Scandal at Six(89)

“Yes, she is, and it’s up to her whether she accepts a parcel or not. I’ll ring her on her mobile. Did Justin say where he would be?”

“Yes, he phoned from the hall, and said he would be there all morning. I think he wants Dot for an hour or so in the afternoon.”

“Right. I’ll do it now.”

After her call, she said to Josie that Dot had been intrigued, naturally, and agreed to take in the parcel, if it had not arrived when Justin was there. She said he’d not given her any idea of what was in it, except that it mustn’t go astray. Postmen often left parcels on the doorstep, he had said.

“Not if they’re parcels needing a signature before delivery,” said Lois. “Anyway, no doubt Dot will report. Now,” she said, fishing a shopping list from her pocket, “can you get these together, and I’ll collect later on? I have to go into Tresham this afternoon. Cowgill has summoned me. Your Matthew has no doubt acted as go-between again.”

“Mum! He’s very discreet! It’s not easy for him, you know.”

“No, sorry. I know he’s really tactful. And a good policeman, thank goodness. I always feel safe, now you’re both living in the cottage.”



*



Up at Cameroon Hall, Justin waited in some trepidation, hoping in a way that the parcel would not arrive until Dot had come to take over. But quite soon the bell rang at the back door. He rushed to open it, and was greeted by a deliveryman with a white van with no contact details on it. He carried no parcel.

“You can come and get ’em out, mate,” he said. “I’ll be damned glad to get them out of my van. The cold weather is supposed to send them to sleep, but they’re buzzing about like mad. I should leave them outside, if I was you. The warmth inside the depot has probably woken them up.”

“I was wondering if we could transfer them from your van straight into mine? I’ve got a really safe place to put them. No good leaving them here to terrorise the neighbourhood!” Justin said.

“Do what you like with them, but sign this, please, to say they arrived alive and buzzing when I handed them over.”

Between them, they managed to transfer the hive, safely protected, into the zoo van, and Justin returned to the house. He made himself a coffee, and settled down to think until Dot Nimmo arrived. But before that, he reminded himself, he had to call Josie, and ask her if it was okay to put the hive down at the end of the garden, well out of the way. He had meant to do some mugging up on beekeeping on the internet, but had no time, and reckoned he could master the basics from asking around friends.

Where had Pettison intended to keep them? And why had he ordered them? Surely bees were bees, full stop. Nothing rare about bees. Maybe he just fancied keeping them. The estate was large enough to put them well out of harm’s way, provided he was here to keep an eye on them. But now, with nobody in residence, it would not be possible, in case they decided to fly off to pastures new, stinging a few dozen citizens on their way.

The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Pettison would not be in the business of making honey, or even keeping them as a new hobby. They must have been intended for a client. Perhaps someone would be getting in touch, and then they would be able to get rid of them.



*



When Dot arrived, soon after lunch, she was horrified. “I’m not staying here unless you get rid of them bees,” she said to Justin. “And have you asked Mrs M if she’s willing to have them there at the back of the shop?”

“Well, actually, I spoke to Josie, and she said she’d think about it, and ask her mum and Derek. But I haven’t got time to wait for that. She didn’t sound too bothered, and I can always take them away again.”

“Best get going then,” said Dot. “I shan’t settle until you’ve gone.”

All the way to Farnden, Justin was aware of the bees. The buzzing seemed to have died down a bit. It was certainly freezing in the van, and he wondered if they would die of the cold. If they did, they did, and maybe a good thing, he decided.

“Oh hello,” said Josie, as he came into the shop. “Mum said to tell you it would be all right, so long as you know how to look after them. And so long as she can have the first pot of honey! I said it was in direct competition with the shop, but she pointed out I could sell your honey, too.”

“Thanks a lot,” he said. “I’ll get them unloaded and down to the end of the garden. I might put them in the pigsty overnight, and then take a look at them tomorrow.”

“What sort are they?”

“Are there different sorts?” he asked. “I know they’re not bumblebees. And they’ve come from Africa. That’s about all I know.”