Hopsworth's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

Hopsworth slid into his car and started the engine. The invoice sat on the passenger seat, curling at the edges. Thirty minutes to the brewery. Less, if the inspector drove fast. He pulled into traffic and gripped the wheel. The old brick building had been quiet for years. Now it needed to be empty before a stranger walked through its door. He checked his watch every minute. The second hand felt slower than the engine. He pulled the invoice closer and read the address again, just to be sure. Twenty-two minutes now. He took a shortcut and pushed the pedal harder. A small two-wheeler buzzed past him at the light, lean and quick, and he wished he had something like it. He parked behind the brick wall and ran. A delivery truck sat in the lot, its back door wide open, cases of beer stacked high inside. The driver was gone. Hopsworth swore. The truck was loud proof of everything. He climbed in, found the keys above the visor, and moved it behind the building, out of sight. Then he dragged out the pressure washer from the side shed. He blasted the loading bay until the spilled foam and old labels washed into the drain. He scrubbed the door handle. He sprayed the wooden barrels clean. A car turned into the lot. Hopsworth shut off the washer and stood up straight, wet to the elbows. The inspector stepped out with a clipboard and looked around. The truck was hidden. The bay was clean. The man nodded once and walked toward the door. Hopsworth had won the minute. But the inspector was already inside his brewery, and nothing about that could be undone.