Garden Gazebo Gallivant Read online

  “Don’t be silly,” Frankie said. Still humming her little ditty, she grabbed a Mason jar out of the cabinet, poured a drop of honey in it, laid a tea towel over her shoulder, and then plucked a flower from my mother’s bunch, putting it on top of the honey. She hovered the opened jar over the bee as it flittered around the bundle of flowers on the table, slowly swaying the jar back and forth, like she was using it to lull the bee into a trance. Then, as if she knew exactly the right time, she took the towel from her shoulder and laid it over the arm that held the jar, apparently to protect it from a potential bee sting. Then she swooped the bee into the jar, securely twisting the lid down.

  Clapping ensued.

  “Bravo!” I heard from the doorway and saw Brie and Renmar standing there, patting their hands together.

  “I must say, Frankie,” Renmar said. “I wouldn’t mind you in my kitchen anytime if it meant no more bees.”

  “It was nothing,” she said beaming. She walked over to the door, holding the screen open with her hip, she unscrewed the top and set the bee free.

  “You can come out the corner, scaredy-cat,” my mother said to Micah, chuckling.

  “I’m not scared of that bee,” he said. “I’m just afraid of getting stung. I’m allergic.”

  “Since when?” my mother said.

  “You should have left it in the jar,” Micah said.

  “Noooo,” Frankie said. “It would have gotten too hot, fluttering around in there. And how would it breathe?”

  “All I care about is it stinging me,” Micah said.

  My mother shook her head “C’mon boy, sit over here by your mommy. I’ll protect you.”

  I watched everyone as they celebrated Frankie ridding the kitchen of the bee. I thought about how she’d come and taken over the Maypop, upsetting the household, even putting Renmar out of her kitchen, more than likely hiding her grief in keeping busy with us, and now how everyone was happy she was here. I thought about how strong she’d been through it all. Kimmie dying. Her husband sick, with not too much longer to live, either. She’d be all by herself soon. And then I thought about her house being ransacked, how she had to put her household on pause – no income from the inn, bills piling up . . .

  Then I thought about the mail at her house.

  And the bee smoker from my dream.

  I abandoned my search on the fake artifact and started a new Google search.

  “Frankie,” I said looking up from my computer after finding what I was looking for. “What does apiary mean?”

  “Why would you’d think I’d know that?” she said, my question pulling her away from the accolades.

  “It a place where beehives are kept,” Miss Vivee said. “Why you ask?”

  “Is it now?” I said and smiled. “Beehives.”

  “The mail,” Miss Vivee said slowly, seemingly understanding, but she was cut-off by Bay before she could say anything else.

  “Morning all,” Bay said as he strode into the room.

  I turned and looked at him, a smirk on my face.

  “Happy to see me?” he said and bent over and plopped a kiss on my lips. “‘Cause you’re looking a little strange.”

  I turned and looked at my mother and then Miss Vivee. A grin spreading across my lips. “Not feeling strange,” I said shaking my head. “Just enlightened.”

  “Enlightened?” Bay asked.

  “Hmmm-mmm.” I nodded. “I just figured out who killed Kimmie Hunt.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Yesss,” I said almost in a whisper. “I’ve figured it out.”

  I was tingling all over, my heart was racing, and I had to make a conscience effort to slow down my breathing.

  Is this what Miss Vivee felt like when she’s figured it all out?

  What a rush.

  “You did?” my mother said, her face gleaming. “You figured it out?” She pushed my arm, jarring me away from my mental happy dance.

  “You did not,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Yes, I did.” I nodded slowly. “And you know, too, don’t you?”

  Miss Vivee winked at me.

  “Well, are you going to tell us?” Micah asked. “Or are you just going to sit there grinning. I’m hungry and now it looks like I’ll have to wait even longer to eat.”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” I said and pointed to Micah. “That hornet could have live long enough to make the trip per its lifespan, but it would’ve been depleted of oxygen long before. It didn’t stay hidden in Kimmie’s suitcase. Frankie putting that bee in the jar made me think of that. Plus, why would Kimmie Hunt pack a nylon jogging suit, with long pants, and a long sleeved jacket on a trip where it’s hot? Very hot, right Ma.”

  “Yes,” my mother said. “That’s what I remember from when I was there excavating.”

  “And remember,” I said, “what Frankie said about that jogging suit?” I said.

  “She said she made Kimmie put it on,” Renmar said slowly as if the realization just hit her.

  All heads turned to Frankie.

  “What?” Frankie said and swallowed hard.

  “You put that hornet in her jogging suit,” I said.

  “I did no such thing,” Frankie said. “I wanted her to stay warm. She had a slight fever. I told you all that. And that’s why I wanted her to put it on.”

  “You wanted her to work up a sweat,” I said. “Because you knew that those hornets were drawn to sweat.”

  “And people running,” Micah said, apparently remembering the article we’d read the first day he got to Yasamee.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Frankie said. “How would I know that?”

  “You know because you know all about bees,” I said. “Don’t you?”

  “What?” she said.

  “I saw an envelope in your mail from Gardner’s Apiaries over in Baxley, Georgia. The front of it said ‘Invoice Enclosed.’”

  “I saw it, too,” Miss Vivee said. “But until now I didn’t give it a second thought.”

  She swallowed again. “I bought honey from them,” she said her voice shaky. “I use it for my tea.”

  “Why don’t you just buy it at the store?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “They don’t sell honey,” I said. I turned my laptop around to show where I had their website pulled up. “It’s for beekeepers. They sell queen bees and hives. Nothing else.”

  “Did you buy a beehive, Mrs. Hunt?” Bay asked Frankie, then looked at me. “Where is this place?”

  “Baxley,” Miss Vivee said. “The envelope gave an address over in Baxley. Down near Savannah.” She looked at Frankie. “That’s where Nash Hunt has been going to see the doctor. It’s where all his medicine is from.”

  “Who told you that?” Frankie said. She backed up and leaned on the sink. “Have you two been snooping around in my house?”

  “The three of us have,” my mother said speaking up. “And we know that there wasn’t any artifact, real or otherwise, in Kimmie’s suitcase. At least not until you claimed it had been ransacked. Did you put that fake there?”

  “No! Of course I didn’t,” Frankie said, her eyes were filling up with tears.

  “Bay,” my mother said, not taking her eyes off of Frankie. “Perhaps you should check that little relic for fingerprints. Someone had to handle it to put it where the Sheriff found it.”

  “Wait,” Brie said. “I’m still trying to figure out what bees have to do with hornets?”

  I looked at Frankie, and Frankie looked at me.

  “Hornets are natural predators of honeybees, aren’t they Frankie?” I said. She didn’t say a word. “And anyone that knows about bees would know that, wouldn’t they?” I pointed with my head to the jar she’d caught the bee with, still sitting on the table.

  “I let one little bee out of the house, and you accuse me of murder,” Frankie said. “Bay,” she said turning to him. “You’re law enforcement. You know all of this is bogus, don’t you?” She tried to smile, but her lips were trembling too much for it
to stick.

  “It wasn’t Mac trying to get rid of evidence,” I said and looked at Miss Vivee. “It was Frankie. She’s the one that put that beehive out by the gazebo that Junior Appletree found. She knew it would kill the hornet.”

  “Bought it from that apiary in Baxley, and probably kept it in that shed she calls a greenhouse until she needed it.”

  “Why would I kill Kimmie?” Frankie said.

  “Because just like you said, Frankie,” Miss Vivee said. “Kimmie was gallivanting all over the world spending up Nash Hunt’s money. You thought if she kept it up, there wouldn’t be any left for you.”

  “He is still making money.”

  “He wouldn’t be making any money after he died,” Miss Vivee said. “And that’s a real possibility seeing that he has lung cancer, isn’t it?”

  “You’d be broke,” I said.

  Frankie let out a nervous chuckle. “We would have gone broke long before then the way Kimmie was spending money.”

  “You said you were the one that killed Kimmie,” Renmar said her eyebrows arched, her voice accusing. “You admitted to it.”

  “I didn’t mean it,” she said. “I was just . . .” She swiped her hand over her face. “Distraught.”

  “Or was it because you really were guilty,” Miss Vivee said.

  Epilogue

  Sunday, 10:00am

  The wedding day . . .

  I’d never dreamed of having a wedding like most little girls do. Waiting for Prince Charming to come and sweep me off my feet, and we’d live happily ever after, just hadn’t been my cup of tea. My idea of the “ever after” was being able to dig up ancient civilizations and letting them live again as I pieced together their history. And that certainly made me happy. And once I got engaged, I had decided that I didn’t want much or a lot of fuss. But today, the day of the wedding, I was filled with butterflies and excitement. It was a magical feeling, and I finally understood why people spent thousands of dollars for the one day.

  I stood in front of my chevel mirror. I placed the second magnolia flower into my upswept do. Turning from side to side, I smiled at what I saw.

  “You look beautiful,” my mother said.

  I turned and saw her and my father standing in the doorway. He’d made it into Yasamee right as Bay was carting Frankie out in handcuffs.

  “My little girl,” my father said. “All grown up.”

  “I’ll never be too grown-up to be your little girl, Daddy,” I said.

  “Yoohoo!” we heard drifting down the hallway. “Yoohoo!” yelled again.

  “But we can’t forget about Miss Vivee,” I said just as she came to my room. My parents parted and she floated in.”

  “Oh, Miss Vivee you look -”

  “Lovely.” She finished my sentence.

  “I was going to say ‘beautiful,’” I said.

  “Yes, but I’ve always loved that word. Lovely. I want to be called that.”

  “You are lovely, indeed,” my father said and took her hand and kissed it. “Absolutely lovely.”

  Miss Vivee blushed and it seemed I saw a tear come to her eye. “Has anyone seen Mac?” Miss Vivee asked and sniffed to keep from letting it fall.

  “He wouldn’t be here!” my mother said and chuckled.

  “Mother,” Renmar yelled from downstairs.

  “They sure do yell a lot around here,” my father said.

  “Not usually,” I said.

  “Mother,” Renmar yelled again. This time she sounded closer, her footsteps giving away how near she was. “Are we just going to mill around?” She’d come into my room and surveyed us all gathered there. “You can’t get married with the clock going toward the hour if you’re not there when it strikes have past.” She clapped her hands to disperse us. “Let’s go! We have a wedding to get to!”

  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

  As we rode in the open carriage, drawn by two white horses to the town square, I thought about the last three days. Miss Vivee had been right, the murder had been solved and the wedding was taking place as scheduled. She hadn’t wavered, nor had she ever showed an ounce of worry. It was as if she truly held firmly to the notion that love would conquer all.

  I hope that all my life I will have that much faith in it. The faith that the love I give to others, and that they give to me will teach me hope and to believe without waver, give me strength, sustain me and carry me through all my days.

  There’s an old wives’ tale that says that “If you kill a bee, you’ll have bad luck.” Frankie had spared one, and bad luck still rained down on her. Frankie’s problem? She hadn’t counted on love to see her through. The love Kimmie had given her in trusting, and accepting her to be her mother. Or the love that Frank showed, providing that even in the case of his death he would see to her well-being. Frankie had figured to make it in this life, she had to look out for herself, whatever it took. And in her estimation, it took killing Kimmie.

  Talk about a wicked stepmother . . .

  And come to find out, Frankie had had a hand in the practical joke Kimmie was playing on September. Maybe even being the one who thought it up, and planting the fake relic. It looked like Frankie had taken a lot of time and care to plan the murder, figuring out a way to hide the evidence, even raising “reasonable doubt” as Micah put it, by pointing the finger at the possibility that someone else killed Kimmie to get the artifact they thought she had.

  We pulled up to the town square and it was filled with people. Bright colors, large hats, small potted trees adorning the yard with twinkling clear lights, and the smell of flowers filled the space. Wooden folding chairs with white slipcovers, tied down with gold sashes, were on either side of the center aisle that was covered with white rose petals. Off to the side, next to the string quartet was a Hammond tonewheel organ that Miss Vivee had had “Deputy” Junior Appletree wheel over from the Baptist church, and at the center was the gazebo.

  It was beautifully decorated. More than I could have imagined. Whimsical and elegant – it was a happily-ever-after, storybook backdrop if I’d ever seen one. The underside of the roof had been draped in white tulle, intertwined with garlands of vines and soft pink flowers. Sprays of bright, deep pink and white flower arrangements were hung around it, and at its entrance. It gave me a sense of ecstasy and happiness, and I seemed to swell with a blissfulness that every woman on her wedding day must feel.

  I spotted Mac, looking dapper in his tuxedo, and tried to make my way over to him. But before I could go, I saw Marge coming toward me in a rush.

  “What are you doing?” she said, her eyes wide. “We’re getting ready to start! Get in place!”

  So I took my place, and waited for the music to cue. But as I waited, I suddenly got so nervous that it felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I felt my knees buckle and I was dizzy. I put my hand on the back of a chair to balance myself, and then I saw Miss Vivee. She was calm as a summer’s breeze, looking – lovely – and I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath wanting to fill-up on the composure and serenity exuding from her.

  I opened my eyes, and there stood my father. He smiled at me, and stuck out his arm. I took it and he walked me down the aisle. The butterflies flitting away with every step we took

  Taking my place next to Mac at the altar, I whispered, “Where have you been?”

  “I wanted to steer clear of Vivee,” he said out of the side of his mouth.

  “Why?” I whispered back, trying to hide the look of shock I knew was evident on my face.

  “Because I didn’t want to do anything to make her change her mind,” he said through clenched teeth maintaining his wide smile.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I said as the organ hit a chord, and the yard became still. I nodded down the aisle, and there was Miss Vivee, the loveliest bride I’d ever seen.

  She made her first step, holding on to Bay’s arm just as the organ and string quartet played the opening note of Wagner’s Bridal Chorus. Dressed in a lace, Victorian st
yle gown, she wore a crown of flowers. Miss Vivee seemed to glide over the flower petals strewn underfoot, her three foot train following. Bay’s faced gleamed with pride, and as his eyes met mine, he winked.

  Before they made it all the way down the aisle, Mac walked up to meet Miss Vivee and took her hand. He looked at Bay as if to say, “I’ve got her,” then escorted her the rest of the way to the altar.

  “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the preacher asked.

  “I do,” Bay said, then acting as the Man of Honor, took his place, coming to stand by me, Mac’s Best Woman, and gently took my hand. “I love you,” he leaned in and whispered. “And I can’t wait until you are my bride.”

  Thank you for taking time to read Garden Gazebo Gallivant. Look for more books in the Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Series coming soon. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends about it. And don’t forget to take the time to click on the link and post a short review.

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  A Note from the Author

  Were you surprised at whose wedding it was?

  Gotcha!

  Who would have ever thought Mac would wear Miss Vivee down? Well, other than Mac himself. I’m glad he did, us old people need love, too.

  So, we’re winding down the Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery series, only one more to go – South Seas Shenanigans. Then I’ll write a prequel, A Lesson in Murder that features Miss Vivee as a younger woman learning her craft in New Orleans. I expect to publish South Seas Shenanigans later this year, or early next year, and I’m not quite sure of the publication date for the prequel. I hope to start a new cozy mystery series soon. It will be a paranormal series.

  But let me not get ahead of myself. In this series, as you know, Logan Dickerson is the daughter of the main character, Justin Dickerson, in my Mars Origin “I” Series. (So if you like mysteries with just a touch of sci-fi, you might want to check them out!). Like in Incarnate, in this book, Logan and her mom team up to solve the whodunit. (Way to include my old characters in my new book, huh?).