Death By Drowning (12 page)

“I fish all over. Got to. Don’t want to overfish.”

Jake interjected, “They really should reopen all the river locks.”

Pulling a bandana from around his yellow scrawny neck, Tavis wiped his creased face. “No money in the budget and not enough traffic on the river to justify it. Well, that’s the way it goes.”

“Were you on the river the day that boy drowned?”

“I’m on the river every day.”

“I thought perhaps you might have seen him.”

Tavis blinked while swatting an early gnat. “Nope, can’t say that I do. Don’t go out on the river at night. Never saw him.” He swatted away a dragonfly darting between us. “Sorry to have scared you folks, but I’ve gots to git on down the river and check more of my nets.”

“Nice to have met you,” I said.

“Same here. Thanks for the refreshments.” Tavis revved up his motor and was soon making his way against the current.

“Well, that was interesting,” I said.

Franklin looked down at his pants. “I don’t need to pee anymore. Why are people always pulling a gun on me?”

Jake stifled a laugh. “Don’t worry, the wind will dry you out soon. Just stay downwind from us, okay.”

“And don’t sit on the cushions,” I cautioned, “or June will be all over me. What’s that obnoxious odor, Daaarlin’?” I mimicked in her Tallulah Bankhead voice.

Franklin grinned. “We can always blame Baby.”

The three of us glared at Baby, who had not even lifted his head to save us when Tavis had pulled a shotgun on us. He was sleeping soundly. I stepped over him to get a beach towel for Franklin, which he wrapped around himself.

We finished our trip in another three hours, canvassing both sides of the river and the east side of lock 8. Nothing. Daunted, we returned home finding June, aka Lady Elsmere, on the dock waiting for us. She was wearing a faded safari bushmaster outfit complete with several evening diamond bracelets to finish the ensemble. Charles was standing behind her with a little smile on his lips. He was holding a pith helmet attached to a natty little veil.

Franklin jumped out of the boat and tied it up. Jake put me and the food baskets over the side before he doubled checked that the boat was left shipshape.

“Hello, June,” I said, exaggerating the limp in my walk. “Sahib going to hunt simba today?”

“You’re not going to joke your way out of stealing my boat. This is going to cost you, Josiah,” announced June.

“I intend to pay for the gas.”

“I am giving a dinner party next weekend.”

“No. No. NO! I hate your dinner parties. Remember what happened after the last one.”

“That had nothing to do with me. If you had stayed with me, then O’nan would have tried to just kill that boy over there,” she said, pointing to Franklin. “Oh, my goodness, did you have that canine monster on my brand new boat?”

Baby padded over to June and stuck his muzzle in her ancient crotch.
Great.
Franklin pulled him away, apologizing.

It didn’t rattle her. June continued, “I will send a car for you at 7:45 sharp.” Turning, she got into her Bentley. Charles retrieved the basket and ice chest. He was mumbling under his breath. I could tell the announcement of the dinner party was the first time he had heard of it.

As soon as they pulled off, Franklin jumped in front of me. “I am going with you. I missed out last time. It’s my turn to go to Lady Elsmere’s.” Touching his bad shoulder, he blurted, “I deserve to go after what I’ve been through.”

Jake pushed him out of the way. “You’re not going anywhere, Sport. I am going to be the Boss Lady’s escort.”

Franklin snorted, “As if you own a suit, let alone a tuxedo. Don’t you need to be outside patrolling the grounds or something like that protecting people?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupted, “’cause I’m not going.”

“NOT GOING?” they both groused. “YOU HAVE TO GO! We want to see the house.”

“Goodness, I had no idea this meant so much to the two of you to be invited to that old biddy’s home.”

“Pick one of us,” demanded Franklin.

“No way. I’m not going.”

Jake pulled out a coin. “Call it,” he said, as he tossed it in the air.

“Heads,” called Franklin.

Jake caught and flipped it on his forearm. Both peered carefully as Jake lifted his hand. “Aiyee, tails. I’m going.” He did a little victory dance.

“Two out of three,” begged Franklin.

“No, man. You lost fair and square.”

“Come on, paper, scissors, rock?”

Jake shook his head.

“It’s not fair!” wailed Franklin.

Life’s not fair. My thoughts flickered back to Bloomie and Jamie. Life sure hadn’t been fair to them.

15

The next afternoon, I heard Matt calling for me throughout the house. Not being able to move, I knew he would find me eventually. He did. Poking his head in my bedroom, he caught me squeezed between Franklin and Jake on my bed watching a movie on my new big-screen TV. Baby was lying on the end of the bed with our feet propped up on him. The two barn cats were ensconced asleep on Jake’s lap while Franklin happily munched popcorn. We were watching the film noir classic,
Kiss Of Death
with Victor Mature and Richard Widmark, whose performance of the psycho, Tommy Udall, gave Jack Nicholson and Heath Ledger a run for their money for similar performances.

Jake looked at the screen and then at Matt. “Hey, he really does look like Victor Mature.”

Matt gave us an odd look before announcing, “Bees are swarming!”

In my struggle to climb over Franklin, I knocked over the bowl of popcorn and poked Baby in the ribs with my feet. The cats flew off Jake’s lap with an angry screech. I hobbled outside to the golf cart where I stored my bee equipment. Of course, I had put swarm catchers everywhere, but honeybees are notorious for not doing what they are supposed to. I put on a veil and gloves, but shunned the complete beesuit, as swarming bees are usually easy to handle. Matt jumped in the cart and we rattled down the gravel road into the horse pasture where Matt had spotted bees balled into a lump in a tree. The buzzing of the bees kept the horses at bay.

Thirty thousand bees, forming a cluster, hung from a tree limb about 15 feet up from the ground. I needed to work quickly before they took off to their permanent home.

Swarming is how honeybees proliferate. The hive gets too crowded in the spring, so the old queen leaves with some of her workers while the new queen takes over the hive. If a beekeeper can catch the swarm, she has a new bee colony.

Matt and I laid a white sheet under the clump of bees. Matt pulled out a nuc and installed two frames smeared with thick crystallized honey. He then positioned himself under the clump of bees holding up the plastic box, while I took a broom and gently tried to knock the bee ball into it. Part of the clump did find their way into the nuc, but the other part fell on the sheet. Immediately the bees began to fly back up to the branch where they had last smelled their queen. Matt brought down the nuc onto the sheet and pushed the confused clump into the box and closed the lid. I opened the small bottom entrance of the nuc. Bees, crawling on the sheet, made a beeline to the nuc and obediently entered.

I waited until escaped bees made another ball on the tree and then again knocked it down onto the sheet. Some immediately got the idea and joined their sisters in the nuc. Others seemed confused and flew in circles around the box. I put some honey around the entrance as bait. Eventually all the bees would succumb to the nuc. I would pick it up in the morning when they were calm and take the bees to an empty hive body where they would be installed in their new homes.

Leaving the nuc on the sheet, Matt and I toured the farm looking for more bee swarms. I would do this twice a day now for several weeks until the swarming season was over. If I were lucky, the bees would be happily install in swarm boxes which I could transfer to hive bodies. Or the bees could be in a tree, fifty feet up and out of my reach. That was a loss of income to me and a loss to Kentucky, which needed every honeybee it had. Swarms that go off on their own usually die.

We found another small swarm of bees on a fence post. I put crystallized honey on a frame and with a soft brush, brushed them onto the frame. They protested until they smelled the honey. Too busy eating; they stayed on the frame as I put it in a nuc box, which is nothing more than a portable home. I kept doing this with frames until most of the bees were off the post and munching contently on a thick cream of honey. I closed the top of the nuc box and opened the side entrance. Putting honey around the entrance, I then brushed off the remaining bees from the fence post and hoped they had the sense to go with their sisters. Again, I left them to do their bee thing. I would pick up the nuc in the morning. I didn’t know if this swarm would survive. I hadn’t seen a queen. If in two weeks, I didn’t find brood in the hive, I would combine the bees with a larger hive so they could thrive.

Leaning against the golf cart, I pulled off my veil. Matt stored the equipment. We both grinned at each other.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in about two years,” Matt reflected. “It’s nice.”

“Matt, I actually feel happy. I didn’t think I would ever feel that way again. If I were a cat, I’d be purring.”

“If you will wait until tomorrow evening, when I get home from work, I’ll help you install the bees.”

“You got a deal there, good buddy.”

“Hey, can we come over?” yelled Franklin. Both Franklin and Jake had followed us, waiting at a respectable distance.

I waved them over.

“That was pretty interesting,” said Jake, “but better you than I. Bees give me the creeps.”

“That’s because they are not indigenous to North America. Europeans brought them over. Your people have no history with them.”

“Huh,” responded Jake. “Still, what you did was impressive and I’m looking forward to eating the honey.”

“Speaking of eating, I’m hungry,” said Franklin.

“Why don’t we go into town?” I said.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” stated Franklin.

“You decide, Franklin. You’re the fussiest eater of us all,” I said. “Make it a casual place. I don’t want to change my clothes.”

We looked up to the sound of a vehicle making its way across the field. It was Shaneika, waving.

“We were just thinking of getting something to eat. Wanna come?” I asked.

“Where’re you going?” she asked, climbing out of her SUV.

“Franklin’s going to decide,” said Matt.

“How about eating at a restaurant on the river? It’s such a pretty afternoon,” said Shaneika.

“That’s the ticket. Let’s all go, right now,” said Franklin, snapping his fingers. “I get to ride shotgun.”

We piled into Shaneika’s SUV with Franklin riding in front, making Shaneika crazy with his driving advice while we headed to the river to eat fried catfish, baked potato loaded with butter and sweet iced tea. And I was going to do my best to eat them with my new teeth. Life was good to live again.

*

The next morning I checked on the beehives. It was the first day I was allowed to venture forth alone. Of course, like any new mother giving her child independence for the first time, there were conditions from Jake. I had to take the golf cart. I had to take the walkie-talkie. I had to check in every 15 minutes with the walkie-talkie. I could only stay out for an hour and a half. I could not leave the property. I could not talk to strangers. The list was endless but let me go, he did.

I first went to the main beeyard and from the golf cart observed the entrance of each beehive. I was looking for good flying patterns of the workers, guards at the entrances and a lack of flies. Flies, hanging around an entrance, were a sign of trouble.

Driving close to the back of a hive, I placed a bottle of honey with a note saying: Dear Mr. Goren, Next time you see me, please say hello. Running off scares me. Being a man of God, you understand my circumstances are strained this year. Once I am better, you can return to being a hermit. But for now, have compassion and be a neighbor. Don’t creep me out. It will make me run into a tree trying to get away. This honey is a welcome-to-the- neighborhood gift. Mrs. Reynolds. PS: Thank you for the walking stick. I am using it right now.”

I placed both the honey and note in a transparent waterproof bag and left them on the hive top held down by a rock. Seeing that things were cool in the bee world, I went to check on the nucs.

There was activity around the bluebird boxes that Shaneika had put up on the fence posts. Bright blue bullets of color flashed out of the boxes before winging off. It turned out that Miss Shaneika Mary Todd was an avid bird watcher and secret animal lover. It was only humans that she couldn’t abide. Perhaps she turned sour on the human race after she became a lawyer. I would have to needle that information out of her.

“No!” I cried. The golf cart jerked to a halt. The nuc, with the 30,000 bees, was smashed and laying on its side. All the frames were shattered and thrown to the ground. They were covered with dead bees. Those who survived flew haplessly above the broken nuc. Having more nucs in the back of the cart, I remained calm getting out of the cart. It wouldn’t help the situation if I panicked and fell while getting out. I prepared a new nuc and spread out a white sheet on top of the broken frames, placing the new one on top of it. I pinned a queen pheromone tube inside the nuc. The worker bees needed a smell to latch onto. I picked up the remains of the nuc with my new walking stick. Inside, a clump of survivors had hung on. I shook them into the new nuc box and then closed the top, opening the bottom entrance. All I could do now was wait until the evening, hoping all the surviving bees would enter the new nuc box.

Straight away, I drove to the horse pasture with the other nuc box. It too was smashed. Tears began to escape from my eyes. As my coping skills were on the same level as a toddler now, it didn’t take much for frustration to build and the waterworks turn on. I called Jake on the walkie-talkie and, between the sobbing, told him that someone had hurt my bees.

“Don’t move,” Jake ordered. “I’ll be right there.” And he was.

After making sure I was all right, Jake sat patiently with me in the golf cart while I blew my nose.

“Could an animal have done this?”

“I guess a raccoon could have, but I have used these boxes for four years now. This is the first time anything like this has happened.”

“What about a bear?”

“No bears in this part of Kentucky unless a stray just wandered through.”

“Hmmmm,” murmured Jake. He jumped out of the cart and with my walking stick lifted the destroyed box pulling it toward him. A surviving bee stung him. “Hell,” he uttered. “I hate bees. They’re always stinging someone.”

“No, they aren’t,” I said, defending them. “There are millions of bees on this farm and only one little girl bee has stung you in fear. Grow some, Jake.”

He shook out dead bees from the crumpled box and turned it over. “Boss Lady, I wish you hadn’t fired Cody.”

“I can’t foolishly spend my daughter’s money. We’re okay with just you.”

“No, we’re not. There are tire tracks on this box. Someone did this on purpose.” He turned the box over and showed me the black marks.

My skin crawled with fear.

“It’s time we return to the house. I need to make some phone calls. Sorry, but your day pass has just been revoked.”

Before we returned to the house, I made Jake check on all the animals. My life had been turned upside down, yet again. The Butterfly was put on lockdown and I was forbidden to leave the house, even to sit on the patio.

Creating more tension, the barn cat had given birth to a litter of kittens in my closet after pulling down an expensive cashmere sweater to make a bed for them. For a second, I thought of pulling her tail, but Jake poked his head in the closet and grinned. “Looks like an expensive sweater she’s got there.” We both watched her knead the sweater until she got it just right for herself and then lay down on her side. She began to lick the still wet kittens.

I began explaining to Jake why I needed to leave my bedroom patio door open so she could go outside and catch dinner.

Jake shook his head no. “She’s now an indoor cat. I will get a nice comfy box for her and her babies. I will get cat food and litter, but she stays inside or we put her and the kittens in the barn. No more doors being open. These nucs are a wakeup call. Security is going to be tighter.” Jake walked towards his room.

“I don’t want the smell of cat urine stinking up my closet,” I whined. As I watched her clean her babies, my hard heart relented; after all, while I was fond of my cashmere sweater, it was just a sweater. I mean, how selfish can a human be to deny a new feline mother a soft bed. “Hell’s bells. She came here for a reason. She feels safe. I can’t kick her out now.” I followed Jake into the hallway.

“All doors stay locked from now on. That’s final,” Jake stated before going into his room.

I returned to mine only to find a confrontation in the closet. Hearing the mews of the kittens, Baby had meander in and hovered his massive head over the sightless kittens. “Oh Baby,” I pleaded, “please don’t hurt . . . or eat them,” fearful that if I moved, a fight would start and Baby’s massive paws would accidentally hurt the tiny kittens.

The mother was bunched in corner hissing, ready to throw herself on Baby when he lowered his huge nose. I also was ready to throw myself on him if he tried to hurt the kittens. True to his good nature though, he sniffed and then licked them with his drooling tongue. Satisfied, he lumbered past me and circled three times before lowering himself in his bed. I sighed with relief. “We will leave you alone,” I said to the mother cat. “You’ve had a tough day and so have I.” Quietly, I closed one entrance to the closet, knowing she could get out through the bathroom door. At least, it gave her some privacy to be alone with her new family.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Neither Jake nor I spoke much. As Jake was cleaning up, I broke the silence. “How much does my daughter owe you?”

“Contract has been paid in full until October of this year.”

“I guess the money is in an off-shore account?”

Jake grinned. “Something like that.”

“And then?”

“It depends on many factors. One being if O’nan is found alive and caught. Another being that you’re well enough to live on your own.”

“Is that possible . . . my living an independent life again?”

“With certain parameters, I think it is very possible. You’re very far down the road to recovery,” he said, putting the dishes in the dishwasher.

I paused for a moment. I wanted to articulate my thoughts correctly, which I couldn’t always do now. “Jake, I can’t live like this.”

Jake looked at me with alarm. “What do you mean by that?”