20. Tuvid

20

TUVID

A ngie called the police and her insurance company, and both came by quickly to take pictures and assess the damage.

They also frowned at Angie's strap-on tail and noted that our tails were bound together, though both politely avoided commenting.

"This wasn't caused by an earthquake," Detective Carter said, joining us in the main room. The tasting room was a step lower than the rest of the place and that was the only reason beer wasn't oozing into the main part of the microbrewery itself. "That might've explained what happened."

Angie pointed out that the shelves had guards that would keep the bottles from randomly toppling off, plus the fact that almost all the beer was sold in cardboard cartons that also lay on the floor among the flood of beer.

A heavy, morning-after-a-beer-fest odor hung in the air, competing with the pungent, yeasty scent drifting in from the main part of the building .

"You're sure you locked the door last night?" the detective asked Gracie. While everyone working at this time had entered through the back entrance, Gracie was the one who'd opened the tasting room for customers, coming in through that door. She'd screamed when she saw the mess.

"One-hundred-percent sure," Gracie said. "I always make sure everything's secure before I leave." She chewed on her thumbnail, speaking around it. "I'm diligent about stuff like that." Her gaze sought Angie's.

"She is. From the time I first hired her a few years ago, Gracie's been amazing."

I'd yet to ask her if she'd seen anyone around the chiller last night because she appeared to have shut off her phone. I'd conducted interviews with the rest of the staff while at Angie's, but no one had seen anyone close to the chiller other than us.

"Let's go around to the front, shall we?" Detective Carter said.

We followed him out and over to the tasting room door, where he examined the panel and the lock. "I don't see any evidence that someone tampered with anything out here. I'll take prints, naturally, and look over your outside surveillance camera shots."

I couldn't imagine how many people might've touched the door. Too many to track down and question. Hopefully, we'd caught the culprit on camera.

"I'll be processing your claim," the adjuster said, coming over when we'd returned inside. "I recommend you get some estimates as soon as you can and send them my way. Once the paperwork is sorted, I'll make sure you have a check in the mail. You have a low deductible, so you won't be out much money. Lost revenue while you're closed will be included, as well as clean-up fees, of course. Keep receipts for everything because you may be asked to produce them after the work is completed."

Angie nodded and wiped the tears off her face. I'd grabbed a box of tissues off the bar and held it for her, noting three more boxes in the room. Her staff knew her well.

The adjuster and detective finished and left.

We crowded together at the opening to the tasting room, staring at the wasted product on the floor.

Gracie hugged Angie. "It's horrible. Why would someone do something like this?"

"We won't be able to open the tasting room for days," Angie said, her gaze meeting mine. "Probably not until after the brew-off."

"I'll look up cleaning companies online," Emma said, inching back into the main part of the brewery. "Let me see if I can get a company here today to at least give us an estimate. If we're in luck, they'll have staff available to get started right away. Maybe they can minimize the damage to the high tops and the floor."

"I don't know if we'll be allowed to make beer until all of this is taken care of," Angie said, new tears forming in her eyes.

I tugged her into my arms and held her. "I'll call the state and find out."

"Thank you. I appreciate you being here. I know it's your job to look into things like this, but frankly, I'm feeling overwhelmed. I haven't slept well since my beer was stolen and now this. I feel so helpless."

Leaning back, I tilted her chin, urging her to look up at me. "This is so much more than a job. We're engaged." I didn't say that because her staff still lingered nearby. I said it for her. "I'm here for you. We're going to find out who did this. We're going to get your beer back. And you're going to win that contest."

She pressed her face into my shirt. "Having you here makes this bearable."

Then I wanted to stay with her for a lifetime.

We returned to her office, and I shut the door. While she stared at her computer screen and sniffed, wiping her eyes, I looked through the video from her surveillance cameras. Just like when we were locked inside the cold storage and when her beer was stolen, there wasn't anything suspicious on the recording.

Then I placed a few calls to the state. Hanging up after the last one, I laid my phone on her desk.

"Alright," I said. "Since the damage doesn't extend into the main part of the brewery, you can still brew beer. You might run into problems depending on the needed repairs, however. If your floor needs to be ripped up, for example. You'll want to ensure no construction material or dust makes its way into areas where the beer is crafted."

"I imagine we can hire a company to install a barrier. Plastic with braces holding it down and securing it to the ceiling. Whatever they think works best."

"The sooner we can get the beer off the tasting room floor and the area cleaned, the better. We can't risk mold or anything that might contaminate where you brew your beer. The state wants to come out and do an inspection before you resume production, however, and that's a reasonable request. They said they could come first thing tomorrow morning. We'll need to reach out to the town about any necessary permits and make sure they don't require inspections as well."

"Argh." She propped her elbows on her desk and put her face in her palms. "That's going to take days. I was right. My business is shut down until we can get this cleaned up and taken care of. It's not about the money. Forget expanding for now, let alone the contest that might give my brewery a boost." She tilted her head to stare at me, and the devastation on her face was worse than a centaur's kick in the guts.

"You're right. It's so much more than that." I nodded slowly. "We need to find out who's trying to ruin you."