The Buzz Kill Page 4

  Whether or not the officer was a kind man, Alice soon realized she was stuck at the station for the time being. She didn’t have the spare cash to pay for a taxi or Uber back to her car, and the buses didn’t run into the red zone since nobody lived around there anymore.

  After a few moments of thought, she texted through to Sally. Although her friend was pleased the police had released her, she had gone straight to work and couldn’t shut the café for the time it would take to give Alice a lift back to her car.

  Even though she didn’t like to trouble him, Alice tried Doug next. It was a bit rude to ask him for a favor for the second day in a row, but he texted back in a few seconds, saying it was no bother.

  Alice sat down in the waiting room, not as bothered by the bustle and noise as she had been when she’d first arrived. The lights were still too bright, but she just kept her head lowered to offset that concern.

  The sergeant nodded to her when he passed by, going back to his office. A second later, the pathologist from the scene that morning came running down the corridor after him. “Hold up. I’ve got some new information.”

  The sergeant kept on into his office while the pathologist stopped at the doorway. “I’ve performed the initial part of the autopsy, and I just wanted to let you know my first impressions were wrong. He didn’t die of an allergic reaction to a bee-sting.”

  “What did he die of then?”

  The little man shook with excitement as he lowered his voice. Even so, Alice could hear him as clear as a bell. “I had a hunch, so I ran some test and it’s potassium cyanide. Nobody would ever take that by accident, it’s far too unpleasant. I’ve got his stomach contents out, and I think it must have been disguised in his food. However it was done, the decedent was definitely poisoned.”

  Chapter Seven

  When Doug dropped her back at her car, Alice sped straight to the Bumbling Bumblebee Café to talk to Sally.

  “Guess what?” she said as she walked into the kitchen where Sally was icing a freshly baked cake. “When I was at the station, I heard how the murder victim really died. It had absolutely nothing to do with the bees, isn’t that great?”

  Sally gave her a strange smile, and Alice thought back over her words.

  “Okay. Not great for the victim but fantastic for my bees. Now I don’t need to worry about the council deciding they’re violent dangers to society and moving them too soon.”

  “I’m glad it worked out for you, and for them.” Sally wiped her fringe back from her forehead. The kitchen was hot from the oven, and her tendrils of hair were frizzing. “What happened, if it wasn’t the bee-stings?”

  “The pathologist said someone poisoned him with potassium cyanide. I read about it years ago, and apparently, it burns like acid if you ingest it. The poor fellow must have been heading for the water to drink when he stumbled straight into the beehives.”

  While Sally placed a selection of delicate icing decorations on the top of her latest baked masterpiece, Alice leaned back against the counter and shook her head. “It must’ve been awful. Imagine expecting to dive into a river and diving into a hive of bees instead.”

  Sally held her hand up, turning a paler shade of her natural pink. “I’d prefer not to hear anymore, thanks. I’m happy your bees are in the clear, but I’m too squeamish to listen to these gory details.”

  “Okay.” Alice cast her mind about for another topic of conversation but just hit back upon the same one. “I wonder what the man was doing out there, to begin with. It seems a strange location to murder someone like that. I’d expect with poisoning, it would be more likely done at home.”

  Sally laughed and shook her head. “Okay. If you’re not going to change topics, then I’ll tell you everything I’ve heard on the radio. The dead man’s name is Russell Thomson, and it seems he and his wife Betsy used to own the property your bees are now on.”

  “I don’t understand.” Alice frowned, deep in thought. “Do you think he was out there to try to get the land back?”

  “No, I doubt it. From the news reports, it seems Russell and Betsy often visited the place to take care of their old garden or gather clippings. I don’t know how he ended up in the situation he did. The reporters haven’t been updated with your information.”

  “Hm. I wonder if the man’s wife would know any better?” Alice mused. “She’d probably have some idea of exactly what he was doing out there and who might’ve wanted to murder him.”

  “She might, at that, but it’s none of our business.” Sally finished off the decorations on the cake, then cut it into slices for the display case. “If you want to lend a hand, could you fetch a tray for these?”

  Alice pulled one out of the drawer and laid a paper doily inside as lining. She washed her hands and donned a thin pair of gloves before helping Sally transfer them all into the tray. The TV in the corner of the kitchen was turned on with the sound muted, and it showed the red zone scene from that morning. Police still crawled across the property, flapping away the bees who were also just trying to do their job.

  The poor things. If the bees survived without lasting psychological damage, it would be a miracle. If only there were something Alice could do to help.

  “I might see where Betsy Thomson lives and drop-in to ask her about her husband. Maybe I can find out what he was doing on their old section.” Alice nodded and immediately felt a sense of relief now she was trying to help out her bees. “If I don’t get this murder sorted out, then the police will traipse across that land, looking for evidence for weeks yet. Or months.” Her mind hurt just thinking about it.

  “What are you talking about?” Sally tilted her head to one side and gave a tap on the bench near Alice’s arm. “You can’t solve a murder case. Leave it to the professionals. I’m sure your bees will be fine once the furor has settled down.”

  “Mm.” Alice nodded in complete agreement, her thoughts trying to untangle the threads knotting them up. “No, you’re probably right. I should let the police get on and solve the murder. I might just pop in and see the wife to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Alice! You can’t do that. You don’t even know her.”

  “I’m sure I can find out where she lives.”

  Sally put her hands on her hips. “That’s not the point. Of course, the poor woman won’t be all right, her husband’s just been murdered. The last thing she needs is a stranger turning up on her doorstep, poking her nose in and asking questions. Leave it alone.”

  Alice nodded again. What Sally said made perfect sense. It wasn’t as though talking to people was something enjoyable anyway, far from it. Still, she might just pop in and have a look at the wife, see if it appeared like the woman might have answers that would solve the murder and get the police off the land.

  Just one peek couldn’t hurt. Alice would be respectful and park across the street. Why, the wife mightn’t even notice she was there.

  Only if Alice saw something she thought could move the murder investigation along, would she interfere. No doubt, the whole conversation would be a chore for both of them. The only reason she was considering it at all was to protect her girls.

  One quick stop just to check, then Alice would leave everything up to the police.

  It only took Alice a few minutes to find Russell Thomson’s home address on the internet. Bless technology, but it made life easier. As much as she was resistant whenever something new came along, Alice was glad she’d taken the time to learn how to use her computer and fancy smart phone. Without that, she’d have far more limitations on her life than those already in place.

  It was only a ten-minute drive before Alice pulled up across the road from her target. It made it easier to think of Betsy Thomson that way rather than as a new widow or a grieving wife.

  The woman in question stood in the driveway, the tendons on her neck standing out in sharp relief on either side. In front of her was a large man, his arms crossed and an expression of fury on his face.

  When Alice opened
her car door, their two voices were clearly audible, easily crossing the road to where she’d parked, quite far away. For a moment, she hesitated, not wanting to intrude in the middle of the conflict. Her mind changed when the man uncrossed his arms to grip the woman’s shoulder.

  How dare he? If that was Betsy Thomson, as Alice believed, then only a few hours had passed since the police would have phoned with the news her husband was dead. What creep would come around and assault her, knowing that?

  Alice ran as Betsy’s voice increased in volume until she was screaming in the man’s face. As she turned into the drive, getting close enough to touch, the woman took a breath, and the man screamed back, just as loud.

  “I suppose you killed poor Russell, and that’s why you’re not listening to reason. I hope you enjoy yourself today because you’ll be rotting in jail tomorrow!”

  Chapter Eight

  As soon as Alice reached the couple, she dove between them, holding her hands up to force the man back a step. “Get back, both of you. There’s no reason to be standing out in the driveway making a scene on a day like today.”

  When he opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes glinting with fury, Alice pointed a finger straight at his face. With her eyes glued to his mouth, she said, “Don’t even think about it, buster. This poor woman has lost her husband today, and she certainly doesn’t need to hear any more from the likes of you!”

  The man snarled, then turned on his heel and walked away. Alice waited, staring after him to see if he’d come back. To her surprise, he walked up the path next door, and let himself into the neighboring house.

  If that was what passed for neighbors in this suburb, she was glad she lived out in the wop-wops.

  “Are you okay?” Alice asked. She noticed a flush crawling up the woman’s neck to her cheeks, then risked a glance at her eyes. They were swollen and red, too, but from crying.

  “I’m sorry. That was an idiotic thing to say. Of course, you’re not okay.”

  The woman shook her head and leaned forward to touch Alice on the arm.

  Alice concentrated so hard on trying not to flinch back she almost missed it when the lady introduced herself. “My name’s Betsy. Who’re you? I take it you knew my husband, Russell.”

  “I’m Alice and no, I didn’t know him. My bees were on the section where he was—”

  “The bee-lady! Of course. I knew I’d seen you somewhere before.” Betsy’s face brightened, and her lips curled into a smile. “Bee killer,” she mimicked for a second before she collapsed into sadness again.

  “That’s me. I just dropped by to check if you needed anything. When my mother died, I remember people kept bringing around food when what I needed most of all was a packet of laundry detergent.”

  Alice frowned when Betsy burst out laughing at that. She didn’t like it when she said something serious and people thought she was joking. It made her feel uncomfortable.

  “You might as well come on in, then you can see for yourself how I’m doing.” Betsy turned and walked up to the front door which stood open as though she’d rushed out in a hurry. “And I’ll make you a cup of tea as a thank you for getting my appalling neighbor Clarence to move on.”

  Alice looked back at her car, wondering if she was intruding like Sally had suggested. Surely, it couldn’t be taken that way if the lady had asked her without prompting. After a second’s hesitation, Alice followed Betsy in through the door.

  Inside, the kitchen was very modern. The cabinet doors all fit flush up against each other, painted in a lovely shade of pastel blue. A marble centerpiece housed a sink and a dishwasher with a large adjustable height pot and pan holder above from which all the kitchen equipment dangled precariously. With her eyes fixed on the possible source of danger, Alice bumped into the rimu chair Betsy had pulled out for her.

  “I know,” Betsy said, following Alice’s glance. “It takes some getting used to. Russell insisted it was perfectly safe, so long as I always remember to lock the handle in place, but it gives me pause.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said. When in doubt, apologize, had been the mantra of her youth. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just with the earthquakes—”

  “I know!” Betsy interrupted. “That’s exactly my thinking too. We’ve been in this place for close on two years now, and I’m still waiting for another big one to hit and send the whole contraption flying.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Alice blushed when Betsy turned to her with a face full of curiosity. “I just remembered it was your section my bees are now on. You know a lot more about earthquake damage than I’ll ever learn.”

  “Far too much.” The kettle came to a boil, and Betsy poured it into a pot with loose leaf tea. At Alice’s raised eyebrows, she explained, “I like it the old-fashioned way, though I have to scour the supermarket shelves for it, these days. There’re only one or two brands still make it this way.”

  “I prefer loose leaf, too. I get a package shipped in once a month from a specialty store. It’s a Christmas flavored blend, but I use it all year round. I’ll give you the website if you like.”

  “That would be great. I’m always on the lookout for new surprises for Russell.” Betsy’s face clouded, and tears welled in her eyes. “Sorry, just forgot for a moment.”

  “There’s no need to be sorry.” Alice shifted on her seat, feeling intensely uncomfortable. This was wrong. She should go and leave the poor woman alone to grieve and let the police handle it like Sally had told her. “I can go away if you prefer.”

  “Please don’t.” Betsy reached out her hand as though to grab Alice to stop her from leaving. Luckily, the table was too wide across for her to reach and her fingers clutched at thin air. “I don’t want to be left alone to my own thoughts. They’re far too scattered. Even if you don’t feel like talking or anything, I’d really rather have someone here.”

  “Then I’ll stay for as long as you want me to,” Alice said, feeling an immense wave of relief flood her. She’d done the right thing for a change, and off her own bat, too! “Why was your neighbor shouting at you?”

  Betsy’s mouth twisted into a hard line and her brow furrowed, making her look a great deal older than she’d first appeared. “That Clarence is a nut job.” Her voice was full of disparagement. “He thinks he can lay claim to over a yard along the entire length of our property, just because of some old map showing a different boundary line than what’s on file at the council. The man just doesn’t know when to let something go.”

  “If the council has updated their records, then there shouldn’t be anything he can do.” Alice remembered viewing a similar situation on a watch-dog show when she was younger. The television crew of Fair Go had been quite clear the latest records held by the local body in charge of the district were the final say in such disputes.

  “You’re right, of course.” Betsy gave a long sigh. “I’m afraid Russell is the reason he’s still got a bee in his bonnet about the whole thing. He got sick of listening to Clarence rage about the unfairness of it, and how much money we owed him, and told him he could have the money or the land when we sold up.”

  “Goodness.” Alice quickly calculated the length of the section, multiplied by a yard, multiplied by the current day property values. “That’s an extremely generous offer.”

  “It would be if he’d meant it.” Betsy snorted. “Russell and I had no intention of ever selling up. We’re not one of those upwardly mobile couples who plan on changing into a bigger house every couple of years. We planned to retire in our original home, then, when the earthquakes put the kibosh on that, we hoped to retire here.”

  “I suppose that would take care of it,” Alice said wrinkling her nose. Clarence easily had a few decades on top of Betsy’s age. “He’ll probably be long dead by then.”

  Again, Betsy’s face turned sad, and tears welled in her eyes. “Well, that was the plan.”

  Alice tapped her fingers against her hand, aware she’d put her foot into her mouth again. “Sor
ry.”

  “No, don’t you worry. I’m still getting used to the idea, I can hardly expect you to remember if it keeps slipping my mind.”

  “So, did he think your husband’s death meant you were selling up?”

  Betsy nodded. “Clarence seemed to think it would be the first thing on my mind. Pay him out what he believes he’s owed, then worry about the funeral arrangements and calling every member of our extended family…”

  Betsy’s voice trailed into a sob, and she covered her face with a hand while her shoulders shook. After a few minutes, she recovered enough to blow her nose on a tissue and wipe away her tears with the back of her hand.

  “I don’t mean to cry so much.” Betsy shook her head and blew her nose again loudly. “Every time I think I’m getting a handle on it, the whole waterworks system starts up again.”

  “Don’t worry about me. If you feel like crying, go ahead.” Alice tapped on her collarbone.

  “I expect I’d feel a lot better if the last time I’d seen Russell, I’d told him I loved him or something like that.”

  “I’m sure he knew that.”

  But Betsy shook her head. “We got into a screaming match over something stupid. Just a girl at work who keeps sticking her nose around here.” She put a hand up to her forehead and rubbed along her hairline. “The last thing I said to Russell was that I wished I never met him.”

  “Surely, he would’ve known that was just something to say in the heat of the moment?”

  “I screamed it at him. At the time, it wasn’t just some random words. I think I really meant it. And now, here I am, never going to see him again.”

  “Is that why he went down to the red zone?” Alice asked. “To cool off after your argument.”

  Betsy sat back in her chair and sighed, shaking her head. “No. We were down there already. With the trees coming into blossom, it’s wonderful this time of year. Plus, since everybody moved out, it’s nice and peaceful. We’d decided to have a picnic, then we got into a flaming row instead.”