MY MIND REELED AS I walked to Nitro. April was a suspect in a murder? Impossible. Or was it? She had been fuming last night. But she couldn’t have killed him, could she?
I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my puffy fleece. The frosty morning air made my cheeks sting with cold. Smoke puffed from the top of the chimney on the bookstore. The bookstore was one of my favorite places to steal away a lazy Saturday afternoon. It was tucked on the hillside and looked like an enchanted castle from a brothers Grimm fairy tale. There were carts of books, covered with a plastic tarp, lining the porch. In classic Leavenworth fashion, the bookstore owner left overstock outside at night without worrying it would disappear.
The sound of sirens and the flashing lights had brought the workers to a halt. Shop owners and employees began coming out to the sidewalk to see what was going on.
I walked in a daze, barely noticing the activity. Kristopher was dead. He was currently the most despised man in the village, and he was dead. Could someone who opposed Kristopher’s stance on prohibition have taken matters into their own hands? But who?
I certainly didn’t want to see our little beertopia turn dry, but I couldn’t imagine any of my fellow business owners going so far as to murder Kristopher. Given last night’s turnout, it didn’t make sense. It was evident that Valerie had the majority of voters in her camp. Maybe someone snapped after Kristopher initiated a fight.
A wave of guilt washed over me. I had walked by when I saw him, April, Ross, Valerie, and Conrad in front of The Nutcracker Shoppe. Should I have intervened? What if one of them killed him?
A line had formed in front of Strudel, the pastry shop. I wondered if news was already spreading or if it was because they were making their famous Bavarian waffles today. The sweet waffles smothered with buttercream and strawberries were so popular that whenever they were on the menu they sold out in a matter of hours. Leavenworth had a reputation for gossip. It came with the territory, living in a small town of two thousand permanent residents. The gossip wasn’t mean-spirited, it was simply that news tended to travel fast, whether that news was a murder or delicious waffles.
“Sloan!” a woman called from the back of the pastry line. It was Heidi, who owned the Hamburg Hostel next door to Der Keller. She and I had volunteered together on a number of fund-raising committees. The Hamburg was a boutique property with ten guest rooms. Getting a reservation for the busiest times of year at the hostel required booking months—sometimes years—in advance.
“Morning, Sloan. Have you heard the news?” She pointed down the street in the direction I’d just come from. She was dressed in workout gear. Her black spandex pants were skin-tight as was her neon orange tank top. A warm-up jacket and towel hung over her shoulder.
I wasn’t sure how to respond, since the chief had asked me to be discreet. “No. What’s going on? Are they serving waffles today? And aren’t you freezing?” I rubbed my arms.
“Sadly, no waffles for me.” She dabbed her face with the towel. “I’m still cooling down from my morning CrossFit class. You should come. It’s a killer workout, but my abs are loving it.” Heidi didn’t have an ounce of fat on her body. She looked like she could compete in body-building contests, with her chiseled arms and lean, muscular legs.
“You’re not exactly selling it by saying it’s a killer workout. Although maybe I’ll have to join you if I keep finding myself at Strudel every morning.” I eyed a tray of almond-paste tarts in the display case.
“Sloan, come on. You’re in great shape, and it gives you the biggest endorphin rush. I was telling my instructor that I need a post-workout coffee to maintain the high.” She tossed the towel back over her shoulder. “What’s the scoop with the police activity? Someone in line said they heard there’s been a murder.”
This might have been a record for gossip spreading. “Really?” I played naive.
She jabbed the man in line in front of her. I recognized him, too. I’d seen him with April last night—it was Ross, the owner of Leavenworth’s most unusual bar, The Underground. The Underground was literally that. It was a bar that had been constructed in the basement of an old church. To access it, you had to descend a steep set of stairs and then travel through a small underground tunnel.
“Oh hey, Sloan.” Ross smiled. He was short, stocky, and completely bald, but with a full, shaggy red beard.
“You’re up early,” I said to Ross. “I thought bar owners shunned the morning sun, especially after the craziness of last night.”
“Yeah, that was something. Kristopher got what he deserved, if you ask me.” He motioned to the coffee counter. “I usually don’t like to see the sun. I’m more of a stars kind of guy, but that’s why I’m here. I need the biggest cup of java they can brew. We had an issue with the electricity last night. I have an emergency appointment with the electrician in a few minutes to try to get things sorted out.”
“What happened last night?” Heidi asked.
Ross massaged his shiny head. “The dude went off the deep end. He started a fight at Der Keller after the rally for Valerie. I thought I saw you there?”
“No, not me.” Heidi shook her head and then unzipped a tiny pocket on the top of her thigh that was barely noticeable. She pulled out a folded five-dollar bill. “Ross, tell Sloan what you just heard. Maybe it’s really true if there was a fight last night.”
Ross tried to glance behind us, but both Heidi and I were taller than him. “I heard that Kristopher Cooper is dead. I can’t say that I’m broken up about it. The man was a nutcase. Who in his right mind would think it was a good idea to prohibit alcohol in a tourist destination better known as Beervaria?”
How had Ross already heard about Kristopher? I had just left Chief Meyers minutes ago. Gossip couldn’t travel that fast. Could it?
“Seriously,” Heidi agreed. “I’m surprised someone didn’t kill him sooner. Everyone in town hates him. Can you imagine what would have happened to our businesses if he had been reelected?”
I agreed that banning alcohol would have had a tremendously negative impact on every business in town, but I was surprised by Heidi and Ross’s callous tone.
“Kristopher had it in for the Underground,” Ross said. “I wouldn’t be shocked to learn that he was behind our mysterious power outage last night. He’s been trying to shut us down for months.”
“Why?” I asked as we moved forward with the line. The smell of hand-rolled pastries and coffee made me almost want to go for a second breakfast.
Ross shrugged. “No idea. He freaked out on me when a couple of frat guys got arrested after we kicked them out. They’d had too much to drink at Oktoberfest, so my bartender refused to serve them.” He paused. “You know how it goes, Sloan. There’s no gray area when it comes to overserving.”
“Right.”
Heidi put on her warm-up jacket. “Why would Kristopher have been upset about that?”
“One of the guys threw up on his shoe.” Ross rolled his eyes. “As if that was our fault. They ran into him on the sidewalk, and one of the guys puked. Kristopher called the police and claimed that we had overserved them. We had video footage of my bartender kicking them out basically from the moment they stumbled in, but Kristopher wouldn’t let it go. He said that we were underground for a reason. He had the wildest theories that we were serving minors and running a bootleg operation. He had gone off the deep end.”
“I had no idea,” I said.
Ross made it to the front of the line. He placed his order. Heidi turned to me. “Well, I guess we won’t have to worry about next week’s election if Kristopher is dead.”
“True.” I waited while she ordered. Then I ordered a black coffee for me and lattes for Garrett and Kat. I’ve always been experimental when it comes to coffee. Much like the process of brewing beer, I enjoyed a variety of coffee styles. Some days I drank my coffee black, other days I ordered a latte. We chatted for a few more minutes while waiting for our coffees. Then we parted ways. I figured that Ross and Heidi were likely venting their frustration over Kristopher, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that they had both had a strange reaction to the fact that he had been murdered.
When I arrived at Nitro, the front door was unlocked, and the brewery lights were on. Garrett was filling the mash tun with malt.
“I didn’t expect you to be awake yet,” I commented, and handed him a latte.
“Me neither. Thanks for this.” He took the coffee with a grateful smile.
“Why are you up so early?”
“I heard a bunch of sirens. Is something going on?” Garrett took a sip of the latte. His reading glasses were propped on his head.
I set the latte I had purchased for Kat on the bottom step of the fermenting tank. Then I cradled my coffee in my hands. “There’s been a murder.”
Garrett nearly dropped his latte. “What?” He caught the coffee at the last minute, but not before sloshing some on his shirt, which read BEER, IT’S WHAT’S FOR BREAKFAST.
I explained about how I stopped by April’s office and saw her get taken into custody. Garrett and I had worked with Chief Meyers in a previous murder case, so I knew that I could trust him to keep the information between us. Then I filled him in on my conversation with Ross and Heidi.
“Can you believe they’d already heard? I mean, it had literally only been minutes between the time I saw the chief taking April away and bumping into them.”
“Man, that’s uncanny timing.” Garrett went to run his fingers through his hair and accidentally knocked off his reading glasses.
“Yeah. It’s probably nothing, but neither of them was shaken up in the least by the news of Kristopher’s death.”
Garrett stuck the glasses back on his head and wiped coffee from the rim of the lid with his thumb. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in their reactions. They didn’t know for sure that Kristopher was dead, right?”
“True.”
“It could be that they weren’t more shaken because they think it’s just a rumor.”
I understood his point, but I still felt weird about how my conversation with Heidi and Ross had gone. “Can you believe that April is the chief’s top suspect?”
“No.” Garrett cracked a half smile. “Now, that would be poetic justice, wouldn’t it? Leavenworth’s queen of the kitsch arrested. If she had done it with a stein, that would be even better.”
“I hate to admit it, but that was my first thought, too. It couldn’t happen to a more irritating person, but she looked really scared, Garrett.”
He took a big gulp of the latte. “Yeah. I know we share the same feelings about April. She’s annoying as hell, but I’m with you, Sloan. There is no way she’s a killer. Can you imagine her wrestling someone like Kristopher to the ground in her petticoats and high heels?”
I shuddered at the thought. “Nope. I’m sure that Chief Meyers is following protocol. I got the sense reading between her words that she didn’t want to arrest April.”
“Can you blame her?”
I laughed. “I’m thinking I should walk over to the police station later and see if I can talk to April.” I sighed and took a sip of my coffee. “I wouldn’t say that I want to help April, but I feel like I should.”
“You are a saint among women, Sloan.” Garrett finished his coffee.
“It’s not entirely selfless. I’m curious about the murder, and if I check in on April, maybe I can get some more details about what happened.”
Garrett tossed the empty cup in the garbage and returned to funneling grains into the tank. “If anyone can get more details, it’s you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that thanks to your personality, people have a tendency to overshare with you. I have a theory on why that is. Do you want to hear it?”
“Is this a scientific theory?”
Garrett grinned. “Sure is. Masterminded by yours truly.”
“Well, in that case, yes, please enlighten me.”
“My very scientific theory goes something like this. People pour out their heart and soul to you because you do the opposite. You don’t easily divulge personal details or gossip. That rattles people. They don’t like the silence, so they fill it with unnecessary details about themselves.”
“Intriguing.”
“I prefer brilliant.” Garrett winked. “I’ll bill you for my services later.”
“Thanks.”
Kat came downstairs a few minutes later. She padded into the kitchen in a pair of sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, and a pair of fluffy slippers shaped like bunnies. “I thought I heard voices down here.”
I offered her the latte, which she immediately began to guzzle. We didn’t mention anything about Kristopher’s murder. I had made a promise to Chief Meyers. It could wait. Kat would hear about it soon enough, and for the moment there was beer to brew.