Garden Gazebo Gallivant

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “If we had of stayed, we could have found out,” Miss Vivee said. “It might have been whoever killed Kimmie.”

  “Then we’d be dead, just like Kimmie.”

  Miss Vivee waved her hand, dismissing me. “I’m sure it was just guests, wouldn’t you say, Justin?”

  “Probably,” my mother agreed.

  “We’ll ask Renmar,” Miss Vivee said. “Well looka there.” Miss Vivee pointed out the window at an older man coming down the front steps of the Maypop. “That’s Nash Hunt.” She rolled down her window. “Stay put. I want to talk to him.”

  “Don’t tell him we were just at his house,” I said concern in my voice “Remember, it was a covert operation.”

  “Don’t I know it. Couldn’t even look in the shed,” she said waving me off. “Blow the horn.”

  I blew it, and then she called out “Yoohoo! Nash!” She reached over and blew the horn again.

  “He’s coming,” I said.

  Mr. Hunt smiled, waved, and ambled his way over to the car. I watched him as slowly made his way, he wore a baseball cap, blue jeans, and a plaid shirt that he was tucked tightly into his pants. He seemed to have a hard time breathing, his chest heaving up and down, his mouth slightly opened like he was sucking in extra air. He came around the car and leaned in, arms folded across the opened window.

  He touched the brim of his hat. “Evening ladies,” then smiled at Miss Vivee. “Kind of late for you to be out, ain’t it?” he said.

  “I did my time inside, Nash,” Miss Vivee said. “Logan came and broke me out.” She patted his hand. “Our condolences to you.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Miss Vivee pointed to me. “This is Bay’s fiancé, Logan, and her mother, Dr. Justin Dickerson.”

  “Hi,” my mother and I chimed in, both trying to sound chipper.

  “Hello,” he said and gave us a weak smile.

  “I heard that Kimmie came back home just to see you, Nash,” Miss Vivee said.

  “She lived here, she didn’t need to come visit,” he said.

  “I also heard that you ain’t been feeling so well.”

  “I’m doing good,” he said and glanced back over to the house. “Can’t believe much that Francesca says.” He coughed into his balled fist. “I’ll be hitting seventy-three come this November, so, for an old man, I’m doing just fine.”

  “Do tell,” Miss Vivee said and smiled. “Especially one with a young wife to keep up with.”

  Miss Vivee spoke like Frankie was a spring chicken, she may have been younger than he was, but I knew she was at least as old as my mother. And to me, that was old.

  Mr. Hunt licked his lips and took a more serious tone. “But you know, Miss Vivee,” he lowered his voice. “I’ve been going down to Baxley to see a doctor. And what they’re thinkin’ ain’t so good. I had even made arrangements already to leave everything to Kimmie once I was gone so she could continue on her travels.” He smiled. “She loved it so much.”

  “Everything to Kimmie?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “Well, of course I’d see to Frankie havin’ what she needed if’n something happened to me. But Kimmie was my baby girl.”

  “Now you’re making arrangements for her, huh?”

  He hung his head. “It’s breaking my heart.”

  “I know it is,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Now, I can’t just give in, you know? I can’t leave this earth ‘til I find out what happened to her.” He sucked in a gulp of air. “I was wondering. Do you think you got something ‘round back in that greenhouse of yours that could help me out?”

  Miss Vivee placed her hand on his arm, and smiled a warm smile. “You stop on around, Nash. And we’ll see what we can do.”

  “Alright then. I appreciate it.” He tipped his hat and stepped away from the car. “Ladies,” he said. “And don’t you worry none, I’ll wait until after the wedding, Miss Vivee, then I’ll come ‘round.”

  “You’re welcomed anytime, Nash.”

  “Miss Vivee,” my mother said as Mr. Hunt walked away. “You know there isn’t a cure for cancer.”

  “I know that,” Miss Vivee said. “But there’s a cure for the hurt and despair that comes along with it. It’s called hope.” Miss Vivee nodded her head. “And that’s what I plan on giving him. A little hope.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Friday, 8:30am

  Two days before the wedding . . .

  “My house has been ransacked!”

  The three of us looked at each other.

  “What kind of people are you sending to my bed and breakfast?” Frankie was up in Renmar’s face. But Renmar stood firm, not even flinching, while Frankie’s arms were flailing and spit spewed from her mouth. “It’ll take me months to clean up that place for it to be decent enough for guests.” She wagged her finger in Renmar’s face. “Are you prepared to offer me compensation?”

  Miss Vivee leaned in, “We didn’t ransack that place,” she whispered. “We hardly touched anything.”

  “I know,” I said and leaned in, pulling my mother close. “What is she talking about?”

  “I don’t know, but it must have been the noise we heard,” Miss Vivee whispered.

  “Noise can’t ransack a house,” I whispered back.

  “But the people who made the noise could,” she said. “Don’t get smart with me.”

  “I thought we decided it was just one of the guests,” my mother lowered her voice.

  “Miss Vivee was going to ask Renmar if she’d rented a room out.” I looked at her. “Did you ask her?”

  “And when would I have had time? We were out on the case all day yesterday.”

  “A guest wouldn’t ransack the place,” my mother said.

  “No they wouldn’t. So, I’m beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t a guest who came in,” Miss Vivee said. “I’m thinking it might have been our ‘Artifact Hunters.’”

  “Artifact hunters?” I said face frowned up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mother,” Renmar interjected into our conversation from across the room. She pushed past Frankie, who let out a big huff. “What do you three have your heads together about?” she asked. “Do you all know something about this?”

  My mother and I sprung up and sat straight.

  “Of course we don’t,” Miss Vivee said. “We were just talking about what a terrible thing to happen to Frankie. That’s all. And, we three agreed that we’d volunteer to clean it up.”

  I tried not to give away our real conversation, but my face must have shown that what Miss Vivee had said wasn’t the truth.

  “What are you three really up to, Logan?” Renmar said, eyeing me. “Did ya’ll have something to do with this?”

  Why does she always call me out?

  “Uh-uh.” I shook my head. I was afraid to say anything else.

  My mother elbowed me, then cleared her throat. “Of course she doesn’t know anything, but she was concerned that if someone would do that there, they might do it here, too. Right?”

  I nodded.

  “I think it’s a good idea that we go over and clean up. Wouldn’t you say, ‘It’s neighborly?’” my mother asked.

  I didn’t know what she was doing, but evidently she was in with Miss Vivee.

  Hadn’t she had enough of illegal activities?

  “Well, that’s nice of you three,” Renmar said hesitantly. She turned and looked at Frankie, whose demeanor had changed, she now seemed flabbergasted.

  “What’s wrong, Frankie?” Miss Vivee said. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “No,” she eked out. “I just don’t think it’s necessary for you three to go and clean up.” She swallowed hard. “It’s . . . It’s just that it’s Renmar that’s responsible. Plus, I don’t know if it’s a good thing for any of us to go in there.”

  “You heard Justin,” Miss Vivee said. “It’s the neighborly thing to do. And we are neighbors.”

  “Well, I was thinking that Bay or the Sheriff should
go. First. I mean,” Frankie said. “I don’t know if someone is still in there or not.”

  “What was taken?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said and looked at us. “I was scared to look around. But it was mostly stuff in Kimmie’s room that was amiss.”

  “I’ll call the Sheriff,” Renmar said. “That sounds like the right thing to do.” She looked at us, and back at Frankie. “You come with me. I’m sure the Sheriff will want to hear from you about what happened.

  “Why did you volunteer us to clean up?” I asked Miss Vivee.

  “So we could look for clues.”

  “Didn’t you stop to think that there wouldn’t be any clues left after the Sheriff searched the place? He’d find them.”

  “No,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of that. But he doesn’t know how to look for things like I do.”

  “He does, Miss Vivee,” I said. “He’s good at what he does, if you just give him a chance. Now we’re stuck cleaning the place for no reason.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sheriff Lloyd Haynes agreed to meet Frankie at her house to file a police report. He wanted Bay to come, but Bay denied jurisdiction, so he took newly deputized Junior Appletree and Mr. Hunt.

  Nash Hunt looked different from when I’d seen him just the night before. Maybe it was the light of day, but he appeared frailer, and coughed much more. But the determination I saw in his eyes were palpable. He was determined to do whatever it took to help with finding out what happened to his daughter.

  I still saw no reason to go there, especially if it involved me cleaning anything since we’d taken a look the night before – not a very good look – but a look nonetheless, and one thing we’d found out was there wasn’t anything to see.

  While we waited for the Sheriff to meet with Frankie, Bay, Micah, and I decided to go and see about Mac. I packed up some dessert for him.

  I hadn’t seen Mac since the morning of the murder, and I was getting worried about him. I was even a little panicky that maybe he wouldn’t show up to the wedding.

  My mother stayed with Miss Vivee. They had decided to go over their suspect list. All three names. Oh, yeah, I forgot the unnamed “Zealots.” None of which I agreed with. Well, I wasn’t really sure I disagreed with Keith Collier. Did he and September really have something going and Kimmie found out?

  Still, I hadn’t had any “vibes” about anyone. Yet.

  And, I had begun to believe that unlike all our other investigations, this one wasn’t going to be solved quickly. So I had spoken to Marge, the wedding planner, at length. She assured me that if murder wasn’t solved, the yellow caution tape wouldn’t have to be worked into the design. She did have a contingency plan.

  We had hired her so none of us would freak out or panic when problems arose, so I had decided to let her do her job. My job, at this point, was just to show up.

  “Did you call Mac and let him know we were coming?” Bay asked as we headed out to his house.

  “No,” I said. “Miss Vivee never calls.”

  “You’re not Miss Vivee,” Bay said.

  “I think it’ll be okay.”

  I was hoping it would be as we walked up the steps to his house and rang the bell. With his moodiness of late, he may not welcome unexpected guests.

  I heard him coming. The clump of his cane, the click of the heel of his one shoe, and the shuffle sound he made with his bad leg. And then the clinking of nails over the wood floor – Rover, his dog, was right behind him.

  Mac peeked through the curtain and smiled at us. “Well, hello,” he said pulling the door open wide. “What a welcomed surprise.” Rover gave us a bark hello.

  “I’ve missed you, Mac,” I said. I bent down and gave Rover a scratch behind the ear.

  “Have you now,” he said and patted me on my shoulder. “And who is this fine young man?” he asked.

  “That’s my brother, Micah.”

  “The lawyer.”

  “Yes, sir,” Micah said. “The lawyer.” He chuckled.

  “I brought you this,” I said and handed him the brown paper bag with the desserts. “For your sweet tooth.”

  “I lost all those kinds of teeth years ago,” Mac said. “But the ones I bought do appreciate the gesture.”

  “Wow. You have a lot of books,” Micah said wandering into the front room.

  “Only way to keep up with what’s goings on in the world. I don’t have one of those fancy phones like your sister. She gaggles everything.”

  “Gaggle?” Micah seemed amused.

  “Google,” I said. “And, Mac, I don’t know how you can stuff more knowledge in that head of yours. You and Miss Vivee know everything.”

  “A jack of all trades, a master of none,” he said.

  Bay laughed. “I wouldn’t sell yourself short. If my grandmother likes you, you couldn’t be too bad.”

  “Well, I’m hoping to keep her interested.” He gave Bay a faint smile. “Have a seat,” Mac said. “Push a book out of the way if you have to. I’m going to take this in the kitchen. Anyone want anything to drink?”

  “No,” we all said.

  “Well, I was thinking of sharing whatever goodies Logan brought me,” he shook the brown bag, “with everyone.”

  “Well then, I’ll take a glass of milk,” Bay said. He snapped his finger calling Rover over to him.

  “Bay,” I said.

  “Me too,” Micah said. “I’ll take a glass to go with a slice of that 7-Up cake.”

  “Oh my goodness,” I said. I shouldn’t have ever let them see what I’d packed. “I brought the desserts for Mac.”

  “I wouldn’t feel right not sharing,” Mac said.

  “Well, I don’t want anything,” I said. “You share if you want to, but I wanted you to have it.”

  “Thank you little lady,” Mac said and bowed. “Now you just talk amongst yourselves and I’ll be right back.”

  I picked up a magazine that laid open on a plaid green armchair to move it out of my way, and plopped down in it. I started to close the magazine, but noticed the article it was opened to. It was entitled: Hot Bee Balls Cook Enemy Hornets.

  “What is this?” I said not really loud enough for Mac to hear me. I started reading the article. The subtitle read: In a battle with Asian giant hornets, Japanese honeybees turn up the heat – quite literally – by swarming around the hornets and cooking them to death.

  What the hey . . .

  I finished reading the article, flipped it to the front to see the name of the periodical – hmmm, National Geographic – then flipped it back to the article and read it again.

  “Bay,” I said after I’d read through a second time, interrupting he and Micah’s conversation. “Listen to this.”

  “What is it, Babe?” he said leaning forward on the couch.

  “Remember all those bees at the crime scene?” I held out the magazine to him.

  “No,” he said. “I wasn’t there, remember?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said.

  “I remember,” Micah said. “Well at least I remember the one. Scared the heck outta me.”

  Bay chuckled. “You scared of a bee, Man?”

  “Heck yeah,” Micah said.

  “What you got?” Bay turned back to me, and nodded toward the magazine.

  “This article says that honeybees have a defense mechanism that it uses to kill giant Asian hornets.”

  “What?” Micah said. “Bees killing those big hornets?”

  “So?” Bay said looking at Micah then me. “What does it have to do with anything?”

  “I dunno,” I said. “But doesn’t it seem a little coincidental that both the bees and hornets were in the same place? I mean, I’ve been going to the gazebo a few times a day to check on things, I never remember seeing a bee.”

  “Didn’t Miss Vivee say that maybe it was because of the flowers she had planted?” Micah said.

  “Yeah, at the crime scene. When we had stopped.” I nodded my head. “I remember
that, but it could’ve been put there to get rid of the hornets.”

  “How many hornets were there?” Micah asked.

  “Not sure,” I said. “It only takes one to kill a person.”

  “I don’t think it’s strange for both to be there,” Bay said. “If bees have a built in defense mechanism against hornets, it’s because they encounter them often. So they are usually in the same place.”

  “Listen to this,” I said, thinking I might have a possible connection. I read from the article. “‘The bees’ strange defensive tactic evolved because their venomous stingers are too small to pierce the thick exoskeletons of the giant hornets—insects which can grow about two inches (five centimeters) long. The quivering of muscle fibers from so many bees creates real heat that kills off the predators.’”

  “So sorry that it took me so long,” Mac interrupted coming out of the kitchen with a tray filled with the desserts I had brought him. I didn’t get to the part I wanted them to hear. “My neighbor came to the back door and no matter how many times I told her I had company, she kept saying she just had one more thing to tell me.”

  “That’s okay, Mac,” I said. “I found-”

  “Well, really, it’s not okay,” he said. “When she finally got around to telling me what she wanted, I realized that she’s got kind of an emergency. Her elderly mother is ill. She thought it was nothing, but I think I should have a look. The sooner, the better.”

  Did he say “elderly?” I wonder doesn’t he know that’s what he is.

  “It’s fine, Mac,” Bay said. “We can go.”

  “No. No,” Mac said. “I won’t hear of it, at least not until you’ve had the cake and milk I poured for you. ‘Waste not want not,’ my father used to always say.”

  “That’s not necessary, Mac,” I said. I held up the magazine. “But I did want to -”

  “I insist,” he said cutting me off. “And who knows, maybe I’ll make it back before you leave.”

  “Mac!” I said rather overzealously. “Wait!” I need to ask you about the bees.” I shook the magazine.

  “Oh isn’t that a good article,” he said. “And so relevant after Junior Appletree, or I should say Deputy Appletree, found that hive.”