Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,37

was just arrested for murdering his girlfriend.”

“No kidding.” Ray didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He was as speechless as the rest of us.

I noticed the swelling on the side of Ray’s head, right next to his eye. “I heard you were stung. That’s a nasty one. Did you put ice on it?”

Ray gingerly touched the spot with his fingers. “Of course,” he said, but I doubted him.

“A paste of baking soda and water would have helped, too.” Beekeepers had a variety of remedies for reducing the swelling of bee stings—meat tenderizer and water, raw onions, ammonia, even toothpaste could do the trick.

“The other bee got me on my finger,” Ray said, showing me the spot. It wasn’t nearly as swollen, but stings to the fingers really hurt, I knew from experience.

“How did Stanley take out the stingers?” I didn’t really care one bit after what had just happened with Lori and then Clay’s arrest, but I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts.

“How did you know he helped me? Doesn’t this town have anything better to do than gossip all day?”

“Just tell me what he used.”

“Tweezers,” Ray said, going back to stacking boxes of apples.

“Well, that’s your problem,” I said. “When he squeezed the stingers, they were still loaded with poison. He pumped more venom into you by mistake. Next time, scrape the stinger out like this.” I demonstrated by sliding my thumb along my hand. “Or use a credit card to scrape it out.”

“I hope there isn’t going to be a next time,” Ray said.

“What were you doing to aggravate them?” I couldn’t help asking, thinking he had to have provoked them the same way Lori had when she’d banged through my apiary en route to Clay’s house that time.

“Nothing unusual. Quit defending them. Admit it, sometimes bees just sting for no reason that we can figure out.”

I refused to respond, mostly because he had a legitimate point. Instead I said, “Have you talked to Lori Spandle lately?” I asked.

“No, why?”

“Your bee stings happened at a very convenient time for her. She’s trying to turn the town against my bees.”

“I don’t have any problem with your bees,” Ray said. “I’ll talk to her and tell her that if it will help, tell her it’s no big deal what happened.”

I nodded. “That might help,” I said, although truthfully, I didn’t think anything could slow that woman down.

Ray and I went in the back door together. Carrie Ann was lounging against the cash register, talking on her cell. I heard her say, “See you tonight, then. And thanks, Hunter.”

“Hey,” I said, still feeling a lingering, foolish loss when I thought of Hunter, and how I should have caught his pass a while ago and run with it before he and my cousin hooked up.

“What are you doing here?” Carrie Ann asked, putting her cell in her back pocket. “I thought you were supposed to be off.”

I inhaled discreetly but didn’t detect even a whiff of tobacco smoke. “I have to work off some stress. Johnny Jay just arrested Clay.”

“I heard already. Patti’s making calls, spreading the news like hot butter on fresh popcorn.” Carrie Ann had a nutty, desperate look in her eyes. “It’s an awful situation. You poor thing!”

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m not going to make it much longer without a smoke.”

“Sure you are.”

“As long as I stay busy, it’s not so bad. Oh good, here come more customers.”

I left her to her demons and made sure Ray put the cases where I wanted them. Then I went to work, placing apples in attractive piles, trying to keep my mind off everybody’s troubles. September’s harvest brings Cortland, Gala, McIntosh, and Jersey Mac apples to the market. Next month Ray will deliver Honey Crisps, Spartans, and Empires, to name just a few.

Milly came in looking for the bunches of wild grapes I’d promised to bring for her so she could work up a new recipe for the newsletter.

“I forgot,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I have other things on my mind.”

“I can imagine. I heard about Clay’s arrest.” Milly picked up a shopping basket and fingered the Cortlands. “I’m really sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I’m okay. It’s not like we are still married.” Thank God!

“These apples look good.”

“Don’t they? Hey, if you’re going to be in the store for a little while, I’ll go pick you some grapes right now.”

“Sure, I’m planning on sticking around to hear the scuttlebutt about the arrest,”