Free Murder With A Chaser (Microbrewery Mysteries Book 2) by Belle Knudson Page B

now in my head."
                  "Madison, you’re not funny."
                  "Oh, I'm not trying to be. Nor was I trying to be when I was sitting in my office, tied up by the killer's hired goon."
                  "We found out a lot in that case."
                  "Yeah, but I busted the guy. All I lacked was a badge, and from the looks of things, the only thing one needs to get a badge in the Carl's Cove Police Department is two legs and a heartbeat."
                  His gait quickened. "You're unbelievable."
                  "Am I right? You're offended?"
                  "You bet I'm offended."
                  "Oh, please. It's not even your department. They had to call you in."
                  "They're my team, and they do a damn fine job."
                  "I never said they didn’t. I just said that they need to work a little harder."
                  "And we're back to that again."
                  "I guess we are. Funny how that happened."
                  "You know what? If you think you can do a better job, try out for the force. In the meantime, I'm warning you: Stay out of official police business."
                  "Sure, I wouldn’t want to mess up your guys' stellar investigative work."
                  "I'm serious, Madison. You want to be brought up on charges of interference?"
                  I made a noise to this. It was the kind of noise you make with your lips that's a cross between a raspberry and a whistle. It probably wasn't the right thing to do, and in retrospect, I probably would've been better off not saying or doing anything. Anyway, I think it was the dismissive quality of it that annoyed him most.
                  "Alright," he said, "We're done here."
                  With this, he turned to walk back to the car. "Are you coming?" he called without looking back.
                  "I'm walking," I said. It wasn't that far a walk back to my house. And besides, I had little use for drama.
                  I guess this is where the official break between the police and me began. Little did I know how much trouble it would cause.
     
    #
     
                  What happened next was typical to this case. That is, someone with information came to my office directly.
                  I was just starting to get stuff sorted out. Gerry and I had decided to offer a perry – pear cider – as well as a stout. The acidic fruitiness would be a nice counterbalance to the stout and the other offerings on our list.
                  Also, our bar was just about finished and ready for customers. In other words, I was happy to give murder a break and get back to the brew biz.
                  Until she came in.
                  I guess that sounds a little like a Raymond Chandler novel. Why is it that so many pulp stories begin with the arrival of a mysterious woman?
                  Well, mysterious she was.
                  My girl up front said, "I have a Ms. Zelda Calverton."
                  The name didn’t ring a bell. I looked through Dad's ancient rolodex that I still kept on my desk – a lot of valuable contacts in there – and found no matches.
                  Send her up, I said.
                  By way of introduction came a slight waft of Chanel. Then a black Vera Wang dress was the first thing I saw. And then the rest of her.
                  She was a tall, statuesque blonde. Her lips were cherry red, her eyes wide and dark blue. She carried a very serious expression that looked like she'd had it on her face at all times. All in all, she was stunning – the type of woman that makes a girl like me afraid to look in the