“And it was very good for him that both Sherman and Hennessey were having trouble with their bees at the same time,” Violet added. “That meant Mr. Price would be stuck, right, Grandfather? And he’d have to buy honey from someone else.”
“That’s right,” Grandfather said.
“In fact,” said Henry, “that’s exactly what they were talking about in the diner — the contract. Still, I suppose it could be a coincidence. I wish we had one more clue.”
“Wait,” said Jessie. “I remember Mr. Wentworth had all these red marks on his arms. Could that be a sign that he was the one who sprayed the Menadrin on the wild-flowers?”
“It certainly could be,” Renee told her. “Menadrin is known to cause mild rashes on the skin, even without direct contact. If you sprayed it without gloves and long sleeves and the wind blew it back onto you … sure, you could very easily develop a rash.”
Everyone fell silent as they considered what this meant.
Violet said, “I think this is the big break we’ve needed.”
“So what’s next?” Renee asked.
“I think it’s time to give the Shermans a call,” Henry said.
CHAPTER 9
A Fair Price
Everyone ate quickly, then piled into the station wagon and headed over to the Shermans’ farm. At one point in the journey Grandfather joked that they were “making a beeline” over there, but instead of laughter all he got was a round of groans.
The Shermans were pretty depressed when the Aldens arrived.
“John Price came by today,” sighed Dottie, “and it was so hard to tell him that we don’t have any honey.”
Clay was slumped in his chair. “He said he had no choice but to find someone else this year. Can’t say I blame him.”
“Oh, no,” gasped Violet. She hated to see them so upset. Maybe we’re too late to help them, she thought.
“Mr. Price is a good man, though,” Dottie was saying. “He said he’ll check back with us next season to see if we’ve got honey.”
“He even said he’d give the contract back to us this season if we could somehow come up with enough honey in these next two months before the delivery date,” said Clay, though clearly he didn’t think this was possible.
“Well, Mr. Sherman, you just might be able to pull it off,” said Renee. Soon she and the Aldens were telling the Shermans all their news. “Trust me, the Menadrin will wear off in time,” she told Clay and Dottie.
“Thank goodness!” said Dottie. But Clay still had a reason to be upset.
“You mean this Tyler Wentworth fellow is trying to ruin my honey business?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, that seems to be the case,” said Grandfather. “Only we need some proof.”
Henry, who had been thinking quietly, spoke up. “I think I’ve got a plan.”
“You do?” asked Jessie. “And what would that be?”
Henry smiled, then told them.
The Aldens, the Shermans, and Renee drove to the little hotel in town where John Price was staying for the night.
Mr. Price was wearing dark pants and a white shirt when he opened the door, but he’d taken off his jacket, tie, and shoes. The TV was on, and a newspaper lay open on the bed. Mr. Price looked as though he hadn’t been expecting any visitors but got a whole load of them instead.
“Can I, uh … help you?” he asked.
The Shermans stepped forward. “Hello again, John,” Mr. Sherman said.
Mr. Price wanted to smile, but he was still too puzzled. “Hi, Clay. What’s this all about?”
“Can we come in for a few minutes?” Mr. Sherman asked.
“Sure, if there’s room. Maybe I should move the bed into the parking lot,” Mr. Price joked.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” said Mr. Sherman with a weak smile.
Once everyone was settled — the adults in chairs and the Alden children sitting cross-legged on the big bed — and all the introductions had been made, Mr. Price said, “So, what’s going on?”
“You’ve been in contact with a man named Wentworth, is that correct?” Henry asked.
“Well, yes, in fact I have.” Mr. Price nodded toward the Shermans. “He’ll be taking over the Shermans’ honey contract, unless they can come up with enough before the delivery date.”
“Mr. Wentworth isn’t who he seems,” Jessie said.
Mr. Price’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean? He assured me he could supply the honey I needed. Had pictures of his hives and everything. Even invited me to come look at them next week.”
“In New Jersey, right?” Henry asked.
John Price looked a little stunned. “Well … yes. How’d you know that?”
Henry told Mr. Price everything that had been happening over the last few days, with Renee adding some scientific details about the Menadrin. As Henry went deeper into the story, Mr. Price looked more and more shocked.
When Henry was finished, Mr. Price said, “I … I can’t believe this. Would someone really go to all that trouble, just to get this contract?”
“When you’ve lost as much money as he has,” Grandfather Alden said, “you probably get desperate. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing is wrong, but he’s probably gone beyond the point of caring.”
Mr. Price looked at the Shermans. “I’m really sorry about this. I assure you I won’t be giving that contract to Tyler Wentworth.”
“Well … we’re not positive it’s him,” Violet said cautiously.
“No, that’s why we came over here,” Jessie added.
“Who else could it be?” Mr. Price said, holding up his hands. “It all fits so perfectly. But how are you going to get this proof you need?” he asked the children. “If he’s the one, he’s not just going to say, ‘You’re right, it was me!’”
“Henry has a plan,” Clay Sherman said, “and from the sound of it, it’s a darn good one.”
Mr. Price turned to the boy. “Is that right? Let’s hear it.”
So Henry told him everything from beginning to end. When he was finished, Mr. Price said, “That sounds like it just might work.”
“It should,” Henry agreed, “but we’ll really need your help. That’s key. How about it?”
John Price thought it over for a moment, then smiled. “Sure. I’ve never caught a criminal before.”
“Then this’ll be your big chance,” Jessie told him.
The Aldens returned to Mr. Price’s hotel early the next morning, along with their grandfather, and went over phase one of Henry’s plan.
“Sounds good,” said Mr. Price. “Are you ready?” he asked the children.
“Ready,” said Benny.
Mr. Price picked up the hotel phone and pressed the speakerphone button so the Aldens could listen in. Then he dialed the number on Tyler Wentworth’s business card. Wentworth picked it up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Wentworth? John Price here. We spoke over breakfast yesterday morning.”
“John! How are you doing this morning, my friend?”
“I’m fine, Tyler, just fine. Hey, listen, I’ve got some bad news for you, I’m afraid.” Mr. Price looked at the Aldens and winked.
“Bad news? What might that be?”
“Well, I don’t know how, but the bees on the Shermans’ farm have started making honey again. Remember when I called before and said you could have the contract because their bees had stopped? Well, I just got off the phone with Mrs. Sherman, and she said everything was going fine again.”
Mr. Price waited for Tyler Wentworth to say something, but there was only silence.
“Tyler? You still there?”
“Huh? Oh, um … yeah, sure, I’m still here.” He gave a small laugh, but there wasn’t any humor in it. “Well, that’s great, John. Just great. I’m glad to hear it, I’m glad for them. What was happening over there was just terrible. Good for them, really.”
“I just wanted you to know right away,” Mr. Price went o
n. “No hard feelings, I hope? They’ve been my honey people for a long time, and I believe in loyalty. It’s only fair.”
“Huh? Oh, no, no hard feelings at all,” Wentworth told him, and he almost sounded like he meant it. “No hard feelings. Okay, well, maybe next season?”
“Sure, maybe,” Mr. Price said. “For now, I wish you the best of luck selling your honey elsewhere.”
“What? Oh, sure, yes, thanks. Thanks very much.”
There was another pause, and then Wentworth said, “Hey, listen, if their bees go through that strange spell again, would you still take the honey from me?”
John Price smiled broadly and gave the Aldens a thumbs-up.
“I sure would,” Mr. Price said enthusiastically. “I’d have to. I’d have no one else to turn to!”
A much happier Tyler Wentworth said, “Great, then please keep me in mind.”
“I sure will,” Mr. Price said. “Have a good day.”
After he hung up the phone, he put his hand up and each Alden gave him a high five.
“Like a fish taking a worm,” he said cheerfully.
“You were perfect,” Jessie said. “Perfect.”
“Yeah, you almost had me fooled,” Benny said.
“Maybe I should give up the food business and go into acting,” Mr. Price said, admiring himself in the mirror.
Henry said, “Okay, everyone ready for phase two?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mr. Price replied.
“Good. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 10
The Poisoner’s Return
The Aldens hid among the wildflowers close to the Menadrin-infected spot Violet had discovered days before. Grandfather, Mr. Price, and the Shermans stayed in the house, where they watched with a pair of binoculars through a second-floor window.
Two hours passed, and when the sun started rising above the trees, the temperature rose with it.
“It’s starting to get hot,” Benny said, sitting cross-legged with his brother and sisters.
“And the smell,” Jessie said, pinching her nose and making a face. “I like wild-flowers as much as anybody, but this is too much!”
Henry nodded. “I know it’s hard, but we’ve got to follow the plan. If my guess is right, there should be —”
A crunching sound. It came from somewhere in the woods.
“Did you hear that?” Henry asked in a whisper.
“I sure did!” Benny said.
“Okay, if Grandfather and the others are watching, which I’m sure they are, then they’re already taking care of their part of the plan. Now let’s take care of ours.”
Crouching down, the Aldens moved slowly through the wildflowers, splitting up to cover as wide an area as possible.
Henry believed Wentworth would return with more Menadrin and use it in the same spot he did last time. He reached the edge of the field and cautiously peeked out to have a look. Sure enough, his guess was right.
Tyler Wentworth was standing there with a small pump-spray bottle in hand.
Following the plan, Henry stepped out and said firmly, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Wentworth. You’re in enough trouble already.”
Wentworth jumped, totally caught off guard, and the bottle tumbled to the ground. The other three Aldens stepped from the wildflowers and surrounded him.
“What … what’s the meaning of—”
“We know all about your plan to steal Mr. Price’s honey contract away from the Shermans,” Jessie said, sounding very angry. “How could you do something like that?”
“Huh? I don’t have to stand here and listen to this from a bunch of kids!”
The Aldens closed in around him.
“Yes, you do,” Henry said. “We’re not the only ones who know. Mr. Price knows, and so do the Shermans and Mr. Hennessey. And believe me, they’re not too happy about it.”
“If you were smart, you’d give up now,” Jessie said. “Before you make things worse.”
“Yeah!” Benny added for good measure.
Tyler Wentworth took a step back, then noticed the spray bottle lying nearby.
“Don’t let him get that!” Jessie yelled, and Henry went for it.
For a man so small and pudgy, Tyler Wentworth was pretty fast. But Henry was a little bit faster, and he got it. He nearly bumped Wentworth’s head with his own as he snatched the bottle from the ground.
Jumping back, Henry said, “Nice try, but I don’t think so.”
Flustered and angry, Wentworth came forward with his hand out. “Gimme that!” he barked.
Henry tossed the bottle to Violet. “Catch!” he said.
Wentworth turned to her. “Come on now!”
When he went forward, Violet pitched it to Benny. “Here, Benny!”
Wentworth now turned to him. “Son,” he said, “c’mon, give it up.” As he stepped forward, Benny threw it to Jessie.
The Aldens continued to distract Mr. Wentworth by tossing the bottle to one another until the adults arrived — along with two members of Greenfield’s police department. When Wentworth saw the police, he tried to escape into the woods — but Jack Hennessey was there with his two men to head him off.
“Just hold on there a moment, my friend,” Hennessey said sharply. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Tyler Wentworth looked in all directions, hoping to find an escape route. But there wasn’t one. His luck had finally run out. His head dropped and his shoulders sagged.
“How could you do such a thing?” Grandfather Alden asked him. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about the money I lost,” Wentworth said quietly. “How the Menadrin almost ruined me. You don’t know what it’s like to lose that much money.”
“So you thought you’d ruin someone else’s business to make up for it? That was your idea for fixing the problem?” Henry asked. Tyler Wentworth didn’t have any reply to that. He just stared at the ground and said nothing.
“You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do to a lot of people,” Grandfather told him. “This little plan of yours will probably finish off whatever chances you had of getting back on your feet.”
Wentworth nodded. “It was a risk. I knew that all along.”
“A risk that didn’t pay off,” Jessie reminded him.
“No, I guess it didn’t.”
The Greenfield police came and took him away. Five minutes later he was sitting in the back of their squad car, on his way to the station.
Clay Sherman and Jack Hennessey were asked to follow the police down to the station to give their side of the story. While they were there, the Aldens went back home to rest.
Soon after the Aldens arrived home, Clay and Dottie called to ask if they would come back to the farm later that evening.
“We’ve got a special surprise for you and your grandchildren,” Dottie told James Alden over the phone.
Grandfather smiled. “Okay, Dottie, we’ll be there.”
He hung up the phone thinking he and the children would soon be receiving some honey, free of charge. The Shermans were wonderful people, Grandfather thought as he headed toward the living room to tell the kids about the invitation, but, he decided firmly, he wasn’t going to take any more than one jar of honey for each of them. The Shermans had a lot of catching up to do with their honey business this season, so the last thing they needed was to be giving it all away. The children were thrilled at the idea of going back to the farm, and they agreed with their grandfather that one jar apiece would be more than enough.
They arrived shortly after five o’clock, parked in the driveway by the backyard, and knocked on the door.
“What’s that wonderful smell?” Violet wondered aloud, sniffing the warm evening air.
Henry nodded. “Yeah, something smells great.”
Benny was just about to add his two cents when Mr. Sherman opened the door. “Welcome back. We’re glad you could make it,” he said.
“It’s nice of you to invi
te us,” Henry replied. “Thank you.”
“Do you have a fire going?” Jessie asked.
Clay smiled. “Well, not exactly. Come on,” he told them. “You’ll see.”
They went back into the house, down the hallway, and into a room they hadn’t seen before. Clay’s smile grew wider.
As soon as they entered the dining room, Clay turned around and said, “Surprise!”
The Aldens were delighted by what they saw. Jessie spoke for all of them. “Oh, my goodness! This is … just lovely!”
The Aldens weren’t sure they had ever seen a dinner quite so wonderful as the one laid out on the Shermans’ table.
First there was the turkey itself, in the center on a silver platter, cooked to a perfect golden brown. Steam rose from it in gentle wisps, and it actually shone in the light of the chandelier.
Surrounding the turkey were bowls of side dishes: cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, peas, string beans, honey-glazed carrots, mint jelly, and baskets of soft biscuits.
What made the meal even more impressive was the careful way it had been laid out. The Shermans had covered the table in a lace tablecloth, and they’d gotten out their best silver.
“Clay … Dottie … this is just lovely,” Grandfather said. “You didn’t have to go to all this tr —”
“Nonsense,” Dottie said, still wearing her apron. “You all deserve this, and more, for helping us save our honey business.”
“It’s beautiful,” Violet told her. “Just … perfect.”
The others nodded as if Violet had found the best word.
“Well, I had a little help from Dottie, of course,” Clay said jokingly.
Dottie swatted him lightly with a hand towel. “Married over thirty years and he still thinks he’s a comedian.”
“What are we waiting for?” Clay asked. “Let’s eat!”
They all sat, tucked their napkins into their shirts, and dug in.
“Can you tell us what happened down at the police station?” Henry asked Mr. Sherman as he cut through a slice of meat. “If no one minds talking about this over dinner.”
Clay said, “Well, from the moment Jack Hennessey and I got there until we left, Tyler Wentworth insisted that what he’d done wasn’t all that wrong, and that any of us would’ve done the same thing in his position. He kept talking about all that money he’d lost.”
Honeybee Mystery Page 6
