The Honey Trap (A Honeybee Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Katherine Hayton

  “Is that an autistic thing?”

  “Either that, or just your standard anti-social tendencies,” Alice said with a laugh. “I never paid all that much attention when my parents took me visiting people. All I’d do is wait until I could leave the table or the lounge and go outside to play with any pets.”

  “I just wanted to climb their trees.”

  Alice smiled up at Donnie, thinking the man had turned out quite different to what she’d first encountered. Considering how often she’d been dismissed due to woeful first impressions, she should start giving others more benefit of the doubt.

  “Oh, no.” Donnie gave an exaggerated groan and cracked his knuckles as Alex Dunbar’s estranged wife walked to the front of the group. “Given how often those two were at each other’s throats two months ago, I’m surprised she’d dare to speak here.”

  “How long were they married?”

  “Only three years.” Donnie wrinkled his nose. “He should have saved himself the trouble and just brought some woman he hated half a house.”

  Alice gave a small chuckle then bit off the sound when another mourner turned her way and glared. “That’s a good three years longer than any relationship I ever managed, so she probably still holds a good deal of love for him.”

  “You’re so reasonable,” Donnie said with a grin. “And so bad at reading people.”

  Justine Dunbar wiped away a tear with her forefinger and glanced around the gathered crowd. After a few seconds of her speaking. Alice conceded Donnie might be right. Again. Every gesture the woman made appeared to be staged.

  People react to grief in different ways, Doug spoke up in her head. You can’t judge another person on how they appear. Not unless you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.

  Although Alice sighed and tried to listen, even the echo of Doug’s words of wisdom failed to sway her mind. When Justine wiped another tear away with a dainty dab of an embroidered tissue, she looked away, ashamed she was judging someone so harshly at such an emotional time.

  Detective Sergeant Hogarth stood at the back of the gathering, in plainclothes with his hands loosely cupped together in front. One she spotted him, Alice searched through the assembly with keener eyes and spotted another few officers. Even if there weren’t others there she didn’t recognize, that still meant four in attendance. Rather a lot to be paying their respects for a man they barely knew.

  “Ow,” a woman’s voice called out nearer Alice and she jerked around to look the other way. It was Michael, the boy who’d gone missing for a short time, and his mother. The woman stared down at her son with a faint frown, rubbing her fingers.

  Alice stared more openly, curious about the strange dynamic. The boy’s face was pale and slack, but his hands were clenched hard into fists. She guessed from the positioning he’d been holding onto his mother’s hand and squeezed it tightly enough to hurt her.

  As Alice continued to watch, the boy shifted and moved behind his mother, staring out from her skirts as though he was a much younger boy. His gaze was locked fast to Justine’s face, watching her every move like a hawk.

  He looked terrified.

  Alice turned back to the woman still speaking. Her mask of grief slipped for a second as she stared straight at the boy and gave a twist of her lips instead. Then, she turned back to the gathered mourners and continued to recount her sweet memories of the deceased.

  The connection grew in Alice’s mind until she couldn’t hold it back any longer. The accusation rose in her throat and burst out of her mouth like a living thing with a mind of its own. “You’re the killer!”

  Justine’s gaze turned to Alice, a polite raise of her eyebrows followed by a small shake of her head. She barely paused in her speech, continuing on as though the words were on a teleprompter and if she lost her place, she’d never catch up.

  Michael’s eyes widened, and he grabbed a fistful of his mother’s skirt in his hand, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turned bright white. Alice took one step closer, hearing the shuffle of footsteps in behind her but not turning to see what they heralded.

  “She really is,” she said, this time in a softer voice more to herself. Michael turned his gaze to Alice and she saw the fear etched in every line of his face.

  “You murdered your husband!” Alice turned back, raising her voice this time as she made the accusation. The crowd around her fell silent and Justine Dunbar stuttered to a stop, looking around her for support.

  “What did you tell this boy when he caught you? Did you threaten him? Did you try to hurt him too? What sort of monster would terrify a small boy into silence and let another person pay for their crime?”

  Justine stepped back from the podium, giving a brief laugh. “I’m sure grief comes in many forms, but I can assure you—”

  “She did it.” Michael’s eyes stayed locked on Alice’s face and seemed to draw courage from doing so. “I saw her standing over Mr. Dunbar’s body with something in her hand. She told me if I said a word, she’d kill me, too!”

  “You little—”

  “Is that true?” Detective Sergeant Hogarth crouched beside the boy until his eyes were on the same level. “Did you see this woman doing something bad?”

  “She killed Mr. Dunbar. I turned up early because I was so excited about selling a dozen raffle tickets at bible study.” Michael sobbed, his words trailing away, then rising again as though caught in the ebb and flow of a sea. “I went to tell him and saw her there, covered in his blood.”

  “No,” Justine Dunbar said, backing away and glancing in all directions. “That’s not true. I found him there, that’s all. It was Trish all along. That’s why the police arrested her. I never had anything to do with the crime.”

  “She told me she’d kill me and hurt my mother.” Michael’s voice dissolved into another sob and he pressed his face into his mom’s skirt.

  “I promise you, this woman will never have the opportunity to hurt you, or your mom.” Sergeant Hogarth stood up next to the boy, placing a reassuring hand on his small shoulder.

  “DC Blythe, would you do the honors?”

  A suited detective stepped forward, snapping out a pair of handcuffs from the belt around his waist. Justine Dunbar shook her head in horror, eyes wide and still searching restlessly through the assembled crowd for someone to believe her. Just before the policeman could grab her wrist, she took off, running in her high heels across the playground, while three officers gave chase.

  “Didn’t I tell you to keep your nose out of things?” the sergeant asked, turning to Alice.

  A pile of defensive words rose in Alice’s mouth before she realized his smile probably meant the man was joking. “I don’t mean to keep doing your job,” she said back, keeping her face stern. “But someone has to.”

  For a second, Alice thought her joke had missed the mark. Horror rose in her mind as she considered what a policeman could do to make her life miserable until she rested in her grave. Then the sergeant threw back his head and laughed.

  “Have some respect,” Donnie said, sidling up to the two of them. “This is meant to be a memorial service for a well-loved principal. I don’t know there should be quite so much laughter.”

  When Alice looked around the group of distressed children and adults, she felt a pang of guilt run through her. Perhaps she should have left the matter alone until after the ceremony was complete.

  Then Michael’s pudgy hand slipped into hers. Although the sensation of touch was as disturbing to her as it always was, Alice managed a smile and squeezed the boy’s fingers before untangling them to let him clutch hold of his mother once again.

  “Who’s speaking next, then?” she asked, staring at Donnie. “How about you? You always seem to have a lot to say.”

  Donnie moved to the front of the group to begin reminiscing. When the officers walked past manhandling a struggling Mrs. Dunbar to their waiting vehicle, he just talked louder to be heard over their noise.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fro
m what Donnie relayed to her later, police had eventually coaxed Michael into revealing everything he’d witnessed at the school. Alice felt an overwhelming sadness such a young boy had seen the bad side of human nature so early.

  She could only imagine how terrified he’d been as he saw Justine Dunbar strike the blow that ended her husband’s life. As she’d scurried away to safety, he’d frozen in place, only roused when he heard the front door opening. No doubt Trish or Sally arriving on the disturbing scene.

  What must have gone through his head as he sat, cowering in the bushes and hoping to stay out of sight? Alice briefly thought of taking him something nice as a gesture of goodwill, then put it out of her mind.

  She could hardly take him a jar of honey—not after he’d seen it being used in such a terrible act—and Alice suspected that her visit might turn into a session where she grilled him for information. Better she stay well away and let the boy heal.

  Trish was not only out of the frame for murder now, but also for cooking the books. When the forensic accountant took a second spin through the ledgers, he pinpointed the bank account some of the funds had ended up in.

  Although Alex had never shared his suspicions, it seemed his wife was the one embezzling from the school accounts. Although happy Trish was in the clear—thus proving her instincts about the woman had been right—Alice felt the weight of misery that poor man must have been laboring under.

  His first appointment as principal, and not only did it nearly end in the school going bankrupt, but it tore apart his marriage as well. No wonder the couple had split up a few months earlier. Whatever tipped Justine off about Alex’s further investigation, it led directly to his death. There would be no recouping the lost money and the charges for fraud would be lost under the sentence she’d face for murder.

  Still, all of that was no longer occupying the bulk of Alice’s attention. Although she’d liked Alex Dunbar, they’d known each other such a short time, other things now took priority. Or rather, other people took priority. Namely, Sally, who still wasn’t acting right.

  With all the worry about Chester taken away now that even the stitches from the surgery had healed, Alice’s attention returned toward her friend and partner. That was why she was currently sitting across the road from Sally’s house with a pair of binoculars, trying to keep out of the sight of any pedestrians passing by.

  Not only had Sally continued to show up to work smelling of booze, but her behavior had become increasingly erratic. Alice followed Doug’s advice to back away as long as she could, but it wasn’t possible to ignore it forever.

  After all, she ran a business with Sally. Not only was her friendship on the line, but her main source of income as well.

  The previous day, Alice was called by a hysterical Harriet, who claimed Sally had fired her on the spot when she thought some money had gone missing from the till. With a growing sense of outrage, Alice had put that right, but she wouldn’t blame the waitress if she looked around for an easier gig.

  If they lost Harriet, who’d worked with them from the start, then it didn’t bode well for the future.

  A dark muscle car pulled into Sally’s driveway, belching a cloud of pollution from its low-swinging exhaust pipe. Alice stiffened and slumped down lower in the seat, while keeping the binoculars trained on the vehicle. A man got out of the front seat, scratching his rear end above low-hanging jeans as he walked up to Sally’s front door.

  When he turned to look out at the street, Alice snapped a quick photo on her phone and then ducked down below the level of the dashboard, scared he’d seen her. She waited with her pulse beating fast and high in her throat, then relaxed as she heard the front door open.

  Alice peeked up again just in time to see the man grab Sally’s behind and give it a pinch before following her inside. She thought her friend winced but given the distance couldn’t be sure. With no immediate repercussions headed her way, she relaxed into the seat and settled in for a long wait.

  The image search function on her phone turned up a long screen full of matching visages. The blurriness of the face she’d captured made the job of searching for its twin a long and arduous one.

  It took several minutes of fruitless scrolling before Alice thought to restrict the search to her home country. Another few minutes clicked by and then she came upon something that matched.

  The photograph had been taken outside the district courtroom, Alice could tell from the insignia above the door in the background. She clicked onto the link to see the original website and came to the same one that had revealed Sally’s troubled past.

  Jason Raleigh was the name in the caption and when she read that, Alice sat up straight. That was the same surname Sally’s original convictions had been under. She performed a search on the man’s name, bringing up the previous results.

  It must be Sally’s husband. The same man who’d been named in the order of protection she’d been granted shortly after her conviction for assault. With shaking hands, Alice put the phone into her lap and stared at her friend’s closed front door as though it would yield answers.

  Sally was drinking. She was short-tempered. She appeared to be living with a man who she’d once used the courts to force out of her life.

  Alice thought about driving home and asking Doug for his advice. She checked her watch, but it was after six and darkness was gathering in the sky above. Even if Doug had worked overtime, he’d still be packed up and on his way in the dwindling light.

  She’d never gone to Doug’s house before. Although they were friends, Alice was also aware that she employed him to do a job and he’d never asked her to come around to his place. Could she do that now? Drop in on him and toss this problem in his lap?

  The thought didn’t sit well with her. Even if she could count on Doug to have a good natter on her front porch and dispense invaluable advice, Alice wasn’t sure this was the kind of matter she should discuss with him. Or with anybody.

  This was Sally’s private business. She’d never disclosed it willingly to Alice and if it hadn’t been for the trouble with the police, she never would have gone looking in the first place.

  Should she just drive away and pretend everything was okay?

  It would be so much easier than any other option. That was, until the next incident came, triggered by Sally’s drinking or bad temper. To ignore the problem now would just allow it to grow larger. Like a snowball rolling down a ski field slope, if Alice didn’t put a stop to it now, the trouble would escalate into real danger.

  Pull her aside tomorrow and have a chat.

  Great advice. Except that same plan had failed today and was the reason why Alice was out here, skulking across the road in the first place. Sally didn’t want to talk. Not about her behavior, the café, anything.

  The time for passively waiting was over. If Alice didn’t take action now, her heart told her she’d live to regret it.

  She dialed a number on her phone with trembling hands and put it up to her ear. “Is that the Christchurch Police Station? I’d like to report a man breaching an order of protection.”

  Alice’s heart beat so loudly she could barely hear the responses of the operator. She closed her eyes and hoped she hadn’t just torn her and Sally’s friendship apart.

  About the Author - Katherine Hayton

  Katherine Hayton is a middle-aged woman who works in insurance, doesn't have children or pets, can't drive, has lived in Christchurch her entire life, and resides a two-minute walk from where she was born.

  For some reason, she's developed a rich fantasy life.

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  You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Google Plus. Stay on top of every new release by clicking “Follow” on my Bookbub Author Page or visit me at http://katherinehayton.com to download my starter library for FREE.

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