Page 77 of Something’s Brewing

Silence pressed in from every side.

Garrett’s gaze never wavered. “You’re going to walk out of this restaurant,” he continued. “You’re going to leave us alone. And you’re going to think very carefully before you approach Ms. Mitchell again.”

Morty let out a short, humorless laugh. “You think you can intimidate me?”

Garrett didn’t blink. “I don’t have to,” he said quietly. “You’re already worried.”

Anger and fear flickered across Morty’s face. He straightened his jacket. “This isn’t over,” he muttered. Then he turned and strode toward the door. The moment he disappeared outside, sound rushed back into the restaurant like air returning after a held breath.

Madison leaned back and smiled up at Garrett.

Garrett looked down at her, concern softening the hard edge in his expression. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Of course. He doesn’t scare me.” Her mind was racing.

My cousin built that compliance outfit. I made sure the city gave him the contract.

Proof. Or at least the beginning of it.

She picked up her fork again, slowly slid a bite of the torte into her mouth, and grinned.

“Garrett,” she said quietly, “I think he just made a very big mistake.”

And for the first time since the accident, she wasn’t reacting anymore. She was moving forward.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Nick’s dining room had officially become what Sawyer dubbed the war room. Paper covered nearly every surface. Madison let out a huge breath. They were finally piecing everything together, and this was the point of an investigation she liked the most.

Inspection reports, donation records, zoning approvals, screenshots of emails, business licenses, handwritten notes. Neon green tabs stuck out from stacks in crooked little rows while copies of documents had been taped directly to the walls with blue painter’s tape. Dates circled. Names underlined. Arrows drawn between people and payments.

The overhead light cast a golden glow over the organized chaos.

Madison stood at the end of the table, holding a highlighter between her teeth while flipping through files. Nick leaned against the buffet beside her, nursing stale coffee, while Garrett sat at the table, sleeves rolled up, reading through invoices with the kind of focus he usually reserved for brewery contracts.

Sawyer barely looked up from his laptop.

“I still think war room sounds cooler than ‘Nick’s dining room,’ ” he muttered while typing furiously.

Nick snorted. “You’re enjoying this way too much. What have you done with my deputy? And how did you learn to do all this on the computer?”

Sawyer shrugged, still focused on his screen. “I spent a lot of time at the library reading and using the computers. Anything to get away from Uncle Morty.”

“You’ve really come far since I first hired you. I’m proud of you.”

Sawyer grinned and glanced at Nick. “This is fun. Our suspect is literally the mayor and my uncle. This is like Netflix-level stuff.”

“It’s only Netflix-level if we don’t screw it up,” Nick replied.

Madison pulled a file from the stack. “Okay, here’s another one.” She slid it toward Garrett. “Drive-by inspection failed.”

Garrett skimmed the page. “Didn’t donate?”

“Nope.” Madison pointed toward the highlighted section. “But look at the timing.”

Nick stepped closer. “Two days later, Benson’s reelection fundraiser was established.”

“Exactly.” Madison grabbed another neon tab and slapped it onto the page. “Every business that donated passed within thirty days. The ones that didn’t were hit with repeat inspections or violations.”