Read Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel Online
Authors: Rose Pressey
Tags: #Mystery, #rose pressey, #crafting mystery, #amateur sleuth, #cozy mystery, #women sleuth, #mysteries
“Just because she was in your backyard?
That’s sort of a big deal, don’t you think, darling?”
Now that she mentioned it, I guessed it was a
big deal. But still… “I suppose I can see where it would seem odd,
but I just moved in. I doubt anyone even thought I’d be there that
night. They probably still thought the house was empty.” Maybe
Nancy thought the house was empty. That could have been the reason
she was there.
She stared for a minute, then began to cut
again. “All I know is I didn’t do it, and neither did Mark.”
I didn’t respond. After a bit of silence, I
decided to ask her about her necklace. I felt it was a great segue.
Very smooth. Okay, not so smooth. But she had scissors, what can I
say? I was nervous.
“I discovered this necklace in the backyard
near where they found Nancy. I can’t believe the police didn’t see
it. It’s very pretty actually. Has the initial—”
“You can pay Lynnette.” She yanked the cape
from around my neck and walked away, leaving me sitting there with
all eyes focused my way. I wanted to yell, ‘What are you looking
at?’ Probably not a good idea, though.
I hurried from the chair to the front of the
salon and paid. The whole scene couldn’t have been much worse. She
hadn’t butchered my haircut, though, so I should thank my lucky
stars and get the heck out of there.
When I reached the sidewalk and set out in
the direction of home, I felt a presence behind me—a hostile
presence.
“Word has it that you’re messing around with
the buildings now.”
I turned around. Martha Murdoch stood in
front of me with her hands squarely on her hips. Her brown hair
pulled back into a tight twist, and her crisp white suit made her
look as if she were ready for a business meeting. Perhaps a meeting
with the devil? But something about her rough demeanor made the
clothing seem all wrong for her. Her eyes held a hatred behind
them—a hatred for me and probably a long list of others. She needed
horns and a pitchfork, then she could help lead the way in chasing
me out of town.
This was my chance to ask her about the
buildings, but I didn’t think I could work up enough nerve. Turned
out maybe sleuthing wasn’t one of my strong points. I needed to
read a few more books.
“Isn’t getting that house enough for
you?”
“Excuse me?” I tried to remain polite. I
really didn’t want to go to jail today. Or any other day for that
matter.
She continued. “It’s more than you deserve. I
won’t let you get in the way of this project. No way, no how.” She
pointed her brightly tipped finger in my direction. “I get what I
want. I have ways of taking care of this sort of thing, you
know?”
How did she know what I wanted? I assumed she
referred to the old buildings. My mouth probably hung open. When I
finally wrapped my head around the situation, I asked, “Don’t you
want to make Honeysuckle a better place to live?”
“What do you know about Honeysuckle? You move
here a year ago with that deadbeat husband and think you own the
place?”
“I don’t think that at all.” I shook my head.
“And he’s an ex-husband, thank you very much.”
“And stay away from my home, too. I don’t
want to catch you anywhere near me. I’ll have you arrested. The
nerve, I can’t believe you’d come to my home.”
That statement didn’t even deserve a comment.
Honestly, I didn’t know how to respond. She had a screw loose. “Why
do you hate me?”
“Besides the fact that you’re a murderer?
Isn’t that enough?”
“The police don’t think I’m a murderer. If
they did, don’t you think they’d have arrested me by now? Just
because the woman is in my backyard doesn’t mean I had anything to
do with it.”
“That’s another thing. I’m looking into if
that will was valid. I smell something fishy about this whole
situation.”
If she smelt something fishy it was probably
her feet.
My cheeks burned from the heat. I was
surprised I didn’t have steam coming out of my ears. I hurried
away. The faster I put distance between us, the better. How had she
known about my ideas for the buildings? I’d only mentioned them to
Claire Ann. Now that I thought of it, Claire Ann was the one
working at gossip central. But she was my friend, surely she
wouldn’t mention it.
When I reached the store, I hurried through
the doors. I didn’t care if people didn’t want me there or not. I’d
had enough. Being accosted by the mayor’s wife was my breaking
point. I had just as much right to go anywhere in this town as
anyone else. If Claire Ann had told the mayor’s wife my plans, then
she had betrayed me. Why would she do that?
“Why did you tell the mayor’s wife about my
plans?” I placed my hands on my hips.
“I didn—”
“Just stop, Claire Ann.” I held up my hand.
“Who else could have? You’re the only one I told.”
Claire Ann’s eyes widened.
“I’m sick of this. I can’t trust you.” I
stormed out before she said another word. What could she say? That
she hadn’t told? I knew that was a lie.
At that moment, the old Victorian seemed like
my home more than ever. It was my refuge and I wanted nothing more
than to be within its comforting walls before I was waylaid by
anyone else. Going home and getting away from everyone for a while
sounded like heaven. If I never saw anyone in Honeysuckle again,
I’d be happy. What bothered me the most was I thought I could trust
Claire Ann to keep her mouth shut.
As I marched down the sidewalk, a couple old
ladies walked toward me, but when I made eye contact, they turned
and crossed the street. You’d have thought I had the black plague
or something. I’d be darned if I’d let these crazy people stop me
from enjoying my new home and living my life. When I neared the
local bank, I realized I had all the money from Mr. Littlefield’s
stay in my purse. With my rotten luck, my attacker would return and
steal every penny. He could attack me if he felt the need, but
hands off my money.
The bank was in the largest building in town.
It towered over everything else. By big-city standards, though, it
was small. I made my way to the entrance. When I reached the front,
a tall, thin man with gray hair approached. His suit fit every
angle of his body and his red tie looked like pure silk. I couldn’t
be certain, but I thought it was the same man who’d been talking
with Mr. Littlefield. His shoulder brushed mine as he passed in a
hurry. I stumbled forward, but caught myself. He rushed through the
door. Did he see me? Did he notice almost knocking me flat on my
face?
“How rude,” I mumbled.
I climbed the steps and entered the old
structure. It was a square red-brick building, probably erected
sometime around the turn of the century. It stood across the street
from the store, a few buildings down. The lobby was empty except
for the man who was now talking with a teller. I could have heard a
pin drop. Was he whispering? It was as if I’d stepped into the
library instead of a bank. Thank goodness the rude guy had gotten
the not-so-pleasant Mrs. Manning. She’d worked at the bank since
the building had been erected, or so I’d heard. The other teller
stared at me from behind the counter.
I approached and placed my deposit down on
the counter. “Hi.”
“You doing okay?” she asked as she picked up
my deposit. “Doesn’t look like you’re having a great day.”
“I’m not. Everyone in this town hates me.” I
looked over my shoulder to see if the man was still there. He made
his way across the lobby and out the door, mumbling under his
breath.
The teller’s gaze held sympathy. Joanne Davis
had always been nice to me. Her style probably made her unpopular
with other women in town, with her over-bleached blonde hair and
too-tight blouses.
“I don’t hate you. I don’t believe you had
anything to do with the murder. And neither does anyone else,
either. They just want to cause trouble.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just trust me. They’ve always been that
way.” She looked around, then whispered, “I heard they found a
chemical smell on the body. Like on her hands or something.”
My mouth hung open. Talk about random
statements. When I could speak again, I said, “Really? Where did
you hear that?”
“I can’t reveal my source.”
“Well, what else have you heard?”
She leaned in, lowering her voice. “You
didn’t hear this from me, but Nancy was making withdrawals from her
account. I can’t say much, but there were lots of withdrawals, but
not from her joint account, if you know what I mean. She had
another account. I don’t think anyone else knew about it—other than
the few people who work here.”
Why was she telling me this? Whatever the
reason, I was grateful for the few details. “But wouldn’t somebody
here tell her husband?”
“I don’t think so.” She waved a hand. “My
boss doesn’t like her husband, anyway.”
I took my receipt, feeling a little dizzy
from the details. “Thanks for the info.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. Oh, and don’t
tell anyone I told, ’kay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
She didn’t have to share the information with
me, and I didn’t know for sure why she did. There was no time to
ask now, though, I needed answers. The only person who could help
was the one person who might throw me in jail. Regardless, I needed
to call Kent immediately. I needed to solve the crime, with or
without his help. He was the sheriff, and maybe the last person who
should help me, but I didn’t have anywhere else to turn.
Before I left, I said, “By the way, since you
see most people in town, I thought I’d ask if you recognized this
necklace.” I pulled the beaded chain and pendant out of my
pocket.
She held it in her palm. “It looks so
familiar.” She turned it over. “Where did you find it?”
Even though she’d given me information, I
wasn’t sure I should share with her exactly where I’d found it. I
needed to keep this clue to myself for the time being.
“I picked it up from the sidewalk,” I
lied.
She handed it back. “It’s a style some of the
young girls are probably wearing.”
“True. I did find it on the route the kids
would take to school.” The lying thing was getting easier. But it
did make me think. Maybe the necklace had belonged to one of
Nancy’s students. “Thanks again for the help.” I stuffed the
necklace back into my pocket and headed toward the door.
“Not a problem. Good luck, Rae.” She gave a
half-hearted smile full of pity.
I hurried home, not paying attention to my
surroundings.
As I walked, I dialed Kent’s number. No
answer. Hells bells. I left a message telling him about the mayor’s
wife and the chemical smell story. Was it just a story? Or was
something strange happening in Honeysuckle? I left out the part
about the bank withdrawals because Joanne had said not to tell
anyone.
When I reached the house, something came over
me. A strange desire for more answers, maybe? Whatever the feeling
was, it made me walk around to the scene of the crime. Maybe if I
sat near the murder scene, something would spark an idea. I’d take
whatever I could get. I still didn’t want to look at the spot where
poor Nancy took her last breath, but I’d at least sit close by.
Halfway to the gazebo, I noticed something
red lying on the lawn. I approached, then bent down and picked it
up. A red bandana sat next to the honeysuckle bush at the entrance
of the path into my neighbor’s yard. I glanced around, then picked
it up. When I examined the scarf, I noticed the initial M was
written on the tag in black marker. I took in a sharp breath. Could
it be the same M with the necklace? It had to be more than a
coincidence. Whoever had the initial M liked to use this path. But
why? And where were they going? Did it have anything to do with the
murder? And for that matter, why was the path there anyway? I
didn’t know the answer, but I was determined to find out. Now.
Martha Murdoch definitely had the initial M. But then so did Mrs.
Mathers. But the necklace didn’t look like one she’d own.
Down the path, and across Judy’s yard, stood
a small shed. With the door ajar, it looked as if it called me,
wanting me to investigate.
“That’s not yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I jumped, then whirled around. “You nearly
scared me to death.” I held my hand to my chest.
“I wanted to apologize. For what, I’m not
sure. I really didn’t tell anyone. Cross my heart.” Claire Ann
crossed her chest with her index finger.
I shook my head. “We’ll talk about it later,
right now I have bigger cupcakes to bake.”
She scrunched her brow. “I don’t get your
analogies.”
“Never mind.” I waved my hand. “I found out
some new details about the murder. I feel like the answer is on the
tip of my tongue.”
She frowned. “Maybe you need to just let Kent
deal with it.”
“Yeah, cause that’s working out so well for
me now. Nope.” I shook my head. “I need answers. Look at this.” I
held out the bandana.
She shrugged and scrunched her brow. “It’s
good to wear when you’re working on the house.”
“It’s not mine. I found it along this path.
Look.” I motioned for her to come over. “Do you know why there
would be a path here?”
She studied the beat-down grass and dirt for
a minute, then shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe Judy visited with
Mrs. Mathers a lot.”
I stuffed the bandana in my pocket. “She did
say that.”
“Well, there you go. Come on, let’s go inside
and cool off. You got any lemonade?” She gestured toward the back
porch.
I turned my attention away from her. I stared
down the pathway. “Come on.” I motioned as I marched across the
property line and into Judy’s yard.
“Where are you going?” Claire Ann whispered.
She hurried behind me.
I hunkered low to the ground and Claire Ann
followed. How ridiculous we must have looked slinking along through
the bushes like a couple of cat burglars. We made it across the
yard undetected. No noise came from the house and I prayed Judy or
anyone else wasn’t home. Her car had been missing from the
driveway.