Plan Bee by Hannah Reed

“You and your cock-and-bull stories. You want a clue? I’ll give you a clue.” He held up a pair of handcuffs. I was familiar with them from certain past events. “What does it mean when I get these out?”
    I heard murmurs across the street where the contingency from Stu’s was watching and waiting to see what entertainment might unfold between the two of us. By now, the ambulance and fire trucks had pretty much blocked off Main Street to vehicles, rerouting traffic, but the bar had been busy and all of Stu’s customers were congregating as close as possible on foot.
    “The grass right here is compressed,” I said. “See? Somebody was lying here, just like I told you.” Actually, the grass had been cut recently and looked short and perky, but I had to at least try.
    A paramedic from the ambulance walked over. “Do we have an emergency or not?”
    “Not!” Johnny yelled. “Clear out.” Then he looked over at Stu’s customers. “And, all of you, get off my street, or I’ll Breathalyzer every last one of you. Public drunkenness is a crime in my town.”
    That’s our police chief, unhampered by any normal human longings for things like honor and respect. Give him power and control and he’s perfectly happy. Johnny might not know how to make friends, but he sure knew how to disperse a crowd. Everybody vanished.
    “So Fischer,” he said next. “I suggest you file a report. I’ll get the paperwork out of my vehicle.”
    That surprised me. Johnny Jay had put away his handcuffs, wasn’t going to arrest me, and was actually cooperating for once. Something was up. I followed him out of the cemetery against my better judgment and waited while hetook his sweet time getting a clipboard, pen, and form for me to fill out.
    “Once you complete this,” he said, clicking open the pen and handing it to me, “I’ll be able to officially investigate.”
    “About time,” I said, poised to fill out the form. “Only this pen isn’t working.”
    “I’ll get another one.”
    “Stop!” I heard right behind me. “Don’t do it!”
    I’d recognize that grating voice anywhere. Patti Dwyre! My neighbor has an unhealthy fascination with stealth, sneaking around on tiptoes and blending into the woodwork, always coming up behind her target. She’s managed to scare the daylights out of me more than once.
    This time was no exception.
    The useless pen went flying out of my hand.
    Johnny Jay attempted to give me a new one.
    Patti grabbed it instead. “She isn’t interested in filing a report.”
    “What are you talking about?” I said, attempting to take the pen away from her. “Of course I’m filing a report.”
    “If you do,” she said, “the police chief will nail you for filing a false report.”
    I glanced at Johnny Jay and caught the smirk on his face just before he hid it.
    “Is that true?” I said, getting really ticked off. Uncontrollable rage bubbled to the surface before I could stop it. Everybody has a breaking point. He’d found mine.
    “I stumble over someone on the ground in the cemetery,” I said, getting right in his face. “A body. Foul play could be involved, for all we know. And you can’t even shine your damn flashlight around the area. You’re way too busy messing with me. Two can play this game, you know. I ought to file harassment charges against you! And entrapment charges! And incompetency charges!” Although I wasn’t sure he could be charged for that.
    “You better lower your voice, Story Fischer,” he said, grabbing the clipboard. “And just so you know, filing a report for a crime that didn’t occur and wasting taxpayer’s valuable dollars by fraudulently calling for emergency services is a misdemeanor.”
    Patti was right. He had been setting me up!
    I realized that I was wasting my time and energy trying to be cordial to Johnny Jay. He didn’t deserve respect or consideration from me in the future ever again. Not that he’d had any from me in the first place, come to