Hops and Homicide, page 2
As usual, the bench she sat on wasn’t her choice. It was The Man’s recommendation. She knew he was considering his entry and exit points, as well as discretion and the ability to see any potential dangers. This bench ticked all the boxes. She expected him to arrive from the clump of trees behind the bench, and she wasn’t wrong.
He arrived and sat at the opposite end of the bench. He remained silent for a few moments.
“The earth is changing once again,” The Man said.
“As always,” Cherry replied.
“Have the seasons changed for you?” he asked.
“Yes, they have. The clouds are gathering rapidly,” Cherry said.
“You told me these are familiar clouds,” he said.
“They are familiar but they carry in them a category 4 hurricane,” Cherry replied.
“Do you need an evacuation?” The Man asked.
“Not yet. I have to solve a puzzle first. Someone has kidnapped one of my friends,” Cherry said.
“Who?”
“The fallen king,” Cherry replied. This was their code reference for Fabian, her ex-boyfriend from her previous life. The Man remained silent. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you. He’s out on parole. I didn’t know he’d contacted you,” The Man said.
“Yeah, he’s out,” Cherry replied. “He’s made no secret of the fact he’s after me.”
“Interesting. So he isn’t bothered by the fact he might violate his parole?” The Man asked.
“It’s too late for now. He’s already committed a murder,” Cherry remarked.
The Man whistled softly through his lips. “He doesn’t waste any time, does he?”
“Nope. He’s still the same. That’s what makes him dangerous. Once he has me in his crosshairs, getting myself to safety will be tricky. However, I have to do this for Scott,” Cherry said.
“You should’ve told me the full situation before now. The clock is ticking for anyone who’s been kidnapped,” The Man said.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Cherry said. “Can you help me?”
She hears The Man scratching his rough stubble and take a long breath. “I’ll look into it. His number’s in your call logs, right?”
“It was a private number. I’m not sure you can see it,” she said.
“Leave that to me. I’ll be spending another night or two here,” The Man said. “I didn’t want that after last time.”
“I hope this will be better. Where are you staying?” Cherry asked.
The Man stood. “As you well, know, I can’t tell you that. I’ll find you when necessary. Stay safe.”
With that, he left. She heard his footfalls pulverize the dried leaves, erasing his presence.
Chapter Three
“Sometimes taking the bulls by its horns is overrated,” Cherry muttered to herself as she stood at the gas pump. She pressed the release and felt the nozzle pump gas into her car’s tank. She watched the numbers roll upwards like those in a casino slot machine.
She talked to herself sometimes when in deep thought, oblivious to the fact that other people might look at her and wonder if she’s mentally sound. That didn’t matter to her. The only time it had been an issue was when she did while having coffee alone at a café and two teens started giggling at her. At first, she smiled back at them. However, they ramped up their teasing, and she had to ask a waitress to tell them to behave.
The numbers stopped moving as the nozzle sensed the tank was full. She placed it back on its mount and strolled to the counter. Behind it stood a young man in his early twenties. He still had acne on his cheeks but wore a disarming smile and sparkling eyes that told you he wasn’t shy of them.
She paid off her bill and bought a pack of gum. As she stepped back out, a hulking SUV drove into one of the parking spaces. The driver rolled down the window, and she saw Arthur Finney propped behind the wheel. He was Bear Strike’s CEO, her direct competitor.
He turned to her and smiled as he got out of the car.
“What a pleasant surprise,” Arthur bellowed as he held out his hand. She took it and felt his firm, confident grip as he shook it. “I’ve not seen you in ages.”
Cherry nodded with a smile. “It’s been a busy time. It’s good to see you too. You’re looking like you’re from closing a big deal.”
She said this as she gave him the once over. He wore a light gray suit that shimmered in the sun and fit his portly body.
“It goes with the territory. Trust me, I can’t stand wearing this,” he said as he loosened his tie. “How are things at the factory? I’ve seen your product has been getting back on the shelves.”
Cherry knew he was fishing for her perspective. She knew he already had all the intelligence information he needed about how they were still in production.
“We’re getting there. We’ve set up a small plant, and it’s giving us the results we need, although we’ve cut back on our volume. I’m sure you already know that. How does it feel to have the larger market share now?” she asked.
He grinned and cleared his throat. “Being on top doesn’t matter. Staying there is the hard part. But it feels good. I won’t lie.”
“Don’t get too comfortable, I’ll be coming for that sport soon,” Cherry said.
“I don’t mind a little competition. But trust me, I’ll not give up that spot soon,” Arthur replied. “See you around.”
He locked his car door and strode into the store.
Cherry walked back to her car and drove out to the brewery.
When she got there, she found Stu overseeing the loading of a small delivery truck.
“Guess who I bumped into on my way here,” Cherry said.
“You know I’m terrible at guessing,” Stu replied.
“Arthur Finney. He looks like he’s enjoying his wins,” Cherry said.
Stu grunted. “I’m sure he is. Once, for every three of our deliveries, he did one. Now the tables have turned. We lost our capacity and some of our delivery partners went to work for them. It’s tricky to accept that, but we’re gaining ground.”
Cherry turned to look at the main brewery’s shell. “I really miss that place. We have to get it back to where it once was.”
“No rush. I’m actually enjoying this smaller operation, frankly,” Stu said.
“Why are you enjoying it?”
“Like I showed you, the product is better. Even you noticed it. I think we’re getting back to the heart of what it takes to make a craft beer. Keep it small and intimate and you get a better product. Make it big and commercial, and everything feels flat and soulless,” Stu said.
“But we weren’t soulless despite our size,” Cherry said. “We had Bernie’s fire inside us. We still do.”
“I hear you. That’s why we’re able to still make these, that’s for sure. However, I think the formulas he came up with for the beers were ideal for this smaller set up we have now. The feedback we’re getting on the new batches is great. People are noticing the bump up in quality of our product, and I think that’s the silver lining in this situation,” Stu said. His phone rang, and he stepped away.
Cherry understood what he meant. The insurance compensation would enable them to not only rebuild the main brewery but also buy new equipment. They didn’t have to tear down the prefab brewery. This meant they would have a larger production capacity than they had before the fire. This excited her. She was going to bring the fight to Arthur’s door.
Although she couldn’t hear what he was saying on the phone, she noticed Stu’s expression change from a warm one. She couldn’t hear what he was saying. When he was done, he had lag in his step.
“Everything okay?” Cherry asked.
“Yeah, why?” Stu said.
“You look like you got hit by a train,” Cherry replied.
Stu straightened his frame, now aware his body language was selling him out.
“Just some family stuff, nothing to worry about,” Stu said with a feigned smile.
“Are you sure?”
Stu nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”
“If you need to talk, you know I’m here,” Cherry said.
“Yeah, I know. Thanks,” Stu said as he returned to loading the truck.
Cherry walked up to her room and locked it behind her. She sat on the lush queen-size bed and stared outside her large window. She could see the gray skies and the swaying leafless tree branches as a gust of wind kept getting stronger and stronger. The signs were there that the weather was getting colder and harsher.
She stood and walked over to her enormous wardrobe. She reached for the top shelf, extending to the far end. Her hand felt the texture of a small leather case and grabbed it.
She unzipped it and drew out her two identity cards and two passports. The names were as she’d often seen them, once each month: Clare Baker; Anna McRae; Meredith Winters and Faith Sloan. In the passport photo of each of the cards was a different sort of photo of her: with a wig and without; with a shave and with short hair.
Often, she wished she could roll back the years. Although they were filled with uncertainty, life before was simpler. She struggled with hunger, but at least she had no other worries. She never wanted to use the documents, and occasionally she’d be tempted to burn them. Perhaps by eliminating her parachute, she could force herself to stay in one place and fight for her future. But she didn’t want to act on it just yet.
It wouldn’t be easy, but she had to stay around for Sam’s sake. This increased the risk of her other identity being unmasked, and she feared the consequences. She’d didn’t think she’d recover from them.
This meant she had to keep an eye out for backstabbers, whether sent by Fabian or otherwise. More than ever before, she had to recognize the snakes in the grass before they got to her.
Chapter Four
Cherry spent the night mulling over what to do. She needed a strategy to map out things. Time flew, and it surprised her to hear the fervent chirping of a black-billed magpie outside her window. A glance at her clock revealed the time: four a.m. She closed her notebook, in which she had scribbled many of her raging thoughts that night, switched off her side lamp, and forced herself into a nap.
A knock on her bedroom door startled her out of her slumber.
“Who is it?” Cherry asked as she sat up in bed and rubbed her left eye.
“Good morning, Mrs. Brewster. I’m sorry to wake you. You have a visitor,” Serena said. She was her newly promoted house manager.
“Oh,” Cherry replied, glancing at her clock. It was half past ten in the morning. “Oh, crap.” She threw off her duvet and stood. “Alright, let me freshen up and I’ll be right down.”
“He arrived some minutes ago and says he only has twenty minutes. It’s about the insurance,” Serena said.
“It’s Mark? Tell him I’m coming down right away,” Cherry replied.
Cherry rushed into the bathroom and splashed her face with water at the sink. Thereafter, she brushed her teeth but skipped taking a shower. She didn’t want to give him an excuse to leave, considering the insurance compensation had delayed for so long. She put on a dressing gown and stepped out.
As she went down the stairs, the scent of scrambled eggs, which she’d grown to love, met her. Although she often made the meal herself, on mornings like this, Serena was kind enough to make it for her.
Outside, the sun had come out briefly as it battled the gathering clouds. She found Mark seated under the garden gazebo at the back of the house.
He had a thick folder of documents as always, but also wore a suit and tie, which was unusual. Cherry found him sipping a cup of tea next to a saucer of two half-eaten fluffy pancakes. He wore a wide smile as she got closer.
“I bring you good tidings,” Mark said.
“I was hoping you’d say something like that,” Cherry said.
She eased herself into the opposite seat. He took out a clean A4-sized white envelope from his folder and handed it over to her.
“There’s your official note of compensation and the check,” Mark said. “I finally got it over the line.”
Cherry accepted it, trying her best to hide her excitement. She wasn’t desperate for the money. However, it was her golden ticket to continue reconstructing the brewery. Now, she wouldn’t raise suspicions about her source of money if she topped up from her own secret stash of funds. As soon as she saw the check, she grinned. She didn’t foresee the need to dip into her funds. They had awarded a million dollars, which was more than enough to get them back on their feet.
“Thank you for seeing this through. I was doubting if you guys really wanted us to get back into business,” Cherry said.
Mark chuckled. “Like I said, it’s a hefty sum to payout but we have to honor our agreement. Bernie has been paying the premiums without fail all these years. It’s the least we could do to show that we value that kind of loyalty.”
She studied the check again, admiring the zeros and visualizing the task ahead.
“We now have to get going with the rebuild. I hope we can get the major work done before winter,” Cherry said.
Mark nodded, his eyes acknowledging the trees with naked branches that dotted the compound.
“Winter’s knocking on the door for sure. Keep pushing. Just make sure there aren’t any accidents because of the rush,” he said with a wink.
“Knock on wood that won’t happen,” Cherry said as she rapped her right knuckle on the wooden tabletop. They laughed and chatted for a few more minutes before Mark left for another appointment. He was delivering several other checks to high-profile clients, hence the suit.
Serena served breakfast and Cherry ate as she daydreamed about the plans she had for the brewery. She had reimagined the taproom, which would now have an ornate, cozy lounge feel from the 1940s.
She even considered that, besides their bottling line, they’d install a canning line for the top performing brews. Bear Strike, her direct competition, wasn’t offering canned drinks, and she believed this would be one way of gaining back her market share. It excited her.
“The last time I saw you smile like that, you’d just gotten married,” a voice said behind her.
Cherry adjusted her gaze in time to see Loyal Stu walk up to her. He had his trademark purposeful gait. He took off his Stetson hat and laid it on the table.
“That was the first day of a new chapter, and today is similar in some ways,” Cherry replied. “How’s the morning going?”
“So far, so good. I thought you’d pass by the plant earlier,” Stu replied.
Cherry pointed at her dressing gown. “As you can see, I’ve had a late morning. But I’ve got some good news. We’re gonna rebuild the plant!”
His eyes widened. “You’re serious?”
Cherry waved the white envelope at him. “Absolutely. Call in the contractors and tell them to come over sometime this week for a chat. We’re back on track.”
Stu whistled. “That’s a relief! Not sure how much we can get done before winter, but let’s do this!”
“That’s the spirit. We should even set a date for a launch party, just to let people know that Brewster Brewery is still here. We’re coming back bigger and better,” Cherry said.
“This is after we’re done with the rebuild, right?” Stu asked.
“Nope, we do it as soon as possible. Remember, our market share is gone. We need to keep ourselves visible. Besides, it would be a perfect opportunity to boost our winter sales,” Cherry said.
“So, what products will we launch?”
Cherry shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll choose one or two in our lineup, repackage and then relaunch.”
Stu rubbed his chin.
“What?” Cherry asked.
“I’m not sure we should do that right now. Remember, not everyone wants to see us get back on our feet. So if we do it silently, they won’t know what we’re working on,” Stu said.
“It’s just one drink, Stu. We won’t be shoving every innovation we’re planning in their faces,” Cherry said.
“Once you raise curiosity, the vultures will gather,” Stu replied.
Cherry sighed. “We can’t live in fear, my friend.”
“True, and I’m not talking about this from a point of fear. It’s from a point of wisdom. Besides, Arthur is going to be holding his own launch party soon,” Stu said.
Cherry raised a brow. “Really? What for?”
“I think he’s adding two more beers to his line. I suggest we should find out what he’s launching first and then make our strategy and event different from that,” Stu said.
“We shouldn’t let their moves dictate ours,” Cherry said.
“But we also can’t operate as if they don’t exist. We should study their strengths and weaknesses and then use that to our advantage. God knows they’ve done the same to us,” Stu replied.
Cherry pondered for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll lose some time, but you’re right. Let’s watch his moves and then capitalize on any gaps he may have.”
The next two days were uneventful, and Cherry got into a rhythm. She’d help run the brewery in the early part of the morning, and then do deliveries using her car up to the middle of the afternoon.
Her third day yielded a chilling discovery: she was being watched. While on a delivery run, she noticed a black pickup truck with tinted windows in her rear-view mirror. She had driven for quite some time with it behind her as she delivered crates of craft beer to the truck-stop stores. As she drove back across town to make her last delivery, the truck lingered behind her, maintaining a considerable distance but not allowing her to get out of sight.
She slowed down to a snail’s pace so that the truck could get really close to her. She wanted to see the driver. But the reflection of the clouds from an overcast sky meant she couldn’t make out who was driving.
Cherry then drove to an intersection with traffic lights so that the truck would pull up alongside her. Instead, it pulled up behind her. They sat there and waited for the lights to change. She could hear the throaty rumble of the truck’s powerful engine, and this only made her more anxious.
