Honeybee Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Katherine Hayton

  After an hour, Alice found mention of a Sally, but it was for Raleigh rather than Philton. She performed another general search on the internet, which produced a low-quality photograph that might be Sally, or it might be any other blonde.

  Four years for grievous bodily harm. The sentence seemed high for a first-time conviction, even though physical assault was a terrible crime. After searching back through the records even further, Alice happened upon another reference to the woman.

  If it was the same Sally, then this was the third conviction for assault. The first two had resulted in lighter sentences, community service, and house arrest. The third tipped off the judge she wasn’t changing her ways, and incarceration followed.

  Not only did Alice find those records but also a mention of a protective order. This time, Sally wasn’t the assailant in the case, but the plaintiff. The court had granted the request for an order of protection and, since the defendant held the same last name of Raleigh, Alice presumed it must be her husband.

  She replaced the phone in her pocket with mixed feelings. Although pleased to find what she’d been looking for, Alice was disturbed by the charges as well. She couldn’t imagine her cheerful friend Sally changing into someone who could mercilessly beat another person. To have repeated the same offense on multiple occasions made her feel sick to her stomach. The hand resting on Chester’s side dug deeper into his short fur.

  What kind of life had Sally led prior to Alice meeting her that she thought her behavior was acceptable? If it hadn’t been for the prison sentence imposed, would Sally have continued on her spiral of assaults?

  The other case, Alice could understand. Domestic violence was an open secret in society. Anyone hitching themselves to a partner could be at risk of the same. If that had been everything, Alice would have thought, good on her friend for getting out of the situation and turning her life around. Instead, it seemed Sally had been part of the same culture of violence as her partner.

  The gulf between what she thought she knew of Sally and what there was to know stretched out wide in front of Alice. If she searched again, would she turn up even worse things about her friend? Would she lose touch with everything that Sally had represented to her?

  The scent of alcohol on Sally’s breath now presented an even deeper problem. If that had been part of the cause—and to Alice, it seemed more likely than not—then to resume drinking might well have led her friend into a downward spiral, discovering her old habits lying in wait at the bottom.

  Grievous bodily harm could easily encompass something like slamming someone in the head with a jar in a burst of anger. Had Sally taken it one step too far, hitting poor Alex Dunbar in the head at the wrong angle, and resulting in his death rather than a painful wound?

  “Who on earth did I go into business with?” Alice whispered, directing the question to Chester but in reality, answering it herself. The truth was, she didn’t know, hadn’t done the legwork she should have. The Bumbling Bumblebee Cafe was co-partnered with a stranger.

  Alice’s fingers dug even deeper into Chester’s fur, looking for comfort. The dog whined and shifted away, her touch edging too far toward painful for his liking. She pulled her hand away, a rush of heat flushing into her cheeks as shame took hold.

  Chester whined again.

  In a second, Alice was on her feet, turning on the overhead lights and ignoring the glare. “Chester? Are you back with me, boy?”

  She bent over her dog, seeing his closed eyes and feeling the rush of hope be sucked away back into the oblivion of loss. Then his eyelids flickered, and his shoulders shifted on the table.

  “Doctor! I need help!”

  The cry split apart the silence of the sleeping unit, and Chester opened his eyes wide, shifting his head and growling low in his throat. Alice put her fingertips on the tape holding the ventilator in place, then pulled them away, helpless. Should she do that? Should she wait?

  “Doctor!”

  Was that even what they called the vet? Had she called out the wrong title and was that why no one was responding? Why hadn’t she paid attention when Josh introduced the man? Why hadn’t she learned his name?

  Then the soft pad of footsteps came up to the door, and the sleepy-headed vet poked his head inside the room. “What’s happening in here, then?”

  “I think Chester’s waking up.” Alice turned back to her dog and saw his eyelids closed again. With another string of panic plucking at her heart, she laid a hand on his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake.

  Chester opened his eyes again and struggled, fighting against the machine pushing air down his throat. The vet hurried over to the dog’s side, quickly pulling away the tape and drawing the tube out in one smooth motion.

  “Thank goodness,” Alice said, pressing her hand to her chest as she stood back to let the vet examine him. “Chester, you’re such a good dog. I hope you know that. You’re the best dog in the world.”

  “Careful,” the vet said with a grin. “You’ll make every other dog in this place jealous.” He quickly finished up his examination, checking the machines hooked up, then turned back to Alice with a nod. “He looks fine. Your dog’s a lot stronger than we thought.”

  “Of course, he is,” Alice said, stepping forward to give Chester a hug. “He’s the strongest and best dog ever.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After another half hour of observation, Chester was cleared to return home with Alice for the night. It was only as she opened the door out of the surgery she realized Josh had never told her what the results of the operation were.

  Alice turned back to the vet whose name she couldn’t remember but then decided that could wait until morning. For the moment, she just wanted to get her dog home and spoil him until he couldn’t take it any longer.

  With Chester installed on a comfy dog bed right inside her bedroom—an impossible treat she rarely allowed, even on special occasions—Alice listened to the sound of his snuffly breathing and let gratitude flow through her body.

  Until now, she’d pushed aside all thoughts of what would happen if her dog didn’t make it through the operation. With that dread dispatched for the moment, she felt free to ponder how devastating that would have been.

  As she became more confident that Chester would make it safely through the night, Alice’s thoughts turned once again to Sally’s arrest for murder. With the shock discoveries of the day, she’d found it easy to paint her friend in a new light, that of a killer, but in the darkness, the thoughts seemed ludicrous.

  Sally might be many things—so many that Alice hadn’t even known the half of them—but she couldn’t picture her raising a honey jar and smashing it down into the principal’s head. The petty disagreement over a raffle could never escalate to such a situation. Alice felt sure. Even if Sally was drinking again when she shouldn’t, the action was too many steps removed from what she knew of her friend.

  So, who did that leave in the killer’s seat? Somebody ruthless enough to let Sally rot in jail for a crime she didn’t commit, while they wandered around Scott-free.

  Somebody from the school seemed most likely. The contempt born of familiarity seemed a far more likely cause of the burst of anger required to do the deed.

  Alice gave up on sleep and linked her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling while she played out the day’s events in her mind.

  The first suspect she’d add to the list was Donnie. Not because he appeared to be a killer, but just because he’d been such a jerk. Imagine teasing someone you hardly knew about pupils ditching school! Not only that, he’d somehow coerced the surrounding group to join in with the ruse.

  Although Alice hadn’t shown it at the time, teasing like that was one of the things she hated most about other people. It had happened throughout her entire life, and although that meant she could now put a brave face on it, the action still cut her up inside.

  So, one jerk on the top of the list. Who else?

  The janitor. Something weird had been
going on there, though Alice didn’t know if anyone else had noticed. When Donnie said he’d see him at the retirement party, the man had bristled all over. Then the treasurer—what was her name? Trish?—had run forward and smoothed everything. No party. No retirement. The way he’d acted, it was like someone had forced the entire thing on him.

  As Alice dwelt on the small interlude more, she realized that fit with what the teachers had been complaining about the day before. The endless raffles and attempts to raise money for the school. Staffing was always the most significant expense, in any business. If somebody wasn’t necessary, axing them was the quickest way to save some cash.

  A struggling school might lead the principal to dismiss the janitor, perhaps laying the responsibility for his tasks on the teachers. No. In the darkness, Alice shook her head. No teacher would voluntarily perform yard work without extra pay. But if there’d been someone young and eager and half the price?

  The scenario fit together with the disgruntled expression on the janitor’s face, but Alice had no way of knowing if she was close, or just spinning a yarn out of thin air.

  Still, it wasn’t as though she could test out theories in the middle of the night, anyhow. Name two on the list, the janitor. Now, who else?

  Trish was the next name Alice arrived at. The woman was the school treasurer, and if the place was hemorrhaging money as it seemed, then her job might be on the line.

  She thought back to her talk at the school. As everyone had been filing out of the school hall, Donnie had complained about the raffle and then mentioned that an accountant was looking over the books. Alice was sure that Trish had blanched at the notion. The more she thought back to the incident, the guiltier the woman became.

  Name number three. The suspect pool was growing nicely. Alice could only hope that Detective Sergeant Hogarth was examining the evidence and formulating a similar list.

  Alex’s estranged wife should make it on there somewhere, of course. Never rule out a failed marriage as the precursor to murder. Alice gave a small giggle at the thought. She might have watched a few too many cop shows on TV in her time.

  As Alice rolled onto her side, swapping the plain ceiling for the shifting expanse of clouds visible through her bedroom window, she also remembered the boy who’d so briefly gone missing.

  She hadn’t considered it before. Alice was hesitant enough around people to find it perfectly reasonable to not come out when called, but his behavior was a little strange. Not the coming to school, then skiving off when he saw that no one was paying attention. That was to be expected of any school-age child. But to sit, hiding in the bushes, while the police hunted for you and called out your name?

  Chester gave a snort, and Alice reached a hand out to comfort him. The vet had placed a small cone collar around his neck to keep him from nibbling at the stitches—even keyhole surgery left a small scar—and her wrist banged against the side, waking the dog even further. He gave a low whine, and she patted his head until he settled back down. After a few minutes, his breaths lengthened, and she judged he’d gone back to sleep.

  Had Michael done something wrong, and that was why he wouldn’t come out when the police called his name?

  Given the number of people milling about, it didn’t seem likely that he could have caused too much trouble. If he had, surely someone would have spotted it before they even noticed the boy was missing.

  Had he murdered the principal in a fit of schoolboy pique?

  Alice snorted at the thought. Even a large boy would have trouble wielding enough force to do damage with a jar of honey. From what she’d seen, Michael didn’t fit that bill at all.

  What if he’d seen someone else do it?

  The thought startled her so much, Alice sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide. Had anybody thought to question the boy after he’d been found? The idea fit so well with the subsequent behavior, she couldn’t dismiss it from her mind.

  If the boy had witnessed the murder, it stood to reason he’d want to hide away and not be found. Although, it didn’t fit with the police, did it?

  If he’d seen a stranger murder his principal, then surely the boy would have run into the arms of the first policemen to walk by, calling his name. He had no reason to protect Sally if she’d been the one responsible. Michael didn’t owe her any favors and probably wouldn’t have been swayed by threats, not once the police turned out in numbers.

  No. It only made sense Michael would hide away if the person he’d seen was someone he knew. Someone who might know where he lived or how to get to him or his mother.

  Not Sally, but who?

  Chapter Twelve

  Donnie might have been top of her list of suspects in the night, but when Alice got up the following morning, she realized he’d make a better ally instead. If she was going to find someone responsible for Alex Dunbar’s murder, and clear Sally’s name, then she needed someone who knew this group of people better than she did herself.

  Of course, she reserved the right to stick his name back at the top of the suspect list if he was as much of a jerk to her today!

  With a few emails and texts, Alice got confirmation that everything she’d arranged the day before for staffing was on track. She realized then she’d done no baking at all, let alone enough to fill the trays up to the brim. Still, she’d woken up early enough to take care of that and could refill again at midday, to catch the lunchtime crowd and the next rush for afternoon snacks.

  Doug dropped in to see how the previous day had gone and Alice felt a surge of happiness at his inquiry. He made a fuss of Chester and, once the cake was in the oven baking, she brought the dog outside to watch as Doug trimmed the plants nearby the house.

  Next task, Alice looked up Donnie on the internet. Only his landline phone number was listed, and she didn’t feel like calling. His address was also there, so Alice decided to pay him a visit instead.

  Leaving Chester in Doug’s watchful care and with a couple of dog treats in easy grabbing distance if he grew hungry, Alice set off for Donnie’s place. She hustled so she could drop the baking off to the cafe and get around to his house before he’d leave for school.

  She needn’t have hurried as it turned out.

  Donnie pulled open the door with a puzzled frown, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans.

  “Is school canceled again today?” Alice asked by way of introduction.

  “Yeah. What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve come to ask for some help.” When he didn’t invite her inside, Alice stepped forward, causing him to fall back from the doorway, leaving it free for her to walk indoors. “The police arrested my friend for Alex Dunbar’s murder, and I want to find who really did it, so I can clear her name.”

  Donnie shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. “No way. If your friend’s the murderer, I’m not having anything to do with it. Rumors carry, you know, and I’ve got to apply for new teaching jobs right now. I don’t need this trailing around behind me like a bad smell.”

  Alice ignored him, walking farther down the hallway to find a lounge room set up with a console gaming system paused mid-action. She turned it off while Donnie hurried after her.

  “Don’t do that! I was in the middle of a boss-fight.”

  “There’s work to do,” Alice said unperturbed, setting the remote down on the arm of the sofa.

  “Not by me, there isn’t.” Donnie stared at her with a deepening frown. “I’ve already told you I don’t want to help. Now, get out of my house.”

  “If you’re applying for jobs, then there’s stuff you probably don’t want circulated about your behavior,” Alice said in as calm a voice as she could manage. On the way over, she’d considered what to do if Donnie didn’t want to lend a hand, and decided that if she was strong, she could probably blackmail him. Just a bit, nothing illegal.

  “What stuff? You don’t know the first thing about me.”

  “I know that you teased me yesterday. I’m an autistic businesswoman who came to
your school to donate my time giving a talk on beekeeping to the children, and also donated honey, which your principal would have raffled off to raise money for the school.”

  Donnie stared at her blankly.

  “How do you think potential employers will feel about a teacher who mocks an autistic adult? Do you think they might reconsider your application, or think you might do the same to the children on the spectrum in their classes?”

  The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arms clutching each other now, rather than being folded. “I’m not like that. You can’t go around making those accusations.”

  “I can when they’re true,” Alice scolded. “I know how you treated me and I’m quite happy to tell someone about it. There’s lots of interest in this case from the press, you know. I’m sure a reporter somewhere would love to print a story from a different angle. Why, I met one yesterday just waiting down at the police station.”

  “They’re only reporting on the murder. Reporters don’t care about me.”

  “Why were you teasing me yesterday?”

  “I tease everyone,” Donnie said, laughing and shaking his head. “So you don’t need to pull that disabled rubbish. I didn’t treat you any differently than I do everyone else.”

  “I’m not sure it will appear that way to the press,” Alice said, sighing as though the revelation pained her. “They might just see a big bully who’s not above belittling people who are different.”

  The man laughed, then narrowed his eyes when she didn’t join in. “You must be joking, surely? I didn’t even know there was anything wrong with you,” Donnie grumbled. “You don’t look autistic to me.”

  “He teased me at school for being different, then told me it was my fault for not appearing autistic enough,” Alice said, using her hands to space the words out as though they were a gigantic billboard.