Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,5

Hunter possibly need me for? What bad news was he about to deliver? Was it bad news for me? Or for Grace?

Before I could ponder the cryptic message further, Hunter came out, leading Grace by her elbow and carrying a small bag of groceries tucked under his arm.

“What’s going on?” Grace asked him.

“Just get in, please.” He held open the front passenger’s side door. “You, too, Story. Please. Hurry. I’ll tell you on the way.” Grace slipped in first, and I got into the backseat. Hunter handed me Grace’s bag of groceries, slammed the door, and trotted around to the driver’s side.

I heard heavy breathing behind me, glanced back, and saw a crate in the cargo area. Dark canine eyes peered back at me. Large or small, dogs get the hairs on my arms standing at rigid attention. The big ones have big teeth and most of them think they are the leaders of the pack, which includes any humans around. The little ones are even worse, all hyper and ready to latch on to sensitive body parts.

Getting bitten by a dog as a kid has made me leery of all canines.

This one was big. I scooted closer to the door.

As we pulled out to make the short run to the north side of town where Manny and Grace lived, Hunter was more serious than I’d ever seen him. “Have you been home in the last few hours?” he asked Grace.

“Not since earlier this morning. I’ve been visiting my brother and sister-in-law. Why? Did something happen to Manny? Is my husband okay?”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Grace,” Hunter said. “But Manny’s unconscious out by the beehives, and it doesn’t look good.”

“Oh, no!” Grace said.

“Who called you?” I asked.

“Ray Goodwin stopped by to pick up a honey delivery and found him.”

Hunter glanced back at me. Grace looked over at him, and I could see the shock on her face and how pale she was, before I met Hunter’s blue eyes. The message they conveyed wasn’t good. He was preparing her for even worse news.

“Hunter, you have to be wrong!” I said, a little too quickly, a little too loudly in such a confined space, but I’d been caught off guard. “Manny was perfectly fine yesterday morning when I saw him.”

“I came from their place just now,” he said, looking at me in the rearview mirror, “and saw it with my own eyes. That’s why I need your help, Story. Manny’s covered with bees and we can’t get near him.” Then to Grace, “I can’t tell you how bad I feel. You’d better brace yourself for the worst possible case.”

Three

When we arrived at the Chapman property, an ambulance, three fire trucks, and several police vehicles were parked off to the side of the house. Paramedics and firefighters huddled together, studying the beeyard out in the back field. Both the Waukesha Sheriff’s Department and the Moraine Police Department were there. I saw Johnny Jay, the Moraine police chief, off by himself, talking on his phone.

I’d never seen a dead person outside of a coffin, and seeing Manny lying there almost brought me to my knees. If I’d still had a champagne buzz after riding over in Hunter Wallace’s SUV, I instantly sobered up when I walked into the aviary and saw Manny Chapman’s body.

Emotionally, I wanted to be alone someplace, crying my eyes out. I couldn’t stop thinking that if I had been here, none of this would have happened. Logically, however, I knew that I couldn’t fall apart. I was the only living and breathing person available at the moment who knew anything about bees. I had to help.

Manny was lying in the center of the beeyard, sprawled squarely between the hive boxes. He was dressed in a loose long-sleeved shirt rumpled up around his armpits, and sweat pants tucked into a pair of high boots, the same kind I wore to keep bees from crawling inside my clothes.

And, as Hunter had said, Manny was covered with honeybees.

When Manny fell, he must have overturned a plastic five-gallon bucket filled with honey. Some of it had landed on his body, and bees were crawling around, feasting on the thick sweet line that had run out onto his chest from the bucket. My beekeeping friend’s staring eyes were all the indication I needed that he was gone.

This was September. Bees were starting to get extra hungry. Their pollen sources were drying up, and they were busy trying to store enough food