Stolen Honey by Nancy Means Wright

Author:Nancy Means Wright [Wright, Nancy Means]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2002-08-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Gwen wasn’t home when Ruth arrived at the bee farm—a last-minute detour to sympathize with Gwen over the grave robbery. Gwen had been gone most of the day, the father-in-law said. “Up to Richford, on the Canadian border. She got hives up there. Should be home half hour or so. You want to wait? Want a soda or something? Coffee?”

Actually, she could use a little caffeine. “Coffee would be great,” she told the old man. “Then I wonder if I could walk the grounds a bit. Gwen has told me so much about her healing plants. She offered a cutting off some of them. Not that I’d take anything till she comes—I just thought I’d look. I run a dairy farm, down in the valley.”

Sure, Mert knew who she was, knew she was Emily’s mother, knew she helped folks find out who did this or that. He didn’t like this latest trick, this dug-up grave. Not a bit. “I start by grinding the beans, see? I make you a good strong mugful. You look like you could use it.”

Did she? Well, she supposed she did, all this running around, trying to find out who did what and why, and maybe when, too. She should be a journalist.

Mert was just pouring the boiling water, carefully, into a brown plastic cup, over the ground beans, when there was a crashing noise out back.

“Uh-oh, it’s Russ,” Mert said, looking out the window. A moment later, Gwen’s husband walked in, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that said ABENAKI NATION. He was rather slight, but well put together and quite good-looking. The two pair of silver earrings he wore looked incongruous with the T-shirt and jeans. He glanced at Ruth, a glint of malice in the yellowy irises, and for a moment she thought, yes, he could have killed that college boy. But then the eyes smiled when Mert introduced her as “Gwen’s friend. Gwen’s got bees on her farm.”

“Well, you must be a saint, then,” Russell said. “Those bees get away now and then. Look, I got me a sting.” He held out a tattooed arm and sure enough, there was a red welt below the elbow.

“That’s ’cause you moved that hive,” said Mert. “I saw you. Bees don’t like that.”

“I was trying to put it back, dammit,” said Russell. “It got knocked over when they stole my girl’s bones. You know about that?” he asked Ruth.

“Russ came in last night unexpected,” Mert told Ruth.

“Oh,” said Ruth, “I did hear about the theft, yes.” She looked properly contrite. “Could I see it—the grave site?” Was it sacrilege to ask?

Russell gave a bitter laugh. “There’s no grave site to see. Well, site, yeah, but they took the bones. They took some of the grave goods. The copper beads.”

“Could that have been what they were after?”

Russell scoffed. “What they were after was our land. It was that pack of rats up to the next farm, you can bet. They want us out of here. That’s what they want and that’s what they’re not going to get, by jeez.

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