A Beeline to Murder

“In her shopping cart, we found a bucket that matches the others in the pastry shop.”


“How about the twine from around his neck?” Abby asked.

“No twine, no apron. She says she can’t remember those. And, believe me, we pressed her.”

“Slips in and out of lucidity, I suppose,” Abby said.

“But she admitted to cutting him down. Thought if she straightened him out on the floor, he’d get up and get her coffee.”

“No kidding? And when he didn’t?”

“She helped herself to his heavy-duty utility bucket—the one he must have stood on, until . . . he wasn’t standing anymore.”

“Ladies . . . hello,” the man called out again, sounding slightly impatient.

“We gotta go, but one more thing,” Kat said softly as she made a sweeping gesture to invite Abby to start walking to the gate. “Two friends who knew Jean-Louis well said he struggled with professional and personal difficulties. Defaulting on loans, losing his lease, and having to fire his protégé had to be extremely stressful. Chief Bob Allen says we can’t spare anyone to conduct what would amount to an unnecessary investigation, when it seems clear it was suicide, so case closed.”

Abby wondered if Chief Bob Allen wasn’t being premature in his decision, but she said nothing.

Kat called out, “We’re coming, Mr. Bonheur.”

Chief Bob Allen would want the whole ugly mess to go away, of that Abby was certain. The negative publicity would stop. Many of the shops in Las Flores depended on summer tourist dollars, and those dollars also boosted the town’s economy. People on their way over the mountain to the seaside villages and beach towns often stopped in Las Flores for lunch and a bit of antiquing, but they wouldn’t if a murderer was on the loose. With suicide, things could return to normal.

“So how’s the brother taking the news?” Abby asked.

“Not well. He argued with Chief Bob Allen, who listened like he was the man’s best friend and then told Philippe Bonheur that he’d seen plenty of cases where the family couldn’t accept suicide as the finding, but that is what happened. End of discussion.”

“So, how is it that my name came up?”

“That was later, when I was driving Mr. Bonheur back to his hotel. I might have mentioned your name.”

“Oh, yeah? What else did you tell him?” Abby slipped her fingers under the bandanna, inched it off her head, and pushed her fingers through her hair to comb it. She must look a mess, particularly after she literally rubbed her face—and hair—in the dirt.

“Not much. Well, your track record, of course—your strength at crime solving. Oh, and I also mentioned your love of rhubarb and honey. I’m sure I told him about your luscious honey.”

“Of course you did.” Abby smiled and shook her head. She reached down and scratched Sugar between the ears.

Kat flashed a wide grin. “Look, Abby, you know when the chief says to back off, we can’t touch it. But you could. You’ve solved more cases than anyone else on our force.”

“But I’m not on the force, am I? I’m a farmer now. And honestly, Kat, I don’t think you know how much I’m trying to do here. Don’t you think I would bring in day laborers to help me if I could afford it?”

Kat’s tone shifted to a tease. “You’ll thank me when you find out how much money he wants to give you.”

Abby arched her eyebrows. “Okay, so tell me.”

Kat smiled. “And steal his thunder? Uh, no. I’ll let him tell you.” She turned and quickly marched back to the front of the house, where her cruiser was parked. Kat called out over her shoulder, “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”