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Adam stared up at the Ironwood Pub & Brewery sign. The building was newish in the Junction but designed to mimic the style of “traditional” Vermont, with post and beam architecture like something out of frontier days. Harlan once said to Adam that Vermonters make everything that’s old look new and everything that’s new look old.
Adam said aloud, “And leave it to the Junction for one of the biggest buildings in town to be a bar.”
Not surprising, really, considering Vermont sported the highest number of brewers per capita in the U-S-of-A. Something to keep in mind, if Mayor Lehmann ever was successful in getting Adam fired. Built-in job security for bouncers since people were always going to drink.
One of the most determined drinkers Adam knew was waiting for him as he walked into the pub, waving Adam over to a booth in the back. Adam slid into the seat across from a human-bear. Six-five, shaggy black mane and beard and about the same size as a smallish grizzly. “Why, Creighton Querry, fancy meeting you here. Still bouncing?”
“Thanks to you and the little mention you worked into the papers after the Forsythe case, I’m back to being a full-time private eye. And I take it from your phone call earlier you might have some work for me?”
“What makes you think I don’t just want to share a drink with my best bud?”
“Best and bud don’t quite describe this,” Cray gestured from Adam to himself.
“Cray, you wound me.” Adam picked up the drink menu and rolled his eyes. “I can just see the marketing gurus who got paid big bucks to sit around and think of these beer names.”
“Named after famous Vermonters. What’s wrong with that?”
“Calvin Droolidge? Ethan Howlen? Rudyard Dripling? Maria von Trappist?”
“Okay, so they’re on the kitschy side.”
“Here’s one I’m not familiar with. The Wilson Repently. Menu says it’s named after Wilson Alwayn ‘Snowflake’ Bentley, the first photographer of snowflakes. Died of pneumonia after walking home six miles in a blizzard.”
“Should have photographed seashells instead. Nice warm Bahamas seashells.”
Adam handed the menu to the waitress when she arrived and ordered a coffee. Cray went with the Droolidge, but raised an eyebrow at Adam. “You’re on duty?”
“Working a murder case. You may have heard about it.”
“That Wallace Ryall fellow, I’ll bet. Also heard Harlan Wilford was arrested for it. You do the honors or recuse yourself?”
“It was me.”
“That’s harsh, my friend. You do take that duty stuff serious.”
“What else was I supposed to do? Take time off? Head off after some of those Bahamas seashells?”
“You don’t think he did it?”
“Hell, no.”
Cray took a sip of his beer when it arrived and gave Adam a thumbs up. “Harlan’s always been straight with me. No pretentious shit, none of that smarmy salesman act. He sold me some desk gear. It was after my client list dried up, and I was running on empty. So he let me barter some work for him. Did some odd jobs to fix up the shop.”
“Sounds like Harlan.”
“I guess what I’m saying is, you want my help on clearing his name, I’m in.”
Adam smiled over his glass of teetotaler Irish coffee. “He could use all the help he can get.”
“Any primo suspects?”
“His estranged brother. A jealous fellow member of the Society for Creative Anachronism, Braddon Hopper. An ex-girlfriend, Fern Gery, although he had more reason to harm her than vice versa. And the victim’s neighbor, a Professor Atkinson, a victim of Ryall’s vendetta.”
“Is that it?”
“Outliers include the neighbor’s wife, Nyssa. Mayor Lehmann, who hates me enough to get to me through Harlan. Or a Reginald Forsythe crony. Like this one guy, burly but not quite as big as you. With a red beard.”
“I can squeeze in some time for Harlan. Even with my current case.”
“More marital infidelity?”
Cray sipped some of the beer, letting it trickle down his throat. “Something more interesting. A rare-earths shipment went missing.”
“That’s a new one. What’s a rare earth?”
“Rare earths are just that—very rare. Minerals only found in small amounts that are hard to mine. Ironically, the windmill turbines those rare earths are used for are considered ‘green’ technology, but the mining process creates a bunch of toxic waste. One of the few mines in the U.S., outside the Mojave, was shut down because of that.”
“All very interesting. But I’m more interested in Harlan’s case.” Adam handed over a couple of Ben Franklins. “That’ll get you started, a mini-retainer. Anything you can find.”
Cray looked at the bills. “Adam—”
“Go ahead, take them. The bail money’s being put up by a friend of Beverly Laborde’s. I got more to spare than I thought I might.”
Cray pocketed the money and nodded toward the front of the bar. “You mean that Beverly Laborde?”
Adam peered around the tall seatback of the booth and caught sight of a familiar figure with long raven hair. Then he noticed she wasn’t alone. She was talking animatedly to her companion, none other than Fern Gery. Adam slid farther into the booth, closer to the wall to avoid being seen.
Cray took another sip of his beer. “How’s your love life, Dutton?”
Adam glared at him and started to retort when a woman slid into the booth next to him. “Cray, darling,” she said. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”
Cray smiled at Zelda Lehmann. “Hell, the last time I saw you was right after you and Adam took that trip up to Nova Scotia. You couldn’t stop talking about all the amethyst you found at Cape Blomidon.”
“I’ve still got that amethyst. The big crystal is on my dresser, and the smaller ones I made into jewelry.”
Adam was shocked she’d taken anything collected during their marriage to the mayor’s home, even if it was gemstones. Zelda poked him in the ribs. “You remember that trip, don’t you, Adam? We took that whale-watching cruise and saw the finbacks and minkes.”
Okay, that made two surprises. She recalled all that? Cray didn’t look as surprised as Adam felt, saying, “Feels like old times, doesn’t it? The three of us sipping brewskis, watching the Patriots on TV.”
Zelda laughed. “Now, you really are taking me back. That was when you were clean-shaven and had a crew cut.”
“And as I recall, your hair was down to your waist, missy. And our favorite lawman here sported a mullet. Ah, the folly of youth.”
She smiled at the two men. “I think you’re right. You look much more intimidating with the beard, Cray. And Adam definitely looks sexier with his hair cut shorter.” She ran her fingers through Adam’s hair.
Adam tried not to notice how nice her fingers felt. And he tried even harder to ignore Cray’s smirk. He made a surreptitious scan of the bar to see if he could spy Beverly and Fern, but they must have been ushered to another corner—or even another floor—of the cavernous joint. Not seeing any signs of her, he relaxed a little.
But then he had the sudden thought as to why he was trying to hide from Beverly. Or was it hiding Zelda from Beverly? All he needed was Mayor Lehmann to show up right then.
After several moments with no sign of Lehmann or Beverly, Adam allowed himself to enjoy the company. Just some friends getting together for old times’ sake. All aboveboard and harmless.
Apparently, Zelda hadn’t got the word about “just friends.” A feminine hand squeezed his thigh under the table and moved too far north for comfort. But jumping up like a rabbit running from a fox would only bring attention to their table, and he desperately wanted to avoid that.
And damn that Cray—he winked at Adam. He knew, all right, and was enjoying every moment of Adam’s embarrassment. Goddamn the man.
Zelda caught the waitress’s attention to order a Maria von Trappist. While she waited, she grabbed Cray’s beer and took a quick sip. “Adam, darling, you must tell me what happened with Harlan at the court the other day.”
“Your other half didn’t fill you in?”
Zelda made a big deal of rolling her eyes as if faux exasperated, but Adam could tell from the crinkles around her eyes she was truly pissed. “Titus doesn’t tell me much of anything. Not that I don’t eavesdrop, of course.”
“Of course.” Adam peered at her over his coffee. “What did you overhear?”
“Not sure who he was talking to. But he was pretty steamed.”
“Harlan got released on bail.”
“That’s why he was steamed.”
Adam was getting steamed, baked, and broiled himself. “Now why would he care if Harlan stayed in jail or got released to home confinement?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“He hates Harlan because of his connections to me.”
“I don’t think he cares one way or the other about Harlan. Harlan is, well. . .”
“A weapon to cut me down?”
She grabbed her beer as it arrived to take a large gulp. “I tried to tell him what a lovely man Harlan is. And how Titus needs to spend more time on his career goals rather than personal vendettas.”
“You said that?”
“Not in those exact words. But I hope he got the hint.”
Adam didn’t know what to say to that. He was grateful, sure, but he couldn’t figure out Zelda’s angle. The career part he got. That was why she’d married the guy in the first place. Up, up and away—all the way to the governor’s mansion. But whose side was she on, really?
He must have had a seriously gloomy expression since Cray finally took pity on him. “Yo, Dutton, you tried the wings here? They got these killer spicy Moroccan Harissa wings. You’ll need a refill on that coffee. Better make that an iced coffee. With lots of ice.”
Adam gave Cray a grateful smile and waved at the waitress to place their food orders. He had the fleeting thought to go seek out Beverly and recommend she try the wings, too. Another time, perhaps.
