Brew or Die

by Caroline Fardig

  “Not just any event planner. She worked at Leonidas Luxury Events.”

  “Damn,” I said, whistling. “They’re huge.”

  Pete nodded. “And they work with the biggest names in town. I’ve been to a couple of album release parties they’ve thrown. They have an army of employees.”

  I’d been mulling over an idea of how to get information from some of Josie’s colleagues. “Shane, were you planning to go into Josie’s work to collect her things?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it yet, but I probably should.”

  “Okay, why don’t you contact them and see if you can go in tomorrow morning. I think they might be more willing to share information with you if you go alone.”

  Shane frowned. “And you’ll be doing what, exactly?”

  This guy.

  Without a trace of the irritation I was feeling, I replied, “I think me being there in person will cause people to clam up. I’m going to see if I can get some equipment from my partner so I can listen in and maybe give you some instruction as to what questions to ask. I hate to be cold about this, but her work friends will be grieving, too. So if they share your feeling that something weird is going on, they might be more than happy to spill their guts. Do you know any of them well?”

  “I know at least one of them well enough that she should talk to me freely.”

  I smiled. “That’s great. I think we have a plan.”

  Shane got up suddenly and went to the door. “I’ll let you know what time I’m going in tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.

  Pete said, “Sorry he got a little short with you. You know Shane.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  After hesitating a moment, he said, “Jules, I don’t mean to complain or anything, but besides tagging along while Shane looks through his house, what do I get to do?”

  I stared at him, trying not to crack a smile. For all of the bellyaching I’d heard out of him over the last several months about putting ourselves in danger, underneath it all he really did love the thrill of investigating. “You’re welcome to sit in Maya’s van with me and listen to Shane’s conversation with Josie’s work buddies.”

  His face brightened. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Catching himself getting too excited about this, he leaned back in his chair and tried for a nonchalant attitude. “Cool.”

  —

  That evening, I headed to Maya’s office to go over more of the specifics of the Wonder-Gen case now that I’d done my preliminary research.

  “You look happy,” she said as I walked in the door.

  Settling into the chair across from her desk, I replied, “I am.”

  Narrowing her eyes at me, she prodded, “Any reason in particular?”

  I shrugged. “Life is good.”

  “You and Stafford had a shag, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “And?”

  “What do you want, a full report?”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “I’m not getting any, so can’t I live vicariously through my friends?”

  Ignoring her, I opened the file I brought. “So about Wonder-Gen…”

  “Fine, be a party pooper. What did you find out?”

  “It’s a small metal fabrication company started by Jim Wonderlich and Thomas Gentry, which, I assume, is where they got the name Wonder-Gen. They seem to be able to make any kind of metal piece their customers can dream up, but their bread and butter is appliance and HVAC parts. They employ just over fifty people. They’ve been in business for around thirty years, and I couldn’t find where they’d ever been in any kind of legal or bankruptcy trouble. The only thing I saw was that the IRS reviewed them once on suspicion of structuring, whatever that is, but nothing ever came of it. If they’re doing something shady, they’re doing it well.”

  “Good work. And by the way, structuring is when you break apart large cash deposits in order to fly under the government’s radar and evade the Bank Secrecy Act. A bank has to file a form with the IRS every time they make a cash transaction of over ten grand. It’s intended to deter drug trafficking and money laundering and things like that.” She pulled a paper out of her file. “I’ve been looking into the owners themselves, and it looks as if Wonderlich has been in trouble with the law recently for assault, but nothing came of that, either. Charges dropped, case closed.”

  “Are we working for him or the other guy?” I asked uneasily.

  “The other guy. Gentry.”

  “Who did Wonderlich assault? Gentry?”

  “No, but the man was a Wonder-Gen employee and the altercation happened on company premises. However, it was after hours, late one night after everyone had gone home, so that doesn’t necessarily mean it was work-related.”

  I thought for a moment. “Sounds like too much of a coincidence not to be somehow related to our investigation.”

  Maya smiled. “Exactly. Which is why I’ve asked Gentry to get us jobs on the nighttime cleaning crew.”

  “Cleaning? No thanks. I do enough of that at my day job. Couldn’t we be welders or punch press operators or something like that?”

  Giving me a confused look, she replied, “You know how to weld and work a punch press?”

  “No, but if we’re undercover, does it really matter? If you’re lying about who you are, you can lie about what you can do.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Focus, please. The cleaning crew are the only ones there at night and they have free run of the building, so that’s what we’re doing. And we’re doing it tomorrow night, so catch up on your sleep as much as you can.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Oh, and speaking of surveillance, can I borrow your van and some listening equipment tomorrow?”

  Eyeing me suspiciously, she asked, “What do you need it for?”

  I filled her in on the sad story of Josie’s death and Shane’s insistence that she hadn’t done the deed herself. I half expected Maya to be against me getting involved, but she seemed agreeable enough.

  “I think it’s a great way to practice your skills without a paying customer breathing down your neck, as long as you don’t break any rules or step on any MNPD toes. And if the case closes tomorrow, it’s not like you’re going to be mucking up anything for Cromwell. Once he’s done, he’s done.” She gave me a sly smile and added, “And please don’t get arrested during your surveillance mission this time.”

  —

  The afternoon back at Java Jive was thankfully uneventful, and Pete came in after work with a big smile on his face. I had to admit I was happy to see him so excited to do a little sleuthing with me, but it was perplexing at the same time. Maybe his dilemma with my new job really was all about the fact that I was basically leaving him behind and going it alone. I probably needed to quit trying to understand men, because I’d never been good at it in the first place.

  As he approached the counter, he sang, “ ‘My discotheque Juliet, teenage dream.’ ” Pete often serenaded me with “Juliet” songs, especially when he was in a good mood.

  I thought for a moment. “Hey, that’s not from a ‘Juliet’ song.”

  He scoffed, “It’s got your name in it. Close enough.” His eyes sparkled. “So did you get Maya to lend us her Mystery Machine?”

  Chuckling, I replied, “Yes, but she warned me that we have to follow the rules.”

  He grabbed a towel from under the counter and snapped me on the thigh with it, grinning. “That’s no fun.”

  Pete and I shared the task of doing Shane’s job all evening, which was splitting time between the kitchen and the counter, doing whatever tasks needed to be done the most. The coffeehouse wasn’t especially busy, so there was hardly a need for both of us to do one job, but we were having fun simply being together. It didn’t even seem like work.

  As we were sitting on the couch taking a lengthy break, Pete said, “Next Thursday night I’m getting a few of Brooke’s friends together to go out for her
birthday and to celebrate her all clear to go back to work. You and Stafford want to join?”

  Brooke had been attacked by Ryder’s wife’s killer (as had I), but Brooke had sustained much worse injuries and had been in rehab for weeks and off work for months. Being an ER nurse, she had to be back to one hundred percent in order to do her stressful and physically taxing job, so sitting around at home when she felt fine was driving her nuts.

  “Sure, but it depends if we’re working or not.”

  Nudging my knee with his, he said, “I know your boss. I think he’ll let you off for this one.”

  “I meant my other job.”

  “Well, I was going to invite Maya, too, so surely she wouldn’t make you work while she goes to a party.”

  I opened my mouth intending to tell him Maya would be out of town, but when I saw who walked through the door, I suddenly forgot what I was going to say.

  Chapter 8

  Ryder was here again? I couldn’t imagine why he’d feel the need to come here twice in one day. But judging from the serious look on his face, he wasn’t here for a late-night coffee.

  He approached us, and I felt Pete stiffen beside me. There was no way this was going to end well.

  Before Ryder could say anything, Pete pointed at the door. “You can just back up on out of here, man. You are most definitely not welcome unless you’re a guest of Gertie’s.”

  Ignoring Pete, Ryder said to me, “Juliet, I need to speak with you, please.”

  Pete griped, “Hey, Ryder Likeapony, did you hear me—”

  I laid a hand on Pete’s arm. “It’s okay, Pete.”

  Ryder’s sudden need to talk with me appeared to be rather monumental, what with him using the p word and all. It was a rarely used part of his vocabulary, especially when we were at odds.

  I got up and beckoned Ryder to follow me to the office, leaving a confused Pete sitting on the couch. When we got inside, I shut the door behind us and turned to face him.

  “What is it?” I asked warily.

  “Things have gotten serious between you and Stafford.”

  I found it odd that he phrased that as a statement, not a question. Frowning, I said, “What are you basing that on? You’ve not even seen us together other than earlier today.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I have.”

  I crossed my arms. “You’ve been following us?”

  “I’ve seen you around.”

  Not sure how I felt about learning that creepy tidbit, I replied, “That’s kind of stalker-y.”

  Ryder’s eyes were strained. “I’m only looking out for you.”

  “So now you’re looking out for me. Where were you when I actually needed you? Oh, right. Not there.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn it, Juliet. Are you going to throw that in my face every time I see you?”

  Nodding slowly, I said, “Yeah, probably.”

  His expression darkened, and he raised his voice at me. “What the hell do you want me to say, huh? That I was wrong to leave you like I did?”

  Not one to be outdone, I took a step closer to him and raised my voice as well. “Yes! That’s exactly what I want to hear!”

  “Fine. I was wrong.”

  I didn’t think I’d ever hear Ryder Hamilton utter those words. I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Um…okay…”

  He looked at the floor. “And I’m sorry.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. To cover my actual feelings, I spread my arms wide, palms up, and said flippantly, “Was that so hard?”

  Ryder raised his eyes and held my gaze. “But I’d do it the same way if given the chance to do it over again.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’d leave me half-dead and alone a second time?”

  “To make sure a murderer was brought to justice? Absolutely.”

  Anger began bubbling up inside me. “And you’d not even bother to contact me afterward to make sure I was okay?”

  “Maybe not that part, but—”

  I cut him off. “Clearly we’re never going to agree on this topic.” I didn’t think I was up for a full-fledged fight with him, so I said, “Just tell me why you came in here and then get the hell out.”

  Sighing heavily, he said, “Look, you’re not going to want to hear this, but I think you should stay away from Stafford for a while. For your own good.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe he was standing here bashing my boyfriend again. Was he seriously telling me how to live my life? My love life, especially? Maybe he was jealous I’d moved on. Or more likely he was just being a vindictive jackass. Stafford had told me that Ryder had been acting strangely at work and that their fellow officers worried he might still be fighting some kind of issue. I didn’t care what kind of issue he had—I wasn’t going to let him pull this kind of stunt with me.

  I finally found my voice. “You are a freaking piece of work, Ryder. I know you don’t like John, but come on. This is a little low, even for you.”

  His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  I let out a bark of laughter. “You don’t want to see me get hurt? All you ever did was hurt me.”

  “That’s not fair. We had a good thing.”

  We did, but it was overshadowed by all the crap. And this visit was doing nothing but stirring up those old feelings, both good and bad. I was seriously confused. Aside from the nasty argument we were having, it really did seem like he cared about me.

  Tears were threatening, which was something I could not stand to have happen in front of him, so I said coldly, “Yeah, those few times you weren’t lying to me or using me or flat out abandoning me.”

  He growled, “I only did what I did to keep you safe.”

  Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “I didn’t want safe. I wanted the real you!” A tear escaped and slipped down my cheek. I brushed it away angrily.

  Unfortunately, he saw it, which was the last thing I wanted. His face softened, and he began reaching toward me. “Hey, I didn’t—”

  “No,” I said, jerking out of his reach. “Don’t. Just leave.”

  A wounded expression clouded his face. “Not until you hear this one thing. I feel partly responsible for pushing you toward Stafford.”

  “How—” I started to question him, but he cut me off.

  “When I left you to go off and chase Amanda’s murderer, I immediately called Stafford to have him get you himself. I knew you’d trust him, and…” He paused for a moment, as if his next words were difficult. “And I knew he had feelings for you, so I could count on him to put you first…which was something I couldn’t seem to do at the time.”

  After his heartfelt admission, I had to turn my back on him so he didn’t see the tears running from my eyes. I took a few steps toward the other side of the room, frantically wiping my face with my trembling hands and trying to compose myself. So he had actually made an effort to help me after all. But could any gesture ever make up for him abandoning me in the first place?

  Ryder said quietly, “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

  Still with my back turned, I shook my head. Stafford had never told me that Ryder called him personally that night. I always assumed he’d heard about it at the station and come over with the rest of the cops, since they all arrived at pretty much the same time. He’d made a fairly big deal out of the fact that he came there intent only on rescuing me, and then he literally swept me off my feet. But knowing John, he would have rushed to me the moment he found out I was in danger, anyway, whether Ryder had called him or not. It wasn’t fair for Ryder to try to tarnish all that John had done for me.

  My head was throbbing from the conflicting feelings swirling inside, and I couldn’t force myself to settle down and finish this conversation rationally.

  He added, “That’s not the only thing he’s keeping from you.”

  Tears and levelheadedness be damned, I whirled around and shouted, “You can’t just waltz in here after three
months and do this to me, Ryder! I’ve dealt with what happened. I’m in a good place. I like John, and I’m so tired of your attempts to make him look bad. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but there is no chance for anything between you and me. Don’t try to ruin what I have with John because you’re jealous, or just because you feel like being an asshole.”

  He frowned at me. “I’m not. I’m only trying to—”

  I cried, “No! I don’t care what you’re trying to do! I meant it when I said…” My voice broke. “I never want to see you again.”

  The door opened, and Pete strode into the room. He took one look at my tear-streaked face and barked at Ryder, “You heard her. Get out. Now.”

  Ryder stared Pete down and didn’t move. “I’m not finished talking,” he growled.

  “You’re finished, all right. This is my place, and I can throw you out of it. I don’t suppose your captain would appreciate a call from me tonight.”

  Ryder shook his head and rolled his eyes at Pete. To me, he said, “Juliet, please think about what I said.”

  I turned my head away from him, unable to deal with him anymore.

  Pete said to Ryder, “See what you’re doing to her? What you always do to her? Yet again, I’m going to have to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. It’s getting old. If you ever had any feelings for her at all, you’d let her go.”

  Ryder grumbled something under his breath and stormed out. Pete instantly pulled me into a hug, which was enough to let the torrent of tears I’d been holding back flow freely onto the front of his T-shirt. Pete rubbed my back and told me (again) how Ryder wasn’t worth it and how much better off I was without him. This was a conversation we’d had too many times—me blubbering incoherently and inconsolably about Ryder and Pete trying to find the words to pull me out of my funk.

  —

  Even though it was incredibly important I got a good night’s sleep in preparation for my all-nighter at Wonder-Gen with Maya, of course I tossed and turned the whole night instead. I dragged myself to work and went through the motions, and after a few straight espresso shots, I was at least coherent.