Buzz Off

Fifteen

Clay and Grace! I tried to look at the issue from all sides instead of instantly believing that Grace had cheated on Manny. And what about her husband, my friend? Manny hadn’t discussed their marriage much, but when he did, it was in a good light. He certainly never complained about Grace.
I could see, though, how Clay’s charm—and he did have it if he put his mind to it—might entice some of the local women who didn’t get much male attention. But Grace didn’t seem like the fling type, and to my knowledge there wasn’t a woman in the entire town who didn’t have Clay’s number by now.
Small town gossip can start with one tiny comment and balloon out into something entirely different. I knew that. Especially when it came to someone like my ex-husband, who had been giving big juicy grist to the gossip mill from the beginning.
The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want to believe it.
I decided to put it out of my mind, pretend I’d never heard it. Grace, with all her righteousness, would never do such a thing. She wouldn’t hurt Manny that way.


Wild grapes grow on thick, woody perennial vines along the roadways and pasture edges, winding up trees and bearing their fruits in abundant clumps. I waded in behind my house and moved downstream to my secret picking spot tucked in along the edge of the river. There they were, growing up as high as twenty feet, mingling with the hardwoods and red sumac.
About wild grapes:
? They grow along fences, forest edges, roadsides, and waterways.
? Wild grapes look like very tiny purple-blue Concord grapes. Since they are so small, gather them in the clusters they grow in, not individually, or it will take all day.
? If eaten straight from the vine, they have been described as tart, tangy, sour, bitter, yucky. Not everyone’s idea of a tasty raw snack.
? The leaves are edible; stuffed grape leaves (rolled with rice) are delicious.
? Wear gloves if you don’t like purple stains on your fingers.
? Pick off any grapes that don’t look good, then cook the rest, stems and all, for juice, jam, jelly, or wine.
? Raisins are dried grapes. It’s amazing how many people don’t know that.
After breaking off as many bunches as I thought Milly might need, I sat on a large rock on the riverbank with my feet swishing through the water, eating my apple, watching wildlife, and emptying my mind of all thoughts, which took some effort.
After idling away some more time, I remembered Milly was probably still waiting at The Wild Clover for me. So I tossed down my apple core as a treat for some lucky animal and headed back just in time to see Grams, Mom, and my sister enter the market. Rats! I wanted to hide. A visit from all of them together couldn’t be a good thing.
“This is a family intervention,” my mother said after I handed Milly the bag of grapes and Mom had ushered the family behind closed doors in the back room. “We are here to help you through this time of crisis.”
I glanced at Holly. She kept her head down and her eyes averted. A slight shake of her head reassured me that the information about the tip from the library was still a secret.
“I can’t believe that nice young man killed anybody,” Grams said, always believing the best of everybody whether they had a good side or not.
“It’s obvious that Clay did commit murder, Mother,” Mom said with a hint of frustration. “Nice man, indeed! We have to do damage control, if that’s even possible at this late date. The family’s reputation is at stake. “
“Talk will die down,” I said. “Clay was just arrested. Everyone’s excited at the moment, but things will return to normal. You’ll see.” Eventually, that was, after all his indiscretions were exposed and analyzed every which way. After that, theories about his motive would fly through the air, and doubt would set into people’s minds. “He isn’t my worry anymore,” I said.
“At a time like this we must appear united,” Mom said matter-of-factly. “Holly is going to help you with the store.” That was Mom’s way of saying my sister had to keep tabs on me so that I wouldn’t get into any more trouble that reflected poorly on our family’s good name.
“I’m perfectly fine with things the way they are,” I said. “I’m refusing Holly’s help.”
“You can’t do that,” Mom said with total authority. “She owns Clay’s shares since she gave you the loan. I read the contract. Until the money is paid back, she can protect her investment as she sees fit. And she’s exercising her option to become involved. Besides, your business here is expanding. It’s too much for one person to handle.”
“And what do you say about all this, Holly?” I waited for my sister to grow a spine. I also wondered where exactly the loan agreement was. Who reads all that tiny print?
“Mom’s right about the contract,” Holly said. “BC (because) Max is gone so much these days, I’d kind of like to work with you. Besides, you’re going to need extra help when you buy Manny’s beekeeping equipment and go into honey production.”
She gave me a wink along with the bribe that spoke volumes. Holly would lend me more money to rescue the honey house, and I’d give her a reason to feel useful. My market was doing well, so I’d be able to pay off the loan at some point. After that, she and I would be back on equal footing and we’d see where things went from there. The unspoken plan wasn’t half bad.
Besides, my sister needed something to keep her busy enough that she would stop with the text-speak.
“You two girls are so cute,” Grams said. “Let’s get Carrie Ann to take a family picture.” She hauled out a small digital camera and away we went.
After that, we worked up a plan I could live with. I hated to admit defeat, but Mom was right. The business was growing and I needed at least two people at the market most of the time. We nailed down a weekday schedule. Carrie Ann and I would work mornings until eleven, since Holly hadn’t seen the sunrise since she married Max. My sister and I would work until three, and the twins would take over from there. The weekend schedule was up in the air, but we’d polish it off in the next day or two.
Holly cheerfully followed along with Carrie Ann, learning how to use the register. As usual, Mom and Grams argued about who was going to drive home. Grams, emerging as the victor again and proving she’s the only family member who can win a confrontation with Mom, pulled out into the street at her normal crawl. I heard someone honk at her, then an angry male voice call out something unprintable.
Holly came over to watch. “Grams is going to get killed one of these days,” she said.
“But she’ll go out happy.”
“IK (I know). BTW (by the way), I didn’t get any sleep last night worrying about you and that tip. I’m almost relieved they arrested Clay. But I’m not sure you are out of the proverbial woods yet. What about that e-mail? Do you think Clay did it? If he did, he better admit it.”
“Holly, do you think Grace Chapman is capable of murder?”
“What are you thinking? That she killed Faye?”
I hadn’t really thought about that. “I was thinking more along the lines of Manny.”
“That’s crazy talk. Why would Grace murder her husband?” Holly asked, looking surprised that I’d even suggest that. “And how?”
“What if she managed to catch a nest of yellow jackets and used the blower to direct them at Manny?” Okay, that was a stretch, even to my ears, but it was a new angle and had possibilities. “She could have locked him out of the house and out of his car, so he didn’t have any place to hide. Yellow jackets don’t give up until they chase you down.”
“What about Grace during all this? Why didn’t she get stung?”
A flash of insight. “She wore the bee suit.”
“Is Grace still plain and mousy and righteous?”
“Yup. That’s her.”
“Well, when you work out her motive, please share it with me.”
“Holly, I heard that Clay and Grace were having an affair.”
“Noooo!”
I told Holly what I knew, which was totally unsubstantiated gossip.
“You can’t believe everything you hear,” Holly said, which was exactly what I had thought at first.
“You’re right. I can’t see Grace with Clay.”
“Not in a million years. It’s just nasty talk. And you’re above that stuff.”
“Right.”
“Besides, you’re supposed to be concentrating on staying out of trouble with the law.”
“Right.”


I drove my truck toward Holy Hill, searching for Hunter’s place, hoping he was home. I passed the Holy Hill National Shrine of Mary, which was run by the Carmelites, towering above the countryside at the highest point in southeastern Wisconsin. Devout worshippers made pilgrimages to the sacred chapel, and on weekends hundreds of visitors picnicked on the grounds.
I passed the Shrine’s entrance and turned onto Friess Lake Road, checking mailboxes on the side of the road as I drove, looking for the address Carrie Ann had scrawled for me on the back of a napkin. Most of the homes were hidden at the end of long, curving driveways, tucked back behind pines and native shrubs. I turned in when I found numbers that matched Carrie Ann’s.
Hunter’s truck and his Harley were parked next to a small, log-hewed house, surrounded by woods.
Wisconsin is Harley country, since the motorcycles are made here and they are such fine machines.
About Harleys:
? Hog fever affects people from all walks of life—professionals, skilled workers, white collar, blue collar, retirees, the unemployed, you name it.
? Some famous riders are Malcolm Forbes, Jay Leno, Elvis, and the duo Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda in Easy Rider.
? Harley bikers have their own dating website.
? More and more women are riding their own bikes.
? The black leather outfits rock—jackets, boots, all the accessories.
The September afternoon sun ribboned through the tree canopy as I walked up to the house, the smell of burning firewood drifting on the air. Gleaming canine eyes watched me from inside a screened door. Alert and ready.
“Hey, Ben,” I said, thinking he’d relax if I said his name. A tail wag would be nice. Maybe even a bark or two. Instead, Ben watched me in silent anticipation.
“Hey, Story.” Hunter came out of the house wearing jeans, slung low on his hips, and pulling a shirt over his head, giving me a glimpse of hard muscle and lean torso. “What’s up?”
“I’m glad I caught you home.”
“I just now stopped home for a late lunch.” Hunter placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come on in and join me?
“Sounds great,” I said, realizing how hungry I was. “But why don’t you come out here instead?”
“Come in. He won’t hurt you.” Hunter opened the screen door and waited for me to enter. Ben was right there, standing guard at the door, but he let me pass without licking his chops.
“I heard you went over to the county K-9 unit.”
“Yep, it was the right move for me. Ben is my permanent canine partner, and we work as a team to train other dogs. I love it.” Hunter led me to the kitchen. The inside of the house was all warm wood, soft leather, and outdoorsy male.
“Sit down.” Hunter held up a deli package. “Is smoked turkey okay?”
I nodded and sat down while he built me a fabulous sandwich.
“There must have been a lot of evidence against Clay if Johnny Jay arrested him,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich.
Hunter nodded. “Enough. No alibi, and his fingerprints all over your kayak.”
Because they had sex in my kayak, I wanted to say, but for all I knew that was a lie Clay had concocted to explain why his fingerprints would be found there. “Has he confessed?” I asked, taking another bite.
Hunter put away the sandwich makings and joined me at the table. “He isn’t talking at all, other than to demand an attorney.”
“Smart. That’s what I’d do.” Which was true, but that meant he hadn’t admitted that he’d tried to frame me by lying.
Hunter grinned. “The only difference is, I’d get a confession out of you. All I’d have to do is tickle your feet.”
“You remember.” I had always been extremely sensitive when it came to my feet. Hunter had made me wet my pants more than once during a teenage tickling fight.
“I remember more than that,” he reminded me. I tried not to blush and I think I pulled it off, even with him watching my reaction with a steady gaze.
“Did they find Faye’s other earring?” I asked.
Hunter shook his head. “It wasn’t in the brush along the shoreline, and the divers didn’t have any luck.”
“It wasn’t in Clay’s house?”
“No.”
“Where are they holding Clay?”
“Waukesha jail.” Hunter smiled. “You come out to pump me for information?”
“I came to ask for advice.”
Since I didn’t know where or how to begin, I just let the words fly without preamble. “Someone told Johnny Jay that I had a disagreement with Faye behind my house the night before we found her dead,” I said. “Which was a lie. I didn’t see her at all that night. But I did hear raised voices outside after dark. I didn’t tell Johnny Jay what I heard when I had the chance, and if I tell him now, he’ll think I’m making up a story to save myself. To make things worse, before Clay was arrested he told me the police chief thought my ex and I plotted to kill Faye Tilley together.”
“Tell me everything, starting at the beginning.”
So I did. At least everything I knew about Faye and Clay.
When I was through, Hunter stared into my eyes for the longest time. Then he looked down at his hands, which were folded on the table. He wasn’t a happy camper. I chewed my lower lip until it almost bled. When he finally responded, he said, “You should have told me about the scream when we found her.”
“I didn’t even remember it until Johnny Jay told me about the tip, and then it was too late to tell the truth.”
“She was killed late Friday night or early Saturday morning. The scream you heard helps establish the time that she was assaulted. That’s important.”
“I thought I was dreaming,” I said lamely.
Another long silence. I used to like that about Hunter, those times when we could just be together without filling up all the space. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“It’s never too late to tell the truth,” he finally said.
I wasn’t sure I agreed, at least in certain cases.
“Do you think Clay tried to frame me?”
“I don’t know what to think at this point,” Hunter said.
“How did Faye die?” I asked. “I didn’t see stab wounds or anything obvious.”
“She was held under the water until she drowned. That’s strictly confidential at this point.”
How awful for Faye. I almost couldn’t breathe, thinking about her struggling for air underneath all that river water.
“Wouldn’t it have taken a strong man to hold her under?” I pointed out. “Clay isn’t exactly a heavyweight.”
“A head injury indicated she was struck with a flat object, possibly the kayak paddle. Then held under.”
“Oh.”
“Johnny Jay is going to be pissed when he finds out you withheld information,” Hunter said.
“That’s why I came to you. Can you help me?”
“I’m not a miracle worker, but I’ll see what I can do. It would be best if you went to him voluntarily.”
“I will, but at least soften him up a little?”
Hunter’s eyes went smoky. “Let’s get you out of the middle of this mess as soon as we can.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his. I could definitely feel a connection through our fingers.
Then he touched my face, gently and caressing, and I knew exactly where this was heading. And at the last second, to my dismay, I remembered Carrie Ann.
I jumped up from the table. Part of me, the immature me, thought Hunter was a cute flirt. The other part thought he wasn’t behaving much better than Clay had. He didn’t have any excuse for coming on to me when he was involved with my cousin, in case he’d forgotten.
“Jerk,” I said, spitting a little of my own kind of venom, just enough to sting.
The look on Hunter’s face was one of stunned disbelief, but I didn’t hang around to talk it out. Men! So dense! Were there any good ones left in this world?
I stormed out and almost hit his truck when I swung my car around. Not that that would have made a difference to my rusty truck, but it would have served Hunter right.
The Wild Clover came into sight before I calmed down enough to realize I had handled the situation badly. Apparently, my scars from Clay’s infidelity were deeper than I thought.