Danger Will Robinson – Everett
Chapter twenty-nine
A work crew started cleaning up at the brewery, despite the fact that I still wasn’t even sure how I was going to pay for it.
I would find a way, but for now, I needed to see progress.
While I was there getting them going, Alfred dropped by, and we hid some extra cameras.
I was impressed at his stealth and his equipment.
Afterward, we went to lunch at the Blue Star. That place was jumping. Alfred took selfies of us eating there as well as pictures of the actual food. “I like posting things like that on my Insta.”
“I’ll have you come do some of the brewery when it’s up and running again. If it gets running.”
“Hey. It will. I know it. You’re in the best place and best company to make that happen. Cameron is very popular and you have Queen Gaming behind you, too.”
I couldn’t deny that I liked both of those. “Thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it. Now pull up the app I put on your phone, and let’s see if it’s working.”
I tapped the right app and each camera in turn. “Oh fuck.”
“What?” His eyes grew wide behind his glasses.
“It’s him. He’s creeping around the brewery. Well, maybe not creeping. He’s acting like he’s part of the crew, actually.”
“Let me see.” Alfred got up, circled the table, and squeezed in beside me on the booth. “That him? At the faucet?”
“Yeah.” He was trying to rinse his hands at the automatic handwashing station.
I didn’t think the camera that was capturing this footage had been placed well, but I guessed I was wrong.
Mitchel tried to turn it on. He was wearing black surgical gloves, and it wouldn’t work for him.
Something about the black gloves kept the faucet from correctly sensing the hand.
Finally, he took the gloves off and tucked them in his pocket before rinsing his hands. Then he accidentally touched the front of the counter on the apron of the sink. It was clear where he did it.
“We should be able to lift a print right there. Push that button.” He pointed to my phone. There was a still-capture option, so I tapped it, making it flash for a second. “That will help us pinpoint the spot.”
“Let’s get out there. Shit. He’s trying to break into the grain room.”
“What’s that?”
“Where we store the grains. I order those in but grow the hops. Still, we store everything in there. He could do a lot of damage. That room is fireproofed, so the grain is good, but I don’t want it open until everything is cleaned or we run the risk of contamination.”
“Would he know that?”
“Hell yes. He owns his own brewery, and he’s trying to sabotage me.”
I shot off a text to Cameron, letting him know what was going on before getting in my car.
Alfred was right behind me. I didn’t race through town, as much as I wanted to, but I did gun it through my parking lot and didn’t bother to turn the engine off after I parked. I threw the door open and ran inside.
“Mitchel Harlen!”
He was still fucking with the lock on the grain room but stopped and looked up at me when I called his name. He either wanted to ruin my supply or take a sample of my hops. Or both. Fuck no.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Everett Lundy.”
“Who the fuck did you expect? This is my brewery.”
“I know that. But it should be mine.”
“The fuck it should.”
He rushed forward and kicked the base of one of the conical fermenters. “This whole area was my territory until you stepped in. Now my business is failing, and it’s your fault.”
“It’s failing because your beer sucks.”
“Fuck you, Everett. You took my business, my sales territory, everything, and I want it back, along with all of this.” He waved his hand around, indicating either my brewery, the equipment, or perhaps all of it. “Let’s make it easy, and I’ll just buy it from you. Let’s say twenty-five thousand?”
“You’re crazy. I’m not selling and not for that.” He had no clue what it took to make a successful business. Maybe I wasn’t doing that well, but I had been doing better than him. That is, until he started trying to ruin me.
“Okay, fine. Just your recipe. Or I could rent the facilities? Partner up? Come on. Give me something here.”
“Why do you think I’m any more successful than you?”
“You have to be. Look at this.”
“You don’t think all of this has me seriously overextended? But you can pay me the hundred and twenty-five thousand it’s going to take to fix everything after the fire you set.” I pointed at him.
“Fire? What Fire? Thought that was your boyfriend.” The grimace on his face told me everything I needed to know.
“Fuck off. I’m calling the cops.” I lifted my phone, but before I could tap Sheriff West’s number, he rushed me, knocking me to the ground.
“You’re not calling anyone. I’ll bash your fucking face in, you spoiled bastard.”