Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel (12 page)

With trembling hands he placed his suitcase
on the floor and he nodded. “Yes, I do. I didn’t think there were
any places in Honeysuckle. I’ve been coming through here for
several years and always had to stay the next town over. Then
tonight I saw your sign lit up, and I was exhausted so thought I'd
give it a shot.” He glanced around the room.

“I just opened up.”

He didn’t need to know he was my first
customer. I wanted him to think I knew what I was doing. Kent eyed
the man. Mr. Littlefield returned the stare down.

“I need to see your identification.”

Shouldn’t I be the one asking for that?

Mr. Littlefield looked from me to Kent, then
handed over his driver’s license.

Kent examined the photo, then looked at Mr.
Littlefield again. After a few seconds, he handed the card
back.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Kent asked
me. “In private.” He tilted his head toward the front porch as he
stuck his gun back in its holster.

I eyed him for a minute. Kent was ruining my
first impression with my first customer. Wasn’t holding the man at
gunpoint enough? No amount of chocolates on his pillow would make
up for that.

“Can you have a seat for just a moment, Mr.
Littlefield?” Bonus points for me remembering his name. “You can
sit here on the sofa and I’ll be right back to show you to your
room.” I patted the cushion.

No secret that I was learning this hotel
stuff as I went. Winging it—the story of my life. I stepped out
onto the porch behind Kent. I smiled at Mr. Littlefield as I shut
the door, leaving him to question my sanity. He didn’t smile back;
instead he had a confused scowl across his face.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked.

“What’s wrong with me? You called the police
tonight. What is wrong with you?” He crossed his arms across his
chest, flexing his forearms.

“You knew I was trying to run a business. Did
it occur to you that I’d have a customer knocking on my door?”

“No, as a matter of fact, it didn’t.” He
frowned.

“That’s not very nice,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Rae.” He stepped closer.

Not only did my stomach tingle, but
unmentionable spots did, too. How could I stay mad at him? Focus.
New hotel customer… killer on the loose… and attacker. Not to
mention, men were a pain in the butt. I needed to focus.

“I worry about you, Rae. Ever since you moved
to town, you just looked like you needed someone to take care of
you. Pardon me for saying this, but Ross sure as heck never was
going to do it. I know we’ve never really had a chance to get to
know each other, but I’d like to...”

He stood just beyond the porch light. I
couldn’t see his face or read his expression, but I knew he was
studying his boots. If I’d been able to see well, I’d swear that he
was blushing. He’d like to what? Was he going to finish the
sentence? A long silence hung in the air. I didn’t know what to
say.

Finally, I asked, “Why do you think I need
protecting? I’m a little woman who needs the big strong man to
protect me? I had the big strong man, remember? And look what that
got me.” I crossed my arms across my chest this time.

“That’s not what I meant. Ross was never
strong—not mentally. I think you need protection from people like
Ross. Maybe you’re not the best judge of character, is all I’m
saying, so letting strangers stay in your home may not be such a
good idea.”

“Well, if you can think of some other way for
me to make money in this town, legally, of course…” I swear if he
said the Booby Patch…

Kent frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be humorous. Now if
you’re finished, I need to get back to my guest.” I gestured toward
the door.

“Call me if you need anything, please.” Kent
placed his hand gently on my arm. My body tingled. “I’m headed over
to the fairgrounds. I’ll call you as soon as we find out anything.”
He handed me his card. I didn’t bother to tell him that he’d
already given me a card. I thought I had about six now. I still
hadn’t called. He let go of my arm. I watched as he stepped off the
porch, walked down the path, through the gate and to his cruiser.
He looked back as he closed the door. From the overhead light, his
eyes looked sad.

As I watched him drive off, the hairs on my
arms stood up. A strange feeling that someone was watching my every
move enveloped me. As I stepped toward the door, something in the
bushes moved. I leapt toward the door and lunged through it.

Mr. Littlefield jumped in his seat and
clutched his chest. “What the hell?”

I slammed the door and locked it. “I’m so
sorry,” I said.

“Are you sure everything is all right?” His
voice wavered. “I can just stay at the hotel in the next town. I’m
wide awake now anyway.”

“No, no. Don’t be silly, it’s fine. That darn
cat again.” I chuckled.

As I looked at him, I wished for Kent to be
back. Maybe I did need protection. What was I thinking inviting
strangers into my home? But here I was with a stranger…in my living
room. And I’d been attacked an hour ago. I so needed a shower and a
cookie. Maybe two cookies.

“Let me just get some information from you,”
I said, walking over to my three-dollar newly painted desk. I
handed him the paper to fill out—I’d made some forms on the
computer. An old laptop was one of the few things, other than my
grandmother’s necklace, I’d gotten from the divorce.

“I’ll just need to see your driver’s
license.” I felt weird asking that after Kent had demanded to see
it, but it had to be done. After all, he was a complete stranger.
“Oh, and it’ll be seventy-five dollars for the night. I forgot to
tell you earlier with the...well, you know.” I’d better stop
talking before I dug a deeper hole for myself.

He handed me his identification, then reached
in his other pocket. Mr. Littlefield patted his pants. “I can’t
find my wallet.”

“Oh, no. When did you have it last?”

“I had it in my car. I’m a little nervous
now.”

“Well, I’m surprised you haven’t forgotten
your own name with all the hijinks going on around here, huh?” I
laughed and fidgeted with my hands.

He didn’t laugh, or even smile for that
matter. “Yes, I guess so. I’ll go look in the car.”

This was so awkward. I was trying to laugh
and this strange man was probably fearful for his life. He was
handsome, I noticed, in a strange way. Olive skin, short dark hair
and chestnut eyes. He wore a blue polo and khakis with brown
loafers. The pants were crisp and wrinkle-free and so was the
shirt, but his shoes were covered in mud. I wondered what he was
doing coming through Honeysuckle. I debated whether to ask or not.
It was considered small talk, right? Should I really let this
stranger stay in my home? I couldn’t be suspicious of everyone
though, right?

After a couple minutes, he returned with
wallet in hand. As he filled out the form, I got up enough nerve
for the small talk and asked. “So what brings you to
Honeysuckle?”

“Just passing through,” he said and shoved
the paper back at me. He pulled out his wallet, retrieved cash and
shoved it at me.

“Four twenties. Let me get you some change,
then I’ll show you the room.”

“Don’t bother, keep the change. I’d like to
go to my room. I think I’ve had enough excitement for the day.”

“Sure, no problem. Thank you,” I said, and
stuffed the money in the drawer of my little desk. I’d bought a
little safe to store any money in. Wishful thinking, because I
wasn’t sure I’d even have customers, but now look at me. Just call
me Ms. Innkeeper.

I didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer
though, so I headed toward the steps. “Follow me, please. It’s just
up the steps.” I pointed.

As he walked behind me, I keep thinking of
what Kent said. My heart rate increased and it wasn’t just from
climbing the stairs. My attacker crossed my mind. Then I thought of
the man behind me. He did have mud on his shoes. Chills went down
my arms again. He was following close. Too close.

Chapter Seventeen

I hurried my steps until we finally reached
the top, then rushed over to the room. I unlocked the door and
stepped to the side. He brushed past. I wanted him out from behind
me.

“If you need anything, please, just let me
know,” I stuttered.

I didn’t sound like a confident innkeeper.
But after all, it was my first time. I was an innkeeper virgin.

“I’ll make sure to do that,” he snapped and
closed the door in my face. I would have thought that rude any
other time, but right now I was glad to be away from him.

Trailing down the stairs, I still didn’t know
what I’d gotten myself into. If Claire Ann told me to jump off a
building, would I do it? Well, there was that time she told me to
enter the talent contest with her. She knew I couldn’t sing or
dance, but I did it anyway. With a thousand-dollar prize, she
should’ve known we wouldn’t win. I hadn’t expected any customers,
so I hadn’t bought much at the store. But I’d set out a snack and
some juice for him in the morning. My idea of continental
breakfast. Better than a Ramada any day.

Once back downstairs, I was thankful my room
was on the first floor. It was creepy enough to sleep in a house
with a stranger. I didn’t need him right across the hall from me. I
hadn’t even adjusted to being in the house myself yet. Everything
was still new and foreign to me. I wondered if I’d ever get used to
it and if I’d ever really believe it was mine.

Mr. Littlefield’s footsteps echoed across the
floor upstairs. I paused to listen, then they stopped. He must have
gone to bed. I slipped into my room and latched the little lock at
the top. If he wanted to get me while I slept, he’d have to tear
the door down. At least that would wake me and give me time to call
the police—my third 911 call. Although Kent would just say ‘I told
you so.’ It was a chance I was willing to take, though.

As much as the place didn’t feel like home, I
was in love with it already. I wanted it to be my home. But
affording it was a different story. The only way to make that
happen was to have guests. I’d have to keep reminding myself of
that. The house was beautiful and with my decorating it would be
better. Sharing a house so beautiful with others would be great. I
could show off my hard work.

Dirt still covered my clothes and hands. My
first guest had seen me looking like a mud wrestler. My appearance
probably only confirmed for Mr. Littlefield I was only one buckle
short of being secured in a little white coat. Heck, he probably
thought the whole town was bonkers. Not good for tourism. I wanted
to turn this town around. I’d have to in order to get guests in the
hotel. As I contemplated, I slipped into the shower. We needed a
lively downtown and I’d try my best to make that happen. The vision
of a little café and antique shop popped in my head again. Why was
I thinking this? Could I really find a way to bring the town
together? No way. They hated me.

My mind wandered at the possibilities while
the hot water ran over my tight muscles. Thankfully I wasn’t
injured in my escape—just a few scratches. I could have broken a
bone or something. If only I could have broken a bone or two on the
creep who attacked me. As I turned the water off, the sound of
footsteps echoed across the floor again. I held my breath and
listened. Steps again. Were they in the hall? What the heck was Mr.
Littlefield doing walking around? Had I locked the door? It
couldn’t hurt to check again. I slipped on my pajamas and eased
over to the door.

The door was locked, but I had another
dilemma again. To open the door or not? I didn’t really have
anything worth stealing if someone did break in, so maybe I’d just
stay put. Mr. Littlefield probably needed a drink of water. I had
to stop my anxiety if I was going to have guests. If I didn’t, I’d
be out of business before I started. The steps had stopped. Maybe
the sound was pipes. Did pipes make noises that sounded like
footsteps? Sure, they had to, right? I left the door shut.

I eased into bed and tried to forget about
the stranger just above my bedroom. Instead of envisioning him
stuffing me into his trunk and burying me in the woods, I focused
on decorating. That always eased my mind. Happy thoughts. At some
point I drifted off to sleep, then woke to the birds chirping, the
sun beaming through the edges of the shades and my cell phone
ringing off the hook.

“What the heck?” I groaned.

The clock read six-thirty. I hadn’t heard my
guest yet. I hoped to be up and moving before he was. Yummy
blackberry muffins for breakfast might redeem his terrible first
impression of my place.

I grabbed the phone from my nightstand. The
urge to throw the thing across the room just to shut it up was
strong, but I pushed it back. Operating an inn probably wasn’t the
right profession for someone who wasn’t a morning person. But I
guessed the profession had picked me, and not the other way
around.

“Hello,” I said into the phone. My voice
cracked a little—the tell-tale sign that I’d just woken up. My Aunt
Janey always said it was tacky to answer the phone and allow the
person to hear you croak into the receiver. But how did you avoid
something like that? Not answer the phone?

“What is wrong with you? Why didn’t you call
and tell me?” It was Claire Ann.

“I knew you’d find out soon enough. I’m sure
it's all over town by now. Heck, probably news made it all the way
to Tennessee by now.”

“This is not a laughing matter,” she
said.

“Who’s laughing? I’m serious.” I leaned back
in bed.

“So am I. You should have called me. I would
have come over right away.”

“And done what? Helped my guest unpack?”

“About your guest… Maybe I didn’t make such a
good suggestion after all. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure
I like the idea of you staying in a house with strangers.”