Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel (11 page)

My feet pounded against the sidewalk. I was
in shock; I couldn’t believe I’d escaped. My screams echoed off the
buildings, but if anyone heard, they didn’t run to my rescue. Based
on remembering bits of my mother’s lectures on safety, I figured
the best thing I could do was draw attention. Maybe he’d leave. I
was nearly halfway home before I even bothered to glance over my
shoulder again. He wasn’t there. Thank goodness. I’d made my way
home alive. How? I wasn’t sure.

The street had seemed unusually dark. Maybe
my fear clouded my perception of his distance. When I made it into
the house and locked the door behind me, I yanked the phone out of
my pocket, then punched in 911. I’d wanted nothing more than to be
secure in my own home. My new safe haven. But was I really secure?
A dead body in the back yard and footsteps indoors didn’t make me
feel all warm and cozy on the inside.

With the door secure, I let out a deep breath
and tried to steady my breathing. I didn't know what to do. Who had
attacked me? If the police hurried, maybe they’d find the creep
still lurking around outside. Finally the 911 operator picked up
and I explained to her that I’d been attacked. I recognized
Sherry’s voice—thank goodness it wasn’t Joan again. Although Sherry
didn’t seem convinced that I wasn’t trying to pull a prank on her.
It was a good thing my attacker wasn’t stabbing me while I waited
on her to decide.

“Sherry Meyer, I let you use those coupons
even though they’d expired. You owe me, now quit questioning me and
send someone out.”

“You’re at Mrs. Mathers’ house? Are you sure
you didn’t just see a shadow?”

I felt like banging my head on the wall.
“It’s my house now! And someone did chase me.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your drawers in a wad.
I’ll send someone over.”

I let out a deep breath. “Thank you.” It was
like pulling teeth.

Would Kent show up? I looked like hell. But I
couldn’t exactly put on lip gloss before he arrived. That would
look a bit weird. And why was I worrying about makeup at a time
like this, anyway?

After clicking off the phone, I inched around
to every window and pulled down the old shades. I prayed the person
wasn’t outside trying to get in. Or what if someone was already
inside? Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought of that scenario. After all, the
killer obviously knew where I lived. Paranoia had officially set
in.

What was taking the police so long now? The
lightbulb went off—they were probably all just leaving the county
fair. Too stuffed with corn dogs and elephant ears to worry about a
little thing like crime. Kent was the only one whose waist line was
trim. And muscles hard... Focus, Rae, focus.

The knock on the door made me almost jump out
of my skin.

Chapter Fifteen

“Who is it?” I barely croaked the words out.
My legs shook. The person on the other side of the door probably
heard my knees knocking.

“It’s Sheriff Klein.” The husky voice floated
through the wood door.

Add stomach flutters to my fear. Even in a
time like this he made my insides do a few flips. I peeked out the
shade. I knew it was his voice, but what if someone had a gun to
his head. I supposed I did have an active imagination, but I was
just attacked, I deserved a little slack. The porch light lit his
gorgeous face, showcasing the strong cheekbones, blond hair and
dreamy eyes. He looked out of place on my porch, unless he was
modeling for a magazine. But I was positive a photo shoot would
never be held in Honeysuckle, much less right outside my front
door.

“You going to let me in or do I have to break
down the door?”

“Sorry.” I fumbled with the lock and eased
the door open just enough to let him by. His distinct scent tickled
my nose as he moved past. I shut the door behind him and wanted to
lock it, but figured he might frown upon my erratic behavior. When
he thought of me I didn’t want the word nutcase to come to
mind.

“What’s going on?” He frowned. “Are you okay?
Did someone break in?” He looked me up and down. “Are you
hurt?”

The lip gloss didn’t seem like such a stupid
idea now. I looked down at my clothing. Dirt covered my shirt and
pants. My hands were scuffed up and filthy.

“No. I stumbled, but I’ll be all right.” I
wiped my hands on my pants. “Someone attacked me on my way to the
fair. He dragged me clear into the woods.” I showcased the
scratches on my arms for dramatic effect.

“Do you need to go to the hospital? Here,
come sit down.”

He took me by the elbow and led me over to
the sofa. His masculine scent circled me again, making the
butterflies return, not that they’d completely disappeared since
he’d showed up. I sat on the cushion and shifted from one side to
the other. The sofa was just as lumpy as the mattress. I couldn’t
relax. Not after the latest incident. Visions of the dark figure,
then Nancy’s bloody body raced through my mind.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what
happened.”

“I got off work. Closed the store at ten. It
took me a while to clean up. With the mopping and stuff, you know.”
I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled out a leaf. “After I
was done at almost eleven, I went out the back door, called Claire
Ann and decided to head to the fairgrounds for a few. I wanted to
see if she wanted to go with me.”

I thought I saw a slight smirk on his
face.

“What? I can’t go to the fair? Everybody
goes, right?”

“No, no, you can. I was there, that’s
all.”

Was he thinking about going to the fair with
me? Sharing a cotton candy? We could have snuggled up on the ferris
wheel together.

“So you walked by yourself? At night, after a
murder just took place in town?” he asked.

Now that he put it that way, it didn’t seem
like the best idea. But Honeysuckle had always been safe, and it
was hard to get that concept out of my head. “Yeah.” I nodded.

He shook his head. “Go on.”

“When I stepped outside and saw it was a
beautiful night, like I said, I called Claire Ann, then I walked in
the direction of the gate that I thought was the main entrance. Now
I realize I was wrong. They should let people know if they’re going
to change things, you know?”

“Why didn’t you call someone to walk with
you? Walking alone in the woods isn’t a great plan.”

I smirked. “I wasn’t walking in the woods,
and besides, who would I call? You?” I gave him a cross look. I
wasn’t sure if I was irritated because he interrupted me or if he
questioned why I did something.

Kent took a seat across from me in the old
rocking chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His
thighs bulged under the restraint of his uniform pants. He looked
around at the lace and dolls. Oh dear Lord, he thought they were
mine. In his eyes I was a deranged doll collector. Not just any
dolls, but creepy weird dolls. Did he think I had some kind of
weird doll obsession? Never mind, focus, I reminded myself.

“I was attacked by a deranged sociopath. I
need you to find my attacker A.S.A.P. Why do you keep looking
around? Stop that.”

“I’ve never been in here before. Not a lot of
distress calls from Mrs. Mathers.”

What was that supposed to mean? It was only
my second call. “I didn’t need to call the police either until I
found the dead body in my backyard.” I hadn’t meant to raise my
voice quite so much, but I was distraught. He’d have to overlook
it. Besides, I really hadn’t ever had to call the police before.
Except for that one time Ross was into his gun collecting and
stored his handgun in his back pocket. It only took out a little
chunk of flesh, but it was never the same after that.

“Hold on.” He held up his index finger and
lifted his radio to his ever-sensual lips.

Was it getting hotter? I needed to turn up
the air. He called for an officer to go to the fairgrounds and
check it out. I knew the attacker wouldn’t be there. But maybe they
would find some kind of evidence.

“You're sure you’re okay? You want to let me
take a look at those scratches?”

What a tempting offer. “No, no. Physically
I’m fine. I don’t know about mentally. It’s been a crazy week.
Getting this house. Finding the body and now this? Not sure how
much more I can handle.”

“Please continue your account.”

He’d taken his little pad of paper and pen
out at this point. “As I made my way down the road, a gloved hand
reached around and grabbed me.” I demonstrated.

“Did you see the person before they grabbed
you?”

“No.”

“Then what happened?” He scribbled on the
paper.

“He dragged me into the woods. I struggled,
then fell to the ground. I wiggled around a bit and got loose.”

He looked up from his notepad. I blushed. Did
I just say wiggled?

“Go ahead.”

“Well I got free, and I ran like a madwoman,
barely looking back until I got home. Then I called you. Well,
called 911.”

“I sent someone over there as you heard.
Hopefully they’ll found something. I don’t know if this is related
to the murder, but as you know, we don’t have a lot of crime in
Honeysuckle. Well, except for the drugs, of course. But that’s more
on the outskirts of town.” He gestured with his pen.

“Drugs? I didn’t know there was that problem
here.” My eyes widened.

He didn’t answer my question. “It may have
been an attempted mugging.”

“They didn’t know me then, because they’d
know I don’t have any money to take.”

He looked down and his voice lowered. “Or it
could have been an attempted rape.”

His face seemed redder. I didn’t know what to
say, and I definitely didn’t want to think of such a crime.

“Whatever they wanted, I’ll find them.” His
voice seemed angry. He stood. “You stay here and lock up; I’m going
over to the fairgrounds to look around. I’ll be back to check on
you.”

I smiled. “So this means you really believe I
didn’t have anything to do with the murder? There’s a killer out
there. What if it’s a serial killer?”

“I doubt there’s a serial killer in
Honeysuckle, but unfortunately it doesn’t matter what I think. I’m
just the sheriff, that doesn't mean much in Honeysuckle. What the
townspeople believe and want is what goes. The mayor wants be
re-elected so, if the population of Honeysuckle think you’re
guilty... well, I’ll just say I’d better find the real killer,
that’s all. But I will warn everyone that labeling you as a
murderer is defamatory. And I won’t tolerate it.”

I gulped. Looked as if I’d be spending the
rest of my days in prison unless he did. Orange was not my color
and I’d never looked good in a jumpsuit. Made my short legs look
even shorter. A loud rap on the door made me jump. My nerves were
on edge. Kent looked at me and held his finger up to his mouth,
then pulled out his gun. He motioned for me to step back.
Adrenaline rushed through me seeing him in action.

Kent inched toward the door, arm held up with
gun in hand. Was it wrong of me to feel attracted to him at this
time? I didn’t want to be, relationships were bad news for me. Like
I had a sex hex on me or something. Or was that a sexless hex?
Whatever. Not to mention my life was in danger. He inched closer to
the door, with his back against the wall.

“Who is it?” he demanded.

“Um, Norm Littlefield. I saw the sign out
front says you have vacancies? I can go somewhere else if you
don’t.”

I frowned at Kent.

He shook his head. “No way.”

I knew he wanted to send this man away, but I
needed the money. But my first customer this late at night? Just
like a scene out of a scary movie. All we needed was a
thunderstorm. I supposed he was traveling around and needed a
place. Maybe he got sleepy and wanted to rest for the night.

“I need the money.” I brushed past Kent and
his gun. “Put that away.”

“You were just attacked. I’m not sure you
should be letting in strangers,” Kent whispered as he held the door
shut.

“It was a coincidence, I’m sure. Besides I
have the police in my living room. I’m sure everything will be
fine.”

Kent pushed his way in front of me. He put
the chain across the lock, then spoke in a steady tone. “I’m
Sheriff Kent Klein of the Honeysuckle Police. I don’t want you to
be alarmed when I open the door with a gun in my hand.”

What the heck? The review I’d get on
TripAdvisor flashed through my mind. Assaults guests with police
brutality. “Are you kidding me? You did not just do that.”

“Do you want to be safe or sorry?” Kent
asked.

I sighed. “I’d rather be safe. I think.”

Kent shook his head. “Girl, what am I going
to do with you?”

I declined to answer his question. He inched
open the door. His arm was held out with the gun pointed toward the
man. Or, I assumed it was a man considering he said his name was
Norm with a deep voice—but you never knew. I was at the side and
couldn’t see straight out onto the porch. The poor guy. He’d
probably need to change his underwear.

“Put your hands up.” Kent demanded.

Chapter Sixteen

“What kind of crazy place is this?” Mr.
Littlefield asked.

“Just do it or you’re going to jail.” Kent
turned, then went out onto the porch.

“Is it safe?” I asked.

Just as I stepped forward, they entered. The
man’s face looked pale against the rest of his olive skin. Kent
probably took ten years off the poor fool’s life.

“I am so sorry.” How was I going to explain
this to him? He’d think Honeysuckle was a hotbed of crime. Should I
tell him I was attacked? Probably should leave out the murder in
the hotel brochure, too.

“I thought I heard something earlier. So I
called the police. Turned out to be a cat.” I chuckled. “Sorry
about that.”

“A little on edge around here, huh?” He
looked from me to Kent.

“So you need a room for the night?” I
smiled.