Love in a Nutshell (11 page)

Marcie stepped onstage, aligned the microphone to her satisfaction, and announced the second round finalists. Kate had made the cut.

Starflower leaned over to speak to Matt. “We get a ten-minute reprieve before they start the next round.”

“You mean a break?” Matt asked.

“No. Definitely a reprieve,” she said. “I’m stepping outside to meditate and make myself one with the evening peace.”

Or peace
pipe
.

As for Matt, he planned to meditate on how to make progress with Kate.

*   *   *

THE OVERPROOF
rum had kicked in and was burning through Kate like jet fuel. She didn’t feel buzzed so much as energized. Sometime around midnight, when both the alcohol and the sugar had wreaked their havoc, she knew she’d be parched and cranky. And no doubt still sleepless. Too late for regrets, though. She looked out at the people gathered behind the judges, and Kate the Performer took over. It was round two of the Great Karaoke Olympics, and Kate was into it.

“Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing,’” she said into the microphone.

*   *   *

KATE RIPPED
into the song, enjoying her time in the spotlight, loving the lyrics, loving the music, thinking that life was full of moments just like this. Unexpected, surprising moments. And Kate realized that unless you put yourself out there, you could very easily miss them. Maybe it was time to take some more risks with her life.

A low howl drifted into the room from somewhere outside. The sound slowly raised in both pitch and volume, and people began to turn and head toward the door. Kate knew her voice wasn’t chasing them off. She’d witnessed this scene before at Bagger’s Tavern. The place could go from full to empty in sixty seconds flat when the town’s volunteer firefighters heard the alarm sound.

“Fire,” Ella mouthed from the base of the stage. She pointed toward the door, and Kate nodded in acknowledgment. Ella was one of the handful of women who served on the town’s fire department.

More people filed out, but Kate kept singing. Now she knew how the band on the
Titanic
had felt. A woman who looked kind of like Matt leaned over his shoulder and said something to him. He stood. Kate didn’t like the grim look on his face. She finished, skipped her bow, and made a moderately graceful jump from the low stage.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a fire at the brewery,” Matt said. “Could you come with me?”

“Of course,” she said, because she’d decided not to let herself lust after Matt Culhane, but she darned well liked him.

*   *   *

MATT LOOKED
at the crowd gathered in his parking lot. In Keene’s Harbor, the only thing that drew a bigger crowd than a Friday night fund-raiser was a good, old-fashioned Dumpster fire. There was such a weirdly festive atmosphere that he half expected to see the spectators pull out marshmallows and start toasting them. Of course, the spectators would have to fight their way through the most massive contingent of first responders that Matt had seen since the Independence Day fireworks debacle of ’90. Since he’d been intimately involved in the accidental early start to that annual celebration, he’d watched that group from afar.

“Is the whole town here?” Kate asked.

“More or less.”

He found a spot for his truck, and immediately noticed an ambulance parked at the brewery’s employee door. The vehicle’s back door was open and the interior was lit. Inside, a familiar figure lay on a stretcher.

Matt sprinted over to the ambulance. He’d barely reached it when Kate joined him. For a little thing, she had a long stride.

“Give me a second,” he said to her.

“I’ll be right here.”

Matt didn’t recognize the two paramedics working on Laila. All the same, he climbed into the back of the ambulance.

One of the paramedics was inflating some sort of air cast around Laila’s ankle. “You’ll have to get out, sir,” she said.

Laila tried to prop herself up on her elbows, despite the paramedics’ orders to stay still. “He’ll stay right where he is. Work around him.”

“What happened?” Matt asked.

“Twisted it hard.” She winced as she tried to settle more comfortably on the stretcher. “I had stepped outside for a second to use my phone when I saw the fire. I called 911, but the fencing around the Dumpster was already burning. I tried to run a hose from the loading dock door. The hose ran me, instead, I guess. Broke my phone when I went down, too.”

“Don’t worry about the phone. I’ll get you another one,” Matt said. “Let’s work on getting you fixed, okay?”

Laila had been with him since the day he’d started serving food. Yeah, she could be a little bossy, but he’d learned more from her than he could have from any number of highly paid consultants. She was family, plain and simple. And he felt sick that she had been hurt trying to help him.

“We’re ready to roll,” the larger of the paramedics said.

Matt touched Laila gently on her shoulder. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Get ahold of my son, Joe. Tell him where I am and that someone’s going to need to come get my car.”

“No problem. And I’ll be over to the emergency room in just a while.”

“Don’t you dare. You’ve got enough to deal with right here. Clete already shut you down for the night.”

At that news, Matt bit back on a couple of his favorite curse words.

“The Dumpster was too far from the building for a spark to fly. And even if one did, the roof’s metal,” he said.

“I know,” Laila replied. “But you know Clete. And Steve went to look for Jerry to argue the closing, but Jerry was nowhere to be found.”

“Don’t worry,” Matt said. “Just focus on getting yourself better and let me deal with the rest of this, okay?”

“I will.”

He gave her hand a squeeze, which was about all the affection Laila would accept

“Hang in there,” he said before climbing out.

Kate still stood watching the firefighters spray down the smoking Dumpster and fence.

“Arson is a definite buzzkill,” she said without looking his way.

She’d voiced what Matt had been thinking since they’d pulled into the parking lot. If not for all the other incidents, Matt would have attributed it to Steve sneaking a cigarette by the trash. Matt had snagged him doing that countless times.

“It is. And I know I’m lucky it wasn’t worse. Laila’s fall was bad enough.”

“She’ll be okay, though, right?”

“I don’t know if her ankle is sprained or broken, but she’ll recover.” He paused. “And probably demand to come back to work long before she’s ready, too.”

“Speaking of which … Besides Laila, who was on staff tonight?”

“The usual. Amber and Steve were in the dining room. Ruby was busing dishes. Pat, Renaldo, and Manny were in the kitchen. And Jerry was supposed to be here, not that he is.” He paused a second. “Before I left for the hall, Nan and Floyd were in the brewery working on one of Bart’s new beer recipes. I don’t know if they’re still around. So what it comes down to is any one of my own employees could have done this to me.”

“Or maybe just a random firebug. I’m betting Keene’s Harbor has a pyro or two,” she said. “What’s frustrating is that I’d like to say everyone at the fund-raiser can be dropped from the suspect list but it’s too easy to make it here from the hall to say that for sure.”

Matt understood frustration. He was frustrated that his night’s business was literally going up in smoke. He was angry that someone had made jerking him around their new hobby. And he was furious with himself for permitting them to mess with his ability to coolly sort through the facts.

Kate briefly settled her hand against his arm. “Hey, this isn’t going to go on forever. It’s going to be okay.”

“Now would be a good time for it to end.”

“Agreed,” she said. “Should we talk to the fire chief?”

“That’s up next.”

“Mind if I come along?”

“Not at all. A set of objective ears is good. But you should know that Norm’s more about putting the fire out than any kind of investigating. That’s one of the quirks of having a volunteer fire department.”

“Still, if you tell him about all the other things that have happened, he’ll have to see a pattern.”

“You and I might, but unless you’ve been living through it, it’s a tough pattern to see.” He led her to the back of the fire truck, where Chief Norm stood talking to Clete Erikson.

“Sorry about this, Matt,” Norm said as they neared.

The fire chief had been of average size in his active days as a charter fishing boat captain. Retirement had caught up with him, though. Now he was shaped like his favorite bowling ball. Still, he remained surprisingly agile.

“Thanks for getting the fire put out,” Matt said.

Norm nodded. “A few of us are going to stick around awhile in case any hot spots flare up.”

“Great. Will you start your arson investigation tonight or wait for first light?”

Norm looked surprised. “It’s a Dumpster fire, Matt. What makes you think it’s arson?”

“The fence was burning. You can’t believe that the entire enclosure sparked and went up without an accelerant.”

“Son, what does a Dumpster hold but trash?” Clete asked, but gave no time for an answer. “The ember from one cigarette butt could have set it off. I’ll interview your employees, but I don’t see any point in rattling the whole town with talk of arson.”

“The town will be talking anyway,” Kate said.

The police chief turned his head. “What did you say?”

“I said that the town will be talking anyway. That’s what Keene’s Harbor does, especially when the topic is as high-profile as Matt and Depot Brewing. They bring more money to this town than any other five businesses combined. Failure to investigate won’t make the talk go away. It will just get worse.”

Clete moved a step closer to her. “Well now, little lady, I’m not sure what business any of this is of yours.”

She looked up at Matt. “Little lady? Did he just call me
little lady
?”

Yeah, that had been a critical error on Clete’s part, Matt thought. And Matt was happy to urge her on. If anyone could help him quickly shake loose an investigation, it was Kate. “I believe he did,” Matt said.

She turned back to Clete. “I might be little and I might also be a lady, but I am
not
a little lady any more than you’re the ghost of John Wayne. And even the ghost of the Duke playing a sheriff blindfolded would know this is arson. If you and Chief Norm aren’t interested in investigating it, I’m sure someone is.”

Clete was more puzzled than annoyed. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar?”

“She’s right, Clete,” Matt said. “If you don’t step up, I’m going to have to call the county sheriff’s office and bring them in. You don’t want that.”

There wasn’t enough light to catch the look in Clete’s eyes, but Matt was betting it wasn’t a happy one. Somehow Kate had hit his hot button without even knowing it. Or maybe she’d sensed it. Keene’s Harbor wasn’t flush with money. Clete lived in fear of the town cutting back on its police coverage and using county services.

Clete stood taller, probably trying to make up for the fact that he was in civilian clothes. “Norm, if you’re going to be staying, could you put crime scene tape around the Dumpster area once it’s cooled down?” He turned to Matt. “Could you tell your employees to stay in the restaurant until I can interview them? Site photos and talking more to Laila will have to wait until the light of day.”

“Thanks, Clete,” Matt said.

He glanced at Kate, who wore a victorious smile. Their methods might vary, but Matt appreciated another person of action when he came across one. And he was appreciating Kate Appleton more by the minute.

*   *   *

KATE LOOKED
at Matt’s profile in the dim illumination of his truck’s dashboard lights. The guy was wiped out, and she couldn’t blame him. He turned onto The Nutshell’s winding drive, then pulled up beside her Jeep.

“Home again,” he said.

She took in the silhouette of her childhood home and felt comfort ease into her bones.

“I am,” she said.

That much, at least, felt very right. She smiled at the thought and the man who had triggered it.

“Did you get dinner?” she asked.

“I never made it over to the food tables.”

“Why don’t you come in? I don’t have much outside the key food groups of chocolate and wine, but I’m sure I can pull something together.”

“Thanks, but I need to get back to the brewery and make sure everything’s under control, then look in on Laila. How about if I take a rain check?”

“Sure,” she said, even though she felt a little disappointed. She reached for the truck’s door handle. “Good night, then.”

Kate was about to exit the truck when Matt spoke again. “You’re not scheduled for tomorrow, are you?”

“No.”

“Then I’d like you to take a road trip with me. I’ll pick you up around eight.”

“Where are we going?”

“A motel.”

“A what
?
”

He smiled. “You heard me. We’re going to a motel, among other places. But it’s business. You can relax … for the moment.”

Kate was guaranteed not to sleep at all.

EIGHT

A couple minutes before eight on Saturday morning, Matt pulled into Kate’s driveway. He reached for the closest of the two travel mugs of coffee he’d brought along. As he took a swallow, he also took advantage of the opportunity to check out The Nutshell in the daylight. He’d bought the mortgage on the advice of his financial advisor, and his interest had been in the land and not the house.

Last night, when Kate had cornered Clete, she’d invoked the ghost of John Wayne. Matt had found it tough not to laugh, since he’d often thought Clete purposely cultivated the look and attitude. But if Matt were to talk ghosts and The Nutshell, he’d have to say the Rat Pack, with Frank Sinatra leading the charge, would hang out there.