Hops and Homicide

  Cherry’s Cozy Capers

  Book 4

  Wendy Meadows

  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

  Also by Wendy Meadows

  About Wendy Meadows

  Copyright © 2025 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in regard to the subject matter covered. It is sold with the understanding that neither the author nor the publisher is engaged in rendering legal, investment, accounting or other professional services. While the publisher and author have used their best efforts in preparing this book, they make no representations or warranties with respect to the accuracy or completeness of the contents of this book and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of merchantability or fitness for a particular purpose. No warranty may be created or extended by sales representatives or written sales materials. The advice and strategies contained herein may not be suitable for your situation. You should consult with a professional when appropriate. Neither the publisher nor the author shall be liable for any loss of profit or any other commercial damages, including but not limited to special, incidental, consequential, personal, or other damages.

  Chapter One

  The music is not in the notes, but in the silence in between.

  These words kept ringing in Cherry Brewster’s head as she drove down the highway. She couldn’t remember where she’d read or heard the quote, nor who it belonged to. However, it fit with what she felt now.

  As she neared her adopted hometown of Moose Head, the sun dipped low. She had struggled with a neck pain that had started half an hour earlier. She did not know why it came about. She anticipated a hot bath and nap to resolve her issues at home. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from the dramatic events in Dover. They still lingered in her mind, making her restless.

  The highway before her, with its well-marked single lanes, was clear, with the occasional car driving past. Otherwise, she felt alone. She stared outside her driver’s window at the landscape stretching before her. The trees had shed all their leaves, and the sky was gray with clouds, although no rain had appeared. Winter was knocking at the door, but the landscape still had an innocent charm about it. Ordinarily she’d be gushing about the beauty of the land, but the neck ache - like a thorn in her side - kept interrupting her attempts at serene thinking.

  Twenty minutes later, she saw the facades of the Moose Head town center creep over the horizon. Not long afterwards, she cruised past the grocery stores, barbershops and other establishments. The main street wasn’t a long one, and she imagined how it would have looked like in the 1800s if horses were part of the deal. She wouldn’t have minded the experience of riding into town. The buildings still kept some of that old school architectural design true to the area and its heritage. Soon, she was in the suburbs, driving through the narrow trail that led to her destination.

  When she drove up to her house, she let out a sigh. She’d missed the place and its calming aura. With the engine turned off and driver’s window lowered, she sat there, breathing in the cool country air with her eyes closed. She could catch the scent of barley in the air. Her ears caught the chirping of birds and the rustling of dead leaves blown about by the wind over the ground. In the near distance, she could hear the soft rumble of the machines in the prefabricated brewing plant they’d installed.

  She got out and walked over to the line of buildings behind the grape garden and next to the burned-out shell of the main brewery. They had cleaned the ruins up, but she could still smell the smoke of the day it burned down. This involuntary trauma response made her want to fix it, but she had to wait for the insurance company to process the claim. Speaking of which, she needed to call them back. The payment was due.

  She entered the newly built brewing room, and found about five employees in white dust coats, masks and head caps walking around the place, attending to their duties. The smell of barley was stronger, and the soft rumble had become a distinct roar.

  Loyal Stu, her right-hand man, stood near the door with a clipboard in hand, going through the checklist of the tasks that needed to be done.

  Stu looked different in a white coat. He was often in a pair of jeans and a checked cotton shirt, which he still wore today under the coat. However, the white coat made him look stately. Cherry smiled as she approached him.

  “Someone’s looking sharp,” Cherry teased.

  Stu turned and grinned. “You’re back!”

  “In the flesh. You have no idea how good it feels to be here,” Cherry said.

  “I can only imagine. You looked knackered. How was it out there?”

  “You’re right, I am knackered. I need some rest, that’s for sure. I’ve got a story to tell you,” Cherry replied.

  “Yes, you do,” Stu said. She had only given him highlights of what transpired in Dover, and she knew he wished he was there to witness it firsthand.

  “How’s it going here?” Cherry asked.

  “Very good. The system is working and we’re doing well with the quality of the drink we’re making. I even think we’re making something better,” Stu said.

  “You’re kidding me,” Cherry said.

  “Wait here,” Stu said. He left and walked into one of the partitioned offices at the corner of the space. He came back with a glass and a bottle of the ginger-flavored craft beer.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” Cherry asked.

  “I’d never do that. I wouldn’t give you a reason to fire me,” Stu said. “Just have a taste.”

  He poured the frothy drink into the glass up to the halfway mark.

  Cherry swirled it and then drank it. She let the beverage linger in her mouth as her taste buds took in the flavors before she swallowed it. It was smooth down her throat. She smiled.

  “You know what? You’re right. That’s pretty good. I’m impressed,” Cherry said.

  “We’ve been chasing that for days and I’m proud of the progress we’ve made.”

  “So it’s just been determination that led to this improvement?” Cherry asked.

  “Nope, I think the fact that we have a smaller operation is helping us get a better blend. Being small has its advantages,” Stu replied.

  “Are you trying to say that we shouldn’t rebuild the main brewery?” Cherry asked.

  Stu shook his head. “I didn’t say that. But maybe we should keep this set up once the main hone is back online,” Stu suggested.

  Cherry pondered. “I’ll think about it. Let’s see how it plays out with the insurance. How are the deliveries going?”

  “Our orders are coming in nicely, and we’re on track with the delivery schedule. Everyone gets same day delivery because we now have a reserve of different drinks on standby,” Stu replied.

  “Sounds like music to me. I was just passing by and I like what I see. Let me freshen up. I’ll catch you later,” Cherry said.

  “Sure thing,” Stu replied.

  Cherry retreated to her room. She ran a hot bath and took her time in the water to soothe her battered frame. She reflected on the events in Dover: the murder of Candy, followed by what ended up being a wild goose chase for the killer, still left a sour taste in her mouth. It was now clear that Fabian, her ex-boyfriend, who had been serving a prison sentence, had something to do with it. She felt guilt that a young woman might have died in her place, and this discomfort made her want to make amends. She knew it was only a matter of time before she’d had to face him, but she couldn’t tell how that would happen.

  Maybe she didn’t have to, because Fabian had taken Sam, her old detective friend, hostage. Sam had been one of Cherry’s inner circle of friends and acquaintances who knew about her past life and her location. Getting him in that situation was a hammer blow to her. Cherry knew Fabian would use this as leverage to dictate how and when he would meet her after his release. The situation shattered her hopes for his reformation upon release.

  Already a genius in criminal manipulation during his younger years, she knew this version of Fabian was even more dangerous to deal with. To put an icing on the cake, his accomplice Shawn, who had put up a grand act as a bartender, had jumped into the lake waters, never to be seen again. He most likely carried out the craft beer festival murder, but without his body or any other trace linking him to the crime, Candy was unlikely to get justice. This irked Cherry even more.

  Her memories with Fabian and their three-year relationship were a mixed bag. She was young and foolish to fall for the charming yet down to earth, street smart young man who stood at the corner each evening when she came from campus. He had a way with words and with his practical
knowledge of survival, and she was hooked. Coming from a semi-strict family, it had sheltered Cherry from some of life’s experiences. It was one reason she fell for Fabian - he brought those experiences to her. The drives out of town, meeting more people than she can remember, late night driving on the streets and drugs were all part of the experience. Dread replaced her initial excitement the moment she realized his friends were mostly shady characters with illegal weapons and habits.

  They started arguing and, although she loved him, she didn’t want to be caught up in it all. She broke up with him just in time. A month later, his house–where she had spent a lot of time–was raided. He was arrested alongside others and sentenced to ten years behind bars. She only visited him once, and it was an awkward encounter. He pleaded with her to wait for him, but she already knew it was over.

  While she had forgotten him and ignored all the letters he had sent from prison, he clearly hadn’t forgotten her. He was now determined to take down her life and her relationships, piece by piece. With her friends now in the firing line, she couldn’t be passive about it.

  Although she didn’t want to, she knew it was time to call The Man. The stakes were too high.

  Chapter Two

  Cluck. Cluck

  Cherry loved the sound of the two locks from the old Samsonite suitcase as they opened. When she graduated, her father gave it to her. It was never a gift for her to carry to the office, but a symbolic item to show she’d moved to a new phase in life. It was one of the few pieces she’d kept from her past. She’d done away with most of the clothes and sentimental things from her former life. She’d even changed her style from an urban city look to a more hippie look.

  Inside the suitcase were several brown envelopes where she kept some bank documents. She also had a photo album inside the false bottom, where she had pictures of her family. Occasionally, she’d go through it just to remind herself of them. It brought her to tears, so she didn’t do it often. Next to the envelopes were the last of her burner phones. She took it and switched it on. She needed to buy another set soon to keep her connection with her secret life going.

  She dialed one of the three numbers he instructed her to use. The phone rang.

  “Are you in need of a tow?” The Man asked in a slow drawl.

  “Not at the moment, although I have detected a misfire in the engine,” Cherry said.

  They often spoke in this strange, aloof manner as if they were using a code. It wasn’t really there. She was supposed to play along with whatever figurative expressions or scenarios he created.

  “You need to exercise your mind and keep it sharp. Everyone is fishing for information, and you need to learn to deflect. Consider it practice for how to carry a conversation about something without naming it,” The Man once said.

  She found it odd at first, but with practice, she often expected it now.

  “Do you need the engine serviced, or you’ll monitor it as you drive?” The Man asked.

  “My eyes are on the gauges. I’m not sure how long it can hold up, but I’ll keep pushing. I’m still keen to finish the trip around the world,” Cherry replied.

  The Man grunted. “Are you sure you want to stay that long?”

  “This feels right for me. There’s no reason to change,” Cherry replied, referring to making Moose Head her home. She’d shifted towns before, but no more. “However, I could do with a stop at the gas station.”

  She waited as he remained silent.

  “Okay. We’ll do it where we saw the ducks,” The Man replied and hung up.

  Cherry exhaled. He rarely enjoyed meeting in person for security reasons, so she rarely asked for one. But when she did, he rarely said no unless it was unsafe. This time, it was necessary. She felt the past creeping up on her and she needed to talk to someone who understood that she was living in two worlds simultaneously.

  Later that morning, after she’d had breakfast, she went to meet her insurance agent at a local cafeteria. Mark arrived with a folder full of documents, as usual. He’d often carry some extra forms and brochures of new products so that he’d try to upsell to her as he met her. It rarely succeeded, but he never gave up. She admired his tenacity. In his mid-thirties, she imagined he had a young family to raise so understood that very deal counted.

  “I know it’s been a long wait, but you understand that sometimes it’s a bureaucracy thing,” Mark explained.

  “Come on, Mark. It’s been too long. My business is taking a hit,” Cherry said. “I need my people to work to the best of the abilities. Right now, they’re doing the best they can with the little equipment I could put together.”

  “I understand you. But some of these delays have been on our end and on the police end. But it’s at the last phase now,” Mark said.

  “So there are no other issues with the case? No one is sitting on my documents anymore?” Cherry asked. “You remember how I had to come there after the arsonist was arrested and charged? It was all over the news, but that manager of yours still delayed my processing.”

  Mark licked his lips. “I’m sorry for that. We have transferred him as we speak. That was unprofessional and won’t happen again. Even when there are no such incidences, this process takes time. Especially for such a big payout. The bosses can take some time to put things together. But we’re almost there.”

  Cherry smiled. “Thanks. On that note, you should have an early lunch on my bill.”

  Mark beamed. “Can I share with you our new travel insurance plan while we do that?”

  “Don’t push it, Mark,” Cherry said.

  They laughed and had a hearty lunch. Cherry hoped that the feel-good impression she gave him would carry over into fast tracking her payout.

  When she got back to the brewery, things were great. The product line performed flawlessly; packages stacked neatly. The only thing missing was Stu. She expected to see him somewhere, but someone informed her he’d taken a call and left an hour ago.

  When he returned, he furrowed his eyebrows as he went about his business, and his responses to questions were snappy. Cherry pulled him aside.

  “How are things at home?” Cherry asked.

  Stu sighed. “They’re moving. We’re taking it a day at a time.”

  “Is someone sick?”

  “Nope, no one is sick,” Stu said.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Because it’s clearly affecting your work,” Cherry said. “I can help ease things.”

  Stu shook his head. “You can’t help on this one. Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. And don’t worry about me either. You know I’ll bounce back, right?”

  Stu said this with a forced smile. He then went back to the brewery.

  Despite his reassurance, Cherry remained puzzled. She needed to discover his inner turmoil before it was too late.

  As they had done before, Cherry was meeting The Man at the local Amadeus Park. A few fruit trees dotted a former fruit garden, surrounded by many indigenous bare trees. The immaculate green grass was now covered in large swathes of orange and brown of dead leaves; the cobblestone walkways had fewer leaves because of the work of the grounds man; and there were several people up and about taking strolls having a picnic, walking their dog, reading a book or going on a light jog.

  While to others it appeared the place had kept its charm, Cherry felt different today. To her, the Garden of Eden feel was gone, replaced by the aura of the Valley of Dry Bones.

  Other than the silence, she saw nothing of note. She didn’t want to seek the small pond and its ducks as she often did. Instead, she navigated the winding walkways and found the bench in a corner that people rarely walked to. It had some trees around it, but nothing to offer other than a view of the rest of the park.

  She sat down at the left end of the bench and waited. In another frame of mind, she’d have carried a book to read. She was only halfway through the Sewn Cobs medical novel, but considered it too depressing to continue. She might wait for the summer to come by before finishing it.