Page 12 of Her Final Hours
Noah entered the usually busy establishment. Even though they were open until two every night because of tourists, it had died down to a steady hum of conversation and occasional laughter by nine-thirty on a Sunday evening. A wave of subdued ambiance washed over him. The air inside was thick withlingering scents, a combination of aged wood, hops, and the faint hint of malted barley.
Natalie raised a hand from the rear to indicate where she was. He gave a nod. The pub’s interior was dimly lit, with soft, ambient lighting that emanated strategically from lamps and wall sconces. He threaded around the wooden tables and passed several booths along walls adorned with vintage beer memorabilia, framed photos of the brewery, and rustic signs advertising their signature brews.
The place had charm and nostalgia that depended on the patron.
Since the controversy over the previous owners’ illegal activities, they had renovated the inside, trying to give it a new look while keeping the same name in the hope that it might draw in lookie-loos eager to see where one of the area’s largest drug enterprises had been busted.
It had worked.
There was a group of friends engaged in hushed conversation, their voices blending with the gentle background music coming from hidden speakers. The bar counter, made from rich mahogany wood, stretched from one side to the other, tended by bartenders who poured drinks and polished glasses.
If he was honest, it pained him to visit there since losing his old pal Dax.
The polished wooden floors creaked softly under his footsteps as he approached. The seating near the windows offered a view of the outside world, where faint city lights twinkled in the night.
As Noah approached the table where Natalie sat, she leaned against a brick wall adorned with a colorful mural depicting scenes from the brewery’s history. Her presence added a touch of elegance to the rustic atmosphere, her gaze scanning the room — alert and observant.
Noah laid his keys and wallet down. “Sorry for the delay. I had to call home.”
“You have kids,” she said as if she had done her research. As she had given a waterfront property to him rent-free, he expected no less.
“Two. Yeah.”
“That’s sweet. Must be hard raising them alone.”
He swallowed. “It comes with its challenges.”
She offered a warm smile before he looked past her toward the far end of the pub, where a glass partition revealed glimpses of the brewery equipment, stainless steel tanks, and fermenters, a reminder of the pub’s connection to the craft beer-making process.
Natalie noticed. “Crazy to think this place was once used to produce a new form of drug.”
“That it is.” He looked back at her. “I should say thank you for allowing us to stay rent-free at one of your properties. You didn’t need to.”
“Need. Want.” She shrugged. “I thought it was the least we could do in light of what you did.”
“It wasn’t all me. There were many other agencies and deputies involved.”
A waitress interrupted the flow of conversation, stopping by to take their orders. They ordered two beers.
“Still, if it wasn’t for your involvement, there was a good chance they would still be operating.” Natalie leaned forward, and he breathed in the scent of her perfume. He felt his stomach tighten. “My father says that you saved him a lot of money.”
“How so?”
“Well, he’s in real estate. It’s all about appearances. Neighbors. Community. They are trying to bring in the right types of people. Illegal enterprises eventually bring down the value of a county. Drug deals, corrupt police officers, it doesn’t end well.”
Noah nodded as the waitress brought back their drinks.
“For the community or your father?”
She smiled back. “My father is a businessman. Always has been. While I do not approve of all his choices, he means well.”
“And does that include having those who work for him hold a gun to the head of my brother?”
Natalie’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, I’m confused. What?”
He brought her up to speed on the incident with Ray and the debt he owed the casino. It was clear from her expression she wasn’t made aware of this. “I believe Mr. Ironwood’s words were that my father knew where to draw the thin blue line. Giving me the impression that my father has been covering for your father for however many years.”
Natalie lowered her drink. “I’m sorry that happened. You can be assured I will speak with my father and investigate this.”
