Page 24 of Rage

The bartender serves us two ice waters with a wedge of lime. I’ve just taken my first sip when the double doors leading to the kitchen swing open. I recognize Brooks immediately. He’s six four. Two hundred pounds. Attractive with dark brown hair, a full beard, and puppy-dog eyes.

“Ron says you’re looking for me?” he says as he approaches, mouthing a thank-you to his bartender.

I show him my badge and extend my hand for a shake. “If you’ve got a few minutes, I’d like to ask you some questions about Samuel Yutzy.”

His expression goes sober. “Jeez. I just saw on the news that he was killed. That’s crazy.” His eyes flick to Mona and back to me. “You guys catch the guy who did it?”

“We’re working on it.”

“Well, I’ve got a few minutes. Is my office okay?”

“Perfect,” I tell him.

He turns and we follow. He takes us through the crowd, greeting patrons, slapping backs, unbothered by the curious looks of people wondering why the police are following him to his office. We go through the swinging doors, past a high-tech kitchen of stainless steel and butcher-block, and two cooks clad in white aprons. He takes us down a short hall past a private restroom. His office is as sleek and shabby-chic as the rest of the place.

“Come on in.” He motions to a couple of sled chairs, then settles into a high-back leather chair at the desk.

The wall behind him is antique brick and holds a dozen or so plaques, framed certificates, and periodical cuttings that proclaim Blue Lake Tap and Brewery to be one of OHIO’S MOST LOVED MICROBREWERIES, the BEST IPA OF 2022, and BEST CRAFT BEER OF 2023.

“Nice place you’ve got here.” I eye the plaques. “You’ve won a lot of awards.”

His chest visibly swells. “Thanks. It’s been a tough haul. Didn’t turn a profit for over a year. So I’m pretty proud.” Smiling, he pats his stomach. “I’m a lover of craft beer so it’s a labor of love.” His demeanor turns pensive. “But then you’re not here to talk about beer.”

“How well did you know Samuel?” I begin.

“I met him about six months ago, I guess. He did some work for me. Two-week job.”

“How did you meet?”

“I’m a member of the country club over in Painters Mill.”

“The Club at Paint Creek?” I ask.

He nods. “I was there one afternoon for a round of golf. I was admiring the landscaping, mainly because I was looking for someone to landscape my house. I asked the manager about it and he gave me the number for Samuel’s company.” He shrugs. “I called him, met with him, liked him, and hired him on the spot. The guy did great work. Worked his ass off. Finished the job in record time.”

Hefting a sigh, he leans back in the chair. “Then we got that big storm and my basement flooded. I guess that’s why you’re here.”

“How serious was the dispute between you and Mr. Yutzy?” I say.

His eyes widen. “You don’t think I had anything to do with…” He laughs, but it’s a forced, uncomfortable sound. “Look, I was just an unhappy customer. All I wanted was a refund for some of the work he did.”

“Fifteen thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

He frowns at me. “Do I need a lawyer?” His eyes flick from me to Mona and back to me. “Am I a suspect or something?”

“Hiring a lawyer is certainly your prerogative,” I say easily. “We’re talking to everyone who was close to or did business with Mr. Yutzy. Your name came up because of the dispute, so we’re here to get your side of the story.”

“My side of the story, huh?” He leans back in the chair and folds his arms across his chest. “Or maybe you’re here because I screwed up and got myself arrested on some dumb charge last year.”

Mona smiles. “Eighty-two in a thirty-five?”

Her comment seems to break the ice. He offers her a self-deprecating smile. “I know. Dumb. But in my defense, it was a new vehicle and boy was she nice. I wanted to see how she performed.”

“Lucky for you the weapon charge was dropped,” I say.

He shakes his head. “You probably already know this, but there’s been a spate of robberies in the area in the last few months. I leave alone, late at night, and sometimes I carry large amounts of cash. I’d been planning on getting my concealed-carry license for some time. I just hadn’t gotten around to it.”

“Understood.” I glance down at my notes. “Can you run me through the dispute?”