Murder With A Chaser (Microbrewery Mysteries Book 2) by Belle Knudson

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                  "Ms. Darby," she said in long, languid tones, "I'm Zelda Calverton. You don’t know me."
                  "I gotta say I don’t, Ms. Calverton. Please have a seat."
                  Instead of taking the chair in front of my desk, she opted instead for the couch on the side, the very couch Daniel Ward had fallen onto when he died. She crossed her legs elegantly and stared at me.
                  "So," I said uncomfortably, "what brings you here?" I was trying to be official.
                  "As I said, you don’t know me. But you probably know my products. I'm the CEO of Juice First, Inc."
                  "The organic health food line. Of course I know those products."
                  "Yes, you do, but you probably don’t know a few of our subsidiaries. For instance, do you also happen to know that I own Gnome Brewing, Inc?"
                  I'd heard that Gnome had sold out to a giant macro-corporation. I had no idea it was this one. I told her as much, leaving out the phrase "sold out,” of course.
                  "Mmm," she said, pulling a Virginia Slims cigarette out of a gold case. "Do you mind?"
                  "As a matter of fact, I do," I said.
                  "Pity," she said, replacing the cigarette. "Anyway, I'm here on behalf of my husband. My late husband."
                  "Ok," I said, not making the connection.
                  "I heard you were looking into his murder."
                  Now it dawned on me. I was speaking with Ms. Eli Campbell herself. He was married, I knew that. But no one seemed to know much about the woman to whom he was married. The couple had done a spectacular job of shielding her from media attention. Even in the wake – no pun intended – of her husband's death, this woman sitting here before me had managed to evade even the most prying eyes.
                  "Forgive me," I said, rising from my desk and moving closer to the couch. "I didn't realize you were, that is, I didn't—"
                  She held up her hand as if to hear no more. "It's fine. I keep a low profile."
                  "Well, allow me at least to offer my sincere condolences. I'm sorry for your loss. From what I knew of Eli Campbell, he seemed to be—"
                  Again she held up her hand. "My dear, you're going to hurt yourself. Don’t bother. I above all people realize what kind of man Eli Campbell was. Believe me, what you knew of him was only the tip of the iceberg, to use that disgusting cliché. But, I loved him. To the point where we could no longer be together in the same room. It happens like that sometimes, you know. Sometimes two people are just too similar to live with each other. Such was the case of Eli and me. Still, I'd like to find out who killed him. And I'd like to make you an offer should you decide to help me."
                  "Help you?"
                  "Yes," she said. "I am looking for someone other than the police to help me find Eli's killer. You see, Eli had some...shall we say... indiscretions in the past. He was quite the naughty boy, if you will."
                  "I suppose I've heard some stories."
                  "Oh, gossip tabloid tripe. I'm not talking about that. No, my Eli was involved in things of which the tabloids never even got a whiff with their little piggy snouts. And before you ask the necessary if obnoxiously simple question of why I'm not going to the police, let me just say that I have good reason to keep Eli's indiscretions a secret. You see, should the police dig in far enough to find out who killed my husband, they'll uncover things."
                  "And those things could lead to you."
                  Her eyes widened even more. "Clever little