“You weren’t one of those SEALs, were you?”
Grant’s lips quirked. “How’d you guess?”
Cook tipped his chin up. “That shadow in your eyes, the way you carry yourself. Confident, not cocky. Aware of your surroundings as if expecting trouble.”
“Perceptive as well as a talented chef.” Grant tipped his head in acknowledgement.
“Thank you for your service,” Cook said and turned to flip a row of burgers on the grill. “Now, I understand you’re working to find a serial killer who’s terrorizing the good folk of Shadow Valley. How can I help?”
“We’re interested in the folks from the past, distilling beer or whiskey using malted barley. Someone who might’ve been brewing in his basement. We hope you might know where we should look.”
Cook placed four more raw burgers on the grill. “Brewing beer or whiskey in a basement...” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Not many basements around here. At least, not in the newer homes. But some people made good use of their basements in the past, especially if they were hiding barrels of whiskey or crates of bottles filled with beer or moonshine. Some of them, like the old boarding house, burned to the ground. A couple of the old places outside of town have deteriorated and were abandoned as the town’s population shrank.”
“Do any places or owner names come to mind?” Avery pressed.
“Just the folks I know of who brewed beer and whiskey—and that was only hearsay from their relatives who still live here.”
“That will give us more of a start than going door to door,” Grant said with a smile.
Cook frowned. “I assume this has something to do with the killer.”
“We can’t say much, but yes,” Avery confirmed. “Basements and old malted barley. Anywhere you can think of that we could find that combination might help.” She touched his arm. “And if you could keep this information to yourself, we’d appreciate it.”
Cook flipped the burgers. “I can only tell you the names of the families I know of who owned or operated stills during Prohibition.”
Grant pulled out his phone and opened the notes application. “We’re listening.”
“Herbert McElroy had a still in the woods behind his house until the revenuers shut him down. His daughter, Susan, loved telling stories about the day her daddy was arrested. Not sure if his house had a basement. It’s been boarded up for years after his daughter passed away. The kids throw rocks through what’s left of the windows. His place was on the way out on FM 31, about four miles away. No one’s lived there for at least the last twenty years.”
Grant made notes on his phone while Cook threw several buns onto the grill to warm.
“Pete Hornsby’s grandfather bootlegged hooch to the cities during that time. Had an old truck Pete refurbished and uses to haul the football team through town during the Christmas parade.” Cook grinned. “He’s kind of proud of his grandfather’s crimes and isn’t afraid to talk about it. His grandfather had a place on Oak Trace, on the south end of the town. It used to be out in the country until the town built out that way. Now, it’s surrounded by other homes.”
Cook tilted his head and stared into the far corner of the kitchen. “Other names that come to mind are the Stensons, who owned a place off Cemetery Road. Roland Baumgartner off County Road 385, and Arlie Tidwell off Cedar Creek Lane. I went on a scavenger hunt looking for abandoned stills in case I could use parts on the one my uncle left me.” He shrugged and laid slices of cheese on two of the burgers. “It’s not like I plan on selling moonshine to my neighbors. It’s just a hobby. My wife puts up with it because it keeps me busy and out of her kitchen. Not that I want to cook after working all day at the diner.”
“Do you know if any of those people’s homes are abandoned, or if there was an old warehouse or commercial building they might have used to make beer or whiskey?” Avery asked. “Ones that had basements…?”
“The old Baumgartner place is still standing. I believe his grandson owns it, but doesn’t live there or rent it out. The Tidwell place was divided into three tracts. The old homestead is still there. The new homes were built closer to the road. The old place is in the rear with a big hay barn behind it. They had a treasure trove of brewing equipment in the barn they let me scavenge through.” Cook set several plates beside the grill, laid bottom buns on them and slid hamburgers onto them.
“Anything else you can think of?” Grant asked.
Cook shook his head. “Not now. If I come up with more names or places, I’ll let the sheriff know.”
“Thanks,” Avery said and smiled at the older man. “And thanks for the best burger I’ve had in a long time.”
“I aim to please,” Cook said. “My sailors always got my best effort.”
Grant and Avery left the kitchen and walked out of the diner onto the street.
“Where to first?” Grant asked.
“The county courthouse.”
He nodded. “We need to look up where these places are located and start knocking on doors.”
“Before the courthouse, we should stop at the local electric company and see if they can run through individual bills for any unusual spikes in electricity usage from last year to this.”
“Good idea.” Grant walked with Avery to the rental car and held the passenger door open. “We could investigate the old boarding house and the abandoned McElroy house. The others will likely need a warrant, since they’re occupied.”
