here and never come back.”

  Eyes wide with shock, the man threw a crumpled twenty down onto the counter and hurried out the front door.

  I looked up at Ryder, who seemed pleased with his heroic display. “I had that under control.”

  He shrugged. “I thought I owed you a rescue.”

  Was he for real? “Are you seriously trying to make up for leaving me half-dead and in need of a ride to the hospital by not letting some sleaze cheat the coffeehouse out of five bucks?”

  Frowning at me, he said, “When you put it like that—”

  “Never mind,” I said, blowing out a breath to settle myself and not let him ruin my mood. “Thank you for getting that guy out of here.”

  Ryder gave me a confused look. “You’re…welcome.”

  I turned my attention to clearing the customer’s dishes, and Ryder, getting the hint, wandered back over to his table with Gertie. I didn’t have time to worry about our little exchange, because Shane walked in the door. He looked rough, which was to be expected. Giving me an anemic wave, he headed toward the office. I followed him.

  When we went in, Pete hopped up and gave Shane a quick bro hug. I’d been worrying that getting involved with Shane’s fiancée’s death would only bring Pete’s old feelings about Cecilia bubbling to the surface. I wasn’t sure that this was a healthy way to deal with his grief, but he was determined to do something.

  Shane and I took the two seats across from Pete’s desk. It struck me how only a little over an hour ago, I’d been sitting where Pete was, reprimanding two overjoyed employees for loving each other too much, and now I was sitting here doing what I could to console another young employee, this one whose future had been needlessly ripped from him.

  Pete began, “Shane, I’ve filled Juliet i
n on what you told me last night. Have you talked to Detective Cromwell or got any new information since then?”

  Shane nodded, staring at the floor. “The case is going to be closed unless the autopsy tomorrow shows something out of the ordinary. He said there have been so many overdoses in the past few months, they don’t have the resources to investigate each one of them.”

  Pete and I shared a look over Shane’s bowed head.

  I said, “It’s true. The overdose rate around here has skyrocketed lately. Stafford has been telling me how much of a problem it’s become.”

  Shane lifted his head to glare at me. “Josie didn’t OD.” He never did particularly care for me.

  Trying to diffuse his misplaced anger, I said, “I believe you. But before we go attempting to point the finger at someone for trying to hurt her, we need to have some proof that we’re one hundred percent correct about our assumption. You guys lived together, right?”

  Still glaring, Shane said, “Right.”

  “You need to go through your home and make sure there is no sign of drugs or paraphernalia of any kind. Maybe Pete can go with you to help. If there’s even a question about her sobriety, there’s no way we can build a solid case against someone else.”

  “I’m telling you she didn’t use!” Shane roared, then put his head in his hands. He choked out, “Her brother died of an OD a few years back. She’d tried to get him to quit using, and she’d thought he was doing better. Then, when he died, it damn near killed her. I’m telling you she would never touch a drug for any reason.”

  Pete said quietly, “Shane, we believe you. But Juliet knows what she’s doing. We have to follow her lead on this and make sure we leave nothing to chance. If we learn Josie really was murdered, we’ll need to be able to prove it.”

  His comment made me all warm inside. Even though he was opposed to my PI job, he still believed in me and thought I had skills. I hadn’t known that.

  Shane wiped a hand down his face. “Fine. We can go to my place and look around. Then what?”

  I said, “Well, if everything happened at her work, I think we should start there. She worked for an event planner, right?”