The Bee Keeper

by Vincent, Tracy D

  “Meghan, what is he doing?”

  “Just making sure that nothing is going to foul up. Can I give you some advice, Maya?” She turns, looking at me earnestly.

  “Sure.”

  “Be honest with him. He has this thing about dishonesty. I know he’s let you go so far because he understands it’s the nature of your upbringing, but from this point on, he’s not going to be understanding if you’re not honest with him. If you don’t know, let him know upfront that you don’t know. If you do, just tell him the truth. I promise, it’ll go much easier.”

  I don’t answer her; I merely look at her. I’ll decide what needs to be answered. I’m sick and tired of people determining my life for me.

  “Thank you, Dr. Staples. I can take it from here.” I jump at the sound of his voice. I don’t expect him to be so close.

  “Dr. Miller,” she says with a nod and walks from the room, leaving me alone with the little man again.

  “Maya, I know you might think I was being harsh befo—”

  “Listen, Dr. Miller, I don’t know who you think you might be, or who you truly are, but this is the only time I’ll ever say this so listen well. I do not like being manipulated. I won’t believe what you’re saying until I can verify it. Until then, you are going to release me. I’ll go home, check out what you’ve said, and then–and only then–will we be having this interview. Am I understood?” My temper is barely contained. By the end, it reaches a near shriek. My head is even starting to hurt from the rage boiling under the surface.

  “Jack. You don’t have to keep calling me Dr. Miller. But since you’re the one tied down, it is safe to say that you’re not in any position to make demands. Here are the ground rules. I ask a question. You answer it. If you answer it truthfully, things will be much smoother for you. If you choose not to, then that’s where it gets painful.” His eyes are cold and his face loses all semblance of kindness.

  I believe him. His face gives no hint that he is bluffing. And for the first time, I find myself afraid. I’ve never truly been afraid before.

  “Are you ready, Maya?”

  I simply shake my head no. Because honestly, I’m not ready. I don’t know if I could ever be ready.

  “I’ll give you two minutes, then this starts whether you’re ready or not.” He walks back out of the room.

  My brain goes everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. I truly believe that Dr. Mi—Jack—will do exactly what he promises. I don’t feel any malice or deception in him. I feel a coldness, a calculating threat, but not one from anger. He’s a killer. That’s the only thing I can think. He’s much like P.A. in that regard. I’d never met a man who enjoyed his job as much as P.A. did, but I believe I have now. But what is going to happen to me when Uncle Si finds out what I’m being asked to do? He’s not going to look kindly on me spreading the word about la famiglia.

  Jack comes back before I can get my head settled on any course of action. I keep circling back to the same things. My life is on the line with my uncle and I’m due for pain if I don’t listen to Jack.

  He sits in the chair next to the bed and looks at me. After a long pause of us just staring at each other, I ask him, “Jack, can I ask you a few questions first?”

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t answer your questions about my family. The retribution to me and to you will be swift and lethal. I can’t risk myself that way. So, does what you need to ask pertain to them?”

  “Let me give you my solemn promise. Your family will never hurt you for what you will tell me. They can’t. If you believe nothing else I’ve said today, believe that. And I can assure you that they’ll never touch me or my family either. They’ll never know anything was said here today. They won’t even know that you came here to see me.”

  His words give me little comfort, but I trust that he believes them. I hope for his sake that he’s right. I might be able to convince my father that I’m not expendable. I might be able to plead the case about needing me for Edward. “How did you come across your information about my family? Why do you believe that my grandmother was raped by Uncle Si and had my mother as a result and that my mama then had an affair with Uncle Antonio?”

  “Maya, people will still talk. Unless they’re dead, they will tell someone. Some things are impossible to keep quiet about, especially if they affect your soul. I have a wonderful team of investigators and we have access to more information than people think. It’s hard to do my job without knowing the truth first.” He heaves a sigh and sits back.

  “The point is, I have the truth. It’s my job to get and verify that with people like yourself. The thing is, no two people see the facts for what they are. So, the same situation will be told differently by those individuals. The truth is colored by our perceptions of self, the outside world, and how the outside world perceives us. Now let’s get started.”

  “How well would you say that you know Geoffrey Wright, Jr.?” he asks, getting straight to business. This disconcerts me most of all, this lack of emotion in any direction. It makes it too hard to get a read on him and adjust myself accordingly. I decide to answer what I can—the rest I’ll figure out as I go along.

  “I know him well enough. I’m not close to him, but I see him frequently because he’s Edward’s best friend.”

  “What about that party a few months ago? You were heard having sex in the coat closet.”

  I flush scarlet at his words. “I barely remember that party. I was so high and drunk. Yes, he and I had sex in the closet, but I can’t remember it or how it started. Afterward, it went back to normal. So, I doubt he remembers it.”

  “Does he do that a lot? Have sex while high on drugs and alcohol?”

  “I don’t think he does it any other way.”

  “Other than socially, have you ever had any dealings with Geoffrey?”

  “Why would I? He and I don’t really work the same end of the social circuit.”

  “How would you say Mr. Champlain feels about Mr. Wright? Are they like brothers, distant friends, merely acquaintances?”

  “Edward feels like Geoffrey is the brother he wanted, but he comes with a lot of baggage and never grew up.”

  “So, you’re implying that Edward felt like he needed to take care of Geoffrey and clean up after him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does this cause issues between you?”

  “Of course it does! I feel that Geoffrey should be held accountable for his actions, and Edward kept bailing him out or joining in his schemes in order to help do damage control from the beginning.”

  “We already established that P.A. worked for your dad as first a soldier and then a capo. Did he work closely with Edward or Geoffrey Jr.?”

  “He knew both of them, but they never worked together. That wouldn’t look good, the son of the senator hanging out with a known criminal. Or the intern of the senator, for that matter. No, that would reflect poorly on the senator himself.”

  “That’s strange because we know that he not only dealt on the rare occasion with Geoffrey Jr, he also worked with Edward frequently. You care to revise your statement?”

  “Not really. Ed never really told me much about his dealings outside of the senator or even with the senator. Most of that information was classified information. As for Geoff, I can’t answer because I never really spent time with him. P.A. only let me in on some of his duties. Not all of them.”

  “Like the torture and dismemberment of threats to the family?”

  I look at him, trying hard to school my face. I wish I had eyes like his and P.A.’s. They never let anything go. I can’t answer him. Twenty-six years of lessons on not talking about la famiglia is really hard to break.

  He sighs. “I understand, I really do, but I’m done placating your sense of preservation when it’s wrongly placed.” He stands and goes to the tanks, flipping switches and turning dials, and he picks up the spray nozzle.

  He depresses the switch and water comes out and mists the top of
my foot. At first, I’m confused. Why is he—that’s when the burning begins. I gasp because the pain is intense. There is no smoke or flames, but the feeling is one of being burned by fire. I can see blisters welling up on my foot where the liquid is.

  “What the fuck have you done?!” I scream at him in agony.

  “This is your final warning. This pain you feel is real and it’s only going to get worse. I will continue to do this until you tell me the truth. So, I advise you to be honest with me, and this includes not being silent when asked a question. I’ve already had one try that with me and it didn’t go well for her either.”

  “You fucking do this often?” I’m still screeching, but oh my God this hurts.

  “Not this method exactly, but yes. When they bring someone to me or suggest someone for me to extract information from, this”—he gestures around the room—“is what I do.”

  “You are one sick man!” I’m twisting and turning in my restraints when he pours a lot of water over my foot, and though it still hurts and is bleeding in spots, the burning sensation is gone.

  “Now, answer my question. Did Phillip show you the part of his job where he tortured and dismembered threats to the family business?”

  “YES!” I spit at him. “Yes, he did, and I fucking loved that part the best. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Did your father know that Phillip included you?”

  “No. He always tried to keep me from that part of the business. But after the fucking shit you told me, I’m pretty certain he’s going to keep me out of the business altogether. Do you know anything about that, Jack?” I have lost any resemblance to my mama. In this moment, I am more like my father. But it is in this moment that I feel free.

  “Actually, he’s already established that Antonio’s younger brother Stephano will be getting this branch of the family business when he decides to retire. We’re not sure if that is his plan or Silvestro’s.” He sits back down, lacing his fingers together.

  “That cocksucker.” It feels good to say that. I’ve never said that before, though I have heard P.A. say it frequently.

  “What do you know of P.A.’s marriage to Mary Elizabeth Dukes, maiden name Fawkes?” He shifts in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

  “Not much, just that he married her quite a few years ago, then she died.”

  “You were never told why he needed to marry her?”

  I think back to a conversation I had with P.A. I remember him talking about needing to marry some bitch in order to control her. Something my father told him to do. Something about blackmail and a daughter. Honestly, I don’t remember much about that conversation because it was right after we had sex. P.A. rarely cuddled after sex and this was one of those rare moments. It never bothered me, him talking about her, because I knew it was his job, not his choice.

  “No. I wasn’t.”

  He sprays my other foot; the burning takes my breath away.

  “Motherfucker!” I gasp, trying to pull away from the pain.

  “You know more than you’re letting on. I need the truth from you.”

  I can do no more than cry. I’ve never experienced such pain before. I never before thought of what we were doing to people was like. How badly it hurt. Now that I’m on the receiving end, I gain a whole new appreciation for the steely resolve P.A. had. “Why do you care?”

  “Because the truth always leads somewhere. I can’t get there without it. So, what did you know of the reason for his marriage?”

  “Control. My father wanted to control her and sent his best man to do it. Okay?” Soothing cool water bathes my foot, followed by a salve that takes away the worst of the pain.

  “Let’s move to more pressing matters,” Dr. Miller states as he moves around toward my IV, checking fluids and the machine next to it. “What do you know about the briefcase that Mr. Champlain and Mr. Wright needed?”

  I stilled. P.A. died when that briefcase disappeared. The same briefcase my papa has in his possession right now. What could Jack want to know about the briefcase? Then I remember a gossip column I read in New Leonsburg about the thief being caught and handed over to the Bee Keeper. If the Bee Keeper is involved, then it is bad.

  “I only know that there was a briefcase that Edward intercepted at the senator’s office and brought to me.”

  “Oh, I think you know much more than that, Maya.”

  “That’s all I know, Jack. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why are you questioning me?”

  “For the briefcase, of course.”

  “Who else have you questioned about it?”

  “Now, Maya, you’re a smart woman, think about it.” He moves back to the foot of the table.

  I think back to earlier parts of our conversation. “You mentioned having talked with Edward yesterday. Did you also talk with Geoffrey?”

  “Yes, I did, before Edward.”

  I gasp. The briefcase. He’s following the briefcase. I start to struggle in my restraints. Pure panic causes my heart to race. I try my hardest to get away from the monster by my horribly blistered feet.

  “Ah, I see you finally understand.”

  “But– but…No one is ever seen after…” I can’t get my words out. Tears threaten to spill. Edward never called last night. “You saw Eddie yesterday? You said you saw Eddie yesterday.” My voice faltered.

  “I did.” He looks at me dispassionately, as if we are discussing the menu options at a fast food place.

  I cry in earnest now. “My uncle won’t have to kill me, will he?”

  “He isn’t going to hurt you, Maya.”

  I only sob harder.

  When my sobs quiet down to mere hiccups, he asks, “What else do you know about the briefcase?”

  “What does it matter? You’re only going to kill me anyway.”

  “The truth always matters.”

  “Not if you’re going to kill me anyway. Why should I tell you anything else?” I can’t get a handle on my emotions. I’m devastated that I’m here with the Bee Keeper. I am sad that Edward already saw him, which means that he’s probably dead, too. I’m angry because that fucking imbecile Geoffrey had to have sold Edward and me out. I just want to scream and cuss and cut everyone and everything around me.

  “Because your death will hurt less if you tell me. Otherwise, it’ll be a long, drawn out, miserable process.”

  “But the end result is still the same.”

  He sighs and coats my legs, the entire length of my legs, including my feet, with the spray. I scream and scream. He doesn’t stop with the light coating that he gave before. He keeps spraying until I can’t breathe anymore. I refuse to look at my legs, half afraid of what I’ll see.

  That’s when I smell it. The coppery smell of blood, mixed with the smell of urine.

  I writhe against my restraints; the pain is so intense I stop breathing and everything goes black.

  I awaken to find Dr. Miller standing over me with a syringe in his hand. My lower body feels weighted down and cooler.

  “Ah, you’re awake, now. Good. Are you feeling more cooperative or do I need to hose you down some more?”

  “No. No. I’ll talk,” I say hoarsely. He picks up the bottle of water from earlier and holds the straw to my lips, allowing me to draw from it until it’s empty.

  “Alright, back to the question at hand, what else do you know about the briefcase other than it having been brought to you by Edward?”

  “Edward came over to my house…” I start as I let the memory envelop me.

  Eddie and I have the most boring sex life. He’s pumping away at me, the same old same old. I can’t let loose with him but he could demand that we do things a different way. I wouldn’t have any choice then. I can tell he’s not as into it as he could be. I close my eyes and think of earlier.

  Around lunch time, I went around to P.A.’s office in an abandoned warehouse on Industrial River Park Road. It wasn’t planned, but sometimes he liked it
when I surprised him. Sometimes I liked it more when he didn’t like it. It’s those times that he would choose to teach me a lesson. After walking in the office door, unannounced, it was one of the times he wasn’t happy to see me.

  He grabbed my hair and forced me to my knees, before pulling his dick out of his pants and smacking my cheeks with it. Eventually, he let me suck on him, just enough to get him really hard. Then he picked me up, threw me down on the desk, and ripped my panties and hose off before slamming himself into me over and over. He never checked to see if I’m ready for him. He never cared to get me off. He basically used my body to cum on, but that was part of the appeal to me.

  I wish Edward were more like that. Instead, he’s always giving in to how I want to do things. Fucking pussy.

  Even with my thoughts of P.A., I find I can’t get off, so I fake an orgasm so Edward can have his. As soon as we finish, I head to the bathroom. Once in there, I use the showerhead to finish the job he so desperately tried to do. I get out and he goes in, then I dress in my pajamas and grab the first magazine on my end table. I flip through last month’s fashion magazine when Eddie comes out in his lounge pants. He really is a handsome guy, who takes good care of himself. I just wish he would take charge every once in a while.

  “How was your day?” he asks me as usual.

  I tell him about my day. I tell him about my papa giving me tighter spending restrictions, going so far as to sic Remi on me when I was buying shoes. I don’t mention my visit to the warehouse. But then, I never tell Edward about my visits with P.A. It wouldn’t serve anyone any good if I did. I start getting angry all over again as I recount how humiliated I was over the shoe situation.

  “I’m ready to take over, Eddie! I’ve been ready, what else could he be waiting for?” I take a calming breath to prevent myself from screaming.

  “What if I were to tell you that there could potentially be another way for you to gain control?” He asks this tentatively, as though I might explode on him.

  At my raised eyebrow, he continues, “What if I told that there was possibly a way for you to gain control without implicating yourself in any way?”