The Keeper of Bees - Gregory Ashe Page 0,126

barking,” Tean said, throwing open the door. “I’ve got to run.”

“I don’t hear—”

But he was already sprinting down the hall.

When Tean let himself into the apartment, Scipio was waiting for him, pressing a cold nose against his arm, snuffling, trying to scent out all of the Irreconcilables that had dared to get close to Tean. Tean thought of Mrs. Wish’s granddaughter coming over with a plate of cookies that were the sugary equivalent of hard tack. He grabbed Scipio’s harness and asked the Lab, “What do you think about another walk? A really long one, this time.”

2

“People suck,” Tean said, letting Scipio off the leash. The dog park was busy that day, and Scipio ran off to join Bear, a hundred-and-thirty-pound St. Bernard who dwarfed Tean’s black Lab but had still become a regular playmate.

“Ok,” Hannah said with a sigh. She was still removing the leash from her own dog, Divorcee. She worked with Tean at DWR, and she had called as he was leaving the apartment to ask if he was interested in being set up on a blind date with a guy she knew. When Tean tried to dodge by explaining he was going to the dog park, she had insisted on joining him. It was nice to have company, even if Hannah probably didn’t realize she was helping a fugitive.

October in the Salt Lake Valley was beautiful; the underbrush on the Wasatch Mountains to the east burned red, and the sun setting over the Great Salt Lake to the west painted everything else gold. Autumn in Utah was a precarious pleasure, always ready to slip early into winter and stay there. Days like this one, with the breeze coming off the mountains and the skies perfectly clear, made sure the dog park stayed busy.

“What does that mean?” Tean asked.

“It means you’re trying to get out of this date.”

“Everyone’s trying to set me up today. Why won’t anyone let me have forty or fifty years of peace before I die?”

“Go have fun, princess.” This was directed to Divorcee; the teacup Yorkie scampered five feet away, stopped, and looked back. “Go on.”

“I’m not trying to get out of a date,” Tean said.

“Ok.”

“I’m just pointing out an incontrovertible fact.”

“Here we go.”

“People suck,” Tean said, varying the tone a little in case she’d missed the point.

Hannah just sighed. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Miguel asked me if you were single today.”

“Did you tell him I’m married?” Hannah said.

“Yes.”

“Great. End of conversation.”

“I saw those reports you put together on—”

“Not work.”

“Well, I wanted to ask—”

“Nope. Work stays at work. I don’t want to think about work. Sook’s funeral is this weekend, and I don’t need anything else making me think about work.” Hannah studied the leash, which she wrapped around her hand as she asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything new from the detectives.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy.”

Hannah nodded.

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can,” Tean said.

“I know.”

“I went through her logs and reports, and I made some calls. Nobody could tell me anything out of the ordinary. And I gave all the information to the police.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know; the detectives would have looked at it on their own eventually.”

“No, I mean, you’re a good guy for doing it.”

“I’d be a better guy if I weren’t planning how to ditch this blind date.”

Hannah slapped his arm. Then she wiped one cheek. “Sorry. I told myself I wasn’t going to bring Sook up again.”

Scipio and Bear had both gotten hold of a rope, and Bear was dragging Scipio around in an uneven version of tug-of-war.

“We could talk about books,” Tean said.

“Pass.”

“If you ever read a book . . .”

“Let’s talk about the very exciting date that I’m setting you up on. Why do you think you won’t like Rand?”

“Because his name’s Rand. Why can’t Utah people name their kids anything normal?”

“You are Utah people. And you have a weird name too. Anyway, he’s a nice guy, and he’s cute. I showed him your picture, and he said you were hot.”

“That doesn’t say much for his taste,” Tean muttered.

Hannah slugged him.

Across the park, Scipio and Bear were wrestling. Bear’s owner was a young guy with a lot of muscles and who apparently owned only tank tops. A couple of times he and Tean had talked. He had a faux-tribal tattoo on his shoulder. Between the tank tops and the tattoo, he was the closest thing to a bad boy Salt Lake City seemed capable of producing.

“That guy’s straight,” Hannah

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