Buzzkill (Pecan Bayou Series)

by Trent, Teresa

  “Betsy! Betsy, are you all right?”

  I came out of the greenhouse. “Those boxes, they’re full of bees.”

  “Of course they are,” said Leo, “they’re beehives. Lenny did grow flowers, after all. He needed those bees to make his flowers bloom.”

  I drew in breath. “I knew that,” I lied. “Do you think that’s what all those red spots on Mr. Stokes are? Do you think he was stung to death by bees?”

  Leo gazed down on Lenny Stokes. “I don’t know, maybe. Whatever it was, I’m going to have a hard time erasing it from my memory.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Worried the boys would see the fallen body of Lenny Stokes, Leo and I stood by the car waiting for the sound of the approaching ambulance. I found a cereal bar in the bottom of my purse and split that between them. If that didn’t keep Tyler’s stomach from growling, I could always break out the breath mints.

  “Do you think they found his wife?” Leo said.

  I folded my arms to my chest as a cold breeze hit me. The clouds were beginning to gather above us, turning our blue sky into patches of gray. “Her car is gone, so maybe she’s still in town. She’s very active in the community church. It could be she’s there. She’s seemed so fragile to me through all of this. She told me they were barely getting by, and now losing Lenny … It’s going to be very tough for her. So how rare is an attack by bees, anyway?”

  “In February? I wouldn’t think something like that occurs too often. It’s a strange thing. I always hear about bee attacks in the summertime. You know, some guys mowing the grass or cleaning out something and hitting a hive. He didn’t even look dressed to be working with bees.”

  “Martha told me they had just brought in more bees because their bees were dying off,” I said. “Do you think Lenny bought killer bees?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. People don’t usually order killer bees to pollinate their flowers. I know they’re a little smaller, but generally they look the same.” Leo was right, unless the bees Stokes had ordered were killers and he didn’t know it.

  “I guess we’ll have to call in some bee experts,” I said. “What do you call those guys?”

  “Entomologists,” said Leo.

  I shivered as I clutched my arms, thinking of the pain Lenny Stokes must have been in before he died. He was not Pecan Bayou’s favorite guy, but what a way to go. Did the bee stings hurt worse because of his aggravated skin?

  A squad car pulled into the driveway.

  “Betsy?” My dad called out as he came around the corner of the house. Elena Morris, the official crime scene photographer of Pecan Bayou and my maid of honor, walked behind him.

  “I should have known if there was a body in Pecan Bayou, your daughter would be the first one to trip over it,” Elena said. Although she could be brusque at times, I really liked her. She could put up with working with my dad, which showed what a strong woman she was.

  “Oh, and I know this is probably not an appropriate time,” I said, “but I did need to remind you to go get fitted for your bridesmaid’s dress.”

  Elena sighed. “You’re getting as hardcore as the cops who talk about day-to-day life with a dead guy on the ground in front of them.” Elena pulled her camera up to her eye and took a picture of Lenny.

  “I guess I get that from growing up the daughter of Lieutenant Judd Kelsey,” I said.

  “You think?” Elena said. “As much as I hate the thought of putting on a dreaded bridesmaid dress, I’ll get over there tomorrow.” I couldn’t believe she hadn’t been to the dress fitting yet, and my expression didn’t hide it well. “I promise!” she said, seeing my face. She winced as she drew closer to Lenny. “Man, this guy is toast.”

  Orley Ortiz, the paramedic, rolled his stretcher in front of us, black body bag on the top. My dad walked over to the body and knelt down to examine it. I could see his shoulders stiffen as he observed the grotesquely swollen body of Stokes. He snapped shut his notebook and placed it back in his pocket. “I think you and Leo can head on back to the boys. From what I can tell, it was just a terrible accident.”

  “Have you gotten in contact with Mrs. Stokes yet?”

  “Yes, we found her shopping at the drugstore. George went to get her after he drops off the boys. Pretty sad situation, but these things do happen. I guess this is just a hazard when you work with bees.” George was one of the few other members of the Pecan Bayou Police Department. He towered over us all and had the high voice of a mouse. Criminals were terrified of him until he squeaked out a command to stop in the name of the law.

  Leo and I rose from the steps, and I brushed a generous layer of dust off my behind.

  “I’m just glad that your body of the month isn’t another murder for me to solve, darlin’,” said my dad.

  “Me too,” I said. “I guess we’ll definitely have to switch our order to Baskets of Bluebonnets. Getting back the deposit, though, may not be a possibility.”

  “That’s cold,” Elena said, snapping a picture of Lenny and the bee stings.

  ******

  Ten minutes later we stood in the entry hall of Aunt Maggie’s house. Before I had hurt her so badly we would have gone inside, sat around the kitchen table, maybe eaten some fresh cheesecake and sorted out the world’s troubles. Tonight I found it hard to get past the cold ceramic tile in the foyer.

  “So sad about Mr. Stokes. I just thank the Lord the boys didn’t see anything,” Maggie said.

  “We are too,” said Leo. “I was telling Betsy, this is the first time I’ve ever discovered somebody like that. Not an experience I would want to repeat.”

  “You better get used to it,” she said, pulling her sweater around her shoulders.

  “Aunt Maggie,” I began, “I know it’s been tough for us the last few days, but there’s something I need …”

  A noise rose from the other room where the boys had joined Danny.

  “Let me go check on that,” Maggie said as she turned to the living room, where Danny and the boys were playing with Danny’s trains.

  “That didn’t go well,” Leo whispered into my ear.

  “No it didn’t,” I whispered back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so angry.”

  “Really?” Leo was surprised. “Didn’t you say she’d been going along with you and Charlotte to all these wedding things?”

  “That’s the way she is. She’s angry, but she loves me too much to not be a part of my life. There was no way she was going to miss out on helping me with my wedding.”

  Zach and Tyler came down the hall with Maggie and Danny following closely. The smell of freshly cut onions and sizzling ground beef permeated the air. The evening news played softly in the next room that was warmly lit, reflecting shades of brown, tan and gold. To me, this was my home. It was part of a set of homes I had lived in as a child. My father and I had one, but Aunt Maggie’s was the other. This was the home I came to when my prom date got drunk and threw up on my dress. This was the home I came to when I had to sort out all my Girl Scout cookie boxes to deliver to the neighbors. And I remembered rushing through the cold on a night like this one, when I realized Barry had left me and would not be returning. Aunt Maggie had seen me through all of it, just like any mother would. Just like my own mother never did.

  I wished I could erase the days with Charlotte and pretend like she had never come to town and that Maggie had never been usurped.

  “Aunt Maggie, before you try to run off again. I need to tell you Charlotte has gone back to California.”

  Her lips pressed together as she tried to form a smile.

  “When did she leave?”

  “This morning. She said she felt bad for coming between the two of us.”

  Maggie began blinking rapidly, holding back a tear.

  “She felt like maybe it had been too long between us. She also said that she was thankful for all that you’ve done through the years.”

  Maggie tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “She did?”

&
nbsp; “Yes,” I said, “and I feel I owe you an apology.”

  “Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t,” said my aunt. “So does this mean she’s not ridin’ shotgun on the wedding details?”

  “You know, she was at best, a distant relative,” I said. “She’s not you.”

  Maggie’s bottom lip started to tremble. “Are you hungry?” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion.

  I pulled away from Leo and reached over to hug my aunt. “I’m starved,” I said.

  All was right with the world again.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  That night, as Leo and I cuddled in front of my fireplace, I sipped a glass of wine while the boys attempted to settle down in the next room.

  “Here’s to Aunt Maggie. So glad you two made up.” Leo raised his glass in a toast.

  “To Aunt Maggie,” I returned.

  “I knew you’d find a way to make it right with her somehow.”

  “I didn’t think I would.”

  “Betsy, you’re a lot stronger than you think,” he said. “Look at what happened today. We saw a guy who was swollen up like a tick, and you went into crime scene mode. No craziness, no screaming, no throwing up.”

  My mind shot back to Lenny Stokes’s misshapen face. One sting below his eye socket raised a welt that made him look like he had two noses, one normal and one grotesque.

  “I say this,” Leo continued, “because personally I found myself fighting the need to scream and throw up.”

  “It was pretty gruesome.” I agreed. “I wonder how Martha Stokes is doing. Maybe I should try to pay her a visit.”

  “Yes, and if you get a chance, just slyly slip in that we need our deposit back.”

  “Leo! That’s awful. The woman is in mourning.”

  “Sorry, but that’s the way we’re going to be once we get Mr. Andre’s final set of bills,” he replied.

  “You know, when Elena was taking all those pictures, I noticed Lenny using a jar of that calamine lotion that was a part of the church batch when we were out there.”

  “And why would that matter?” Leo asked.

  “This is crazy, but could something draw those bees to Lenny?”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “It’s nothing,” I said.

  “And you’re thinking …”

  “It’s silly. I’ve used that stuff on Zach and never had a problem.”

  “No.” Leo pulled back. “You think your homemade anti-bug soup did the old guy in?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “No. Definitely not. I think.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Baking soda, kaolin clay, uh … zinc oxide. What could be in that?”

  “Well some people do have an allergic reaction to kaolin,” he said. “I had a cousin once who swelled up from the stuff, but I’ve never heard of a bee problem. I don’t know, but maybe it’s not a good idea to share your theory with anyone else. You know, I’ve probably been to thirty weddings and thought it all looked pretty straightforward and simple. You get the church, you get a pastor, a nice white dress and you say ‘I do.’ I no longer have such an innocent view of the world. Now that it’s our turn to plan, we start out the day with a dead florist. What else could possibly happen?”

  “Famous last words of Leo Fitzpatrick.” I hiccupped and giggled at my own joke as he lowered his lips to mine. My worries from earlier were fading further and further away. How could I not marry this man?

  ******

  The next morning, after a leisurely breakfast of blueberry pancakes and syrup, we promised the boys we would take them to the batting cages at the ballpark. Amazingly it wasn’t raining, so we decided to try it. The bayou road ran along the back of the fields with the bayou glittering on the other side. I had spent several springs drifting into warm early summers watching Zach play ball at this place. Where would he play baseball if we moved to Dallas?

  I loved our old ballpark with its two fields and dark green snack bar in the middle. Families met there every spring and cheered on their kids who seemed to jump up a couple of inches in height each year. Dad, Aunt Maggie and Danny had always been there for Zach and would do the same for Tyler. Nothing like hitting a grounder and having four people in the stands cheer you as if it were a home run. That’s what family is all about. Now that my family was growing, I knew change was inevitable.

  We brought along Butch, our Weimaraner, and let him run the expanse of the park. I threw out a tennis ball for him, and he ran across the ball fields, tail wagging. The boys each grabbed a batting cage and started pounding balls into the mat. It had warmed up a little with the promise of spring whispering around us. Spring in this part of Texas usually started mid-February with tiny buds forming on the tree branches. Today, though, it was still a little dreary, with different shades of gray outlining the clouds.

  “Choke up on the bat, Tyler,” Leo yelled across to the cages. I opened my notebook for the millionth time since we started planning this circus called a wedding. As I went through the lists Mr. Andre and I made, my head began to spin. What color are the groomsmen’s ties? What are the colors you want in the flowers? Do they connect with the total design aesthetic of the overall look of the blah, blah, blah?

  I shut the book and put my chin in my hands. This wasn’t my first wedding, and then again it was. When I married Barry, he insisted that we have a “living room” wedding with just my family. He told me he wanted an intimate occasion. What I didn’t know was that he was ashamed my dad couldn’t pay for a big multi-thousand dollar, jaw-dropping affair. What did that man ever see in me, I wondered. So in a way this was my first wedding, and sometimes when I thought about Barry and all that went wrong, I became apprehensive at the thought of marrying again. Did Leo get the same feelings? Since he’d known me, I had been a suspect in a murder case, had to be rescued from a fire, been shot at by a crazed cowboy, and my favorite, had been followed around by a ghost with a head cold.

  “Zach, keep your eye on the ball,” Leo coached. Zach threw the ball up and blindly swung at it again. How could I say it? Zach was “baseball challenged.” He loved playing the game but found it hard to hit the ball. Last year he struck out almost every time except for a couple of grounders. The boys on the team called him the king, and I thought it was a compliment. What I didn’t know was that it stood for “strikeout king.”

  I glanced back over the water and watched the wind pick up, causing small ripples on the surface. It was so peaceful, except for an alligator here and there. I could see the outline of the wedding tent the Fischers had put up. Being this close to the ballpark, I was suddenly glad we weren’t getting married during baseball season.

  I could hear it now: “Do you, John, take Marsha – He’s out!” Hopefully the sound system wouldn’t carry too far.

  Zach came running back up to us in the stands. I quickly pulled a juice box out of my bag, took the cellophane off the straw, stuck it in the hole and handed it to him.

  “Wow, did you even look at the juice box?” Leo said. “You’re a robot.”

  “You get to be that way after the first thousand or so.”

  “Something I missed out on with Tyler. When we found out about my sister and I decided I wanted to take care of him, I never knew what a job it would be. It was pretty rough at first, but I think we’re doing okay now.”

  “I think you’re doing great,” I told him.

  “Well, you aren’t with us all the time. At first, Tyler would cry for his mom. Especially at night. I tried to help him through it, but I would never be his mother.”

  I ran my fingers through Leo’s hair. “You did fine. You did what all parents do. Maybe you weren’t perfect, but you were there and you were trying. That’s all you can do.” He reached up and captured my hand and held it as he watched the boys.

  Both our boys were poised on the edge of all things puberty, and sometimes the thought terrified me. What day would the monster hormones hit and turn our little ball players into grumpy, unresponsive teenagers? It coul
dn’t be all that bad. Teenagers drove, and that would take some time pressures off. Of course, Leo and I would have to risk our necks teaching them, and then there’s the question of buying cars and paying for insurance.

  Sometimes it’s best to stay in the present, I thought, as I looked back out on the water. Butch came back up with his ball, and this time I threw it toward the trees where it bounced near the bayou. Butch went running into the trees to retrieve it. Hopefully I wouldn’t be picking things out of his fur later. The wind was picking up some, and I felt it creeping into my ears. The water was starting to ripple up into small whitecaps as it rhythmically lapped at the muddy shore. I followed the wave, and then what looked like the head of an animal popped up through the moving water. Was Butch in the water out there? I grabbed Leo’s arm and pulled his focus from the boys.

  “I think Butch went into the water,” I said. “I don’t know how well he can swim out there.”

  Both Leo and I jumped up from the bleachers and ran down by the shore. “Butch!” I called out. I tried whistling to him, hoping he could hear that better from a distance. “Here, boy!” The boys both stopped pounding balls against the chain link enclosures. I heard a rustling in the woods next to us, and Butch came bouncing out, ball in his teeth.

  “He’s looks fine to me,” Leo said. “Betsy, sometimes you worry too much. I just hope we can find a nice dog park for him to run in up in Dallas.”

  He would have to bring up yet another family member who would be affected by the move.

  “I thought I saw him out in the water,” I admitted, reaching down to pat him on the head. A small sting hit my arm. A mosquito was now lining up to take a second bite of my arm. I knocked it off.