Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,18
book, especially the chapter on fair play. It had been surprisingly easy to stoop to her level.
No one else took me up on the offer to visit, either, but they did agree to rein in the mob for one more day when I promised to deliver positive proof that the bees were gone from Manny’s.
“That won’t help protect my residents from your bees,” Johnny Jay said. “They should be destroyed, too, just to make absolutely certain no one gets hurt.”
Murmurs of agreement.
Personally, I thought destroying the police chief would go furthest in protecting all of us. “I’m also going to prove that honeybees didn’t kill Manny,” I said, instead of voicing my murderous thoughts regarding Johnny Jay. I had no idea how to prove my claim, though. “But one thing at a time. Give me a chance.”
The fight had temporarily gone out of Lori, and once the police chief got a call from dispatch, sending him on his way, the rest of the group disbanded.
Things settled down after that because of the event at the library. There had been talk of canceling the bluegrass band jam because of Manny’s death, but everybody agreed that we needed each other at a time like this, so the jam was on. Free lemonade and the chance to listen to music were big bonuses on a cloudy Saturday afternoon. Emily had planned smart with a giant tent, just in case, so the event was on rain or shine.
I walked over to Stu’s Bar and Grill, planning to borrow Stu’s canoe to scout for my kayak, hoping to find it and get back and over to the library as soon as possible.
“Hey, Story,” Stu called out from behind the bar. I waved. Stu Trembly had bedroom eyes, those smoldering kind that show a little white just under the irises. He was also engaged to Becky Hellman and had been for years. Most of the local women had given up on him long ago and moved on to more available men.
As unlikely as it was, I saw that my cousin Carrie Ann Retzlaff and Hunter Wallace were having lunch together. I sat down with them and swiped a French fry from what was left of Hunter’s hamburger platter before calling out to Stu, “Do you still keep your canoe down by the river?”
“It’s there. Why? Want to use it?”
“My kayak is missing again.”
“Kids messing around like last time?” Carrie Ann suggested.
“Probably.” Two weeks ago I’d discovered my kayak ditched about half a mile from my house after kids had filled it with water and sunk it. “I’ll need a piece of rope to tie it to the canoe. That is, if I get lucky and find it.”
“We’re done with lunch. I’ll help you look,” Hunter offered. He reached in his back pocket, removed a wallet, and placed a few bills on the table. He wasn’t working, judging by his attire. That meant well-worn jeans, a white T-shirt that set off his tan, and . . . were his bare toes exposed? I suppressed an urge to look down.
“You better get going before it starts raining,” Stu said, coming around the bar with a piece of rope. “A storm is moving in.”
“Want to come along, Carrie Ann?” I asked as we stood up. Hunter’s feet were definitely bare except for a pair of sandals.
“No thanks,” Carrie Ann said, running both hands through her short head of hair to refresh the spiky look she liked so much. “I have errands. I’ll see you later, Hunter.”
“I’ll pick you up,” he said to her.
“When will you need me again at The Wild Clover?” Carrie Ann asked me.
“I’ll call you after I look at the twins’ schedules.” Never again, was my best guess, and I planned to deliver that exact message to her in private. Carrie Ann wasn’t a stable employee—she’s been late or even a no-show to work several times, took cigarette breaks every ten minutes, and had a perpetual hangover written across her face. It was too bad. She and I had been friends growing up and had shared a lot of good times together before she’d spiraled into a bottle of beer. The family had all been trying to tell her she had a drinking problem for years. Even after her husband left her five years ago and got custody of their two kids, she still hadn’t been ready to face the truth.
Stu’s piece of property ran along the Oconomowoc River just like mine did. The Winnebago Indians