Alice was enjoying a rewarding glass of port and contemplating the evening’s viewing when she heard a knock at the door. Only Milly would visit at this time of day and she never knocked. Alice sighed. She put the glass of port on the coffee table next to her armchair and got up to answer. Maybe it was something to do with Milly?
Eddie Sedgwick, the man who lived between Alice and Milly, was standing in the doorway wearing the most ridiculous sweater Alice had ever seen. It was bright green and it had a crudely embroidered white sheep in the centre.
“Eddie,” Alice said. “What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to bother you, Alice, but the wife is moaning about the bees again. She reckons they’re coming in our garden. Acting all aggressive, she says.”
Alice couldn’t help laughing at the idea of the bees “acting all aggressive.” She pictured them buzzing around next door, getting up to no good and threatening the Sedgwicks with God knows what.
“Sorry, Eddie,” she managed, composing herself at last. “I’ll have a word with them. They’re not normally aggressive. They’re Italian bees.”
“To be honest, they don’t bother me in the slightest, but my Barbara reckons she’s allergic.”
“Tell Barbara not to worry. I’ll sort them out.” She closed the door in Eddie Sedgwick’s face before he had a chance to say anything else.
“Idiot,” the jackdaw screamed as Alice sat back down in the living room.
“All men are idiots,” Alice said.
She leaned back in her chair to watch a new quiz show, glass of port back in her hand. Perhaps she ought to check to see if Milly was home — but maybe she’d leave it for now.
The quiz show was a huge disappointment. It was one of those contests where so-called celebrities tried their best to show off their wit. Alice had never even heard of any of the contestants. She changed the channel. The weather forecast had just started. A high-pressure front was arriving from the south. Warm temperatures were promised for the next few days.
“The bees are going to love that,” Alice said to herself.
CHAPTER FIVE
The following morning, after checking on the bees, Alice went to Milly’s cottage. The curtains were open, but then Alice knew Milly was an early riser. She always had been. She went in without knocking and realised straight away that her friend wasn’t there.
Everything was exactly as it had been the day before, but flies were now buzzing around the biscuits and cakes in the kitchen. And again, Milly was nowhere to be seen.
Alice picked up Milly’s telephone and called the police. Surely they have to take things seriously now. She was put through to a young-sounding woman with a peculiar accent. Definitely not Cornish.
“I wish to report a missing person,” Alice said emphatically.
“Name?” the woman asked.
“Mine or hers?”
“Yours,” the woman said. “Please could I have your name?”
“My name’s Alice Green. My friend Milly Lancaster hasn’t been seen since Friday evening. It’s not like Milly. Something’s happened to her. I reported it yesterday, but the man I spoke to didn’t seem to give a damn.”
“I’m sorry about that, Mrs Green,” the woman said. She asked for the address and told Alice that someone would be along to see her “in the course of the morning.”
Finally.Finally somebody is taking this seriously.People got away with murder these days. She went back to her own house. The bees were starting to surface as the temperature rose. Alice watched as they lazily left the hives, sunned their wings and flew off in search of nectar. None of them appeared to show any interest in the garden next door. Barbara Sedgwick and her allergies were safe for the time being. The bees were concentrating all their attention on the hollyhock bushes. More flowers had opened and the bees were enjoying them. It was all very peaceful.
Alice suddenly realised what was really happening. She had to think fast. The police were on their way to her house — and there was a body buried in her garden. Whether or not it was attracting the bees, she had to make sure they didn’t check any further. She checked the soil round the hollyhocks. It was starting to harden in the sun and there was no sign of anything untoward.
“Mrs Green?” a man called out, making Alice jump. She turned to see a man and a woman standing a few metres from the hives. The man looked nervous.
“We did knock,” the woman said. “The door was open so we came straight in. Are you Mrs Green?”
Alice recognised the woman’s accent from the phone.
“Call me Alice.”
“DS Duncan,” the man said. “And this is my colleague, DC Taylor. Are those things dangerous?” He pointed to the beehives.
“Not at all,” Alice said, “they’re Italian. Have you ever known the Italians to be dangerous? Since the Romans, I mean.”
The joke appeared lost on the middle-aged detective sergeant, but DC Taylor smiled. “What beautiful hollyhocks,” she said, taking one of the flowers in her hand and smelling it. Alice could feel her heart starting to beat more quickly. The woman was standing just a few feet from her dead husband.
“The bees seem to like them,” Alice said, moving towards the house. “Would you like some tea?” She went inside without waiting for an answer and they had no alternative but to follow her.
“When did you last see Mrs . . .” DS Duncan fumbled in his pocket for his notebook.
“Lancaster.” Alice saved him the effort. “Milly Lancaster. I last saw her on Friday evening. She helped me pack the honey to take to the market.”
“Market?” DS Duncan wrote it in his notebook.
“The market in Berryton. Milly and I have had stalls there for donkeys’ years.”
“I see.” Duncan looked up. “What do you sell there?”
“I sell my honey and Milly takes her baking. Cakes, biscuits, that sort of thing. What’s this got to do with it?”
“I’m just trying to get all the facts, Mrs Green.” Duncan scribbled something in his notebook.
Alice heard the jackdaw’s cage rattle and she flinched. She had a terrible feeling about what was coming next. She cast the bird a stern glance and he kept quiet.
“Right,” Duncan read through his notes, “you say Mrs Lancaster helped you pack the honey on Friday evening? What time was this?”
“Around seven.”
“And you haven’t seen her since?”
“No.” Alice was starting to get annoyed. “She didn’t show up for the market and it doesn’t look like she’s been home. Something’s happened to her.”
“Let’s not be premature here. I know it’s worrying, but we know that most people who are reported missing turn up in the end. And there’s often a perfectly reasonable explanation for their disappearance.”
“What about the ones who don’t?”
“Does Mrs Lancaster have any family?” Duncan ignored her question. “Friends she may have gone to visit without you knowing?”
“Her husband died a good few years ago. She has no children and, as far as I’m aware, I’m her only friend.”