Death on Tap

by Ellie Alexander

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  MY EXCITEMENT VANISHED WHEN I pulled into our driveway and spotted Mac’s Hummer parked in front of the house.

  Time to face the music, I told myself as I took my time gathering my things and walked as slowly as possible to the front door.

  “Sloan, we need to talk.” Mac’s arms were folded across his chest, and he stood blocking the entryway.

  “What are you doing here?” I stood on my toes to see over him. Was Alex home? I didn’t want to hash things out in front of him.

  “He’s not here. He’s at practice,” Mac snarled. “They have daily doubles tonight, remember?”

  “How did you get in?”

  Holding up his key chain, he gave me an exasperated look. “Key. I own this place, remember?”

  “Are you going to let me in or just stand there?” I shifted my bag on my shoulder.

  Mac sighed and moved to let me pass. He stayed right on my heels and followed me to the kitchen.

  “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?” I repeated, trying to keep my tone even. One trick I had learned from my social worker was to focus on a singular thing when feeling anxious. It could be as simple as looking for every yellow object in a room or turning my attention to my breath. With Mac staring me down, I shifted my thoughts to the pings of rain above. The rhythmic sound of rain splattering on the roof brought a smile to my face. I was ready for fall—soup season.

  “Why are you smiling?” Mac yanked a stool from the counter and sat down. He didn’t take his eyes off of me. They reminded me of crystal blue lasers.

  “The rain.” I pointed to the open-beam ceiling above us.

  His face softened for a moment. “You always did love the rain.” He scoffed and shook his head. “I never could get you to close the windows at night even in the middle of a torrential downpour.”

  “It’s good for you.” To prove my point, I dropped my bag on the counter and walked to open the barn door and windows. The sound of rain hitting the porch and the smell of damp fall air rushed in.

  “Classic Sloan.” Mac reached for an orange in the fruit bowl and began peeling it. Then his eyes drifted to the fireplace in the dining room. “When did you take our wedding picture down?”

  “What?” I followed his gaze to the mantel, which had been carved from a reclaimed barn door. He was right; our wedding picture was missing. “That’s weird. I didn’t move it.”

  He scowled. “Right. Like you didn’t take off your ring either.”

  A shiver ran down my spine, and not from the breezy air blowing in from outside. I hadn’t touched the picture. Could Alex have taken it down? It didn’t seem like something he would do, but then again, I knew this was a rough time for him. Maybe our wedding picture was an unhappy reminder. I didn’t want to say anything to Mac, but I thought back to the motorcycle and strange car in our driveway. Was there a chance that someone had been in the house? Why would they take our wedding picture and leave the expensive antique beer steins and crystal stemware? I was probably making something out of nothing.

  “Why are you here?” I poured myself a glass of water, changing the subject and bracing myself for his response.

  “You know why I’m here.” His expression was challenging.

  “I take it that you talked to your parents.”

  “My parents? What do they have to do with this?”

  Did he think that I had coerced Otto and Ursula into giving me shares? “Everything. This was their idea. Not mine.”

  “My parents want you to sell the house?” Mac looked confused.

  “What?”

  “The house.” He waved his arm around the room. “This. Our house. They want you to sell?”

  I quickly realized that Mac and I were talking about two different things. “No. Of course not.” I gulped water. “What did April say to you?”

  “She said you went to see her today and that you’re looking to sell—fast.”

  So much for having my back. April had gone straight to Mac. I wanted to strangle her. “Mac, you know April as well as everyone else in town. I didn’t tell her I wanted to sell; that was her idea.”

  He studied my face as if he was trying to decide whether I was lying. “You don’t want to sell?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know, but not yet anyway. We have a lot to work out.”

  He sat up. “So I have a chance? Sloan, baby, that’s the best news I’ve heard in days.”

  “Slow down. I didn’t say that. I said we have a lot to work out.”

  “Hey, if you’re willing to work on things, I am, too. I told you, I’ll do anything to get you back. Anything.”

  “Mac, don’t.” Clouds rolled across the sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was as if the weather gods were responding to our exchange.

  “You don’t have to believe me, but I’m going to prove it to you, baby.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything, and please stop calling me baby.”

  He swept his orange rinds into a neat pile. “But you’re not going to sell?”

  “No, I promise. I have no intention of selling the farmhouse—for now.”

  For a moment I thought I had dodged a bullet and that Mac had forgotten my reference to his parents, but the man was smart and smooth—that was one of the things that I’d first found attractive about him. After the news that I wasn’t selling the farmhouse settled in, he scowled and asked, “Why did you think I was here about my parents?”

  I considered my options. I could lie, but he’s going to find out sooner or later, so I might as well rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with. “You haven’t talked to them about Der Keller?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Have you talked to Hans?”

  “Sloan, don’t do this to me. I haven’t talked to anyone in my family about Der Keller. What’s going on?” He removed an apple from the fruit bowl and juggled it with one hand.

  “Do you want a beer or something?” I sighed.

  “No, especially because I bet my fridge is full of that guy’s beer.” He said “that guy” with venom.

  “Suit yourself.” I opened the fridge and poured myself a pint of Pucker Up from the growler I’d brought home the other day.

  “What’s the deal with Der Keller? Does this have something to do with Eddie’s murder?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Then what?”

  I took a deep breath. “Your parents have restructured the company.” A gust of wind hit the side of the house, causing the red gingham curtains in the dining room to blow toward the farm-style table.

  “Oh, that. They mentioned that was going to happen. They want to scale back. It’s a good thing. They’ve put in their time. I want them to retire.”

  “But have you seen the new paperwork?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Wait here.” I left the kitchen and found the mail key on a hook by the front door. I didn’t bother with a raincoat. Fat wet drops hit my face as I walked out to the mailbox. They felt refreshing. Sure enough, inside the mailbox was a large manila envelope addressed to me and with a return address of Der Keller’s law firm.

  Once I was back inside, I slid the envelope, which was dotted with raindrops, to Mac. “Read this.”

  Then I clutched the edge of the counter and held my breath waiting for him to explode.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SIX

  MAC DIDN’T SPEAK AS HE looked through the paperwork. He turned over page after page, reading every word of the legal documents that I had yet to see. His expression was impossible to decipher. He was so focused on the papers that he barely glanced up.

  I paced back and forth in the kitchen, busying myself by emptying the dishwasher and taking inventory of the fridge. I couldn’t believe Mac was reading each line on the inch-thick contract. He had to be fuming. He was never quiet for this long. Actually, he was never quiet period.

  When he finally finished, he s
tacked the papers, folded his arms across his chest, and tipped back on his stool. “I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Neither did I. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t have anything to do with this. I only found out about it this afternoon.” I clutched my pint glass and took a sip.

  “I didn’t say that you did.” Mac’s lips had flattened into a thin line. “This has my parents written all over it—literally.”

  I wiped the already spotless counter for the third time. “Don’t be mad at them. They’re trying to do what they think is right for Der Keller’s future, but I tried to tell them that I couldn’t accept.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Mac jumped from the stool. “You’re going to accept. Of course you’re going to accept. You don’t refuse an offer like this, especially not from my parents.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Oh, I’m mad, but not because they gave you what’s due. I’m mad because, obviously, they don’t have much faith in me. What, did they think I was going to freak out or something?”

  “Probably. That’s what I thought you would do.”

  He closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands for a moment. “Sloan, look, I know I screwed up—big time. I get it, you’re pissed at me. My entire family is—Hans, my parents, hell, I’m probably public enemy number one around town.”

  I started to talk, but he cut me off.

  “No, I’m not done. It’s fair. I deserve that. I screwed up. I screwed up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His eyes were intense and penetrating. He almost made me want to believe him. “I’m going to take everything that I have coming to me like a man. I told my parents that, you know? I apologized to them, too.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t look like that. I know it’s going to take a lot of work to prove to you that I’m sorry and that I’m going to change. I have nothing but time, Sloan, and I’m going to make it my mission to show you.”

  I wanted to tell him not to bother.

  “I’m going to own my mistakes and make it better, baby. But I didn’t think that screwing up with you would make my parents lose all of their trust in me.” His voice cracked a little.

  I had to stop myself from going over to comfort him. He was right. He had made choices that put him in this position, and it wasn’t my responsibility to make him feel better.

  “Hans knew about this, too?” He stared at the billowy curtains.

  I nodded.

  Turning back to face me, he couldn’t mask the hurt in his eyes. “Got it.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t about me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean me having an equal piece of the business.”

  His expression looked even more pained. “Sloan, you deserve it. Had anyone in my family bothered to ask me, I would have agreed and told them to go for it.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed him. He was too agreeable. I had the sense that his response was all part of his attempt to win me back.

  “Well, I haven’t even looked at the contract,” I said, nodding at the paperwork on the counter between us.

  “Give it a look. You’re not getting out of this. You know my parents better than anyone. It’s ironclad. Like it or not, you and I are Der Keller’s future.”

  I hadn’t thought of it in those terms, and I wasn’t sure I did like the thought. If I was going to carve out my own life, how could I do it if I was still tied to Mac?

  “You have to give them credit, though,” Mac said, tapping the stack of paper. “They’ve still got some tricks up their sleeves.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I bet they had a good laugh at that.”

  “I don’t think they did anything to be intentionally spiteful.” I took another taste of the beer. It had gone slightly flat.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Given that our conversation was going so well, I decided to ask him about what Garrett had told me. “Mac, is everything okay with you? I heard a rumor that money is … tight.”

  His cheeks flamed. “Who told you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. A couple bad investments. No need to worry, baby.”

  I wanted to press him, but my cell phone rang and vibrated on the counter. It was Alex. He needed a ride home from practice.

  “I’ll go,” Mac said. “I had better give him the lowdown before he hears April’s rumor that his childhood home is on the market.”

  “I can’t believe that woman,” I said, feeling my anger return.

  “She’s something.”

  Mac and I finally had something to agree on: our mutual dislike for April. He grabbed his car keys and started for the front door. “Hey, did you know that she and Eddie had a fling?” he asked casually as he turned the handle.

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Can you believe it? Eddie and April. I thought she hated the guy because he didn’t fit her perfect image of Beervaria. Way too many tattoos, for starters.”

  “Wait, are you serious? April and Eddie were an item?”

  “Dead serious. She didn’t want anyone to know. That’s probably why she made such a big deal of acting like she hated him. From what I heard, they dated for a while. Eddie broke it off with her, and she was not happy about being dumped.”

  “April and Eddie?” I repeated again. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Why are you freaking out?”

  “No reason. I can’t picture Eddie and April together, that’s all.”

  “Why would you want to?” Mac made a face and left to pick up Alex.

  Thoughts of my future at Der Keller and my future with Mac faded away as I considered what he’d just revealed. I wouldn’t have wanted to be on April’s bad side, and if Eddie had left her a woman scorned, could she have killed him?

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  FOR THE NEXT WEEK, I was so busy rolling out our new menu and brewing at Nitro, shuttling Alex between school activities and soccer matches, and meeting with Der Keller’s lawyers that I didn’t have a free minute to focus on anything else. Even Eddie’s murder slipped to the background. I tried to keep my ears open, as Chief Meyers had asked, but no one was talking, and there had been no new arrests or developments in the case—at least none that were public knowledge.

  I had been dreading the official meeting with Otto, Ursula, Hans, and Mac for days. After I signed the final paperwork for my percentage in the company, we were due to meet to discuss how to roll out the reorganization. I still hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Garrett. I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily. If Otto and Ursula stayed true to their word—and I had no reason to think that they wouldn’t—my stake in Der Keller shouldn’t affect my position at Nitro. At least, I hoped it wouldn’t.

  When the day arrived, my stomach churned with nerves. We were meeting at Der Keller before it opened. Otto didn’t want to share the news with staff yet, and I agreed with him. Hans was the only one at the pub when I tentatively opened the front door and stepped inside.

  The scent of strong coffee and spiced apple coffee cake greeted me.

  “Morning, Sloan,” Hans said as he held up an oversized coffee mug in a toast. “Mama made a pan of her German coffee cake. She thought it might get everyone in the right mood.”

  “And you made coffee,” I noted. “I could kiss you.”

  “Go right ahead.” He stretched his neck out.

  I planted a kiss on his cheek and poured myself a cup of coffee. “Thank God you made the coffee.” Hans and I shared an affinity for dark, strong brew, both in beer and java. “Where is everyone?”

  He sliced me a large piece of Ursula’s coffee cake as I took a seat. “No idea. Mama had me come by to pick up her coffee cake. I thought they were right behind me, but I’ve been here for ten minutes.”

  “And Mac?” I glanced around the dark pub.

  “No sign of the scoundrel yet.” Hans winked.

  I warmed my hands on the
coffee mug. “Have you talked to him more about his investments?”

  Hans shook his head. “I haven’t had a chance, but don’t worry, I’ve got your back. I’ll bring it up this morning. It’s on my list.”

  “You have a list?” I smiled.

  He reached into the pocket of his Carhartt rugged jeans and set a tape measure and a small number two yellow pencil on the table. He dug deeper in the pocket and removed a crumpled scrap of graph paper. “I have a list.”

  “I was kidding.” I sipped the dark coffee and felt a familiar calm come over my body. “This is perfect.”

  “Thanks.” Hans gave me a nod of acknowledgment. “What else do you think we should discuss this morning?”

  “Where do I start?” I stuck my fork into the moist coffee cake. The aroma of apples, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves was familiar. Ursula made coffee cake at least once a week for the staff. Her apple coffee cake was my favorite. The slightly sour Washington Granny Smith apples made the cake moist and gave it a tang that balanced beautifully with the aromatic spices. This didn’t disappoint. I quickly devoured half of the slice that Hans had cut for me.

  “Have you thought about day-to-day operations?” Hans asked, watching me eat.

  “No, I mean, I’ve thought about them, but I don’t want be here every day. I’m not ready for that, and I don’t want to leave Garrett in the lurch. I made a commitment to him to stay for six months, and I’m not willing to break that.”

  Hans nodded. “I don’t want to be here either. I know my parents want to support me in whatever I do, but I think there’s a part of them hoping that woodworking will become a hobby.”

  “Yeah.” Hans was right. Otto and Ursula loved their boys, but they loved Der Keller, too. I knew they wanted to keep the family business strong and the family together.

  Mac showed up before we could continue our plan of attack. “Hey.” He gave Hans a curt nod. “You two look like you’re plotting against me.” His cheeks were scruffy with blond fuzz, and his hair looked frazzled. Must have been a late night, I thought.