Honeybee Mystery (7 page)

“I really do appreciate you inviting me down to your farm, Mr. Hennessey,” the man in the suit said, “and you do have a nice bee colony here. But as I've told you, I still get all the honey I need from the Shermans.”

“I know that, Mr. Price, but you may change your mind after you see what I have to show you.”

The Aldens looked at one another in astonishment. “It's him!” Violet said in a whisper. “It's Mr. Price! He's visiting earlier than we thought!”

Jessie nodded gravely. “Just as I figured.”

“So Mr. Hennessey really is trying to steal the Shermans' business away!”

“Yeah, that's how it sounds.”

“What a terrible thing to do,” Henry said. “I'll bet that spy he sent over yesterday did put some more Menadrin somewhere. We just didn't see it!”

“I'll bet you're right,” Jessie said. Then she smiled. At last, she thought, their first real break.

But then something happened that not only put a quick end to this idea, but also gave the Aldens the biggest shock of the day.

“Take a look at this,” Hennessey said to Price. He carefully removed a tray from one of the beehives, turned it upside down, and poured out the exact same whitish fluid that had been flooding the Shermans' hives.

Jessie's mouth fell open. “I … I can't believe it.…”

“This is what your Mr. Sherman has done to my bees! They aren't producing honey, they're producing
nothing
! It's been like this all year, and it's going to ruin me!”

“How can you be sure it was him?” Mr. Price asked.

“Who else could it be? The Shermans are the only people around here who keep bees for honey! They know I've wanted your contract for years. They also know I was planning on getting more hives after this season. That would make me a real threat!”

Price looked at the milky puddle on the ground. “Well, I have to see the Shermans tomorrow, and I'll keep my eyes and ears open, but …”

“But what? Are you actually going to let them get away with this? At least with me you'd be dealing with an honest man!”

Price nodded. “Okay, I'll see what I can find out.”

Hennessey seemed happier upon hearing this. He nodded and smiled. “Good. Nice to know someone cares about doing the right thing!”

Henry turned to the others. “I think we'd better get out of here. This is pretty big stuff.”

“I'll say,” Jessie agreed. “The Shermans will never believe it!”

They started back, making sure they stayed out of view.

As they passed the old farm machinery, however, Benny hooked his foot under a tree root and fell to the soft forest floor —
whump
! It sounded like someone punching a pillow.

The four men turned at the same time.

“What was that?” one of them asked.

“I don't know,” Hennessey said. “Go over and have a look, quick!”

“Are you okay, Benny?” Jessie whispered.

The youngest Alden got to his knees and brushed himself off. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just dirty.”

“Now what?” Violet asked. “They'll see us if we keep going!”

Henry looked around frantically, saw the shed, and got an idea.

“Quick, in there!”

“But they'll look in there!” Jessie said.

“No, I've got something in mind. C'mon, it's our only chance!”

The Aldens scampered into the smelly old shed and crouched down. Only Henry remained standing, peering through the dirty glass of one of the broken windows.

For a moment all was quiet, and Henry thought perhaps the men Hennessey had sent to look had given up.

Then they both came into view, walking slowly, their eyes going over everything.

“Are they there?” Jessie asked softly.

“They sure are,” Henry told her, “and they don't look as though they're going to leave in a hurry.”

“What are we going to do?” Violet squeaked.

Henry reached into his pocket and brought out a large, flat stone.

“When did you pick that up?” Jessie asked.

“Just now. When I say the word, everyone go back as quietly as you can and hurry to the road. We won't have much time.”

The blond-haired kid broke off and moved out of sight. But the other one — the one with the mustache whom they'd chased yesterday — was heading in their direction. He'd be there in less than a minute, and in Henry's mind that minute seemed to be passing faster than any other minute he'd ever known in his life. But he couldn't hurry — this had to be timed just right.

The man looked directly at the shed, and Henry briefly thought the chance he was hoping for would never come. But then the man turned in the opposite direction. Henry squeezed the rock tight, then tossed it out the window. It landed just where he'd aimed — deep in the bushes where they'd been hiding before.

The man with the mustache scrambled over in that direction with catlike quickness. As soon as he was far enough away, Henry whispered, “Now! Go!”

The Aldens filed out of the shed, smallest to tallest, crouching down like soldiers. Jessie told the others not to look back, just to keep going. But when they got to the road, Henry couldn't resist taking a quick peek. Just as he reached the top, he saw the mustachioed man looking into the shed. Henry knew they were all safe now, but his heart was still pounding.

“All right, let's get out of here,” he said breathlessly.

“Fine with me,” Benny told him, and the four of them took off running.

CHAPTER 8

Listening In

W
hen the Aldens walked back through the Shermans' door, Clay could tell from their faces that they had discovered something important. His eyes lit up. “The mystery's solved, isn't it?” he asked excitedly.

The children exchanged worried glances. Jessie took a deep breath. “No … no, it's not.”

Henry nodded. “We saw Mr. Hennessey pouring out trays of watery honey from
his
hive, too. Looks like he's been having the same problems you're having.”

“Are you sure?” Dottie asked.

“We all saw it,” said Violet sadly.

Clay Sherman's shoulders sagged, and the spirit seemed to drain out of him. “I can't believe it,” he said. “I was so sure that Hennessey was behind this, but now …”

“Now we're no closer to solving the mystery than we were days ago,” said Jessie.

“And Mr. Price is coming by tomorrow,” Dottie sighed.

“We're sorry,” said Henry.

“You did your best,” said Clay. “But I'm sorry, too. And … I never thought I'd say this, but I feel kind of bad that old Hennessey has got the same troubles.” Dottie nodded at this.

When the Aldens left, the Shermans were discussing how they would make up for the lost money this year. They sounded as though the fight were already over.

The next morning Grandfather took the children to a diner in town to have breakfast. He also wanted to find out everything that had been happening.

“I feel so bad for them,” Violet said. “They're such nice people and they're going to lose all that business.”

Grandfather nodded sadly as he poured syrup onto his pancakes. “Yes. Unless a miracle happens between now and this afternoon, it looks that way.”

“I have to admit,” Jessie began, “I've been a little frustrated, too. I mean, I know it sounds selfish, but we haven't been able to get anywhere with this mystery, and that really bothers me.”

Her grandfather waved his finger. “No, don't feel like you're being selfish. You kids have put a lot of work into this, and in the past you've always gotten all the pieces of the puzzle together. Anyone would feel frustrated. It just means you care, that's all.”

“We haven't gotten any breaks,” Henry said. “You need at least a little bit of luck to solve any mystery, and we really haven't had any. At first we thought it was Georgie Cooper, but that turned out to be wrong. Then we thought it was Hennessey, but that turned out to be wrong—”

“You found out about the Menadrin,” Grandfather pointed out.

“Yeah, but we need to know who put it there.
That's
the important thing.”

Grandfather said, “Maybe there's some way to reverse the Menadrin's effects. At this point I'll bet the Shermans, not to mention Hennessey, would be happy just to get their bees producing honey again. They could always find out who put the Menadrin there later on.”

“Have you talked to that nice girl from the lab?” Benny asked. “Renee?”

“No, but I've invited her to the house for dinner tonight. Maybe she'll have some news for us then.”

Jessie sighed. “I certainly hope so. We're just about out of time.”

Sitting in the corner of the booth, Benny played with his food but didn't eat much — which was unusual, considering his lion-sized appetite. He felt just the way Jessie did — frustrated that they weren't getting anywhere. Could whoever used the Menadrin really be so clever that he or she didn't leave a single clue behind? Is it possible Benny and the others would
never
be able to get to the bottom of this? There was a first time for everything, he supposed, but he didn't want now to be that time.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar face. A small, roundish man walked into the diner with his suit jacket hung over his arm. He was talking to one of the waitresses and smiling. The waitress was smiling back and laughing, obviously charmed by this new customer. She directed him to a booth not far from the Aldens, and he slid in facing away from them.

Henry was saying something to Grandfather when Benny leaned forward, suddenly feeling very excited, and said in a whisper, “Hey, isn't that the man you and Jessie were talking to on the farm the other day?”

Everyone turned. For a moment they couldn't see his face. But then the waitress came over with a glass of water, and the man turned to thank her.

“Yeah, that's Mr. Carlson,” Jessie said. Then, to Grandfather, she added, “He came to the farm looking for honey, just like you. He was pretty disappointed, but he seemed nice enough.”

“Nice enough, except …” Henry was still looking at him, his face twisted into a puzzled expression.

“Except what, Henry?” Grandfather asked.

The boy turned back. “Except that he said he was just passing through on his way to visit family. He said he came through every six months or so and stopped by only to get some of the Shermans' honey.”

“I wonder why he's still here, then,” Violet said.

“Exactly,” Henry agreed.

“Maybe his car broke down and he was forced to stay here in town for a few days,” Grandfather suggested.

Henry shrugged. “Maybe. I just think it's odd.”

Grandfather reached across the table and patted his oldest grandchild on the shoulder. “You're a detective. You're supposed to think certain things seem —”

“Hey, look at that!” Benny cut in again.

Another familiar figure walked into the diner. The Aldens watched in speechless astonishment as the same waitress seated him in the same booth. He reached across the table and shook Mr. Carlson's hand.

“Oh, my goodness,” Violet said, “that's … that's —”

“It sure is,” Jessie cut in, nodding. “It's Mr. Price.”

Even Grandfather seemed shocked. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Henry said. “That's him.”

“Well, I suggest you all stop staring and turn back,” Grandfather said, “or else he might become suspicious.”

“He didn't see us yesterday,” Violet told him. “He wouldn't recognize us.”

“Still — how would you feel if you looked across a diner and saw four kids staring at you?”

The Aldens turned back and pretended to resume their meal. “Good point,” Henry said.

“Boy, I'd love to hear what they're saying,” Jessie said. “It would be too risky to go over there, though.”