THE HONEY TRAP
(A Honeybee Cozy Mystery)
KATHERINE HAYTON
Copyright © 2018 Katherine Hayton
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Cover Design by kathay1973
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
Chapter One
Alice carefully brushed the bees away from the frame, trying not to loosen any of the honeycomb. Although they protested, buzzing until their entire bodies shook, the bees moved on. Many took to the air and set off on a journey to replenish the honey they would lose today. Others, just ducked back inside the beehive, aiming for the next frame in line.
A pity, Alice would come for those next.
She’d woken that morning with her nerves wound as tightly as violin strings. On her clumsy passage into the kitchen, Alice bumped into the shoe tree, the edge of the dining table, and hooked her foot on the floor rug. Each time, the music from psycho played out in her head. Something terrible was wrong. Certain death lay around every corner.
Either that, or she was overwrought with panic about her upcoming talk to the primary school.
To calm her fractured wellbeing, Alice had decided to make up a present to thank the class for listening to her. Hopefully, the bribe would mean they actually did, and her visit wouldn’t be a waste of time and mental energy.
The hives in her back paddock were burgeoning with honey and if she didn’t harvest some soon, the queen might become honey bound. She’d set off with all the necessary gear, intent on bottling it up and taking it along to the school.
Now, with the bees expressing their displeasure, Alice felt the same pang of guilt she always did when taking away the fruits of the tiny workers’ labor. Sure, intellectually she knew full well bees always produced more honey than they needed to keep themselves alive. She knew too, if something terrible happened, and the bees required those reserves to keep going, a few bottles of sugar syrup from her supply closet would feed them just as well.
Knowing and watching them express their annoyance were two different things.
As she did each time she harvested, Alice soon recovered from her guilt. Instead, she became lost in amazement at the bounty of honey the bees had worked tirelessly to produce.
The small hexagonal shapes overflowed with goodness and, even though she couldn’t pinch a mouthful with the apiarists netting covering her face, Alice soon tasted the sweet goodness on her tongue. The air filled with the scent and small particles flew everywhere, turning the very oxygen she breathed sticky with delight.
Each fresh piece of honeycomb held a syrup a far cry from the mass-produced honey Alice fell in love with as a child. Even her own bottling efforts would change the composition and flavor of the honey, though she tried her best not to introduce anything to alter it too much.
Just being exposed to the outside world, losing the protective shell of warm wax, seemed enough to alter the taste forever. A spoonful scooped out of a jar would never equal the same amount sucked straight from the comb.
Not that Alice was about to do that! This honey was for the children at the school with enough left over for the headmaster. One hive could easily cater for the entire roll, given the small size of the rural classes.
After harvesting the hive, Alice carried the heavy plastic bucket of goodness indoors. She left it on the bench to settle for a few hours, giving the honey enough time for the bubbles to drift slowly to the top.
That was the key to crystal clear honey. It also gave Alice a chance to fish out anything else that might have been accidentally introduced to the fresh haul. The occasional twig or even a small dead bee, caught out in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Nobody would appreciate a sight like that floating in the middle of their honey jars.
As Alice walked onto the porch, Chester raised his eyebrows to acknowledge her appearance, though he didn’t go so far as to raise his head. The vet had booked in his exploratory surgery for Wednesday, the day after Alice’s visit to the school class. The thought of the operation also had her nerves jangling with a mix of hope and fear.
“Good boy,” she said, drawing near. Usually, he’d get a pet on the head or a stroke along the length of his side as further confirmation of his status but with her hands full of honey buckets, Chester had to make do with an extra firm nod of her head.
As she walked inside, putting the heavy weights down on the kitchen counter, Alice saw the dog had left half of his breakfast untouched and her heart clenched as tight as a fist. Leave it alone, she told herself firmly. Wait until the vet knows what’s going on for sure.
Speculation would only lead to more anxiety. Once the surgical examination was over, then Alice could put her energy into worrying, if need be.
“Anyone home?” Doug called out from the back door. Whenever he worked out in the fields and got muddy, he always walked up to the rear of the house, instead of the front. As he put it, “there’s no use treading mud up your porch when the door ends up in the same place.”
“Come on in,” Alice called out. “I’m just getting the honey ready for bottling later.”
He scraped his boots off on the metal hook planted by the back door for just that purpose, then took them off in the indoor recess before stepping into the kitchen. Sometimes, it seemed to Alice more effort went into walking inside than happened outdoors.
“I’ve fixed up the fence around the back of the clover pasture to stop the neighbor’s sheep from getting through again,” Doug said by way of greeting. Even after having worked together and been friends for many years, it seemed to Alice he still felt the need to justify every second he didn’t spend working.
“That sounds great. I don’t mind seeing the occasional sheep, but I’d hate to think of one of them being stung.”
“And if one of them got near the hives, you can bet the rest would follow, even if it didn’t go well.”
Alice laughed and nodded as she put the kettle on to boil. Sheep liked to play follow the leader even if their leader headed straight for trouble. “Well, the bees’ll be safe until the next time they try to bowl their way through.”
Doug frowned and looked out the window toward the pasture, though it wasn’t visible through the shelter belt of trees. “The fence really needs replacing in full, although the repairs’ll hold it for now. The wood’s rotted through in so many places it’s only the wire keeping it together.”
“I’ll put it into the budget for the next full harvest and set the funds aside.” Alice walked to her work desk and made a quick note. So long as she knew what expenses were upcoming, the business could usually handle everything that came its way.
“Rightio. That was all I popped in to say. I’ll get back to it, then.”
Alice felt her stomach pinch. “Stay for a cup of tea, at least. You’ve been out there working all morning.”
“That’s what you pay me for,” Doug said, but took a seat at the table, despite his words. “I must get a start on trimming b
ack the trees along the left pasture, otherwise Mr. Warren will take out his chainsaw and trim them again.”
Alice’s neighbor on that side didn’t appreciate any overhanging branches. Despite the fact the fields in question were just ones he rented out for feeding stock, if there was a twig in the wrong place, it upset him no end.
Even after ten years of the same behavior, Alice hadn’t managed to get to the bottom of what riled Mr. Warren up so badly. She had a touch of OCD herself, a common companion to autism, but nothing on that scale. Life went far smoother if she or Doug interceded before the man felt the need to take things into his own hands.
“It’s times like this, I almost look forward to winter,” Alice said, pouring the boiling water over the tea leaves and swirling the pot around to hurry the brew. “At least then, we get a chance for a break.”
Doug grunted but not in agreement. “If it wasn’t for the spring and summer, I wouldn’t make enough to tide me over the rest of the year.”
“I should’ve planted deciduous trees, then you’d get another couple of months payment just for raking up the leaves.”
“No thanks. I get enough of that keeping the drains free for the council.”
Doug’s work as a gardener meant he had a variety of different employers. Judging from the complaints he liberally bestowed upon some jobs, Alice reckoned her land came somewhere in the top third of his workload.
Although, that could just be Doug being polite.
“Thanks for the cuppa. It should tide me over nicely to the end of the day.” Doug sighed, then slapped his hands down on his knees. “Those trees won’t trim themselves.” He stood up and walked out the back door, propping his hand against the door frame while he stepped back into his scraped boots.
Even though Alice could never think of lines of conversation when Doug was sitting across from her, as soon as he left, she wished he was back inside talking. She turned on the radio instead as a distraction, keeping the sound down low so the static crackle in the background wouldn’t drive her crazy.
The honey was settling down nicely, and Alice put a huge pot of water on the stove to boil so she could sterilize the jars. Back when she and Sally were setting up the business, they’d decided on fancy hexagonal shapes, reminiscent of the wax in the honeycomb.
Although she wouldn’t change them now, since they’d become an integral part of their trademark, Alice sometimes wished there weren’t quite so many angles on the jars. It made it more difficult to get them in and out of the water, not to mention upping the likelihood of trapping air bubbles in the base.
As the water boiled the glass clean, Alice stared out of the window, her thoughts returning to the twin concerns of her upcoming speech at the school and Chester’s operation. Her mind picked at them as though they were scabs, long after Doug had packed up for the day and the honey had been sealed into the pots.
Chapter Two
Alice sat in the car outside the school, her heart thumping erratically. Sally should have met her there a good fifteen minutes before but there was still no sign.
It’s the law of threes, her mind insisted. First there’s the school talk, then the business with Chester. Now Sally must have gotten into a car accident.
Much as Alice tried to reassure herself the school talk couldn’t be a disaster yet because it hadn’t even begun, nor did she know for sure Chester’s surgery would turn out badly, it didn’t help. When her mind got set into a pattern, it could be impossible to budge. Each turn of the thought stuck it deeper into a rut.
The ping of a text message arriving on her phone shook Alice’s body into action.
“Sorry, I’m running a bit late.”
Instead of reassuring Alice and proving her concern was misplaced, the message ratcheted up her sense of impending doom.
Sally was never late, not for appointments, not for casual get-togethers, not for nothing. In the years they’d known each other, most spent working closely together, Alice had never known her friend to run late. Certainly, not enough to warrant a message being sent.
The unthinkable must have happened! What that was, Alice didn’t know for sure, but she could tell it would be appalling.
Alex Dunbar waved at her from the brick building at the front of the school. When Alice had been attending primary, that would have been the ‘murder house,’ or dental nurse’s office if you wanted to be polite. These days, the schools didn’t have dental staff on the property, so it appeared Tashmore had converted it to the principal’s office instead.
Now he’d seen her, Alice felt silly sitting in the car and waiting. Given Sally would be another quarter hour at the earliest, Alice decided to head on in and do the job herself.
After all, gifting the pots of honey to the school was something pleasant, not a chore she should need her hand held throughout. That Alice still wanted the support of her friend’s company was a failing—if she did this and it worked, perhaps she needn’t be so afraid next time.
She got out of the car and reached into the back seat for the pots of honey. They were tied up with a red gingham print and a bow around the neck, the Bumbling Bumblebee Cafe logo and company spiel tied with the latter. Originally, Alice had piled them into a cardboard box, but it collapsed when only half-full. She’d switched it for one of the rimu trays they used for displaying honey at events.
“Are they gifts for the school?” Principal Dunbar greeted her. “Or are they for selling to the children after your talk?”
“Gifts,” Alice said, hesitating for only a second. In truth, it hadn’t occurred to her they might be able to use the talk as a way to sell stock. She still firmly believed the entire thing would be a disaster, so the honey was to make up for it before she could flop.
“That’s such a thoughtful idea,” Alex Dunbar said, taking the rimu tray out of Alice’s arms and placing it on his desk. He picked up a jar and examined the label closely. “The children will really appreciate it, I’m sure.”
When he replaced the honey, Alice noticed a light circle of discoloration on his ring finger. She couldn’t remember if he’d worn a wedding band the last time she saw him, but if so, it was now gone. Alex caught her glance and she looked away quickly, feeling uncomfortable as if she’d been caught snooping.
“I hope so.” Alice reached out a finger to stroke one gingham lid, then she jerked it away. “The honey is fresh and bottled yesterday, although since it keeps pretty much forever, I’m not sure it works as a selling point.”
Alice cupped her elbows with her hands and put her weight on one foot, uncertain what she should do now. Would it be ruder to stay and hold up the principal after closing time with idle chit-chat, or ruder to leave without even saying a decent hello?
And this was why she needed Sally on hand. Her extroverted friend saved her from these paroxysms of doubt.
“Would you like to see the room where you’ll give the talk? It might help if you still have any anxieties around speaking to the children.”
Alice felt a flood of relief wash through her body at the suggestion and she nodded eagerly. “That would be great, thank you. It’ll help me picture it in my mind.”
Of course, that picture might then be twisted into an image framing every bad thing that could happen, but that was part of being prepared as well.
The assembly hall wasn’t at all like Alice had imagined. Instead of a large, echoing chamber, it was a small prefab building to the side of the classrooms, only big enough to hold forty or maybe fifty pupils at a time.
“One advantage of running a small school is we don’t need the enormous spaces the larger ones have.” Principal Dunbar walked inside, shifting a wooden chair into line as he passed by.
Someone had arranged four rows of chairs, not in a line facing forward, but in a circle, each row containing more seats than the last. Alice felt the nerves on her back crawl as she thought of pupils sitting behind her, then she forced herself to move forward and take a seat in the middle.
Okay. This
wouldn’t be too bad. Sure, eyes would be on her back but they’d just as likely be staring over her shoulder at the pupils facing forward on the other side.
“We can change the set-up if you prefer. The last few people to give talks to the kids enjoyed this arrangement but as you can see—” he swept his arm across the laid-out chairs “—it’s easy enough for us to move the seats and change it completely. Another popular formation is to have the speaker with their back against the wall and the children in a semi-circle radiating out.”
“I like it how it is.” Alice stood and walked around the room, checking from different seats what the view would be. “If I have my back up against the wall, well—” she broke off and shrugged. “It’s an unpleasant saying for a reason.”
Alex laughed and motioned her toward the door. “That’s fair enough, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
They walked in companionable silence back to the main office building. “Actually,” Alex said, his eyes catching the jars of honey sitting on the desk, “if you don’t mind, I might set up a raffle for the honey. That way, the school can raise some funds from it.”
A voice grumbled out from the entrance behind them, “That’s not what it’s for.”
Alice turned with a smile, recognizing Sally’s voice, then her expression of pleasure fell away. Her friend, usually cheerful to the point of annoyance, looked to be in the worst mood Alice had ever seen her in. Her hair was pulled back into its usual bun but there were strays floating around, giving her an unkempt appearance.
Sally must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, except it was late afternoon.
Principal Dunbar’s open expression snapped closed and his eyes narrowed briefly before he forced a smile back onto his lips. Alice watched the changes, trying to gauge what her response should be from his. It seemed to her Sally’s initial greeting had been a rude one, but with personal interactions, she was never fully sure.
“The honey is a gift to the children from our business, it’s not a money-making venture for your school.” Sally placed her hands on her hips, though her stance hardly needed the gesture to appear aggressive. The curl of a sneer and the way her legs were planted apart did that quite nicely.
The Honey Trap (A Honeybee Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 1
