Buzz Off (24 page)

On the way back, I was more convinced than ever that Grace had killed Manny. She had the means and opportunity—she could’ve turned on the bee blower, released the yellow jackets she had trapped in their nest, then run to the house and locked the door, leaving Manny to die an agonizing, venomous death. Why? Because she thought she would spend the rest of her life with that snake Clay, that’s why. And when she saw him with Faye she went
buzz-erk
with rage and killed the girlfriend. Getting rid of me, the ex-wife, and thus a potential threat to her future would have been easy if her plan to frame me had worked out. Unfortunately for her, things went wrong, and Johnny Jay had arrested Clay instead.

How did she feel now?

And all along I thought Grace was a meek and mild woman with a simple case of low self-esteem.

I’d underestimated her.

Ray Goodwin’s delivery truck arrived at the market right behind Trent and Brent Craig, who reported for work at three o’clock on the dot. For the time being, I put aside my visions of death and intrigue.

Holly headed for her red Jag while I stood out in back, surveying the unloading. “Hunter called for you,” she said. “Twice. He said it was important. My man Max is home tonight, then he’s leaving again tomorrow on another business trip. We’re going out to dinner.” She giggled like a new bride. “Then we might try some of that water that’s making the rest of this town so sex-minded.”

“Very funny,” I replied before turning my attention to Ray, who looked neater than usual. He wore clean jeans and had shaved nice and close, a rarity for him. “New woman in your life?” I asked him.

He gave me a Mona Lisa smile. “Maybe. Why? What gave me away?”

“I can just tell, is all.” I changed the subject. “I’m still searching for Manny’s bees,” I told him. “Have you seen anything different? Someone with a bunch of new bees? Or a beekeeper with more hives than usual?”

“You’re still on that kick? Besides, from what I hear, nobody wants you raising honeybees in town. Isn’t that why you got rid of yours?”

“Right, yes, but—”

“How about me and you go out together Friday night?”

That stopped me in my tracks. Actually it was more like full impact with a moving train. Ray, apparently, thought
I
was his new woman. Oh, no. One of the worst things about being single was deflecting unwanted attention without destroying any fragile male egos, and I didn’t want to be the one to reduce Ray’s.

Usually, I had some kind of warning. This one took me totally by surprise.

“Uh, I’m busy Friday, but thanks for asking.” Ray opened his mouth to say something, and I rushed in before he could speak. “The whole weekend I’m busy.”

“Okay, then, I’ll check back with you next week.”

“Okay,” I said. I’d worry about it then. “Thanks for asking.” That was dumb, thanking him, which he would certainly take as encouragement, but I was flustered. “By the way,” I said, “could you stop at Grace’s sometime this week, go into the honey house, and get whatever honey you need to fill orders?”

Ray stared at me like I had two heads. “You mean, go into the sacred honey house by myself?” he asked.

I smiled at that, remembering Manny’s main rule. Most of the time he was easygoing, but this particular one was a requirement. Or else. And that was that no one was allowed in the honey house unless one of us was along. It was Manny Chapman’s territory, and while he was alive I had respected his wishes.

Competition among honey producers was friendly, but as Manny said, not
that
friendly. “Grace isn’t speaking to me at the moment,” I said, explaining why I was breaking the rule this time. “She might take a shot at me if I do it.”

“Isn’t the honey house always locked up tight?”

“She’ll let you in. Just make sure you let her know that she’s getting all the proceeds from the sales.”

“Aren’t you splitting sales from the business?”

“Not anymore.” I went into the store through the back door.

 

 

Under normal circumstances, I would have gone for a long, soothing kayak trip on the Oconomowoc River tonight after work, but these weren’t common times. Besides, I had no floatable transportation.

After careful consideration, I rejected the idea of sharing my recent thoughts with Johnny Jay until I had more to go on. Instead, I called the police department to find out when I’d get my kayak back. I’d already decided to trade it in. I’d never be able to use it again without seeing Faye’s dead, staring eyes or some other unpleasant images.

No one at the cop shop could give me an answer. They said they’d call when it was released.

Ray’s date offer was on my mind. Not in the let’s-give-it-a-try way, because Ray has never been on my list of potentials and never would be. His sitting in my backyard had been almost too much personal closeness for me.

But there were a few things I really missed as a single, unattached woman with no current prospects. They were:

That last bullet point was part of my ongoing romance fantasy. The special
someone
part, not just the
naked
part.

I thought about what Holly said as she left the store, that Hunter had called twice looking for me. I considered returning his call but I still suffered from total embarrassment and didn’t have anything to say to him. I was done apologizing to other people for the day.

I called Holly instead.

“I’m sort of in the middle of things,” she said, quietly.

“It’s only four o’clock.”

“Love is timeless.”

“One quick question, then. Why did Hunter and I break up in high school?”

“Isn’t that something you should already know?”

“I can’t remember. Everything about the man screams

‘perfect,’ but if that’s true, why did we split up? I’m drawing a complete blank.”

“You dumped him.”

“I did?”

“You said he was too small-townish, that you wanted to see the world, and you were leaving the bumpkins behind.”

“I said that?”

“Yup. You broke his heart.”

Jeez!

“Did you return his phone call?” Holly asked.

“Not yet.”

“He said it was important. Don’t forget.”

After we hung up, I thought about my youthful need to get away from Moraine. Not that I ended up traveling the entire world. Far from it. I only made it to Milwaukee, forty miles down the superhighway, but compared to my hometown of Moraine, Milwaukee
was
the world.

What would have happened to my life if I hadn’t left Moraine? If I hadn’t met Clay in Milwaukee and married him? If Hunter and I had stayed together?

Analyzing the past is a dangerous, slippery slope leading into quicksand, so after I closed the store and went home, I stopped in the garden, pulled a bunch of fresh red beets, and spent the evening in the kitchen, creating my special version of beet soup, which would go into this month’s newsletter. I added ginger this time for a walk on the wild side.

By early the next morning, I couldn’t ignore a growing feeling of unease about Moraine’s two recent deaths. The little voice in my head was getting louder, tapping on the inside of my cranium like it was trying to get my attention. It didn’t help matters that I’d dreamed about Manny and Faye right before I woke up.

In my bizarre dream, Manny and Faye were walking down Main Street together. And I mean really together, like sharing the same body. They rotated in and out of the dream sequence, first Manny’s face and body, then Faye’s. They kept on walking, not uttering a single word, and somehow I knew they had come for me.

That’s all I remember after waking up with tears on my face.

The same voice insisted that Manny and Faye’s deaths were linked. Too many coincidences were stacking up. They had both died within the same few days, in the same town, both under unusual circumstances.

And that same little voice in my head told me that Clay was innocent. Not innocent of most things, as I know all too intimately. In fact they could charge him with any other crime and I’d go right along with it and hope my vote was the one that brought him down. But when it came to murdering Faye, I’d have to vote not guilty.

That left Grace. Meek and mild Grace. Her husband was dead and Clay’s girlfriend was gone, too. How convenient and sinister. There were so many connections a fuse was going to blow.

The tricky part would be getting the right people to believe me. That was the challenge. I’d have to outline the interpersonal relationships for Johnny Jay and convince him that Manny’s death hadn’t been an accident.

Then I asked myself an important question that changed my tune. Where was I when Manny died? He must’ve died pretty early Friday morning, before Ray found his body. I’d opened the store that morning, but when Carrie Ann had finally shown up, I’d cut out to spend a little time alone before the champagne celebration started. Now I remembered. I’d walked along the Ice Age Trail that bordered the Oconomowoc River. Holy crap. I didn’t have an alibi.

Which meant I better wait until I had all the facts, which I was determined to get. I owed it to Manny, my dead friend, and on some level I felt I owed it to Faye, too, since my kayak—and my ex—was involved.

After selecting a funky pair of yellow sunflower-studded flip flops and accessorizing with jean shorts and a pale yellow tee, I walked the two blocks to The Wild Clover.

I arrived at the store with a honey-coated bagel in my hand and enough concealer under my eyes to hide the evidence of another bad night’s sleep. Carrie Ann came in shortly after and took over at the register while I worked on inventory in the back. When I came out, she was gabbing with Stanley Peck as she bagged up his purchases.

This time, I was going to stick to Stanley like lint on fleece when he left The Wild Clover. If he had Manny’s bees, he’d lead me to them eventually. I had my thermos of coffee and my anything’s-possible attitude back. And I had a plan.

“If Patti Dwyre comes in, tell her I need to talk to her,” I said to Carrie Ann. P. P. Patti and I had some talking to do.

“Where are you going now?” Carrie Ann called out when I bolted for the door after giving Stanley a three-second lead. “I thought you hired me because you needed more help. Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I never see you anymore.”

“Be right back,” was all I had time to say before I bumped right into my grandmother, who’d chosen that exact moment to enter the store. I almost knocked her to the floor.

“Grams!” I exclaimed, attempting to rearrange my grandmother in an upright position and still keep one eye on Stanley as he opened his car door.

“I came to visit you,” she said.

“Well, come on then. We can chat on the way.” I grabbed her elbow and off we went.

“Where are we going, dear?”

“An errand.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Oh, no, you won’t. Get in the truck. And hurry. We’ll lose . . . uh, never mind. Come on.” I gave her a boost up.

I was a little delayed by my unexpected meeting with Grams, but we blew through town and caught up to Stanley on the outskirts of Moraine.

“That’s some driving, Story dear,” Grams said. “NASCAR stuff.”

“I’m practicing stunt-car driving techniques. I’m thinking of trying out next time they make a movie around here.”