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 sen
sed 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.
Once upon a time, this had been a top-of-the-line cottage, but that time had passed. The Nutshell’s upkeep had to be a bear by virtue of its size, not to mention its windy perch over Lake Michigan. Though Kate had limited Matt’s indoor tour the other night, he’d guess the house held at least six bedrooms, and probably more.
The place’s white paint was pulling away from its trim, its entry porch had begun to sag, and its silvery cedar shingles were becoming gap-toothed in places. The Nutshell had character, though. He liked that it was as quirky as its current resident.
The front door swung open, and Kate appeared. She wore dressy boots, snug jeans, a clingy red V-necked sweater, and had a huge brown leather purse slung over her shoulder. Matt slipped from behind the wheel and rounded his truck. He opened the passenger-side door for her and waited while she climbed on board.
“Was it this big last night?” she asked, clicking her seat belt into place as they pulled out of her drive.
“What?”
“Your truck. Last night is kind of a haze of stage fright, adrenaline, and punch, so my memories are fuzzy. But it’s like Land of the Giants in here. My feet barely even reach the floor.” Her smile was brief, but it still made him feel good. “So the standard question would be: Tell me, Culhane, are you compensating for something with this monster vehicle?”
He grinned. “I’ve never worried about compensating.”
“Really?”
“Want to check?”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Kate said.
That was a flirtatious warning shot across her bow, she thought. She’d set it up, and he’d followed in kind. It was fun, but she didn’t want it to go further just yet. She dug through her purse and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses.
“I probably shouldn’t talk again until I’ve had my second coffee,” she said. “Anything before that is the insomnia speaking.”
“Do you really have insomnia?”
She nodded. “I’m having a little mold problem. The place is filled with negative air blowers, and there are guys coming today to remove the damage and HEPA vacuum the place.”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “Mold problems can be really hard to fix. And expensive. Are you sure you don’t want to bail now? I was going to raze the structure anyway.”
Kate felt her jaw drop. “Excuse me— You want to destroy my family’s lake house so you can build some tourist trap of a restaurant? Are you serious? I will never, ever, ever let you get your hands on my house.”
“I think I pushed a button best left alone for now,” Matt said. “Would you consider coffee as a peace offering?”
She reached for the mug in her cup holder. “Coffee would be a wonderful peace offering. Sorry I snapped. If I don’t catch more than three hours of sleep in a row soon, I’m going to be giving Deena Bowen a run for her money in the cranky department. And it isn’t just the blowers. I wasn’t sleeping too well even before they arrived. All night long the house is filled with creaks and groans and whispers. At four in the morning, it sounds downright haunted. Not that I have issues or anything.” She took a swallow of coffee. “But enough of my neuroses. Why not tell me where we’re going besides that motel you mentioned.”
“First, we’ve got to head to my office,” he said.
“Bad news, then. We’re heading in the wrong direction.”
“My Traverse City office.”
She turned her face his way, and he had to focus on the road not to smile at how cute she was in the big glasses.
“Okay,” she said. “So you do have a secret life. Are you a spy? Is this one of those ‘I’m going to tell you but then I have to kill you’ road trips?”
Matt laughed. “You stand a better chance of being bored to death by my secret life. All the same, it’s mine and I choose to keep it among certain people. Now that I’m making you one of them, no sharing this with Ella or anyone else.”
“Deal,” she said. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me be in the know. I’ve been kind of low on friendships since I moved here, and I like having one with you. It’s…” She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I don’t know, really special, I guess.”
It was to Matt, also, but he didn’t want to make the moment sappy. He went for one more kick of caffeine before setting the mug back in its holder. “Today, among other things, I have to pull the plug on a business relationship that hasn’t worked out.”
“What kind of business? Is it at least something dangerous or exotic?”
He smiled at the excitement in her voice. “Sorry to disappoint, but he’s another microbrewer. I gave him a rescue loan a few years back. The guy brews some great beer, and I didn’t want to see him go under. But good beer isn’t enough to be a success.”
“Do you lend money often?”
“When I feel it’s right. I wouldn’t be in business today without the help I got when I started
.”
“That’s pretty cool of you, actually.”
“Don’t let word get out. I like it better being viewed as the tough guy in town.”
“So you have a full second life as a business investor.”
“It wasn’t in the plan, but accidentally, yeah.”
“So why not at least tell the people at Depot what you’re up to? It could save you a lot of grief.”
“The more success I’ve had … at least, success from a Keene’s Harbor viewpoint … the tougher it’s become to have any privacy. And you have to remember that I’m the guy they’ve had stories about since I was eight years old and painted a bunch of the town dogs bright orange at the start of hunting season.”
She laughed. “Makes sense to me.”
“It did to me, too. Especially since I’d lost a family pet to hunters a year earlier. But a legend was born, and it’s only gotten worse. I guess on one level, it’s cool that everyone cares enough to watch me. But on another, it’s tough to be under that level of scrutiny, even if it comes with a whole lot of love.”
* * *
KATE HAD last been to Traverse City when she was sixteen. Back then, it had been a quaint place of cherry festivals in the summer and hot cider in the winter. Now, as she looked up Front Street, she saw it had become the home of bistros, film festivals, and Pan-Asian food. The city had grown up while she did, and apparently with fewer glitches than she’d experienced.
Matt pulled around a corner and then into a city parking lot behind a three-story redbrick building. Kate grabbed her bag and tried to find a graceful way to exit his ginormous, but apparently noncompensating, truck.
“I’m going to leave you with Ginger, my office manager, while I finish up business with Chet,” he said as they headed toward the building.
“You have an office manager? How many people work for you up here?”
“Just Ginger, and I let her choose her title. So long as people do their work, I’m happy to call them Galactic Emperor or Most Royal of Personages or whatever they want.”
Matt led her up to the building’s metal security door and opened it. “I’m leasing the space from the yoga studio below. It’s cheap rent, since it doesn’t put out a fancy public face, but I don’t need one of those.”