by L. M. Fortin
“Wow!” said Callie. “I would never have imagined this down here.” She shivered a little as the basement was much cooler than the bar area.
“It runs the full length of the house. We used it for storage, but when I started brewing, we just rented a storage facility for all our other needs and cleaned this room up.”
At the back of the room was a pair of doors. “The stairs are too narrow for equipment or anything, so the cellar doors are useful for bringing stuff in.”
Next to the cellar doors was a table with tall dark bottles sitting on it. “Other than the Barton’s Silk, we bottle everything else.”
“So you’ll be serving beer from the bottle at Bru-topia?”
“Yes. With such a small operation, it makes sense. Maybe next year we’ll be doing more.”
He went to a cabinet and got out two glasses. He opened one of the bottles. “We serve this one at a cool room temperature.”
The beer was dark, but Callie thought it was shot through with hints of red. “It’s got a beautiful color. What are we drinking?”
“This is what is known as an English Mild Ale. I’m calling it Barton’s Cellar Special.”
“What makes it the most unique beer in Skinner?”
“Most of the brewers here are focusing on beers with hops. I thought I’d get away from that bitter flavor and go to somewhat more of a malt. This uses hops to manage the sweetness of the malt. Otherwise they don’t contribute much to the flavor.”
Callie took a sip and let the beer rest on her tongue like she would with a wine. The beer was lighter than some she had tried and definitely sweeter, with almost no hint of bitterness. Again, she wasn’t sure if she could get used to beer that wasn’t served chilled.
“I like this. And I don’t think I’m giving anything away when I say this is quite different from anything else being offered at the premium showcase. We have a wide array of tastes.”
“Is Ethan Fillmer going to still offer Floyd’s beer?”
“How did you know Floyd was making the showcase beer and not Ethan?” She had not thought anyone other than the staff in Magic Waters knew Floyd had been working on it.
“Ethan? Making something custom with no use as a big seller? Hardly. Fillmer the younger is only interested in beer that can be sold in a larger market. Floyd was the one with the passion for beer making. He helped me start this basement brewery.”
“You don’t like Ethan much, do you?”
“What’s to like? He doesn’t value beer making, doesn’t value the work his dad and granddad put in, and only talks about profit margins. He’s also a bit of a bully, and if you ask me, had something to do with my break in. I can’t prove anything, but I’m sure he had a hand in it.”
As she had seen Ethan in full bully mode, Callie had nothing to say to that. “Well, I need to be going. You’re the last premium showcase on my list and I’ll have to hustle to get signs made for you before the event on Friday.”
She felt a little guilty saying that. Getting the signs made was actually a fairly simple process as they were only going to feature the names of the beers and their brewers along with the Bru-topia logo. But she liked to be seen as the magician, and if she made event planning look easy, then everyone would want to do it, wouldn’t they?
Chapter Thirteen
On Thursday, Callie woke up earlier than usual to get her garden chores out of the way. Her final walk through with Walt and the rest of the team would take place at the Johnson Pavilion at ten o’clock. She had arranged to meet Jackie there at nine to make sure things were set for the walk through. She didn’t want any surprises by the time Walt got there.
Before going out to the garden, she checked her phone and found a text message from Ethan. The message read, “Won’t be at Bru-topia. Don’t want to talk to all those people about Dad. But I need to talk to you. Can we meet Thursday at nine o’clock at Magic Waters?” Callie rolled her eyes in exasperation. Although she was sympathetic to his thoughts about his father, she had no doubt he wanted to talk to her about the change in the tasting glasses. Probably wanted her to give him a discount or something. She called Jackie’s number and left him a message that she had to go out to Magic Waters first, but would be at the Johnson Pavilion at ten o’clock in time for the walk through. Even Ethan couldn’t yell at her for more than an hour.
The morning was a foggy one, so Callie drove slowly. As she drove, she kept thinking of the reasons Ethan Fillmer might have for wanting his father dead. It just didn’t add up for her.
Even if he had known about the change in the will, he’s the type of person who would have confronted his dad with it, up front. Poison beer wasn’t a match with his belligerent personality. Besides, Callie couldn’t figure out how Ethan had managed the mushroom switch. There was no indication he had any useful knowledge about mushrooms.
Then there was the way Ethan came back for the will. He knew there was a back door to the brewery and the person that came and took the keg of mushroom beer most likely used that entrance. If that had been the case, Ethan would have grabbed the will at the same time. But he didn’t. He felt perfectly justified to come in the front door as if he had nothing to hide.
She wondered about Yuki Eckman. Although Callie could easily imagine her able to find and dry poisonous mushrooms with the skills she learned from her mother, and she had visited the brewery several times, Callie couldn’t figure how she had known about the mushroom beer Floyd was making. It was possible she had seen it on one of her visits to Magic Waters. Maybe Callie needed to go back to Alterspice and see if anyone remembered her visiting.
Callie laughed to herself. Together, Ethan and Yuki made the perfect suspect.
However, she couldn’t imagine them working together. Ethan’s dislike of Yuki felt genuine to Callie.
She pulled into the parking lot of Magic Waters. The company truck Ethan drove was in front of the building. She went in to the tasting room. “Ethan?” She decided he must be out in the main warehouse. She went through the door that led to the warehouse and was surprised to see Chris Ashton. He was in a dark blue polo and his usual well-fitting blue jeans.
“Chris. I thought you’d be at the pavilion getting set up for the brew fest. I didn’t see your car out front.”
“I’m parked out back. I figured I would spend more than enough time at the brew fest, so a couple of guys from the staff are setting up.”
Callie remembered Hops barking at a low thrumming engine noise at that back door and remembered the sound of Chris’ Camaro. Suddenly, it all came together and she said the first thing that came to her mind. “What’s wrong with your beer?” she asked.
“Now why would you say something like that?” he said, crossing his arms and looking at her curiously. The way his brows came down low over his eyes made her feel like prey again.
She played off her nervousness. “Let me rephrase that. What did Floyd Fillmer think was wrong with your beer?” Then it came to her. “It’s the hops, isn’t it?” She saw the expression on his face change to a frown. “I thought Floyd was talking about Ethan when he said there were young brewers who had lessons to learn. He was talking about you.”
“What is it with the Fillmers?” asked Chris somewhat rhetorically. “Can’t keep their mouths shut. I’m merely having some financial challenges while I’m setting up the plan to go national. I had to use the same lower cost non-organic hops everyone else is using to keep solvent. Ethan saw a hops bags at the brewery and realized I was using the same ones as Magic Waters. He thought it was funny I’d had to lower the standards. He told that to Floyd as a joke.”
Her mind was flashing images at her like a falling row of dominoes. The hops bags at Magic Waters and the ones she saw at Sylvan Ales were the same. The way Chris asked her if she had tasted the mushroom beer. She thought he was trying to get a leg up on the competition, but he was trying to see if she’d been poisoned. His in-depth knowledge of plants had to include mushrooms. She began to wonder where Ethan w
as and hoped he was nearby.
“Floyd didn’t see it in quite the same way, did he? He thinks brewers should be honest.”
“I am honest,” he said in a sharp tone. “Floyd was upset by a technicality. As long as ninety-five percent of the ingredients in a beer are organic, it’s considered to meet organic standards. However, I advertise my beer as one hundred percent organic. Floyd thought that five percent difference was misleading. He gave me a month to come clean and let everyone know about the beer and change my advertising. I can’t lose even a shred of credibility on the organic front. The whole concept rides on that. Making that type of announcement probably would have killed all hopes I had of making a nationwide organic brewery.”
“How did you know about his mushroom beer?” asked Callie. “I know he didn’t tell Ethan about that.”
“I was in Alterspice a day or so after he was and saw his order in the book. I was getting stuff for my showcase beer and realized he must be making something with mushrooms. When you mentioned you’d seen my order, I was hoping you wouldn’t tie it to Floyd’s.”
“With your skill in plants and woodland things, it must have been simple to find the poison ones in the forest and dry them.” She began to be uncomfortable. It wasn’t a good sign that he was telling her this. “Where’s Ethan? I was supposed to meet him here.”
Chris pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. There was a Magic Waters sticker on the back. “Text messages can be very anonymous, can’t they?”
“It was you who texted me using Ethan’s phone? Why?”
“I couldn’t think of any other way to find out what you knew. And in a place where I could manage the situation if necessary. I already knew I had to somehow remove Ethan from the equation, as he knew about the hops. Even Ethan, who isn’t the swiftest guy on the planet, might have tied that to his father’s death, and sooner or later to me. I was fairly certain you’d get to it sooner.”
“Where’s Ethan?” she asked again.
“In a safe place. I wasn’t sure what I’d have to do with you, so I put him out of the way for a while. I’m thinking a convenient fire will manage the situation nicely.”
“You can’t imagine you’ll get away with this,” said Callie.
“Why not? Ethan killed his father and you found out about it. When you came to confront him, he killed you and then tried to hide the evidence of his crime by setting fire to the brewery. Unfortunately, he doesn’t make it out alive. I think that’s a very believable story.”
Callie turned and ran for the door, but Chris quickly caught her by the arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Instead of trying to pull her hand away as he expected, she grabbed his and brought it to her mouth, biting hard on his arm. He yelped and let her go. She headed for the door again, trying to grab her cell phone from her pocket at the same time.
But he was on her too quickly.
He grabbed some large piece of metal that was laying nearby. As it came down on her head, she wondered briefly why her famous intuition hadn’t told her that Chris was a dangerous man.
Chapter Fourteen
At a quarter after ten, Walt, Scott, and several other members of the Bru-topia committee were waiting in the large main room of the Johnson Pavilion. Workers were moving around, setting up tables and the stage.
Walt checked his phone. “I don’t understand. She’s pretty exact when it comes to time.”
Jackie heard Walt’s comment as he approached the group. “Actually, she was supposed to be here at nine o’clock. She left me a message and said she wouldn’t make it because she had to stop by Magic Waters on her way in. She said she’d definitely be here by ten.
“Callie’s at Magic Waters?” Scott seemed frantic suddenly. “Where’s Ethan Fillmer?”
“He told me he didn’t plan on being here at all. He said he couldn’t face the condolences for his dad, so he wasn’t going to participate. Magic Waters has a table, Ethan just won’t be here.”
Scott didn’t make a reply. He was sprinting towards the door while pulling out his phone. “Get me some back up at the Magic Waters brewery, now!”
Walt looked at Jackie in surprise. “What’s that all about?”
“I don’t know, but I sure hope Callie hasn’t gotten herself into any trouble.”
Sweat trickling down her face, Callie crossed her fingers as she kept on pounding her feet against the side of the barrel. There had to be someone at the brewery if Hops was around. Groaning at the pain in her hands, she lay flat on her back and rhythmically brought her feet up and down. She heard the barking come back and stop directly outside of the barrel.
“Callie?” She heard Scott call out her name. “Hops? Where is she?” Callie knew the dog wasn’t tall enough to climb up on the counter top where the barrel was, but she thought she could hear the nails in his paws scratching the sides of the wood.
Callie heard a large thump and then, after a second one, light broke into the darkness. Cool air flowed over her face. “Callie! Are you all right?”
Callie attempted not to roll her eyes at this and lost the battle. There she was lying in a cask, bound, gagged, with a gash on her face and he asked if she was all right? Relief at being rescued allowed her to believe the term ‘all right’ was relative to the situation. Hops kept barking. “Down, boy,” said Scott.
He pulled her partway out of the cask. “This is going to hurt a bit,” and pulled off the tape covering her mouth.
“Ouch,” she said as she gasped for breath. “Why does that hurt so much?”
She was looking at him from upside down as he cocked his head at her. “I’ll make sure to tell the next killer who ties people up to use the easy release tape. Maybe I can go into a side business—‘easy release tape, hold your victims in a more humane manner.’ We can make it in different colors and patterns. I’m sure the flesh tones would be big sellers.” As he spoke he was gently lifting her out of the barrel. She knew the continuous banter was an expression of relief that he had found her. She found it reassuring.
Once on the floor, he pulled out his pocket knife and sliced through the ropes on her arms. She gasped as the blood flowed back into her shoulder muscles. “Easy does it,” he said, cutting the ropes on her feet. Hops kept snuffling around as if to check it was really her and not some facsimile. He licked her face.
She lay on the cement floor and still smelled smoke. “Is there a fire?” she whispered, her voice uncertain.
“Yes, there is a fire. However, our firemen seem to be handling it, so we can take our time here.” He moved next to her on the floor and, cradling her upper body, slid under her so she was laying on his lap. Hops lay down next to them. Scott pulled out his phone. “Can I have a stretcher and the EMT in the tasting room?” He paused, listening to a question. “No, I don’t think it’s life threatening, but don’t be all day about getting here.”
“What is it with you and smoky rooms?” he asked, referring to the time he had pulled her out of the equipment room at the Newsome Center. The smoke that time was only from a faulty heater. She assumed it was a rhetorical question and ignored it as she felt entirely incapable of answering at that moment.
He saw the blood on her face and gently brushed her hair back. “Well, that’s a nasty gash you have. What caused that? Some sort of wrench?”
“Wort tank temperature gauge,” She said, remembering the sight of it coming down on her.
“Well, you can’t say you haven’t learned a lot about the brewing industry if you can identify one of those. And if you’ve been hit by one,” he said.
She started to laugh, but it turned into a cough that shot pain through her shoulders and sharpened the pounding in her head.
Scott wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Sorry,” he whispered. “No more jokes until you’re up and about.”
She slowly reached out her hand to Hops and rubbed his fluffy orange ears. “Thanks, boy. You did good.” He licked her outstretched fingers and gave th
e doggy equivalent of a smile. Even though she still had a thunderous headache, the pain in her shoulders and feet had begun to recede.
“We found Ethan inside,” said Scott. “It looks as if he choked on his own smoke.”
“Is he dead? It wasn’t his smoke!” She tried to get up as she realized Scott thought that Ethan had set the fire.
“Hey, settle down! What do you mean? He’s not dead, but he hasn’t yet regained consciousness. It looks like he started the fire in the office and then went back in there to get something and the smoke was too much for him. I hadn’t told you yet, but I found a connection between Ethan and the break in at Barton’s Pub. Ethan hired some locals to do the job and we convinced one of them to give us evidence. Now, we’ll have him on attempted murder as well.”
“It’s not Ethan. He didn’t set the fire. Chris Ashton did.”
“Were they in this together?” said Scott, seemingly unwilling to let go of Ethan as a main suspect.
“No, I kept thinking that if I knew how the murder was done, I’d know who. Ethan had access to the brewery, but he said he didn’t know about the beer Floyd was making, nor did he have knowledge of mushrooms. Then I was thinking about Yuki Eckman. She made two visits to Floyd during the time he was brewing his beer, plus, she had knowledge of mushrooms from her mother. So together, they had access to the brewery, knowledge of mushrooms and both of them had a reason to be angry with Floyd.”
“Then it was Ethan and Yuki?”
“No. Neither of them knew about Floyd’s showcase beer. The only person who knew that was Chris Ashton. Chris was in Alterspice right after Floyd picked up his mushrooms and saw the order in the account book they keep on the counter. I think he was the only one who knew what Floyd’s premium showcase beer was going to be. When I realized he knew about the back door to Magic Waters, the story of how Floyd was murdered was complete.”
“What does the back door have to do with it?” asked Scott.
