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About the Author: An avid mystery reader and writer, Mr. Ruark has been published in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine and is the author of two self-published scifi/mystery novels currently available on Amazon.com
The old beekeeper and his dog stood atop the chalk cliff and watched the sun rise over the English Channel. The tall old man smiled as the upper arc of the sun’s disc broke the straight line of the horizon and its soft, golden light enveloped them with a touch of warmth and a promise for the coming day. Heat was something his gaunt frame had come to cherish. “An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ‘crost the Bay …” mused the old man, quoting one of his favorite poets. “Obviously the sun rises to a different tune here in England than it does in the East, eh, Toby old boy,” the old man said aloud.
The lop-eared old dog shifted his position in the harness and tried to scratch at his right ear. His back paw encountered the flapping flesh only every third swing or so.
The old beekeeper smiled. Toby wasn’t the dog’s real name. The old man had been bequeathed the spaniel, lurcher, and who knows what else mongrel by an old friend who had died during the great influenza epidemic that struck the world after the Great War. The old beekeeper’s Toby had been the dog’s great-great grand sire and the old man felt it easier to call the dog by a name that he already knew rather than learn a new one. The dog didn’t seem to mind. At least, he never expressed any dissatisfaction with his new name, nor with his relocation from London to the Sussex Downs, nor to his having to pull a dogcart over the clay lanes when the honey harvest was ripe. The old man bent over and stroked the animal’s shaggy head and mused that here was another city dog that didn’t seem to mind the country life.
Loved it. Should have figured it out when the beekeeper started talking to the young detective, but I laughed out loud when I read the last line when the old man was sitting in the graveyard. I like it when someone comes up with a story that tells us about when the main character has gotten old.
I enjoyed this story. Nice sense of place and contrast between the bucolic setting and the violent crime.
Lovely little Holmesian pastiche. As a fan of the Laurie R. King's Mary Russell books, I caught on as soon we were on the coast with an old beekeeper. Toby the sniffing dog was a nice touch!
Excellent !!!!!!
A nice light read. Great story!
Very enjoyable read! Fun little cozy.
Good story, congratulations!
Clever, funny and sweet!
Lovely & fun read
What dashing characters - the old man and dog. Brilliant! A great little story!
Loved the story and the descriptions of the town and the houses. Good cultural element. You refer to the old man as old man and old beekeeper. Old beekeeper felt overused and I would switch to beekeeper. There is only one so no one will be consumed. Also. I would use 1918 flu epidemic. I got confused by the timeline. thanks
Excellent story. Guessing the identity of the beekeeper was easy; seeing how the mystery played out was the important part. Very good job!
Beautiful. Before the last paragraph, I was thinking the beekeeper missed his calling. One minor quibble. Do folks in England measure time by referencing the Civil War?
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