Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,91

picked for her. “I need more honey,” she said. “I’m working on something very special for next month’s issue.”

I handed a jar to her, free of charge, since she worked so hard on the newsletter and shared her creations with the rest of us.

“That’s one scary dog,” she said, watching Ben as he sat at quiet attention near the door.

“He’s a Belgian Malinois,” I said. “He tracks bad guys and hunts drugs for the police.”

“You don’t say.”

We both studied Ben. He was acting more like a regular dog now that Hunter wasn’t around, although he would never be a frolicking pup. I was still cautious when he was nearby but I didn’t want him to sense any of my fear, which, as luck would have it, was starting to subside just a little.

“I heard you better not raise your voice around those attack dogs,” Carrie Ann called over, raising her voice. “They hate that.”

“What would he do if I yelled or screamed?” Milly wanted to know.

Carrie Ann shook her head. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out. Aren’t you worried he’ll hurt business, sitting at the doorway like that?”

By now a couple of kids were petting him. Ben maintained an attitude of tolerant indifference. “He’s used to crowded situations,” I said.

Another group of tourists came through, buying the caramel apples we got from Country Delight Farm.

Brent Craig showed up, saying his twin brother, Trent, would be along in a few hours.

I kept waiting for a slowdown so I could start reading Manny’s journal, which I’d hidden in a box of honey jars in the back room. Unfortunately, I had no spare time, but that was a good thing as far as taking in cash was concerned.

A few locals showed up and gossiped. I listened in.

“When are they going to have that dead girl’s funeral?” one of them said. “I haven’t seen anything about it in the newspaper.”

“They must be holding the body. It’s a murder, after all,” someone else commented.

“Has Story’s rotten ex-husband been arraigned yet?”

“Shhh. She’ll hear you.”

“She knows he’s rotten. And a murderer besides!”

“If you ask me, she’s in on it. The police chief found that dead girl’s earring in the back room of this very store. Right over there.”

“That’s not exactly how I heard it. Story found it and called the police chief.”

“I’m sure it’s the other way around. And what about the robbery?”

“She might have a partner who decided to go solo.”

“You watch too much television.”

“Shhh. Here she comes. Hi, Story. My, these tomatoes sure are nice and ripe.”

Lori Spandle came in. She bought bratwursts and buns for grilling and six ears of corn, pulling down the husks on at least four times that many before making her final choices.

“Any progress on the Chapman deal?” I asked, convinced that Lori was just blowing smoke to make herself look important.

“It’s progressing,” Lori said, vaguely. “My new associate and I are working on it.”

“What new associate?” Carrie Ann asked.

“My new real estate partner, my sister, DeeDee. And the name of the interested party is confidential, as Story well knows from all her efforts to pry it out of me.”

“DeeDee’s your new partner?” Carrie Ann snorted. “What kind of partner? Your partner in crime?”

“That hit on the head must have scrambled your brains, or you wouldn’t be talking that way, Carrie Ann Retzlaff.”

I stepped in. “Let’s be nice.”

Lori glared my way. “I heard what you did to my sister, accusing her of stealing from your store, and I think it’s just terrible.”

Stanley Peck came in at that moment and overheard the last part of the conversation. “Are you talking about how Holly caught DeeDee red-handed with stolen goods and how Story wouldn’t let Johnny Jay book DeeDee for shoplifting?” he said. “Shame on you, Story. Next time, you let that girl have it with both barrels.”

Lori stomped off down aisle six.

“Speaking of barrels,” I said to Stanley. “You aren’t carrying a weapon, are you?”

“Why?”

“Never mind.”

“You’re thinking I might be mad about how my chickens showed up way down the road from either my house or yours?”

“Sorry about that.”

“And about how you must know my big secret, the same one I’ve been keeping to myself for very personal reasons?”

“Sorry about that, too.”

“You know, I felt guilty that I was having so much fun. I felt terrible about it for a long time because of Carol being dead and me carrying on like some kind of love-sick puppy. I didn’t want anybody to know. Still don’t.”

“I won’t tell