Page 2 of Honey Mead Murder

“Tea.” Murphy subsided when they’d already danced out the door. “Sodding nosy twit.”

“I heard that, Paddington.”

Ignoring them, Murphy hefted the crate of honey to the other side of the room to one of the tables set up against the wall. It was a little brewery attached to an existing pub on the edge of the small village. They’d made the most of the space.

It was perfect for two or three people. They had enough space for the casks of mead and for brewing. He kept the business small on purpose.

His da tried to encourage him to expand. A few pubs in nearby villages often asked him to deliver to them, but he was content. The brewery was a passion project for him; he wanted nothing more than to have enough to live comfortably.

Nothing more, nothing less.

He’d never been overly ambitious. There hadn’t been grand dreams in his childhood. All he wanted was to be comfortable and satisfied.

And to take pride in what he did. The brewery and pub were a success in his eyes, since they paid for themselves. What else could he possibly need in life?

“Paddington?”

“Hmm?”

“George is on his way over. He has a few suggestions for flavour pairings to go with the honey. Something about early in the season making it lighter and more delicate.” Teagan stepped back inside. They hunted at the desk in the opposite corner of the room for the brewery journal. “We’re a few days behind in our notes. We haven’t even started the page for June.”

“Can you manage? I want to run to the pub and check on Maisie and Graeme. They’re setting up for the tasting party we’re throwing tomorrow.” Murphy braced himself for dealing with his younger brother and sister-in-law. He loved them both, but they were often a little much first thing in the morning. “On second thought—”

“You do not pay me enough to deal with them this early.” Teagan immediately cut him off. “Does Maisie have a theme for this event?”

“Maybe we are twins.” Murphy smiled at them. “Perhaps I’ll give us both hazard pay this year. And Maisie has a theme of sorts. Something about ‘in the mists of time’? I stopped paying attention. She mentioned dry ice.”

“Graeme’s not that bad.”

“Then you deal with him.”

“Coward.” Teagan had already dug into one of the desk drawers to find a pen and a ruler. “Off you pop. I’ve got a journal to update.”

“I should’ve stayed in bed this morning.”

“And miss George?”

Murphy paused to consider. He’d put himself through far more than his brother if it meant spending time with George. “You’re not wrong, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Grumpy bastard.”

TWO

GEORGE

“Bumble? You awake in there?” George crouched down to where his beloved rescue pug had vanished underneath the table. He was in one of his many beds in the little cottage. “Come on. The day awaits us.”

A snore was his only response. Bumble was his third rescue pug. He worked with a charity that specifically took in older dogs who often had health issues.

If George hadn’t been obsessed with his bees, he thought he might happily have dedicated his entire life to rescuing pugs. The poor creatures. He hated how often people weren’t prepared to care for their particular needs.

“Well?” George reached under the table to grasp the edge of the blanket and slid Bumble across the floor to him. He chuckled when the pug licked at one of the many bees tattooed on his fingers. “Good morning to you too. Shall we get going? Don’t you want to see Paddy and Tea?”

Shoving down the little bubble of joy thinking about Murphy always brought him, George lifted Bumble up into his arms. He sighed at the fur now covering his black T-shirt. His life was doomed to forever wearing a dusting of pug.

He carried Bumble into the bathroom and grabbed one of the cloths on a shelf across from the sink. The elder pug put up with his careful grooming with many a sigh and grunt. It was important to take great care with his skin to prevent health issues.

George set Bumble down on the floor. He grabbed a nearby brush and dragged it through his black hair. It was just past his shoulders, probably more than due for a cut. He made sure to moisturise his face and trim his goatee a little. “Well? Are we ready to see Paddy?”

---