Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,14

wasn’t the first time someone had “borrowed” it.

Clay answered his door after I banged on it several times. His physical presence in the doorway provided his alibi, proving him innocent of this particular watercraft theft. Damn. I’d really hoped the thieves weren’t those kids again.

Clay wore silk pajamas and had bed creases in his face. A diamond stud glistened from his left ear, something new since the divorce hearing two days ago. His dishwater blond hair had sleep spikes in it.

“Have you seen my kayak?” I said, refusing to lower my gaze to his bare feet, which beckoned from my peripheral view. His gorgeous feet had caused me to overlook his fatal flaws in the past. “It’s missing again.”

“Too bad, but I haven’t seen it. You can search my body if you want, honey.” He opened the door wider, spread his arms, and grinned wolfishly.

“Don’t call me honey,” I said. “And where’s Faye? Did she take it?” I didn’t bother masking the disgust in my voice.

“She isn’t . . . uh . . . available,” Clay said. “And she didn’t take your kayak. Faye, uh . . . is . . .” His eyes shifted toward the bedroom. “Uh . . . indisposed.”

“Never mind,” I said, turning and stalking away back toward my house.

I showered, dressed in shorts and a halter top, slipped on purple flip-flops from my vast flip-flop collection, breakfasted on toast spread with peanut butter and honey, and drove out to Grace’s in my pickup truck. I had purchased the used truck right after Clay and I moved into town. It was over a decade old, a rusty blue with a few dings and more than one hundred thousand miles. But she never let me down.

Grace’s sister-in-law, Betty, answered the door, talking to me through the screen. I noticed again how enormous she looked and wondered if she was having twins.

“Grace is at the funeral home with her brother,” she said, without a trace of friendliness. “Making arrangements. She won’t be back until later.”

“When’s the funeral?” I asked, unintentionally matching her tone.

“Tuesday,” Betty said.

“What about the autopsy?”

“There isn’t going to be one.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. I was counting on an autopsy to clear the bees’ good name. “How is that possible? Doesn’t Grace want to know why Manny died?”

“She already knows. The bees killed him. Cut and dry.” Over her enormous stomach, Betty chopped one hand into the other for effect. “Besides, the medical examiner didn’t order one, and Grace didn’t want it. She just wants a traditional burial without a lot of fuss. The M.E. said it wasn’t a suspicious death, so he approved her request.”

“I think it’s pretty suspicious.” That comment came right out of my big mouth without any thought at all. What I meant to say was that I thought yellow jackets were the bad guys, but apparently Betty took my comment the wrong way.

“Don’t go stirring up things,” she said. “This family doesn’t need any more trouble from the likes of you.”

“There’s no need to get nasty.” Jeez, Betty was a mean mom-to-be!

Betty clamped her lips into a thin line. We glared at each other through the screen door.

I gave in first, since I was dealing with a grieving family member. “I guess it’s Grace’s call. If you don’t mind, I’ll check on the bees and get a few cases of honey from the honey house.”

Betty didn’t look pleased. She sighed a big sigh, whether from frustration or her enormous pregnant body, I wasn’t sure. “Help yourself to the honey, but say good-bye to the bees. Somebody from the bee association is coming tonight to get them.”

“What?” I said, stunned by this news. “Why wouldn’t Grace have talked to me first? Who’s taking them?”

Betty shrugged. “Darn if I know. But good riddance.”

“Listen, when is Grace coming back? Precisely.” I tried to hide my outrage, but it was dripping from my mouth like rabies foam. First, no autopsy; now the bees were being taken away? This was too much to bear. It would mean the end of Queen Bee Honey.

“I said she will be back later. You’ll have to be satisfied with that.” Betty’s eyes narrowed. If I was getting mad, so was she.

I faked a smile. “Sorry, everybody’s on edge after what happened.”

“Not me,” Betty said.

She watched from the doorway while I went into the beeyard. Honeybees flew in and out of the hive openings like aircrafts arriving and departing from a finely tuned airport. Guard bees made sure the