Love in a Nutshell - Janet Evanovich [66]
Chet Orowski strolled up. “Looks like what goes round, comes round, huh, Culhane? I heard what happened to you.” He looked at the scarecrow. “Looks to me like you screwed the wrong guy. You oughta be more careful.”
“It’s no big deal,” Matt said. “We’ve still got some beer, the banner’s okay, I’m thinking of using the scarecrow so I can ride in carpool lanes, and we’re going to have fun. Because that’s what we’re in the business for, right?”
Chet threw up his hands, looking around the room, hoping for an audience. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Great PR spin, but we both know the truth. Someone here hates you. I guess you’re not the big star you thought you were.”
“I’ve never thought of myself as a big star,” Matt said. “I brew beer, and that’s it.”
Chet snorted. “Sure thing. You’ve got your pride the same as all of us, and now your nose is getting rubbed in it. It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
Kate finished taping the sign and started down the ladder. The ladder rocked left and Kate leaned right, trying to keep from falling. For a long moment, both Kate and the ladder seemed to hover in the air before they both came crashing down. Straight onto Chet. And as they lay there in a heap, Kate was as grateful for Chet’s bulk as she was for her small stature. Between the combination of the two, she didn’t actually kill him.
* * *
“CHET DIDN’T do it, you know,” Matt said to Kate that night as they headed west through Detroit’s endless string of suburbs.
She peeked into the backseat to check on Stella in her travel crate. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because he’s a lot like your ex-husband. Lots of bluster and no action.”
Kate looked out the window. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“All I’m saying is that Chet couldn’t get out of his own way to pull off this stuff. And even if he did trash the booth—which he didn’t—he doesn’t have the right contacts in Keene’s Harbor. Yeah, spare brewery keys could have been floating around, but how would Chet have gotten his hands on one?”
Kate sighed. “Okay, good point, but we’re right back to where we started. More vandalism and too many suspects. We’ll put Jerry on the back burner, since he wasn’t around. That leaves us with the Mortensens, Junior, and Harley. Do we know where the Mortensens were last night?”
“In bed by nine, probably. They’re a pretty low-key couple.”
“We’ll put them aside for now.” She paused. “I did pick up Harley’s lighter, though.”
“He said he dropped it while straightening the booth. Did you find it someplace where that couldn’t be possible?”
“No, it was on top of a box of coasters.”
“Not exactly enough to convict the guy,” Matt said. “Besides, Junior and Harley have each other for alibis. They were at a sports bar until the Pistons game ended, then back at the hotel bar until last call. Judging by the way they looked today, I’m sure they can prove it.”
Kate sighed again. “I’m sure they can.”
Stella whimpered from the backseat.
“Do you mind if I get her out?” Kate asked.
“No problem.”
Matt kept his eyes on the road as Kate violated a couple of traffic laws while freeing her poodle.
“I can’t believe how tired I am,” Kate said once she and the dog were safely in front. “I think I’ll just close my eyes and…” She yawned, and Matt filled in the rest of her words for himself.
Somewhere just east of Lansing, a slight whistling sound drew Matt’s attention from the road. Kate was curled up with Stella. Both woman and dog were out cold. A louder whistling came his way. The dog was snoring.
FIFTEEN
On Thursday morning Kate woke to a poodle nestled next to her head. And, as had been true every morning since the workweek had started, her phone was ringing. Kate’s. Not Stella’s. Kate had spoiled her baby with long beach walks, but the dog would not be getting a phone.
“Hello?” Kate said, feeling rested and ridiculously content.
“Let me guess,” Matt said. “You overslept.”
Kate sat upright, and Stella grunted her disapproval of the change in her sleeping arrangements.
“No way. Again? I set my alarm. Really.”
She couldn’t stop smiling, though. Several