Read Murder With A Chaser (Microbrewery Mysteries Book 2) for Free Online Page A

bit gross. Tanya was at least fifteen years his junior. It wasn't a crime, just a tad unseemly.
                  Shawn Ward played the part of godlike celebrity as Maisie squirmed uncomfortably and Tanya squirmed excitedly. He dished out autographs for both Tanya and me even though I hadn’t asked for one. He told us stories about near-fatal car crashes, which had me suppressing a yawn. And then he gave us the obligatory lines that no celebrity can resist: The spewing of hard-won wisdom.
                  "No matter where you go in life," he said, looking off as if he'd suddenly entered some other-worldly place where he received the words of the oracle, "always remember that there are folks that matter to you, and those are the ones you call family."
                  With this, he gave Maisie another squeeze and then a kiss on the top of the head.
                  "Family looks out for each other, don’t they, baby?"
                  "That's right, Uncle Shawn," she said, forcing a smile.
    #
                  "Did you see the way that creep held on to his niece?"
                  "What do you mean?"
                  "Ugh!" I said.
                  "What are you talking about?"
                  "She was obviously uncomfortable. You can tell she hates her uncle. And you can tell he knows she hates him but was just playing it up for us. God, it was as phony as his hair color."
                  "What hair color?"
                  I looked at her. "You really were in la la land, weren't you?"
                  "Oh stop it. You're just jealous because he was flirting with me."
                  " That you noticed."
                  "What, are you sorry I came along?"
                  "No, I just want you to see that this guy you revere as a hero is actually a fairly vapid and possibly sinister fellow with secrets to keep."
                  "What? Secrets? What are you talking about?"
                  "Let me ask you a question: When was he looking at us, and when was he looking away?"
                  "Madison, will you start making some sense already?"
                  "I'll answer for you. He looked at us when he was being genuine. He looked at us directly in the eyes, both of us, when he talked about all his car accidents. When he talked about family and the way he felt about his niece, he looked away. You know why? Because that's where his script was – hanging up there in the air where he had to squint to read it."
                  "You're crazy, Madison, and you’re full of jealousy and bizarre metaphors."
                  "And you’re blinded by celebrity worship. That ridiculous drivel he spouted about family at the end there? He was looking up and to the left, away from us. People who lie, if they have consciences, try to assuage their consciences by looking away from the person they're lying to. You see it all the time."
                  "Just because you're a writer doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about people."
                  "I know enough."
                  "Well..." she said, trying to think of a comeback, "you’re wrong. That's all there is to it. I saw a very nice, entertaining, family-loving man standing there before us."
                  "And what about Maisie's father?"
                  "What about him?"
                  "I'm surprised you noticed him at all. The man looked like he was trying everything in his power to remain invisible."
                 
    #
     
                  I was poring over the financial records for The Darby Brewing Company. It was peak season, after all, and we were short one brew. I decided that maybe it was time to think out of the box –