To Brew or Not to Brew (22 page)

“T
o make a long story short, we couldn't find a tunnel entrance,” I said to my mom that evening. After I got home, took a shower and fed Hops, I gathered up the kitten and we headed to my parents' house. Mom had called and said she was making tuna casserole for dinner. Even though she didn't have to, she still made meatless meals on Fridays, and tuna casserole was one of my favorites. She always crumbled potato chips on top. Except for the one time she used cracker crumbs, which got a definite thumbs-down from the family.

We were in the kitchen. The casserole was in the oven, and I was tearing lettuce for a salad while Mom chopped a red pepper to go in it. There was a loaf of homemade honey wheat bread on the counter that she'd taken out of the oven before she put the casserole in, and the aroma was practically
making me drool. I was ready to just pick up the loaf and take a bite. Hops must have been thinking the same thing, because she kept butting her head against my ankle and looking up at the counter. Or maybe she only wanted to be up where all the action was. I dried my hands and put a couple of her treats on the floor. That did the trick. She gobbled them up, then moved to her blanket in the corner of the room.

“That had to be disappointing,” Mom said, dropping a handful of peppers into the bowl with the lettuce.

“Very.” I took a bag of baby spinach out of the fridge and opened it. “I don't know what to make of it. I want to believe the tunnels are how that person is getting in, but . . .” I shrugged and tossed some spinach into the bowl. “Right now I'm not even sure the tunnels really exist or if they're a figment of Fran Donovan's imagination. She showed me an old photo, but who's to say it wasn't just an old warehouse?”

Mom opened a package of mushrooms. “If I know you, you'll keep digging until you figure it out. I've never yet seen you go after something you wanted and not get it.”

“Not everything,” I mumbled.

She'd tolerated all my years of teenage whining that Jake treated me like a kid, so she knew exactly what I meant. “He does like you, sweetie.”

“As a friend. Except for the kiss today—”

“He kissed you?” She stopped slicing mushrooms. “That's wonderful!”

“Yes. Maybe. Not exactly.” I told her what happened. “I'm sure it was one of those spur-of-the-moment things that
he probably regrets now. He didn't bring it up or say anything about it when we were alone again this afternoon.”

“Did you?”

“Bring it up? Of course not.” I put the remaining spinach back in the fridge.

Mom went back to the mushrooms. “Jake could have been waiting for you to say something.”

That hadn't even crossed my mind. “Why would he do that? He's the one who kissed me. I'm not going to throw myself at him.”

“Of course you're not. But look at it from his point of view. You still treat him like Mike's friend—”

“But that's what he is.”

“Let me finish. You're treating him the same way that you complain he treats you. He's obviously shown his interest; now he's waiting for you to return it.”

Oh crap. Was she right? Was that why he asked me first if I wanted to go to the hockey game with him?

Mom smiled. “I'd say a kiss shows an awful lot of interest.”

“Hey, who's kissing my little girl?” Dad crossed the kitchen and put his arm around Mom and pecked her on the cheek.

“Jake,” Mom said.

“It's about time.” Dad surprised me with his answer.

In short order I found out I was the only one who didn't think Jake was interested in me. Mike, Kate, Sean, and if I were to hazard a guess, Pat, Joey, and Jimmy, too. My whole family. Sheesh.

Mom got the casserole out of the oven, and I set the
dining room table while Dad sliced the bread. When he brought it to the table, I asked him if there was any progress with the investigation. The look on his face told me all I needed to know.

“We'll keep on it, sweetie,” he said.

I knew he would, but it was discouraging anyway. Over dinner I told him about Fran Donovan's theory about the tunnel under the pub. Just like everyone else, my dad had heard rumors about tunnels, but no one he knew ever saw one. He said that surely someone would have discovered and used them by now. He didn't buy my reasoning that someone was using them to enter the pub.

Maybe I was still a little aggravated that Dad hadn't made any progress with Kurt's murder, because his insistence that the tunnels didn't exist made me want to prove him wrong. I still had more than a few doubts of my own, but it wouldn't hurt to do a little more investigating and try to find that opening.

*   *   *

I
arrived at the brew house at seven a.m. I didn't want to take any chances that the inspector would find a problem with something and we wouldn't pass. I walked through each room, checking and double-checking everything from light switches to plumbing. I was relieved to find all was in order.

I had some time before the inspector was due to arrive, so I went over to the coffee shop to grab a mocha. One of Kristie's part-time baristas was at the counter, which was typical for a Saturday. We chatted while she made it, then
I took it back to the brew house with me. I had just finished my coffee when the door to the pub opened.

The inspector looked familiar, but I didn't recognize his name when he introduced himself as Lavon Reed. He showed me the paperwork and explained what he was going to look for. It was hard to concentrate because I kept trying to remember where I'd seen him before. When I stepped ahead to lead him to the kitchen, the logo on his black polo shirt jogged my memory. He was the man Adam had argued with in the deli. But why? I wished I had paid more attention to their argument. What had he said to Adam? It was something like
don't ever ask me that again.
So, what had Adam asked him?

“Congratulations,” Lavon Reed said with a smile thirty minutes later. “You passed.”

I could have hugged him. “Thank you. That's such a relief.”

“These are the days I really like my job. I don't like it when I have to deliver bad news.”

Like when he'd talked to Adam? “It's nice to get some good news,” I said. “Come back after we open and your first beer is on the house.”

“I'll be happy to come back, but I'm afraid I'll have to pay for what I eat and drink.” He grimaced. “We're not allowed to take any freebies because it doesn't look right to the public. Someone might think we were taking a bribe or a payoff.”

“I didn't think of that. Does that happen? Someone trying to bribe you, I mean.” Maybe that's what Adam had tried to do.

“You wouldn't believe how often. Just last week a guy . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “I'd better not say.” He had me sign off on the inspection and we chatted another minute or two, then he was off to his next job.

When he was gone, I did a little dance around the room. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. We passed! The brew house was a go. After so much hard work and so many things that had gone wrong, we were actually going to open. With tears in my eyes, I looked up toward the ceiling. “We did it, Kurt.” I could almost hear him say,
I told you so
. “I really wish you were here for this,” I whispered.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. The pub was going to open, but I still had some unfinished business. Kurt's killer was out there. I needed to find him.

*   *   *

T
he reality of how much work I had to do in the next two weeks set in quickly. I had a tentative schedule for training on Monday, but I went over it again and made a few notes. The inspection sheet Lavon Reed had left with me caught my eye, and I picked it up. It shouldn't have surprised me when he mentioned that people offered him bribes, but it had. I thought again about his argument with Adam. What was Adam doing talking to the building inspector anyway? And what could he possibly have asked to garner the response he had? I wouldn't put it past Adam to try to bribe someone. I shook my head, laughing at myself. Why did I care? It was really none of my concern. I had enough on my plate without worrying about someone else's business.

Tired of sitting, I got up and stretched. I hadn't planned on being here all day, but here I was. I thought I should
probably go home. I could call Jake on the way and tell him the good news. It was five o'clock. The hockey game should be over by now. If Mom was right, he'd be happy to hear from me. I passed the basement door and stopped. The tunnels. I hadn't given them a thought all day.

Was it possible we missed something yesterday? We'd checked all the walls for an opening, even going so far as to remove the old shelving. The floor was solid concrete, so there was nowhere for a trapdoor. It wouldn't hurt to take one more look. I went back to my office and grabbed a flashlight just in case. I had just started down the stairs when my phone rang.

It was Jake. “You missed a great game,” he said. He told me the Penguins won, and I gave him the good news about the inspection.

“Are you still at the brew house?” he asked.

“Yep. I was on my way out, then thought I'd do one last search for the tunnel entrance.”

“If you wait a bit, I'll help. We're stuck in traffic, but as soon as I drop Mike off, I'll be there.”

I crossed the basement floor to the first wall we'd checked yesterday. “You don't have to. I probably won't be that long—especially if I don't find anything.”

“I can't let you have all the fun. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Before I could protest, he hung up. I stuffed my phone into the front pocket of my jeans. There was plenty of light in the basement, but I turned the flashlight on anyway and aimed the beam at the wall. I moved the light in a grid pattern, then did the same to the other walls.

Nothing.

I was about to turn off the flashlight when the beam lit up the area near the old safe. The safe was about eighteen inches from the wall, where it had been since I bought the building. Eighteen inches was just enough room for a person to squeeze behind it. I knew it was a long shot, but we'd checked everywhere else. I went over to the safe and shined the light behind it.

Fran had been right after all. There was a tunnel, and I'd just found the entrance.

At least I thought it was the entrance. It had to be.

The area behind the safe appeared to be the same as the block walls of the cellar, but on closer inspection I found what appeared to be painted plywood. It was rather ingenious. Someone had put a lot of work into making it blend into the wall. The area was in heavy shadow, so it was no wonder we hadn't spotted it yesterday. If it hadn't been for the beam from the flashlight, I still wouldn't have seen it. It would only have been a matter of time, though, before someone took a closer look or even had the safe moved and discovered it. It also explained why someone was trying to drive me away.

I squeezed behind the safe and slid the plywood disguise to the left. There was an old wooden six-panel door. My heart beat faster as I turned the knob and pushed it open. The hinges were as quiet as those on a brand-new door. Someone kept them well oiled.

I slipped my phone from my pocket to check the time. I had no idea when Jake would get here and I didn't want to wait. He'd have to catch up with me. I went in. I expected the passageway to be damp and full of cobwebs, but it
wasn't. It was constructed well, with concrete walls, floors, and ceiling. There were no cobwebs or spiders anywhere, thank goodness.

When I'd gone what I guessed was about fifty feet, the passage widened and opened into the cavernous space from Fran's photograph. She was going to be thrilled when I showed her. From here there were three more tunnels, each going in a different direction. I walked a few feet into the one at my left and shined the light ahead. It looked like this one curved around behind the brew house, then straightened. My guess is this was the one Fran said went to the Allegheny River. I'd save it for last. I retraced my steps and checked the passageway on the right. This was likely the one that had gone to the old brewery. It was wide enough for three people to walk side by side, but it was not well kept. After I walked for a minute or so, I came to a dead end. Where a door might have been was a concrete wall. A real one this time.

Disappointed, I retraced my steps and started down the last passageway. It only took a couple of minutes to reach the end. There was a door that appeared to be well maintained. I gripped the doorknob and hesitated. I had no idea what I'd find behind it. I had to at least take a peek, then I'd go back and wait for Jake and call my dad. My scalp tingled as I inched open the door.

The room was dark. I scanned the room with my flashlight and saw that I was in a basement. Cardboard boxes lined the walls and some were stacked in the center of the room. Empty crates were tossed in a pile in one corner. My light hit an open box in the center of the room and rested
on what appeared to be black leather. I tiptoed into the room. I had to see what was in the box. I lifted the item from the box. It was a black leather purse labeled with an expensive designer name. This must be Adam's basement.