Honeybee Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 9

  Another showed her skin catching the sun as she turned toward the photographer. Clarence had snapped the shot just before her mouth opened to shout out to ask what he was doing. The slight parting in her lips gave her face a relaxed expression it usually didn’t possess. Especially in photographs she knew were being taken.

  “I can’t believe your photographs are this good when you just snapped them in a few seconds out on the street!”

  Clarence gave a nod of thanks at the backward compliment. “Imagine what I could do in a proper setting.”

  Alice was just about to gush over the images again, when the phone in her pocket gave out a loud beep, signaling a new text message had arrived. She pulled it out and stared at the screen, holding her breath.

  “Results in. Call or visit the clinic to discuss.”

  “I’ve got to go,” Alice said. “Thank you very much for these.” Clarence blushed as she ran out of his house, her head stuffed full of concern over Chester.

  Why wouldn’t the vet just tell me the results in the message? What did he need to discuss?

  Alice tried to think of a situation where Josh had asked for a discussion about positive results and couldn’t. The drive to the vet’s office turned into a blur, and she sniffed the hand which she’d used to pet Chester goodbye that morning, trying for a remnant of his familiar scent.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Don’t look so worried,” Josh Freeman said as Alice followed him into the consulting room.

  “Can you just tell me what’s going on? How am I meant to stop worrying when I don’t know what the results are?”

  “They’re mixed, but not too bad. Take a seat.”

  Alice sat in the chair indicated, tapping on the back of her hand with a frenzy but the stimming didn’t help. Her skin felt like she’d put it on back to front, all the nerves exposed to the outside.

  “The reason Chester has been lackadaisical lately is he has a problem with his liver.”

  Alice wrapped her arms around her chest and squeezed. That didn’t sound like a mixed result, it just seemed like bad news. “Can we do anything?”

  “First, I must take a closer look if I’m going to pinpoint the trouble, that’s why I wanted to discuss it with you. If we leave Chester alone, he might rally in a few weeks by himself, but there’s also a good chance he might get worse. If I can get in there and see what’s happening up close, that gives us a better idea of the problem so we can address it.”

  “You want to operate?”

  Josh nodded. “It’s just an exploratory procedure, at the moment. I’d be looking for more tangible clues as to what’s ailing him. The blood tests tell me something’s up, but until I can get in there, I won’t be able to know for sure.”

  “So, it’s just like sticking a tube or camera into him or something?” Alice leaned forward, tilting her head to one side to hear better. She didn’t want to misunderstand a word and make the wrong decision.

  “It’ll be a pinhole procedure, and Chester should heal well afterward if everything goes to plan. However, as with any operation, he will need to be put under, and with a dog of his age, that could cause complications.”

  “He could die because of the anesthetic?”

  “That’s a slight possibility. Your dog might also suffer confusion or loss of balance or even heart arrhythmia. The chances are good Chester will wake back up with just a small scar to show for his trouble, but I have to warn you there’s a risk with any operation that it might not go as planned.”

  Alice closed her eyes and tried to think. Her head felt stuffed full—memories and images rushing around and sometimes colliding. “What will happen to Chester if you don’t operate?”

  Josh sighed. “It’s possible his liver is struggling to function due to a tumor. Until I can see for myself, then we can’t know for sure. If that’s the case, then Chester will continue to grow weaker. His body won’t be able to filter out impurities, so he’ll deteriorate.”

  “He’ll die?”

  The vet nodded. “I understand this is a difficult decision, but I think Chester’s best chance is when we fully understand what’s going on inside him. Since he can’t talk to tell us his symptoms, we’re guessing at this stage. I can tell his liver isn’t functioning optimally at the moment, but without more information, I can’t do anything to help him.”

  Alice’s teeth chattered together. Her blood felt like somebody had dumped a cupful of crushed ice into it. The skin on the back of her arms bumped up into gooseflesh.

  “You don’t have to decide today,” Josh said. “There’s room for the procedure on Friday, or even Monday next week. How about you go home and sit with Chester for the evening, then let me know tomorrow what you want to do?”

  At home, Alice couldn’t concentrate on anything. She’d wandered out to the back fields to talk to Doug for an hour, but he’d finally sent her back inside when she couldn’t stop crying. “Go be with your dog,” he ordered. “Don’t waste your time out here with me.”

  So, Alice had followed his advice and now sat with Chester on the front porch, staring blankly into space. She was no nearer to deciding. All she wanted was for whatever was wrong to magically go away, but that wasn’t on the list of options.

  When the phone rang, instead of flinching away in horror as she usually would, Alice leaped for the receiver, hoping it was the vet calling with different news.

  “It’s Alex Dunbar here,” a man’s voice said, and Alice frowned at the wall, unsure of where she knew the name from.

  “I’m the principal of Tashmore Primary School,” the man continued after Alice’s greeting comprised nothing but a long silence. “You helped me out with a swarm of bees last weekend, do you remember?”

  “Principal Dunbar.” Alice nodded. “Of course, I remember. Do you have another swarm causing you trouble?”

  “No, nothing like that. In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to come to the school and give a presentation to the children? I’m always on the lookout for inspirational speakers, and you impressed me with how you handled the bees. It’s the kind of thing that would fascinate our kids.”

  Alice stared down at the floor, a frown creasing her brow. Talk to children? Every bit of her body shrank away from the idea.

  “I know it can seem like a daunting challenge at first,” Mr. Dunbar continued. “But the speakers who come and talk with the children often say they get a lot out of it too.” He gave a warm laugh. “I’m aware public speaking isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but we do our best to make it comfortable. Instead of standing at the front of an auditorium or something, we have everyone sit down, including the speaker. It’s really not as scary as you might first think.”

  Chester walked over and rested the side of his head against Alice’s calf. It was the first time he’d moved of his own accord since she’d arrived home from the vet’s.

  “I don’t know,” Alice said. “I’ve never talked to a group of people before, children or otherwise, so I really can’t think what I would say.”

  “How about you start by taking them through the process you used to transport the swarm of bees away from the school? I found that fascinating to watch and learn about, and I’m sure the children would as well.”

  Alice remembered a talk Sir Edmund Hillary had given to her primary school. While the other children had been clamoring to hear tales of conquering Mount Everest and other mountain climbing feats, she’d sat in the back, loving his memories of beekeeping on the family farm.

  It was the first time Alice had considered what she wanted to do when she grew up.

  The image of a hive, each bee busily producing honey for the good of the whole group, entranced her. From that moment, she had a goal, and it gave structure to her entire life.

  “Sure, I’ll do it,” she said, giving a decisive nod of her head, though Alex Dunbar couldn’t see it.

  “Lovely. I’ll send you through all the details you’ll need, and if you want to discuss anything, feel free
to contact me on this number.”

  They talked for a few minutes more, Alice’s heart pounding louder with each passing second as she considered the task. When she hung up the phone, her legs were shaking so much she fell rather than sat down on the chair.

  “I suppose while I’m feeling brave, I should call the vet and book you in for surgery,” she said to her dog, running her hand along the length of his side. Chester looked up at Alice with loving eyes, his large mouth opening wide in what looked like a beaming smile.

  After pressing her face against the soft fur of his neck and breathing in the scent for a second, that was precisely what Alice did next.

  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 back 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 ti
mes 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.