Plan Bee
PRAISE FOR
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… [This] has the perfect blend of humor and drama and a gutsy heroine… Readers will be thoroughly entertained by this madcap mystery.”
—Romantic Times
“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! With the Queen Bee Mysteries, Hannah Reed has created a delicious series that is a sweet treat for cozy mystery fans!… Yummy honey-related recipes make a great addition to an already great story!”
—Sharon’s Garden of Book Reviews
“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… The book’s supporting cast is marvelous as well… Run out and buy yourself a copy; it’s a great way to pass an afternoon.”
—The Season
Buzz Off
“If you’re wondering how beekeeping and mysteries go together, then pick up Hannah Reed’s Buzz Off and see what all the excitement is about. Reed has come up with 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 Affairs of Steak
“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
“A sparkling debut… Delicious.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“You’ll get a buzz from this one, guaranteed.”
—Mystery Scene
“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. The mystery is well plotted, and this series promises to keep readers buzzing.”
—Romantic Times (4 stars)
“Everyone is simply going to go buzz-erk over the marvelously quirky cast of characters in this fabulously funny new series… Hannah Reed has a deliciously spicy, adorable sense of humor that had me howling with unabashed glee. You couldn’t get as many colorful characters if you poured them from a box of Froot Loops. Buzz Off has just the right blend of mystery, romance, and humor that will charm anyone’s socks off. If this fantastic whodunit doesn’t buzz to the top of your list, I’m simply gonna have to sic Grams on you… and she doesn’t mess around! Quill says: If you are in need of a quirky, light, incredibly humorous cozy, look no more. Hannah Reed has whopped ’n chopped and stirred up a formula for a mystery that will line up an audience who will beg for more!”
—Feathered Quill Book Reviews
“In her debut book, Hannah Reed combines an intriguing whodunit with a lively, action-filled story to create one sweet cozy mystery!… Buzz Off is a charming beginning to what promises to be a fun series!… A yummy treat for fans of cozy mysteries.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Highly entertaining.”
—Associated Content
“A honey of a series debut… [A] honey of a book filled with lots of interesting bee information as well as some yummy recipes.”
—Cozy Corner
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Hannah Reed
BUZZ OFF
MIND YOUR OWN BEESWAX
PLAN BEE
Hannah Reed
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
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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.
PLAN BEE
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / January 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Deb Baker.
Cover illustration by Trish Cramblet.
Cover design by Judith Lagerman.
Interior text design by Kristin del Rosario.
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: 978-0-425-24621-4
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.
&n
bsp; BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
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If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Acknowledgments
This book is dedicated to those among us who support the delicate life of our honeybees by:
• planting bee-friendly flowers
• buying honey from local producers
• choosing to coexist with weeds rather than apply deadly chemicals
And most of all, to the keepers of the bees.
Special thanks to Judy and Lee Maltenfort, who introduced me to the most delicious honey coffee, and to Heidi Cox for her killer recipes.
Table of Contents
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
Forty-Six
About the Author
One
My mother came at me like the bulldog she is—jaw set and thrust forward, steady thunderous gait, slight tilt to her head, intense eyes. I stood my ground at the entryway to my grocery store, The Wild Clover, thinking she was about to ruin a perfectly good Saturday morning.
I put on my smiley face to go along with the August sun shining above, an expression that meant I was pretending to be positively happy, even if it killed me.
“Story Fischer,” Mom said, “I thought we had agreed.” She halted, almost nose to nose with me. “No live bee displays.”
For the record, we hadn’t been on that same communication wavelength at all. I simply hadn’t responded when she’d come up with yet another rule for me to follow.
Believe it or not, somebody had gone and made my mother head of the steering committee for this weekend’s Harmony Festival, an annual event in my hometown of Moraine, Wisconsin. Two months of intense planning, and “harmony” had flown right out the door, flapping madly for cover. Mom and I were barely speaking to each other. Or at least, one of us was barely speaking. The other one was yakking plenty.
“So it’s true,” she said, hands on hips now. “Emily Nolan over at the library told me you went ahead with it anyway. Behind my back, I might add. Oh my gawd. Is that it?”
She glared at a table I’d tucked under the store’s awning to protect my honeybees from direct sunlight. The movable hive was framed in with cedar. Double-thick glass on both sides gave spectators a great view of the magical world of bees. Once the festival began at nine o’clock, my table would be a popular destination. I was sure of it. Especially with kids. Good thing the portable hive was screwed into the table to prevent it from tipping over. A brilliant idea, even if it wasn’t mine.
Stanley Peck had designed the observation hive, and he planned to stick around to explain the inside workings of a hive to those who stopped by. If they were lucky, folks might even get a view of the queen laying eggs.
Stanley is a sixtyish widower and a newbie beekeeper. He looks up to me regarding anything bee related even though I’ve only been at this about a year longer than he has, and I’ve sure had (and continue to have) my share of problems and mistakes. But Stanley’s smart. He’s letting me learn everything the hard way, while he takes copious notes on how to avoid the same close encounters and difficult issues. The learning curve in the bee business is challenging at times.
“It’s just an observation hive,” I said, determined to stay upbeat in the face of my mother’s gloom and doom. “And it’s perfectly safe. The bees are behind glass and can’t get out. Not that they would hurt anybody if they got loose. They’re honeybees, not wasps. Don’t worry.”
“Where’s Grant Spandle?” Mom said, clearly intent on shutting me down. Her head swiveled, searching for the big boss to back her up.
How had this happened? I’d specifically told the so-called advisory group that my mother and I don’t work well together. As if anybody in this small town didn’t know that fact already. Lori Spandle, the town’s only real estate agent and my longtime nemesis, must have plotted behind the scenes, messing with me as usual. Her husband Grant is town chair. He’s the one who made the decision to appoint my mother. And Lori must’ve instigated it. I’d bet the store on it.
That woman has been a thorn in my side since the first day of kindergarten when she pushed me down the slide, then went crying to the teacher, claiming I was the one who’d pushed her. Lori hasn’t changed one bit in the twenty-nine years in between. I take that back—she’s even worse now.
Usually, I enjoy the closeness of our community—knowing everybody’s name and most of their personal affairs, sharing life’s little ups and downs with them while they shop at my store, walking down Main Street exchanging greetings and gardening tips. Sure, I have to put up with a few unpleasant people, but doesn’t everybody have neighbor problems? And family issues? And thorns from their past embedded in their flesh? It’s the cost of small-town living, a price I’m willing to pay for all the perks.
Although at the moment, while squaring off with my mother, the price was skyrocketing.
Before Mom could expound further on the future of the unwelcome hive, something exploded down the street. Since this was only the latest in a series of recent kabooms, we knew exactly what it was and who was responsible: Stanley’s twelve-year-old grandson, Noel, who dreamed of a future in large-structure demolition. Every time he visits Moraine with his garage chemistry experiments, mixing hardware-store and under-the-kitchen-sink-type combos, he rocks the town. Literally. The kid is a menace, but he’s brilliant in a crazy-eyed sort of way.
And even though flames have been shooting and the air resonates with explosions, he hasn’t actually damaged anything. Yet.
“For cripes’ sake!” my mother yelled, about-facing and bulldogging away from my store to give somebody else a piece of her overactive mind.
I couldn’t help feeling grateful to Stanley and his grenade-lobbing grandson.
“I can’t believe Stanley won’t control that kid,” Carrie Ann Retzlaff said, coming out of the store where she worked for me part-time. “He’s going to blow up somebody.”
Carrie Ann’s not only my employee, she’s my cousin—and the last person who should talk about control, since she barely has any at all. Carrie Ann is attracted to addictions like honeybees are to clumps of blooming sunflowers. I’m pretty sure she currently has a social-networking problem, judging by how many times I’ve found her in the back room, checking in with her online friends or playing games involving farm animals, poker, and treasure hunts.
In my opinion though, her latest obsession is a giant step up from the bottom of the beer barrel, where she’s been plenty. And she has an ongoing battle with every bottle of vodka she comes across, though she did manage to permanently quit smoking. So I’ve lo
oked the other way about the online stuff. Besides, in addition to being a relative, Carrie Ann is one of my oldest and dearest friends. Not letting our employer-employee relationship interfere with that can be dicey at times.
“I’m surprised he still has ten toes and fingers,” I said, spotting my mother down the street, where she was doing a pretty good pyro job herself, roasting the future physicist over the flames shooting from her mouth.
Noel is just a skinny, pimply, geeky sort of kid. And he has good manners when he needs to show them. They were on display as he took his medicine from Mom with his head hanging. He would walk away exuding contrite acceptance. Until the next blast.
“Your mother put me on a committee,” Carrie Ann said, running her fingers through her short, spiked, yellow-as-corn hair. Since my cousin quit smoking, she’s gained a few pounds. They look good on her. “She didn’t even ask me if I wanted to volunteer,” she continued. “I’m on the crime wave committee.”
“Is this some kind of joke?” I wanted to know.
Carrie Ann shook her head. “She was serious.”
“What kind of crime wave problem is she worried about?”
“She said—and these are her words, not mine—that after the last fiasco, when you embarrassed the entire family by going head-to-head with the police chief and making the lead story on all of southeastern Wisconsin’s evening news channels, she’s sure your behavior will attract criminal elements and rabble-rousers to the festival.”
I rolled my eyeballs heavenward, catching the glint of morning sunlight as it struck the stained-glass etchings on the upper part of my store. It had been a church before the congregation outgrew it and built a larger space on the outskirts of town. I’d converted the building into a grocery store, specializing in local produces and products—cheeses, wines, bakery items, flowers, fresh fruits and vegetables, and a long list of seasonal items.
The exterior was exactly as it had been back then, except for the addition of a blue awning with The Wild Clover name imprinted on it and some colorful Adirondack chairs out front that I’d painted myself. It even had the old bell tower—not that we rang it these days—and a cemetery on the far side, where a whole lot of Lutherans rested in peace.