Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,48

an opportunity to kill them? I fought an urge to rip the veil off her face and tear it to shreds.

“Meeting’s over,” I said to her, refusing to show panic over my bees’ safety. “Your side lost. No more talk of killing.”

“That’s not true,” her husband told her. “The vote’s been postponed, that’s all. Sorry, Sweety-poo, I know how important it was to you. Where have you been anyway?”

“I misplaced my car keys,” Sweety-poo said. “Then my sister called with another one of her dramas, and I couldn’t get off the phone.”

“Why don’t we adjourn to the custard shop,” Larry said, always one to make a sale if he saw an opportunity.

“Let me close up the library first,” Emily said. “Are you buying, Larry?”

“Now, Emily,” Larry said. “You wouldn’t begrudge a man his livelihood, would you?”

“I’m allergic to ice cream,” P. P. Patti announced. “My stomach starts rolling around and sometimes I upchuck.”

“Thank you for sharing that, Patti,” Stanley said. “I think I’ll stick to beer just in case. I’m going to Stu’s Bar and Grill once we find out what the emergency is all about.”

Before the crowd could break off into the beer guzzlers and the custard lickers, we collectively paused to listen to the sirens coming our way. I started toward home to check on my bees. If Lori had harmed a single one while I was at the meeting trying to save them, the police chief would have another murder suspect in custody before the night was over.

The rest of them stood on the sidewalk, watching a fire engine as it passed The Wild Clover. An ambulance and Johnny Jay’s official police vehicle followed close behind, turning onto Willow Street ahead of me. Onto my street.

I broke into a run, rounding the corner. The vehicles had stopped in front of my house; Clay’s place and mine were the only buildings there other than Moraine Gardens and Patti’s house on the corner, which they passed right by.

The garden owner, Aurora Tyler, was right on my heels, breathing hard. We both stopped in the middle of the street. In which direction would the firefighters head when they poured out of the fire truck? Emergency vehicles continued to turn onto Willow. Any situation in our area brings out every single fire and police unit in the surrounding towns. This time was no exception.

Aurora clutched my arm when the first responders headed for her flower nursery. I felt guilty about the wave of relief that swept through me, but it was immediately replaced with concern for Aurora.

I’d never seen so many axes in my life. The firefighters all carried axes and wore helmets and boots ready to fight whatever they encountered. According to residents unfortunate enough to have had small electrical fires, those guys can do some major damage. They have been described by many as overzealous.

They have also saved plenty of lives.

“Where’s the fire?” one of them said to Aurora. In the dusk and with them wearing suits that covered their entire bodies, I couldn’t tell one from the other.

“I don’t know. I didn’t call you about any fire,” she said.

“Well, somebody did. Let’s take a look.”

Aurora ran ahead, unlocked the door to her shop and the firefighters poured in, axes at the ready. By now, most of the town watched from across the street, shooed there by Johnny Jay. I saw lights go on in the main building, then in the greenhouse and supply shed. Voices called out.

I took a moment to hustle around the back of my house and check on my bees, confirming that the veil was gone from the patio table, so Lori must have been here. Not a good sign. The flashlight I kept near the hives lighted the way. Nothing unusual stood out, but my heart was beating an irregular pattern as I lifted a frame from the box.

Bees! Thank goodness they were all still here. And they were crawling around, seemingly unharmed. I checked more frames. Everybody was safe for now.

As I returned to the front sidewalk, Grams pulled up, almost swiping the police chief’s side mirror off his squad car, and either ignoring or not seeing him as he frantically waved his arms to get her attention. This was serious stuff to get Grams out this late.

“You can’t leave that car there,” Johnny called to Grams. She didn’t pay any attention. Grams, Holly, and Mom all got out, spotted me, and came over.

“Is the greenhouse burning?” Mom asked.

“I don’t see flames or