"Isn't it going to be busy with people putting things up?" I asked.
"They left with the kegs twenty minutes ago," Teena said. "By the time we get there, they should be all finished."
"How do you put up with that Billy person?" I asked as she drove.
"I can't stand him," she said. "I asked Felix to get rid of him, but he said he didn't have another good option for the job."
"Does he treat all the young women like he treats you?"
"A bit, but he mainly goes after me. I guess I'm just lucky that way," she said wryly.
"Billy said he's got all of Felix's recipes," I said. "Frankly, I'm not sure I'd trust him with them."
"Felix can't do all the brewing himself," Teena explained. "He has to delegate. But Billy was giving him a hard time about the recipes; he doesn't agree with Felix a lot of the time. Wants to do things his own way. Felix managed to keep him in check, though; he told me he's got talent."
"Talent's one thing," I replied, "but I don't trust him. And it bothers me that Felix kept someone around who treats you that way."
"I know," she said. "I hate it, too. And now, with Felix gone…"
"You're afraid he's going to step up the pressure?"
"Yeah. I might have to leave the brewery."
"I'd talk to Simon about it," I recommended.
"We'll see." She sighed, and we drove the rest of the way in silence.
She was almost right about the employees wrapping things up fast. When we rolled up the driveway, two of the employees were leaving the brewery and heading to their vehicles. I was glad to see no sign of Billy.
"Duck down," she said. "I'll go check and come back and get you when the coast is clear."
"Got it," I said, hunching down as she got out of the car.
I didn't have to wait long, fortunately; only five minutes later she was at the passenger door, motioning me to join her.
"All clear?"
"All clear," she assured me.
"No sign of Simon?"
"His truck isn't here," she said. "We're good."
I followed her across the parking lot to the front door of the brewery. Except for the lights strung around the picnic tables in the oak grove adjoining the brewery, there was no sign of the festivities that had taken place here yesterday.
Or the murder.
She took the keys out and unlocked the door; as she opened it, cool, beer-scented air flowed out. She flipped on the overhead lights, illuminating the industrial-looking landscape of tall metal tanks, pipes, and complicated-looking machinery.
Teena’s face paled as she turned to close the door behind us. "That’s where it was…" she said, taking a deep breath and leading me to the large garage-style door where we'd found Felix just the day before.
Although there was no sign indicating the tragedy that had taken place here, we both still shuddered, remembering what had happened.
"How could the barley have fallen in the middle of the room like that?" I asked.
"It must have been suspended from here," she said, pointing to a track that led across the ceiling.
"Why would it be hanging there?"
"That's how it gets transported to where they pour it into the lauter tun," she said, pointing to a massive silver tank.
"What's a lauter tun?"
"That's where they mix the barley with hot water to make the wort."
Clearly there was a lot of vocabulary involved with beer-making that I knew nothing about. "What's wort?"
"Well," she said, moving into brewery tour mode, "you mix the water with the malted barley and heat it. The enzyme in the malt converts the starches into sugar, and the liquid that's left is called the wort. That's the first step in the beer making process."
"So someone was moving the barley from here—" I pointed to where multiple huge bags of barley rested "—to here, where it would be poured into that tank with water."
"Right," she said.
"But why would someone be doing that during Oktoberfest?"
Her young brow furrowed. "You know, I never thought about that. Everyone was out working the festival."
"How do you move it across?" I asked.
"It's up here," she told me, leading me to a narrow set of scaffolding-style stairs. I followed her up them to a metal platform. "I'm not sure exactly how it works," she said, pointing to a dashboard of sorts, "but you use this to hook the bag, and then you hit this button to transport it across to the lauter tun. Only... the cable's broken."
"You're right," I said. The heavy cable was coiled like a snake in the corner. I picked up one end; it was cut cleanly.
"Whoever did this didn't need to know how to operate the machinery, besides moving the barley bag back and forth," I said. "They just had to be able to lure Felix under the bag and then cut the cable."
"That's awful," she said, eyes wide.
"It is," I agreed.
"But the thing is," she said as we climbed back down the narrow stairs, "how would you get Felix to stop right under a giant bag of barley? I mean, that's crazy."
I thought back to the moment when the door opened and we saw Felix. "If it weren't for the cut cable, I'd think maybe it was an accident," I said.
"It wasn't," Teena said firmly. "I know that. I don't know why. I just do."
"Obviously you're right," I said, and closed my eyes, trying to remember the scene. "If I were trying to get someone to stop long enough for me to drop something on his head, I'd probably put something on the floor to make them pause where I wanted them to stand."
"There was a spilled beer on the floor near... near Felix," Teena said. "I saw it. It wasn't one of ours... that's why I noticed it. I wondered why he was drinking a competitor's beer."
"Whose was it?"
"It was red and white," she said. "I think it's from Pfeiffer's brewery."
"That's the one Max Pfeiffer owns, right?"
"Right," she said.
"If I found a rival brewer's beer spilled on my brewery floor just before a big opening, I'd stop to pick it up, too."
"But how did somebody get him here?" she asked.
"There was something in his hand," I remembered, my eyes still closed. "It was on yellow paper."
"Well, good luck finding out about that," Teena said. "Rooster will never tell you."
"No," I said, opening my eyes and staring at the spot on the floor where Felix Gustafson had met his maker. "But I know someone who might."
"Who?"
"Can't say," I said. "But let's look at the barrels before we go. There might be a clue there."
"You think whoever killed Felix also tampered with the beer barrel?"
"It could be," I suggested.
"Let's go look, then."
I followed her over to where several barrels stood, stacked along a corrugated metal wall. There were two empty spaces where the barrels from yesterday had been moved, but the rest remained undisturbed.
"Where are these supposed to go, anyway?"
"They're destined for bars in Austin and Houston, mostly," she said. "And the tasting room here, of course."
"How would someone have tampered with a barrel, do you think?"
"Well, if Felix had opened it that morning, it wouldn't be too hard to re-open it and put something back into it."
"I know it was off—I saw the looks on their faces—but do you know what it tasted like?"
"Rotten eggs, is what Felix said."
"Ah," I said, scanning the floor around the barrels. It had been swept clean; but as I rounded the stack, I noticed a dusting of yellow on one of the lower barrels. I reached out and touched it with my fingertip, then raised my finger to my nose. "Ugh," I said. "I think I found the culprit."
"What is it?" she said, wrinkling her nose as I offered her a sniff.
"Sulfur," I said. "I've used it on the farm before."
"Gross," she said. "What do you use it for?"
"You can lower the soil pH with it," I said. "We sometimes have alkaline soil, so
it helps, particularly with crops that like a little more acidity."
"Where do you get it?"
"Gardening stores. Hardware stores."
"So someone did tamper with the beer," she said. "I figured. The problem is, how do we find out who did it?"
"I might head down to Heinrich Feed and see if anyone's bought any lately," I told her. "They might sell it at the Red & White, too."
"Are they really going to remember someone buying a bag of sulfur?"
I shrugged. "You never know. The question is, did the same person who tampered with the barrel drop a bag on Felix?"
"How do we find out?" she asked, big eyes wide.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe you could ask if anyone saw anything weird inside the brewery yesterday?"
"Weird like what?" she asked. As she spoke, there was the sound of tires on gravel. Even with the fans and machinery humming, it was unmistakable. Teena started like a frightened deer and ran over to the door, opening it slightly and peeking out. "It's him," she said as she peeked out.
"Who?"
"Simon. He's back early. Hide!"
14
"Quick... he's coming this way. You have to hide; you're not supposed to be in here," Teena said. I scurried away from the door and ran toward the massive brewing tanks lining the back of the building.
I'd just tucked myself out of sight when I heard Simon's voice. "What are you doing in here? Everyone's supposed to have gone home."
"I... I just was missing Felix," she said.
"Go home," he said sharply. "You're not supposed to be here."
"But..."
"Out," he snapped. "This is a dangerous place. You shouldn't be here alone."
"Yes sir," she said. A moment later, I heard the door close; I guessed Teena had followed orders and left the brewery.
With me still in it.
* * *
As I stood frozen behind one of the big tanks, I could hear Simon moving around and muttering to himself. What would he say if he found me here? Why was he so adamant about Teena not being in the brewery?
And, I wondered, had he killed his brother?
"Mind her own business..." I heard him mumbling, along with some clanking. "Stupid stupid stupid. I had it all figured out, and then..." More loud noises. "Leave the business to me," he said. "None of this would have happened." I heard a few more clanks, and then the lights went out. A moment later, the door slammed shut. He was gone.
And I was locked in the brewery.
I waited quietly for several minutes before feeling in my pockets for my phone. Which evidently I'd left in Teena's car.
I said a few choice words under my breath, then crept out from behind the tank and edged toward where I hoped the door was. There was a little light from the tall windows, and that combined with the glow from the machinery displays was enough to make out major shapes, but I was still terrified of tripping over something dangerous.
Taking tiny steps, I edge over to the wall where the door was, and felt my way until I found the door frame. I reached for the doorknob; it turned, but nothing opened. My hands scrabbled at the door, searching for a deadbolt, but there was nothing. I pulled and pushed, but the door didn't budge.
I turned and tried to look for another exit. I remembered where the big overhead door was, and padded in that general direction, my hands out in front of me in case I ran into something. I had gone several yards when my hands encountered metal. It was one of the tanks. I felt my way around it to the wall; a little ways back the way I'd come was a panel. I'd found the big door.
I felt my way to the bottom until my hand closed on a handle. I pulled up, but nothing happened. I knew there was often a lock further up on the door, so felt my way around until I discovered a lever that felt like it might release the door, but apparently that was locked, too.
Defeated, I sank to the floor and gazed around the brewery, willing my eyes to adjust to the low light. Surely there must be an emergency exit in a place like this. It was a dangerous building; weren't there laws about that?
Unfortunately, no handy glowing EXIT signs presented themselves. After a few minutes, my eyes started to get used to the darkness; I could make out the shapes of the tanks, and even the corridors between them. I decided to do one more trip around the brewery floor before giving up and waiting for Teena to return.
Assuming she would return.
She would, right? Even if she had to walk down the driveway to avoid alerting Simon?
After a trip around the brewery floor, I resolved to talk to the mayor about improving code regulations in Buttercup—I'd found one more door, but it was also locked—and sat down on the floor by one of the big tanks in the back.
The sound of all the whirring, rumbling machinery was soothing. As I sat, my back against one of the metal tanks, I could feel my mind sorting through all the things I'd learned. A spilled beer on the floor by the body. Adriana throwing her glass at Felix at the Hitching Post. Felix's supposed shady past. The rival brewer with the lawsuit. The cash-strapped brother Simon, who'd been muttering like a madman just a few minutes ago, and hadn't wanted Teena here. And Nick, with his fascination with Teena. So many possibilities, and only one of them was the culprit.
Was it Simon, or one of the other people who had a beef with Felix?
Or was I missing something entirely?
My nose started hurting... almost a burning sensation. I didn't smell anything weird, but I reached in my pocket and pulled out a crumpled napkin from earlier in the evening. I blew my nose, but it didn't seem to help. I did, however, have the urge to lie down. My first instinct was that I should stay alert, but really, what were the odds that Simon would come back to the brewery? And if Teena came back, surely she'd know there was no way out, so she'd search for me.
After a moment of indecision, I lay down on the cool floor, using my upper arm as a pillow. The machinery almost sounded like a symphony now, or like a white noise machine, or maybe even the ocean...
I closed my eyes, feeling the vibration through the floor. I was so sleepy. Maybe I'd just take a quick nap before Teena returned...
"Lucy. Lucy!"
The words seemed to be coming from a distance. I was vaguely aware of someone shaking my arm. I batted it away; it was bothering me.
"Get up! Now! You should never lie on the floor in a brewery!"
"What?" I asked, groggy.
"Carbon dioxide poisoning." It was Teena’s voice. "I have to get you out of here. Can you stand?"
"Carbon what?"
"You don't have enough oxygen in your brain. Now, get up!"
She helped me to my feet. The room was still dark... or was it? I couldn't tell anymore. I remember falling once or twice, and a door opening, and then sucking in big breaths of clean air.
"Let's get to the car," she whispered urgently. "Come on!"
By the time we got to her Honda Civic, which she'd parked a way down the driveway, I was feeling more cogent.
"Oh, man," I said, once things stopped being so muddled. "What happened?"
"Shh... let's talk about it in the car," she said. "I know we're far from the house, but I don't want to take chances."
"Got it," I told her, glancing up the driveway toward the house. The lights were on, and there were two trucks in the parking spots on the side of the building; Simon must still be home.
I waited until she'd turned the car around and had gotten far enough from the house to feel comfortable turning on the headlights before I asked what had happened.
"Did you fall, or did you see anyone else who might have hit you over the head or something?"
"No," I said. "I mean, other than Simon. But he didn't see me."
"So you didn't hit your head. And you didn't take any drugs or anything, right?"
"Of course not!" I said.
She sighed. "The ventilation must not be working right."
"That's a problem?"
"A big problem; I'm going to have to make sure someone looks at it,
although I don't know why they'd listen to me."
"What's the issue?"
"The fermentation process makes a lot of carbon dioxide; it's heavy, so it sinks. I'm guessing you got carbon dioxide poisoning; some brewers have died of it in other places."
"I had no idea brewing beer was so dangerous," I said.
She looked sidelong at me. "My boyfriend just got crushed by a sack of barley. And there are forklifts and giant barrels all over the place. It's a minefield."
"Have there been a lot of accidents?"
"One or two," she said. "Nothing major."
"What were they?" I asked as she turned back toward town and my ability to string together sentences returned.
"Just a few things here and there," she said. "Nothing to worry about."
Try as I might, she wouldn't tell me anything else. I called Tobias and told him what happened.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I told him.
"I'll meet you at the square and decide that for myself," he said. "I knew going to the brewery was a bad idea."
I sighed. If I never did anything risky, I'd never find anything out. And so far, I still hadn't managed to die.
Not yet, anyway.
* * *
Tobias was waiting by my truck when Teena dropped me off at the square.
"I took everything to the farm and came back here." He peered at my face. "You don't look so good. Did everything go okay?"
"I had a bit of a carbon dioxide issue, but other than that I'm fine."
"What?"
I told him what had happened.
"Lucy! I knew you shouldn't have gone. Are you sure you're okay to drive?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I told him. "I promise."
"I'm following you home," he said. "Just in case."
"That's kind, but I think I'm okay..."
"Stop arguing and get in the truck," he said. "And be careful."
The trip back to the farm was uneventful, and I admit it was comforting having Tobias behind me. As I turned up the driveway, though, my headlights flashed across the front of the Ulrich house.
The front porch had caved in.
I parked the truck and got out just as Tobias parked beside me.
Wicked Harvest Page 10
