Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel

by Rose Pressey

  “The date didn’t go so well?”

  “I don’t think he liked me.” She sighed.

  “How could he not like you? You’re a babe, you have a great personality—”

  “Look, I already got you the gig at the paper. No need to butter me up.”

  I chuckled. “So does he have a name?”

  Her cell phone rang. “Hold that thought.” She held up her index finger.

  I couldn’t believe she was saved by the bell. I’d get more info out of her if it was the last thing I did. The drive back into town didn’t take long and Claire Ann was still on the phone with her mother when I pulled up in front of the store. I think her mother was giving her the usual you’re-in-your-thirties-why-aren’t-you-married speech. My mother had given up on asking after the disastrous marriage to Ross. Although I thought thirty-two was still plenty young enough to find a husband and start a family… or find a second husband.

  A couple old men stood in front of the store. They gawked and I turned my attention back to Claire Ann. I’d barely gotten the car in park when she opened the door and jumped out. She was pulling out her inner Dukes of Hazzard again. She told her mom to hold on a second. Normally, she’d be off the phone faster than she could say ‘ovulation test kit’, but this time she brushed me off to continue their conversation.

  Something was off—way off. She was definitely avoiding the questions about her date.

  “We’re not done with this conversation,” I said. “I’ll get more details about him. I’ll use my investigative skills if I have to. You saw how good I am,” I yelled behind her.

  She laughed and strolled away, waving, then putting the phone back up to her ear as she disappeared into the store. I bet she pushed the end button as soon the door closed behind her. Maybe I needed to do some sleuthing on her, too. I’d find answers, I’d show her.

  Okay, maybe I was taking the sleuthing thing too far. Perhaps I was bordering on being nosy and a little nutso. I never claimed to not be inquisitive though, she knew that. One of my better traits, I thought. Besides, I’d tell her if I met a guy. Although she never had to worry about that, I attracted losers only. Slim pickings in Honeysuckle. Best friends needed answers though. How bad could this guy be?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next morning arrived and my guest had asked to stay yet another night. I so wanted to know what business he had in Honeysuckle. Why did he have the plot plans of my street? I intended to get to the bottom of that question.

  With the rest of the day still ahead of me and nothing accomplished, I decided to work on the house—and maybe do a little detective work. Surely after a little labor I’d get another idea about what to do about my murder investigation. Heck, if I solved the cause maybe the town would give me a key to the city. Okay, wishful thinking, I knew.

  I pulled the Mustang into the driveway and glanced over at my neighbor’s. I let out a deep breath when I discovered she wasn’t outside stalking me. What Claire Ann had told me about Judy ran through my mind again. I’d seen a few cars over there, but otherwise she seemed to be a quiet neighbor, just a little nosy. But drugs? A chill ran down my spine.

  What was she up to in that house anyway? Again an old blue Buick, a couple of pickups and a beat-up Honda were in the driveway, but I didn’t see anyone. I climbed out and headed for the front door, but an idea popped into my head and stopped me in my tracks. Next thing I knew, I was headed towards the backyard. It was the first time since discovering the body that I’d ventured into the once-lush retreat. As much as I hated it, I knew I had to set foot on that green grass at some point.

  I inched toward the gazebo, then stopped a couple feet away. I gazed at nothing in particular. The twitter of birds filled the air and cotton-ball clouds shifted by slowly. Nearby daffodils wore their yellow sun-bonnets and purple pansies peeked up from the ground. A short time ago the yard had an ominous feeling surrounding it, but now it wasn’t so bad if I didn’t look in the exact spot where Nancy had been found. The peaceful and serene feeling had returned. But would I ever take pleasure in sitting in the gazebo without thinking about Nancy? The visions of quiet breakfasts under the shade amongst the flowers and nature each morning had danced through my head when I first moved in, but right now, when I thought about the murder, I lost my appetite. Finding a dead body kind of killed the enjoyment. Pun intended.

  As I stood there, near the back of the gazebo, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. Not so surprising since I hadn’t spent much time outside, but nevertheless, it seemed out of place. Between the bushes, leading from my crazy neighbor’s house, was an opening. A path had been worn over the grass and only dirt was visible. Why was it there? Maybe I needed a fence to keep neighbors away. Well, only one neighbor. I didn’t know how serious the relationship between Judy and Mrs. Mathers had been, but maybe Judy had actually been nice to the little old lady. Somehow, I doubted it.

  Moving away from the path, I neared the spot where Nancy had been found. I turned my gaze to the nearby bushes, trying not to look at the spot directly. A shiny metallic object caught my eye. I leaned down and pulled it from behind the bush. It was a necklace—silver with a beaded chain. The round pendant had the letter M in the middle. Whose was it and how long had it been there? It looked modern, not like an antique, but maybe it had been there since Mrs. Mathers lived here. Although it was so close to the spot where the body was found. Why hadn’t the police discovered the necklace when they searched the area?

  Once again the strange sensation washed over me, as if eyes were watching my every move, but I didn’t see a soul. I stuffed the necklace in my front pocket and hurried back toward the driveway. I’d left my purse in the car. The weird sensation stayed with me as I walked along the side of the house. As I neared my car, voices carried from the front yard. It was Mr. Littlefield and another male voice. They didn’t notice me, so I eased back a few steps, out of sight.

  “I have every right to be here.” Mr. Littlefield’s voice rose. “I told you I’d get the job done and I won’t leave until I finish it.”

  What the heck was he talking about? And who was the other man? Was it the same one from before? I hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, but I thought it was.

  “Just make sure you know what you're doing. I won’t lose any more money on this. I think it’s a stupid idea anyway. What about this one?” The man gestured with his head toward my house.

  “I’m not positive about her, but I’ll make sure she doesn’t get in the way.”

  Oh, my God! Were they talking about me? Of course they were. He pointed toward the house. What did I do now? I couldn’t kick him out based on one conversation. I hadn’t known what they were talking about for sure, but it was suspicious and creepy. No one could deny that. Was I safe in my home? The conversation grew quiet. I held my breath as footsteps descended from the porch. Please don’t let them find me eavesdropping. I slipped back a few steps, hoping they didn’t notice. My heart thumped as my back pressed as close to the house as I could get. Two car doors slammed one right after the other.

  After a few seconds, when I thought the coast was clear, I peeped out from my hiding spot. Mr. Littlefield drove toward Honeysuckle Supermarket and the other man went the opposite way out of town. After retrieving my purse, I eased around the front of the house, but still felt a gaze on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the police cruiser. I glanced at it, then saw Kent. And I knew he saw me.

  Was Kent watching my house? If so, then why? He claimed to think I was innocent. Would he know I had the necklace? I was being crazy—paranoid again. How could he possibly know? Unless… he had been spying on me. With all the flowers and trees he would have had to have been at the neighbor’s house to see me. And if anyone was in her yard, I’d know it. She wouldn’t be able to keep her big mouth shut. Kent backed the car up and pulled down the side road. He knew I’d seen him, so why hadn’t he come over to say anything? Had he seen the two men talking?

  “I feel we�
�ve gotten off to the wrong start.” The voice startled me. “I made you some cookies.” Judy held out a plate covered with plastic wrap.

  I looked at her smiling face, then down at the plate. She pulled back the plastic and shoved the white serving dish toward me.

  “Here, take a bite.”

  How would I avoid eating these? Again with my paranoia, right? But better safe than sorry. The murder had frazzled my nerves more than I’d thought. But it wasn’t like her character from what I’d seen and heard to make anyone anything. Unless perhaps a bomb to take me far, far away. She wanted me as her neighbor like I wanted to reconcile with Ross.

  “Oh, that’s very sweet of you,” I said through gritted teeth. I took the plate. “My hands are dirty, so I’ll just eat one of these later. You shouldn’t have, really.”

  She frowned and pinched her fat lips together. Without saying another word she turned on her heel and stormed away.

  Well, that went well.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Hey,” I said when Claire Ann picked up the phone. “How are things going there?”

  “Not the same without you.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure all the customers miss me.” I smirked.

  “Some do. Mr. Hennessey asked about you.”

  “That was sweet.”

  “Never mind the customers, though. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too. Listen, I emailed you the article. Let me know what you think.”

  “That was fast. Thanks for doing it so quickly, I’m sure I’ll love it. So, what else is going on? Any news?”

  “There are some strange things going on around here. I feel as if I’m being torn in all different directions. I found this necklace in the back yard near where I found Nancy’s body. It has the initial M. I don’t know if it was Mrs. Mathers’, Nancy’s or the killer’s. But why would Nancy have a necklace with the initial M? Oh, and I have another idea… I think I’ll make an appointment with Margaret at the salon and ask her some questions.”

  “Oh, no, be careful, you don’t know what your hair will look like if she finds out you’re snooping. She was sleeping around with Nancy’s husband and as long as fingers are pointing at you, people will leave her alone.”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise. I just can’t believe everyone knows she was cheating with Nancy’s husband, yet they never raise an eyebrow at her. She’s suspect number one as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Not exactly rational thinking going on around here, remember?”

  “Yeah, I know, I know. Hey, guess what else happened.” I looked down at the cookies in the trash can.

  “What?” The cash register dinged in the background.

  “My lovely neighbor gave me cookies out of the blue. She said we got off on the wrong foot.”

  “No way, you didn’t eat them did you?”

  “Are you kidding? I threw them away. She was mad when I didn’t sample one right away.” I stared out the window.

  “I’d keep my eye on her. She probably put a laxative in them.”

  “That's exactly what I was thinking. Plus, get this… Kent was across the street in his cop car watching my house.”

  “What the heck is going on? What do you think he’s up to?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s feeling the pressure to arrest me. This town will come after me with lit torches and pitchforks before long.” I sighed.

  “Maybe he’s just worried about you.”

  “Uh? I doubt it. Have you been talking to him? ‘Cause he mentioned being worried with a stranger in the house the other night.”

  “Well, you were attacked. Are you being careful?”

  “I know, I know. I’m being careful. Are you being careful? I think everyone should be careful. Although most people obviously think I made the story up.”

  “Look, honey, I’m sorry you’re having such a tough time.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t want to hear me rant. Let’s change the subject. Any plans for tonight?” I asked.

  “The connection was bad, what did you say?”

  Notice how Claire Ann had a way of avoiding answering questions without directly saying she wanted to change the subject?

  “Never mind. You got any customers right now?” I asked.

  “No, it’s slowed down now.”

  “Good, ’cause I wanted to run something past you. Like I said before, I think this town could increase tourist traffic. We have touristy things all around this county. Those old storefronts should be fixed up and businesses could be added. Maybe a café, antique shops, book store.”

  “That sounds great… in your head. But you know the mayor plans on building a road through here? They’re going to tear those old buildings down any week now. His wife has been pushing for it, and now he’s on board. He was against it at first, but you know she gets everything she wants.”

  “What? No. That would be horrible. We can’t let that happen. People will drive through Honeysuckle even faster and not even slow down for as much as a look. They barely stop now as it is.”

  “I know, but you can’t go against the mayor. All of town agrees with the project.”

  “Why?” I paused.

  “I don’t know why, they just do.”

  “Maybe I can convince them otherwise. There’s got to be something I can do.” I let out a deep breath.

  “I don’t know, Sweetie, listen, I got a customer. I have to go.”

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll talk to you later. Let me know what you think of the article.”

  “Okay, will do. Talk to you later.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Day had turned into evening. My to-do list was growing by the minute. It was a bit odd to say the least to have ‘Solve murder’ at the top of said list. But my future depended on it. My life depended on it. I felt the walls closing in on me. One thing for sure, I wanted to know more about my guest. So what was a girl to do? Google him. I typed in his name and came up with a website for an oil company. Mr. Littlefield wasn’t around, but I looked over my shoulder just in case. I clicked on the link. According to the website, he worked developing new gas stations for this oil company. Hmm. That didn’t tell me much. Should I mention to Kent about the plot plans? No, this was my way of investigating, and he probably wouldn’t think much of my little clues and interferences. If anything, he’d tell me to butt out. I was in the middle of searching for more when a loud knock rattled the front door. I jumped and quickly closed the browser.

  I peeped around the corner of the shade. Mr. Littlefield stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest and foot tapping against the porch floor. Again he’d had to knock on the door. When I opened it for him, I was greeted by the scowl I’d grown accustomed to from him. The Innkeeper of the Year award wasn’t headed my way anytime soon if he had any say in it.

  He marched through in a huff, not uttering a word. There was nothing I could do to make him happy. I went back to the computer with my shoulders more slumped than ever. No more searching for information on him now, though. Just in case he slipped back downstairs without me knowing. As I sat again, Mr. Littlefield’s footsteps echoed from upstairs. Was he rearranging my furniture? Would I ever get used to having guests?

  As I contemplated my to-do list, I decided to research registering a building as a national historic place. If I could do that for the buildings, then maybe I could save them. I also wondered who owned them—if I only had more contacts around town. A visit to the courthouse to research the deed was in order, but it’d have to wait a little while longer. Another thing to add to my to-do list—soon it would look like Santa’s toy list. Maybe Claire Ann’s uncle could be of some help. He’d probably know who owned the buildings.

  My cell rang and snapped me out of my musings. “Hello,” I said.

  “Hi, Raelynn. It’s Sheriff Kent Klein.”

  Yeah, by now I knew the name. My stomach dropped. I’d wondered when he'd be in contact. Would he pretend nothing had happened? As if I hadn’t seen
him spying on me.

  “Hi,” I said hesitantly.

  I waited for him to start the conversation. After all, he’d called me.

  “You still have the guest?” he asked.

  “Yes, why?”

  He paused. “It’s nothing.”

  I sensed it was something, but I wouldn’t press the issue. Did he know more about my guest than he pretended? “Have you found out anything about my attacker?”

  “No, I haven’t, but we’re still trying.”

  I wasn’t convinced that they were. Maybe he was, but I doubted anyone else gave a rat’s patootie.

  “Any news on the Nancy case?” I asked.

  “You do realize I shouldn’t be sharing any of that info with you?”

  “Well, I realize that, but you don’t think it’ll stop me from asking, do you?”

  “I can’t tell you anything.” His husky voice made me tingle again.

  “I’ll just find out some other way.” I smiled to myself.

  “I’m sure you’ll try.” I thought he tried to restrain a chuckle.

  I didn’t acknowledge his retort. “What do you know about the old storefronts on Main?”

  “You’ve already been snooping around, haven’t you?”

  “What makes you say that?” I twirled my hair with my index finger. Why was I acting as if I had a schoolgirl crush?

  “Come on, don’t act innocent with me.”

  “Well, it’s not an act. I haven’t been snooping. Not that I don’t intend to, though.”

  He let out a breath and then said, “Nancy owned them. Her grandfather died recently and left them to her. She was his sole heir. Of course, now Nancy’s husband owns them.”

  Something was fishy. So that was why Mark Harper had the maps of the buildings in his car. What would this mean for my historical status mission? I thought about the note I’d found at Martha’s house. If Martha wanted Nancy to sell those buildings and she wouldn’t, there was no telling what she was capable of—maybe even murder. If I could talk to her, maybe I could discover her motives. Heck, maybe she’d slip and confess—just like in one of the mystery books. Okay, I really had been reading too many novels. One huge problem, though, there was no way Martha would ever speak to me. She’d rather invite Mitchell to move in with her than talk to me again.