The Bee Balm Murders by Cynthia Riggs Page B

on the phone shortly. “Here are three people who know him well. Denny Rhodes, a West Tisbury selectman; Parnell Alsop, my attorney; and Daniel Pease, the head of the Department of Public Works.” She gave him the phone numbers. “I’m sure they’ll help you. Call me if you need anything else, Finney, dear.”
    Finney noted the names and numbers on his yellow legal pad.
    Dorothy asked, “How was your flight from the Island?”
    “I was busy and hardly noticed,” said Finney, who hadn’t remembered much about either flight. “Again, thanks.” He needed to disconnect in a hurry because quite suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so great.

 
    C HAPTER 12
    The night had turned cool, so Victoria lighted a fire in the parlor. Orion came home to a comforting blaze.
    “Would you care for a glass of wine?” he asked.
    Victoria set her book down. “Alcohol apparently slows the effects of the doxycycline. I’m not supposed to drink.”
    “Cranberry juice, then.” He turned toward the kitchen.
    “Actually, I don’t think a small glass will hurt.”
    Orion returned with two wineglasses and a bottle of Bug Light Red. Victoria told him about the bee swarm and Orion shuddered, almost spilling the wine.
    “According to the beekeeper, bees aren’t terribly aggressive when they’re swarming.”
    “All the same, I’ll keep my distance,” said Orion, handing her a glass, half-full.
    “Just to be safe, where do you keep your antidote?”
    “In my car,” said Orion. “An EpiPen. You twist off the cap and jab the cylinder at your thigh.”
    “Through clothing?”
    “It’s designed to be used quickly,” said Orion.
    Victoria said, “I suppose I should have an EpiPen in case a guest is allergic to bees and gets stung.”
    “I’ll get one for you. Once you use it, you’re to call nine-one-one.” He dropped a log onto the fire, sending up a shower of sparks, and sat down.
    “How did yesterday’s meeting with the venture capitalist go?” asked Victoria.
    “I don’t know.” Orion set his glass on the small table next to him. “Finney Solomon is young, which isn’t necessarily a drawback. But he has nothing to offer. Simply a promise that he’ll come up with fourteen million within six months. He expects us to pay a retainer.”
    “You haven’t signed anything yet, have you?”
    “Not yet. By the way, he had breakfast with your friend this morning.”
    “Dorothy?”
    Orion nodded.
    “What did he have to say about her?”
    “Not a great deal,” said Orion. “They finished off a magnum of champagne…”
    “A magnum!” exclaimed Victoria. “That’s an entire bottle each. Good heavens!”
    “La Grande Dame, according to Finney. That much he told me before he clammed up. I took him to the airport and he didn’t say a word the whole way.”
    “Small wonder,” said Victoria. “Where does Dorothy get that kind of money?”
    “Family money, I assume,” said Orion.
    “She’s not from old money. I can tell.”
    “I don’t care where the money comes from, Victoria. She’s buying the Ditch Witch drill. That’s a fact.”
    “When will you start using it?” She wasn’t about to tell him the beekeeper’s opinion of Dorothy Roche’s wealth.
    “Friday,” Orion said. “Three days from now.”
    “It’s going to rain,” said Victoria.
    *   *   *
    The next morning, Victoria walked slowly to the police station, each step an effort. She hoped it was the doxycycline and not advancing age. She refused to think about it. Instead, she thought about Dorothy Roche deluding Orion and probably that wealthy Finney Solomon as well.
    What on earth was the matter with men that they could be so easily misled by a false smile and a dab of perfume?
    Then it occurred to her. Perfume was nothing but a pheromone, a chemical that caused behavioral changes in animals. Including men.
    Dorothy was daubing herself with pheromones, a queen bee attracting drones for a deadly mating flight. Victoria stabbed her lilac-wood