Beer and Loathing, page 1
Praise for the Sloan Krause Mystery Series
Distinctive characters and fun anecdotes about beer and brewing help make this a winner. Readers will want to keep coming back for more.
Publishers Weekly on Beyond a Reasonable Stout
Exciting and irresistible…this absorbing mystery will not let you leave it unfinished. Ellie Alexander is a formidable mystery novel writer.
Washington Book Review on Death on Tap
With its beautifully described small-town setting and seamlessly intertwined details about brewing beer, this cozy will appeal to beer lovers everywhere as well as readers who enjoy mysteries highlighting family relationships and independent female main characters.
Booklist
Likable characters, an atmospheric small-town setting, and a quirky adversary for the amateur sleuth. The engaging premise and pairings of beer and food should appeal to fans of Avery Ames’s ‘Cheese Shop’ titles.
Library Journal
A delight for foodies, craft beer fans, and lovers of twisty mysteries with a touch of humor.
Kirkus Reviews on Without a Brew
Charming…featuring a clever protagonist and talented brewer whose knowledge of the science and art of brewing beer is both fascinating and fun. The cozy village and the quirky characters who inhabit it are a delight, and the intriguing mystery will keep readers enthralled to the very end.
Kate Carlisle, New York Times bestselling author of the Bibliophile Mysteries and the Fixer Upper Mysteries
Ellie Alexander’s prose bubbles like the craft beers her protagonist Sloan Krause brews—a sparkling start to a new series.
Sheila Connolly, New York Times bestselling author of the Orchard Mysteries and the Cork County Mysteries
A concoction containing a charming setting, sympathetic characters, and a compelling heroine that kept me turning pages way past my bedtime.
Barbara Ross, author of the Maine Clambake Mysteries
Death on Tap is an entertaining sip of the world of brewpubs and tourist towns. Sloan, a foster child turned chef, brewer, and mother, is an intriguing protagonist. Pour me another!
Leslie Budewitz, two-time Agatha Award winning author of the Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries
A ‘hopping’ good cozy mystery…Readers will enjoy listening to local gossip and tracking a killer along with her in the charming German-style ‘Beervaria’ setting of Leavenworth, Washington.
Meg Macy, author of Bearly Departed
Also by Ellie Alexander
THE SLOAN KRAUSE MYSTERIES
Trouble is Brewing
Death On Tap
The Pint of No Return
Beyond a Reasonable Stout
Without a Brew
The Cure for What Ales You
Hold on for Beer Life – Short mystery
Beer and Loathing
A Brew to a Kill – Short mystery coming May 2023
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STANDALONE NOVELS
Lost Coast Literary
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THE BAKESHOP MYSTERIES
Meet Your Baker
A Batter of Life and Death
On Thin Icing
Caught Bread Handed
Fudge and Jury
A Crime of Passion Fruit
Another One Bites the Crust
Till Death Do Us Tart
Live and Let Pie
A Cup of Holiday Fear
Nothing Bundt Trouble
Chilled to the Cone
Mocha, She Wrote
Bake, Borrow, and Steal
Donut Disturb
Muffin But the Truth
Catch Me If You Candy
A Smoking Bun – Coming 2024
Beer and Loathing
A Sloan Krause Mystery
Ellie Alexander
Published by
Sweet Lemon Press LLC
BEER AND LOATHING
Copyright © 2023 by Katherine Dyer-Seeley
All rights reserved.
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For information, address Sweet Lemon Press, LLC, PO Box 2057 Sunnyvale, CA 94087.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2023902211
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Cover illustration by Kitty Wong
Cover design by Gordy Seeley
This book is dedicated to you. Without your unwavering support and encouragement, this series might have died off. But because of your emails, DMs, handwritten notes, and stopping me after book signings asking me to please, please, revive Sloan, I was utterly humbled and inspired. Sloan has always held a special place in my heart, and I’m so touched that she’s left a lasting impression on you. I hope you enjoy her next story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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With love,
Ellie
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Recipes inspired by Sloan
Sloan’s Schnecken Caramel Sticky Buns
Roasted Butternut Squash and Tortellini Soup
Chocolate Peanut Butter Pretzel Bars
Goulash Soup
Sloan’s Tour of Leavenworth
Acknowledgments
Read on for an excerpt from…
A Brew to a Kill
About the Author
Ellie Alexander's Author Academy
Chapter
One
I passed by the bar, precariously balancing a tray of black IPAs. Nitro hummed with the beat of drums reverberating off the shiny silver brewing tanks and bodies squished together around high-top tables. The crowd was somehow bigger than yesterday’s, which seemed impossible. Our nanobrewery was as stated—nano, as in tiny. We brewed small batches of craft beer in our boutique space nestled in the Northern Cascade Mountains in the Bavarian village of Leavenworth, Washington. While some brewers dreamed of expanding and distributing their products nationally, I was quite content to keep things small.
Garrett Strong, my partner in crime, had opened Nitro just over two years ago after inheriting his Great-Aunt Tess’s two-story Bavarian inn with its brocade façade, brown hickory balconies and spires, and signature lion’s crest. While she was alive, Tess had used the old brothel as a boarding house and diner, but it had fallen into disrepair.
When Garrett took over, he renovated the building’s entire interior. The front served as our tasting room and bar, with bright white walls and cement floors. The twenty-five-foot-high ceilings made the dining area feel expansive. A long distressed-wood bar served as a divider between the dining space and our brew operations.
Garrett had kept Tess’s commercial kitchen and small office mainly intact and transformed the rest of the open space in the back into our brewing operations. Our stainless-steel mash tuns and shiny bright clarifying tanks were housed in the back, where all of the brewing magic took place.
Recently we had taken on the task of renovating the four upstairs guest rooms that had been untouched for years. After much deliberation, we decided to transform the rooms into Airbnb suites themed after the key ingredients in beer—water, yeast, hops, and grain. We offered guests an immersive beer experience with personal brewery tours, special beer tastings, homemade breakfasts, and extra touches like leaving hop-filled sachets under their pillows.
Last summer’s project involved building an attached deck on the side alley for more outdoor seating. There were always dozens of things on my checklist as brewery manager, but at the moment, my top priority was delivering this round of drinks without spilling them on the floor.
I squeezed past packed happy hour tables. The front windows dripped with condensation as the late afternoon sun trickled in. I breathed in the aromas of hops and chocolate. The chocolate was from my early morning baking session. And the hops were, well, obviously, from our newest line of dark and delicious winter beers. Midwinter in Leavenworth can feel sleepy, so Garrett and I decided to try our hand at hosting a variety of pub events—trivia and game nights, paint and pint nights, and hosting local bands.
Schools were on break for ski week, so we had brewed batches of special winter beers—peanut butter and chocolate stout, oatmeal spice cream ale, and my current favorite, our obsidian black IPA.
We partnered with Der Keller for the dark and moody IPA, the legendary brewery that had put Leavenworth on the beer map and was owned by my family. Technically speaking, ex-family, but the Krauses didn’t believe in the concept of ex-anything. That was fine by me. Otto and Ursula welcomed me into their loving family when I married their son Mac. If it weren’t for them, I never would have found my way to Leavenworth or ended up running a successful brewery.
In my early years of learning the brewing business, Otto taught me everything he knew, often to Mac’s displeasure. According to Otto, I had “ze nose,” which meant I had an innate ability to pull out each distinct flavor in a beer. It wasn’t a skill I had attempted to master, which irritated Mac even more. He had traveled to international brewing conferences and studied with world-class brewers in an attempt to hone his olfactory senses, with no success.
In hindsight, I wondered if that had been part of our problem. After we separated and now that our divorce was final, things had smoothed out between us like a crisp summer pale ale. Mac had found his role running operations at Der Keller, and I was content tinkering with unique small batches at Nitro while staying connected with the Krauses. Otto and Ursula had gifted me shares in Der Keller along with Mac and Hans, cementing my affiliation with them. It took a bit to sort out our future roles with the ever-growing brewery, but I was proud of the work we’d done. Our divorce could easily have gotten messy. We didn’t let it. Mac deserved credit for that, too. We had learned that we were better as friends, and we had one amazing common interest in our son Alex. I knew that Mac would do anything for Alex, and I was grateful we had come to a place of mutual respect and caring.
Not that he still didn’t irritate me every now and then. Especially with his constant obsession to try every new trick of the trade, like when he invested ten thousand dollars into tabletop Keurig-style brewing machines that he claimed could revolutionize the dining experience for customers. His vision was that Der Keller guests could brew their own beer while waiting for platters of German sausages and potato soup. However, he forgot to read the fine print, explaining that the tech systems took two weeks to ferment.
Classic, Mac.
I chuckled to myself as I dropped the obsidian IPAs off at a table near the dewy front windows and stole a glance outside. Snow came down in heavy clumps as if being tossed from the towering peaks surrounding our alpine village. Garrett’s parents and sister were due to arrive this evening. I hoped that they weren’t going to get stuck in the passes on their way from Seattle. Traveling to our remote location this time of year could be dicey. The passes often closed due to heavy snow and rockslides.
Garrett had been buzzing for weeks about their visit. I knew he would be disappointed if they couldn’t make it. At that moment, a snowplow chugged past Nitro, leaving a trail of fluffy white powder in its wake. It was a good reminder that the roads were constantly being cleared.
Stay positive, Sloan.
I smiled and turned my attention to the tasting room. Kat and Garrett worked the bar, pouring pints and chatting with customers. People mingled in the brewery, where we had set up extra folding chairs for guests to listen to the band. We’d installed tents, heaters, and firepits in the front and on the side deck, doubling our seating capacity. Garrett had been worried that no one would want to be outside, but the opposite was true. Beer lovers bundled up in parkas and ski hats and huddled near the crackling fires while sipping on porters and sampling our beer and cheese pretzel fondue.
I was about to go check on the outdoor crowd when I noticed a familiar face. Hazel, a young doctor, was crammed against the exterior door that led to the back patio. She reminded me of a turtle with her puffy yellow ski jacket tucked over her head. “Hazel, I didn’t see you there. You’re shoved into that corner. Can I find you a better spot?” I motioned toward the brewery.
Hazel looked up from her laptop and stared at me with a blank expression. “Huh? Did you say something?” She yanked an earbud from her ear.
“I asked if you wanted me to find you another seat. You look kind of cramped at that table.” I wondered how Hazel was able to get any work done with the noise from the crowd and the band. Not to mention the constant wind blowing inside anytime someone opened the door.
“Oh, sorry. Uh, thanks. No, I’m fine.” She tugged off her hood and took out her other AirPod. Her shoulder-length hair frizzled from the static and cold.
“I’m impressed that you’re able to focus with so much going on.” As if to prove my point, a round of cheers and applause broke out in the brewery as the band finished their song.
She twisted the string on her ski coat around her index finger. “It’s called being a resident. Medical school taught me how to tune out anything. When I was at University of Washington, I used to study at bars. They were open late, so I would bring my laptop and AirPods and stay until closing.”
“Wow, that is dedication. We’re lucky to have you here.”
The band started their next set. Hazel’s eyes drifted in that direction where a group of her colleagues, some of them still wearing their scrubs from their shifts, were gathered around one long folding table.
She slammed her laptop shut and then shook her head while still fiddling with her coat string. “I wouldn’t say that, and I’m trying not to get attached because I don’t know how long I’m going to have a job.”
“Really? Why?” I couldn’t help but wonder if that was why she had stuffed herself at a high-top table near the exit instead of sitting with the other doctors.
Hazel had become one of our regulars. Nitro was located a couple of blocks off Front Street, near Waterfront Park and the hospital. Given our proximity, medical staff tended to stop in for a pint or two at the end of their shifts. We appreciated the steady business, and they appreciated that Nitro was slightly off the beaten tourist path. City code in Leavenworth dictated that every storefront in the village adhere to strict Bavarian design standards. Our German architecture, cobblestone streets, alpine mountains, and festivals brought a steady stream of tourism to town. Nitro’s exterior matched the Bavarian aesthetic, but unlike some of the shops and restaurants that catered to tourists seeking German cuisine and tchotchkes like plastic cuckoo clocks and knee-high beer stein socks, we had opted to carve out space as the local hangout.
She clutched her laptop to her chest and bit her bottom lip. “It’s a long and complicated story, and right now, I don’t know if I’m even right about what I think I might be right about. If I am, then I don’t even have the slightest idea what I’m going to do.” She shot her head in the direction of the other doctors and then trailed off. “Never mind. You’re super busy. I should let you get back to work.”
There was something about Hazel’s breathless tone that put me on alert. I could only imagine how stressful her schedule as a resident had to be. I wondered if the long hours and lack of sleep were taking their toll. My motherly instincts kicked in. “I’m never too busy to talk.”
“No, I need to go. I should go check with Tad, our IT guy. He might be able to figure something out.” She stuffed her laptop into a matching bright yellow messenger bag and pulled her hood over her head again. “Just forget I said anything. I pulled a double shift and haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours. I’m probably just stressed, you know? I’m overworked and running on cheap coffee and fumes.”
“Totally understandable, but my offer remains. If you ever need a listening ear, I’m always willing to listen. It’s the tap tenders’ and brewers' code. Pints on the house, okay?” I tried to meet her gaze, but Hazel stared at the floor. “You and the entire team at the hospital work so hard to keep everyone safe and healthy, it’s the least I can do.”
