Beeline to Trouble Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE QUEEN BEE MYSTERIES

  Plan Bee

  “An entertaining amateur-sleuth mystery starring a fascinating protagonist whose amusing asides about family and friends make for a jocular small-town tale. Fans will enjoy the dynamic duo [as they] work Plan Bee in the case of the murdered sibling.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “You will not want to put [Plan Bee] down until you find out whodunit. I love, love, love this series. The characters grab you immediately, and Story follows a wonderful, winding cozy path. Run, don’t walk, to your favorite bookstore and get your hands on this new title—and if you haven’t read the first two, pick those up as well. Then sit down in a comfy chair with a warm blanket and cup of tea (with honey) and enjoy.”

  —Cozy Corner

  “Story and her comedic sidekick, “Pity Party” Patti, know how to delve into clues and uncover the most unlikely suspects using unconventional methods and flying by the seat of their pants. This is a very funny and entertaining mystery that will have readers laughing until the very end.”

  —RT Book Reviews (4 stars)

  Mind Your Own Beeswax

  “Reed pollinates this novel, like its predecessor, with a smart story, characters who leap off the page and, of course, interesting material about beekeeping. It will keep you busy.”

  —Richmond Times-Dispatch

  “The characters are as colorful as the rainbow . . . With the perfect blend of humor and drama and a gutsy heroine . . . Readers will be thoroughly entertained by this madcap mystery.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “Story Fischer is one of the spunkiest heroines of a cozy mystery that I have had the pleasure of reading! I love the character’s strength, her fearlessness, and her smarts . . . A delicious series that is a sweet treat for cozy mystery fans!”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “The prose is witty, charming, and peppered with beautiful imagery, the plot is rich and complex, and the mystery is cleverly constructed and skillfully written, tying past events to the present in a way that adds import and intrigue to both. Story makes for a fabulous heroine and an engaging narrator. Strong, smart, snarky, and positively bullheaded in her independence, she’s a character for whom readers can’t help but root . . . Run out and buy yourself a copy.”

  —The Season

  “The second in Hannah Reed’s terrific Queen Bee Mysteries that serves up all kinds of interesting beekeeping information and honey recipes, a wacky and totally likeable cast of characters, and a frenzied hive of story activity . . . I loved Buzz Off, the first in the series, and this one is even better.”

  —Cozy Corner

  Buzz Off

  “A great setting, rich characters, and such a genuine protagonist in Story Fischer that you’ll be sorry the book is over when you turn the last page. Start reading and you won’t want to put it down. Trust me, you’ll be saying ‘buzz off’ to anybody who dares interrupt!”

  —Julie Hyzy, award-winning author of Grace Among Thieves

  “Action, adventure, a touch of romance, and a cast of delightful characters fill Hannah Reed’s debut novel. Buzz Off is one honey of a tale.”

  —Lorna Barrett, New York Times bestselling author of the Booktown Mysteries

  “The death of a beekeeper makes for an absolute honey of a read in this engaging and well-written mystery. Story Fischer is a sharp and resilient amateur sleuth, and Hannah Reed sweeps us into her world with skillful and loving detail.”

  —Cleo Coyle, national bestselling author of the Coffeehouse Mysteries

  “Reed’s story is first-rate, her characters appealing—Story’s imperfections make her particularly authentic—and the beekeeping and small-town angles are refreshingly different.”

  —Richmond Times-Dispatch

  “Will appeal to readers who like Joanne Fluke and other cozy writers for recipes, the small-town setting, and a sense of community.”

  —Library Journal

  “A rollicking good time. The colorful family members and townspeople provide plenty of relationship drama and entertainment . . . This series promises to keep readers buzzing.”

  —RT Book Reviews (4 stars)

  “Everyone is simply going to go buzz-erk over the marvelously quirky cast of characters in this fabulously funny new series . . . [A] fantastic whodunit.”

  —Feathered Quill Book Reviews

  “A charming beginning to what promises to be a fun series! . . . A yummy treat for fans of cozy mysteries.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “[A] honey of a book.”

  —Cozy Corner

  “A sparkling debut . . . Delicious.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “You’ll get a buzz from this one, guaranteed.”

  —Mystery Scene

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Hannah Reed

  BUZZ OFF

  MIND YOUR OWN BEESWAX

  PLAN BEE

  BEELINE TO TROUBLE

  Beeline

  to

  Trouble

  Hannah Reed

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi— 110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third- party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  BEELINE TO TROUBLE

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / December 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Deb Baker. Cover illustration by Trish Cramblet; Honeycomb1 © Ihnatovich Maryia/Shutterstock; Honeycomb2 © William Park/Shutterstock; Bee © vdLee/Shutterstock.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  ISBN: 978-1-101-61334-4

  BERKLEY® prime crime Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. BERKLEY® prime crime and the
prime crime logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  To the Cozy Chicks

  for your loving support,

  and to my readers who make my dreams come true.

  Contents

  Praise

  Also by Hannah Reed

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  The Wild Clover Newsletter

  One

  It took me and Hunter Wallace a long time to nail down the specifics of “living in sin” (as my mother is sure to call it the minute she finds out). We both did a whole lot of foot dragging. I was most surprised by my own heavy, cold feet, since at thirty-four I’ve also been experiencing that hormonal ticking clock thing, and Hunter is one fine man.

  Still, when it came to the obvious next step in our relationship, the part where we made a commitment, the little voice in my head wouldn’t shut up with all its insecurities. I suspect Hunter must have been experiencing the same thing, but if so, he kept it to himself.

  The first issue was mine. I’d been (unhappily) married before and couldn’t bear the thought of another scorching relationship, unless it involved love bites rather than burn scars. Second issue (okay, this one’s mine, too): Hunter Wallace had lived a carefree single-guy existence, and I feared the idea of compromise and tolerance might be foreign to him. Based on the previous man in my life, I assumed that Hunter would be majorly set in his ways. But so far, I’m happy to report the toilet seat issue has been the only bump in the road. Still, as the pessimist side of me reminds the more optimistic part, Hunter and I are still in honeymoon mode.

  Three blissful days and counting.

  The last detail to be hammered out, the biggie that had held us up for the longest time, had finally been resolved. Sort of. The problem was that we both owned our own homes, and argued over which one we should live in. When Hunter first proposed our new arrangement, he said at the time, “I don’t care where we live as long as we’re together.” But that romantic statement managed to slip his mind, because later we couldn’t agree on where to live: his place, which was in a charming wooded setting but about the size of an outhouse built for two, or mine, which happened to be smack-dab in the center of town. I also have a thriving honeybee business due to a community of hives in my backyard, and my house is situated on the Oconomowoc River, not two blocks from The Wild Clover, the grocery store I own on Main Street here in Moraine, Wisconsin.

  Guess who won that round? Me, that’s who.

  Besides, this was the Victorian where I’d been raised. I silently thanked my lucky stars that it was still in my family, that it was my home, and maybe, if Hunter and I had children, it would stay in the family for another generation.

  Imagining the two of us with kids was so strange, but I kind of liked the idea. My biological clock ticked louder, trying to hurry me up, but I stopped the sound right there and then. I might have an impulsive streak—okay, I absolutely do—but rushing headlong into another marriage wasn’t on my rash decisions list.

  Hunter hasn’t talked about putting his house up for sale yet or even suggested renting it out, which I guess is okay. We both have a little insecurity about this move, and I think we’re both hanging on to what we had in the past. Just in case things go south.

  But so far, so good. Fingers crossed.

  At the moment, on a sunny Saturday morning in the first week of July, Hunter was watching me from a safe distance as I prepared to plunder my bees’ overstocked honey pantry. And since honeybees have lots of eyes, I didn’t stand a chance of sneaking up on them. Zillions of eyeballs were trained on me as I began suiting up in protective gear. Not only do my favorite flying insects have eyes on the sides of their heads, they also have three more tiny optics buried in body hair on their crowns.

  I really hate wearing the bee suit and avoid it as much as possible, but since looters after their honey tend to tick off bees, I wasn’t taking any chances.

  I paused briefly in the midst of donning all my gear to rake my own eyes over the hot man I had decided to cohabitate with, a guy I’d known my entire life and had even dated all through high school. I regretted not having stayed with him after we graduated, and I definitely regretted tying the noose in my bad first marriage. But maybe Hunter and I had needed time to grow up, to take a shot at what else was out there, to come to the realization that the grass was greenest in our own backyards.

  Hunter was about to head off for work at the Waukesha sheriff’s department, but he doesn’t look like your average cop. He wasn’t dressed in a uniform (not that I would have had any complaints about that, since a man in uniform can be sexy as hell), but instead wore stylish undercover garb: a black T-shirt (with bulges where they should be), jeans (tight in all the right places), and Harley boots (which were cool, except that one of my fave male body parts are feet, and I like them best unshackled. Hunter, I should point out, has spectacular feet).

  Next to Hunter, Ben sat watching me prepare, too. He came as part of the Hunter package when I said yes to our new living arrangement. Ben is Hunter’s K-9 Belgian Malinois partner. He’s smart, tough when he’s asked to be, and gentle all the rest of the time. I breathe easier knowing Ben is watching Hunter’s back, especially when they’re out on Critical Incident Team business. C.I.T. handles the stuff that the local police aren’t adequately prepared for, anything high risk, like escaped and dangerous criminals or hostage situations. It’s our version of a tactical unit, not unlike a SWAT team.

  Anyway, I’d barely zippered up my protective jacket when my sister Holly popped her head around the side of my house and whimpered, “Story, I have a big problem.”

  My sister usually looks like she just stepped off a catwalk. Tall, slender, perpetually tanned, expensively dressed, and impeccably groomed. But this morning her hair was as wild as her eyes.

  “Anything that requires manly assistance?” Hunter asked, knowing full well that most of Holly’s problems aren’t much bigger than one of my honeybees. Then again, since Holly rarely makes any appearances before noon, and this was 6:00 a.m., I suspected her current problem might be a little more substantial than usual. If not to me, at least to her.

  “No, thank you, Hunter,” she said, barely giving him a glance. “I need Story.”

  Story Fischer. That’s me. Daughter of Helen and Mike Fischer (dearly departed dad, who lost his life over five years ago to heart complications), older sister to Holly Paine (married to Max “The Money Machine” Paine), and granddaughter to Grams (who is sweeter than any honey I’ve ever tasted). When it comes to matriarchal families, we are one strong example of female-ruled hierarchy.

  That might be why I love raising bees so much. Those girls run the show.

  Not that the Fischer women are really bossing any men around at the moment. Mom and Grams are both widowed and live together in Grams�
��s old farmhouse, and although Mom’s in a new relationship with local antique-shop owner Tom Stocke, it’s way too early to start ordering him around. Holly’s husband is on the road most of the time, making him hard to pin down with orders. And Hunter and I are still in delusional mode. Real life hasn’t intruded on us yet.

  “In that case, since I’m not needed here, I’m off to go bring home some bacon,” Hunter said, eyeing me up like I might be his BLT lunch.

  “Working on the weekend?” Holly asked him.

  “Have to,” he answered. “Crime happens around the clock.”

  Hunter gave me a wink, then he and Ben hopped into his SUV and took off.

  Holly hovered at the edge of my house. “No way am I coming into your backyard,” she announced, “and you know it.”

  “Honestly,” I sighed, unzipping the jacket. “You flip out over nothing.” My sister has an unhealthy phobia when it comes to flying insects, in particular bees, even though she isn’t allergic and she’s never had a bad experience with them in the past. “Do they look like they care about you?” I asked, walking toward her. Unfortunately, some of the more curious honeybees must have been clinging to my jacket (which they tend to do), because as I approached Holly, she let out a bloodcurdling scream and ducked out of sight. I sighed again, in a combination of frustration and annoyance, removed the jacket, inspected the rest of me for miniature hitchhikers, brushed a few stragglers off, then found Holly on my front porch, sitting sullenly on the steps.

  She started right in. “Max invited one of his company research and development teams to our house for this weekend. And I don’t know what to do.” The gathering surprised me, since her husband is a big honcho with an international company and spends what seems like three hundred and fifty days every year traveling. This had to be the first time he’d ever brought anybody from work home with him. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said again.

  “You don’t know what to do about what?” I asked, sitting down next to her. “It’s not like you have to worry about taking care of the guests yourself.” Which was true. A few months ago, Holly had hired Effie and Chance Anderson to be her live-in housekeeper and gardener/handyman.