Murder By The Pint (Microbrewery Mysteries Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

"Then I'll call you Maddie."
                  "I can see where this is going." I began gathering my things.
                  "Yeah," Lester said, "you may wanna close up that fanny pack."
                  "There's no food in it. Just iced tea."
                  "Doesn't matter. The birds can smell the residual tuna in it. And once they come and find out there's no tuna in there, they'll go after your face, Maddie. Here, let me give you a hand."
                  He bent down to help me with my blanket, which I held tightly and turned so that it blew straight away from me, flapping like Superman's cape.             
    "It's okay, I got it," I said. "And no more Maddies, Lester. I mean it."
                  "Alright, I'm sorry. So how bout a tunafish sandwich? And by the way, who the hell brings tuna to the beach?"
                  "Tell you what," I said, "should we meet again..."

Chapter 5
     
                  Here's what happened when I returned to work the next day.
                  We had this guy, Fred, a kid right out of high school, possessing that special sort of arrogant ignorance that kids of that age possess. On top of it, Fred was lazy. Actually, in retrospect, it seems like he wasn't so much lazy as unobservant.              Let me explain. The place is supposed to be spotless before we leave. And I mean spotless – by Madison Darby standards. White gloves, if you know what I mean. From day one I vowed we'd have the cleanest brewery in the country and I meant it. Now Fred, who by his own account had a hot date that night, wanted to get out spot on time. Listen, I have no problem with that. The day's done when the day's done. But the day ain't done when there's a bag of garbage sitting by the door waiting to be taken out to the dumpster out back.
                  I had a vision of a colony of germs gathering together and moving out onto the floor, a kind of germ Woodstock – peace, love, and infection. They had all night to party and now here was their abandoned bag sitting there by the door.
                  I arrived early – the first one there.
                  When I saw that bag of garbage, I cursed Fred. I hoped he sneezed on his date. I hoped she ditched him at the movie theater for the guy behind the popcorn counter.
                  Now the place would have to be mopped and disinfected. I cursed Fred again and figured when I saw him again that I'd pull his baseball cap down around his ears and hit him with a spatula.
                  So I picked up the bag and headed on out to the dumpster.
                  It was still early, and the sun had not yet risen, so at first I thought someone had dropped a bag of leaves behind the dumpster. You find that sometimes. Landscapers need places to drop their trash, and they love an unattended dumpster. It's their favorite thing on the planet. I've never met a landscaper who didn’t salivate at the sight of an unattended dumpster. I thought maybe one of the leaf bags had missed its mark.
                  No. This wasn't left by a landscaper. This wasn't a bag of leaves.
                  This was a body.
                  Crumpled up as if someone had just dropped it there. And it was lying in a pool of blood.
    #
                  The police were swarming the place, questioning everyone and looking at everything.
                  It must have been exciting for them. I know for a fact that the worst thing the Carl's Cove Police ever have to deal with is when two fishing lines get tangled. There had never been a murder in Carl's Cove. Ever. To see these men at work doing things they were not trained for and doing them well gave me a little pride in my new hometown, I have to say.
                  I kept hearing the