A Deadly Draught (17 page)

We danced around one another for a few more minutes. He agreed that I was more than considerate to contact the board about what I was contemplating with the old well. I emphasized that I understood his position and the seriousness of the drought.

“You do whatever you think best for now, Ms. Knightsbridge,” he said.

“I’ll keep you posted on my plans.”

Just what were my plans
? I had a vague recollection of my dad and me hiking out to that well when I was a kid, maybe age seven or so. I remembered it was beyond the ridge to the east, away from any of the breweries and in a small glen surrounded by pines and maples. An old hunting cabin stood at the edge of the trees, but that might be gone now, fallen down over the twenty-plus years since I had visited the spot.

My cell phone chirped at me while I considered the county map laid out on my kitchen table.

“Jake here. I thought we could get together and exchange notes on the case. Did you get a chance to talk with Sally and Francine yet?”

I hit myself on the forehead.
Damn.
I’d forgotten Jake gave me a sleuthing assignment last night after we left Michael. I was supposed to visit Sally and Francine. Jake assumed they might be more comfortable talking to me woman-to-woman. The casualness of the get-together might loosen up some memories or thoughts about the night of the murder, thoughts that had to do with Michael especially. I hadn’t contacted either of them.

“The assignment too tough for you? Don’t want to spy on your boyfriend?” Jake asked.

“It’s not that. Michael’s reluctance to provide information about his whereabouts that night got me curious. I assumed it was because he was cheating on Cory with some new woman.”

“Or hiding something to do with his father’s murder,” Jake reminded me.

I didn’t think that was the case. I knew Michael well, and he was too much like his father with respect to the fairer sex. He obviously liked Cory and wanted to keep her in his back pocket, but if there was anyone else, she’d be furious.

“I had more pressing things to do,” I said to Jake. “There’s the little matter of water, you know, the main ingredient in making beer.”

“You’ve got water.”

“For how long, though?”

“What are you going to do to change that?” he asked.

“I’m going to take a hike and ask Rafe to join me.”

“When?”

“This afternoon, I guess, if he’s free.”

“I’m free. How about I accompany you two on this jaunt and see what you’re up to. Rafe won’t mind.”

“I know the two of you were getting to know one another, but since Bernie came into the picture, he’s been less than anxious to be around you. He knows you think it’s odd he hired the guy, rounder that he is.”

“You think it’s odd, too. Don’t you want to know why?”

“Yes, I guess so.” I thought about Rafe’s odd behavior of late—hiring Bernie, contending suddenly that he had no money, and being secretive about his financial situation after he had been so forthright with me about his past.

But then, I owed Jake. I hadn’t talked with Francine and Sally, and it wasn’t because I was protecting Michael. I was a little miffed Jake thought I’d be willing to use my friendships to leverage information out of them, and I was feeling guilty about the secrets I was keeping from him, especially with respect to Ronald. I had tried to contact Ronald and got no response. Telling Jake what I knew or didn’t know about Ronald’s whereabouts wouldn’t change anything, or so I told myself.

“Okay, you can come along. Be here around two, and wear hiking shoes.” I snapped the phone shut and then flipped it open again to call Rafe. He said yes to looking for the well this afternoon. I didn’t tell him Jake would be accompanying us.
That wasn’t wrong, was it?

*

Rafe looked at me with curiosity and concern on his face when Jake appeared at my barn in the afternoon, but he recovered his composure when he learned Jake would be joining us to look for the well and said he was glad to have the company. Jake merely nodded. The three of us were quiet on the hike up to the site.

I was right. The old cabin was merely a pile of rotten logs now. The only structure left standing was a stone fireplace, and many of the rocks making up the chimney had let go and were scattered around the hearth. I remembered once Dad and I hiked up here and spent an overnight. Part of the cabin was still standing at that time, but we had lain under the stars in our sleeping bags and stared into a clear, October sky. Dad pointed out the constellations and taught me their names.

Jake’s hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present. “Is that the well over there?” he asked.

I nodded. It stood fifty yards to the east of the fallen timbers. It was an old-fashioned well, made from rocks also, probably taken from the same source as those used in the cabin’s fireplace. Weeds had grown up, but by standing almost on top if it, you could see down into its depths. Was there water down there? I grabbed one of the smaller stones on the ground nearby and tossed it in. A second later it made a lovely splash.

“You’ll have to sink a pipe down there and put in a pump, but it sounds like water to me,” said Rafe. He seemed almost as excited by this find as I was.

“So why did you stop using it?” asked Jake.

“We never did use it. This property wasn’t part of the original parcel purchased by my dad. He bought this one several years later. I think this well provided water for the cabin. Dad planned to renovate it and move in here when he retired. He never got to that,” I said. I turned away from the men so that they couldn’t see my eyes fill with tears.

“Any ideas about how you’re going to get this water to your barn?” asked Jake, who looked skeptical about the project. “If you run a pipe out of here, you’ll need to cross the glen, the ridge we hiked over, and then run it down the side of the hill to your barn. That’s a lot of piping.”

I felt depression settle in on my shoulders.
What was I thinking? I’d never find money for all that pipe.

Rafe turned about in a circle, perusing the small valley we were in and the ridge the pipe would have to cross.

“She won’t need pipe. I can get my water truck up here with little trouble, that is, if Michael will let me cross his property. Otherwise, I’d have to run around behind his place and mine and use the logging trail to the west.”

A good plan, but I’d have to offer Michael some concession with respect to water, or he wouldn’t go for it. Rafe could read my thoughts. “We’ll both talk to Michael. The three of us can work out something—your water, my trucks, Michael’s property. We all have something to gain.”

“Tell that to Stanley,” I said.

“She’ll have to get someone up here to do the work for her,” said Jake.

“I have just the man for you. Bernie,” replied Rafe.

“Bernie! Why him?” I asked. I remembered serving as his reluctant hostess the night he broke into my place, and I wasn’t eager to have him on my property again.

“He can do all kinds of work. Handiest man I’ve ever met. With your permission, I’ll have him come up here tomorrow and take a look at the project,” Rafe said. I nodded my consent. I wasn’t happy Bernie would be doing the work, but who else knew how to set the pipe and install a pump? Who else that I could afford, that is.

“Sounds like you know Bernie well,” said Jake. Rafe looked uncomfortable for a moment, then let out a long sigh.

“I know you’ve been wondering about Bernie and me since I hired him after he broke into Hera’s place, but he’s not such a bad fellow. I knew him when I was working on the Continent, Germany, to be exact. He was one of the assistants in a small brewery where I was the brew master. It was located in Cuxhaven on the North Sea. A jack-of-all-trades, master of most, he was. Now he’s a bit down on his luck, so I offered him a job until he can get on his feet again.”

“I guess picking locks is one of his specialties,” said Jake.

“I expect it is, but he’s very contrite about that, you know. He was desperate. Came here knowing no one, recognized my name, and wanted to get in touch with me. I’m sorry he frightened you,” Rafe said to me. “He’s not big on manners.”

“It wasn’t bad manners that got him arrested,” Jake reminded him. “It was breaking and entering. When he comes before the judge, and that’ll be soon, he’ll have to spend a few days in the county jail, unless …“

I thought Jake was going to say “unless you vouch for his integrity,” but instead, he said, “unless I find out he has a record, and I suspect he does. Then we’re talking prison.”

“Minor things back on the Continent and in England, only minor things.” Rafe seemed eager to assure us that Bernie was a humble working man down on his luck, but I thought he was acting very uncomfortable with the idea of Jake looking too closely at Bernie Fisher’s past.

Our hike back to my place was like the one up to the well, filled with silence.

*

I called Michael that evening, and he sounded as if I were the last person with whom he wanted to talk. When I told him Rafe and I had a proposition for him about water, he lightened his tone. Then, of course, he spoiled everything by suggesting that Stanley be in on the conversation. We arranged to meet later in the evening at his place. Meanwhile I had my homework to do, finding Francine and Sally and having some girl talk with them.

First, I stopped at Francine’s place. It was on my way into town, where I knew I would find Sally at her bakery. Marsh greeted me as I got out of my truck and told me Francine was out in the supply barn.

“Looks as if you’re making real progress at fixing this place up,” I said to Marsh. All of the outbuildings had been painted red with white trim, and a new weather vane sat on top of the cupola of the brew barn. “It’s looking good. How’s the set-up coming for the brewery?”

“Slow. We just got in our fermenter yesterday, and the mash tun is due to arrive this week sometime. We won’t be up and operating until the beginning of July, if then. But we’re getting there, unless another cow decides to visit the barn.” He laughed, and I joined in.

“The winery is going strong, I guess. Having tours and tastings on Saturdays, then?”

“Yup. Francine isn’t certain whether she wants to distribute or remain small and sell from here.”

I wished them the best of luck, but I was still grateful that Francine had no use for that bottler, and she wasn’t in the business of making beer yet. I didn’t need the competition right now.

“Go on into the barn. I’ve got her slinging some sacks around. Do the woman good. She needs to understand just how much manual labor is involved in a place like this.”

“Hera!” she called to me when I entered the barn. “Good, now I’ve got a chance to take a break.” Sweat rolled down her face. She had rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, and perspiration caused sheen on her forearms. Her damp shirt clung to her ample breasts.

“I sure wish I had your build. You look like you could play catch with these bags.” Francine plopped her rounded body onto a bag of malt and pushed damp strands of her thick auburn hair away from her face.

“I’m not an Amazon, you know.”

“No, but your height and those stringy muscles of yours must make it easier to do this work than these short arms and legs of mine, to say nothing of the extra pounds I’m carrying.”

Those extra pounds were pretty attractive on her, I thought. She was all curves with the redhead’s complexion, pale and luminescent with peach cheeks, and coral lips.

“It’s my own fault. I told Marsh when I hired him I wanted to learn the business from the ground up, and he’s not holding back on me. Don’t tell him, but I’m far less delicate than I look. When I lived at home, I helped out at my father’s winery in Spain. Of course, that was years ago, but I’ll get back into shape. Have a seat.” She patted a sack of grain next to hers and looked at me with curiosity.

“What can I do for you? Not that I don’t welcome a visit from my brewing friends, but I suspect you have something on your mind other than a friendly chat.” Her brown eyes examined my face closely.

So this wasn’t going to be a girly chat.
She was too savvy for that. I might as well get to it.

“How well do you know Michael?” I asked. The smile faded from her lips.

“Who wants to know?” she asked.

“I do.” Could she tell I was lying?

“I don’t think so. You grew up with him. I think you’re on a fishing expedition for your deputy friend.”

Now why would she think that, and how did she know Jake was my friend? “Look, I’m in a real bind. You’re right, I’m here running Jake’s agenda, but I have to find out all I can about it. The bank won’t loan me money so that I can stay in business, because Mr. Culler thinks I had something to do with the murder.” Only part of that was a lie.

“You know Michael better than anyone around here. Do you think he had anything to do with his father’s murder?”

“No, but …“

“I don’t either. Tell your cop pal to look under another rock for his suspect. If we’re going to be friends, and I hope we will be friends, you can be up front with me. I know everyone around here, including Marsh, thinks I’m out of my element, just a rich, dumb, widow. I think you know better. I’d like to have you as a friend, Hera. I can use a woman to confide in. Just don’t lie to me anymore.” She patted my shoulder, and I took another look at her bare forearms. They were more muscular than I first thought. She arose and picked up a grain sack and tossed it onto the pile next to me. It missed me by several inches.

“Pretty good, huh?” she said. She turned to pick up another one and prepared to send it my way. There was a smile on her face, but her eyes were alight with a fire that could as well have been anger as delight in demonstrating her strength. I had misjudged the woman. There was more to her than the wealthy widow she portrayed in social settings.

Seventeen

I’ve put this off long enough,
I thought as I pulled my truck up in front of Sally’s store, turned off the engine, and sat there, reluctant to go in and confront her with questions I didn’t like asking.

I hadn’t seen her since Saturday’s tasting, when small storms moved in and out of the valley, ruining our sales. She had been grouchy early in the day and snapped at me when I began talking about the water shortage in the valley.