Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel

by Rose Pressey

  Praise for Me and My Ghoulfriends by Rose Pressey

  “Rose Pressey spins a delightful tale with misfits and romance that makes me cheer loudly.”

  Coffee Time Romance

  “Her characters are alive and full of quick witted charm and will make you laugh. The plot twists keep you turning the pages non-stop.”

  ParaNormalRomance

  “I absolutely loved this book! It had me chuckling from the beginning.”

  Fallen Angel Reviews

  More books from Rose Pressey:

  How to Date a Werewolf (Rylie Cruz, Book 1)

  How to Date a Vampire (Rylie Cruz, Book 2)

  How to Date a Demon (Rylie Cruz, Book 3)

  Me and My Ghoulfriends (Larue Donavan, Book 1)

  Ghouls Night Out (Larue Donavan, Book 2)

  The Ghoul next door (Larue Donavan, book 3)

  Rock ‘n’ Roll Is Undead (Veronica Mason, Book 1)

  No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells (Mystic Café, Book 1)

  Pies and Potions (Mystic Café, book 2)

  Flip That haunted House (Haunted renovation mystery, book 1)

  Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel

  Copyright © 2012, Rose Pressey

  Smashwords Edition

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Published in the United States of America by Rose Pressey

  Dedication

  To my mother who loves to go thrift store shopping and to yard sales with me. I don’t know how we fit all that stuff into the back seat.

  Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel

  by Rose Pressey

  Chapter One

  “Have you seen my eye?” Mitchell Green sighed, one hand clapped to his face.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  He gestured toward his face with his free hand. “My eyeball. I’ve lost it. Have you seen it?”

  My mouth dropped open slightly as I stared. “What do you mean, you lost your eyeball?”

  “I mean, I lost it. Somewhere between here and home.” He let out another heavy sigh and stepped to his right, moving closer to the checkout counter.

  “You mean to tell me there might be a glass eye somewhere in here? I’m pretty sure I could lose customers that way.”

  “Oh, Raelynn Pendleton, you know good and well ain’t no other store to shop in within twenty miles. Nobody goin’ anywhere else to shop. You gonna help me find my eye or what?” His frown lines deepened.

  Or what. I’d rather look for a bucket full of spiders or go on a date with Melvin Tinnell. Melvin had a sweat gland condition. Plus, he had a doll collection, although he claimed they were “action figures.” Needless to say, he was creepy with a capital C. That should tell you how much I wouldn’t want to stumble upon Mitchell’s eyeball. Working at the only grocery store in town meant I had the wonderful opportunity to meet every strange character in town. Lucky me.

  A couple old men stood next to the little coffee machine in the corner. We didn’t have a fancy Starbucks in town. We didn’t have a fancy anything in Honeysuckle. The men looked up when Mitchell’s voice rose.

  “I found it,” Claire Ann yelled from across the cereal aisle.

  She ran over to Mitchell. He eased the eye from her outstretched palm, wiped it with the edge of his shirt, and then in one fluid motion he popped the little glass globe back into the socket. I expected a plob noise, but instead there was silence. I’d never seen anyone replace their eye before. Once his eye was in place, he looked up at me, then smiled, exposing the space that had been reserved for his front teeth.

  He turned to Claire Ann. “Thanks, hon. I didn’t wanna have to wear my patch again.” Mitchell smoothed down his frazzled hair, then stuck the comb back in the front pocket of his overalls. “I’ll be back directly. I forgot my money at home.” He pointed at the beer refrigerator behind him.

  I kind of liked his eye patch better, but I didn’t tell him. It was hard not to stare at that one unmoving eye. Kind of like it was a gigantic pimple on his forehead, or a huge mole. I stared at the door for a good thirty seconds after he left until a customer approached and snapped me back to attention.

  After ringing up the purchases and waiting for the woman to exit, I continued the conversation with Claire Ann. “How in the heck did he lose his eye in here in the first place? Does it just fall out?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Beats me, I guess he can’t feel the thing. And he’s had a little too much…” She mimicked drinking with her right hand.

  “Ah, gotcha.” I dropped the change into the appropriate slots.

  “He’s done it before. Once he left it on the picnic table over by Honeysuckle Baptist. Little Willie McDaniel thought it was a marble. You should have seen the look on his mama’s face. Priceless.” Claire Ann let out a little snort.

  “Why do I miss all the excitement? Who’d have thought a church picnic could be so much fun. Why does he take it out to begin with?” I asked while placing the dollars into my register.

  “All good questions, but I’ll never figure out the mystery that is Melvin Green. He’s a wee bit eccentric.” She laughed.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to living in this small town.”

  “It’s only been a year, it’ll grow on you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said with a chuckle.

  “You hear from Ross?” Claire Ann asked while twisting her ponytail with one hand. She always had to be moving. Whether she was talking with her hands or shifting from one foot to the other, she was always in motion like a hummingbird.

  “Not since he threatened to come back for the furniture. I told him, over my dead body. I’d rather burn it all in a big pile out in the backyard. Oh, I also told him I sold the fifty-inch TV. I thought he might cry.”

  “Serves him right. Let Jo Beth deal with him now. Good riddance to him. You’re better off without the jerk. He’ll soon realize she’s tried to take money from every man in town. When she discovers he doesn’t have a penny to his name, she’ll dump him.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t care what they do.” I grabbed the big pink tote bag I called a purse and headed for the door. “I’m out of here. I’m walking home.”

  “Didn’t you drive?” Claire Ann readjusted her ponytail. Golden streaks highlighted her chocolate-colored hair. She tapped her foot absentmindedly, her red-polished toes peeking out from her espadrille wedges.

  “I left the car at home to save on gas. I need all the extra cash I can get.”

  The phone rang and she held up her finger to shush me. “Honeysuckle Supermarket, can I help you?”

  Why they called it a supermarket, I had no idea. It was more like a convenience store with a few tables in the front for old-timers to sip coffee and gossip. Supermarkets were super-sized. This store consisted of six aisles—not so super.

  Claire Ann hung up the phone and rolled her eyes. “That was Becky. She’ll be late again. Can you stay until she gets here?”

  I let out a sigh, made my way back around the counter, and dumped my purse down. “Sure, I don’t have a life anyway.” The stool let out a swoosh when I plopped down.

  Movement drew my attenti
on to the glass entry door. A man in a suit stumbled up the old front steps. The concrete had cracked many years ago and the store’s owner, Charlie Smothers, didn’t see the need to repair it. “No need to impress the customers,” he’d said. “They aren’t gonna shop anywhere else anyway.” Everyone kept saying that, but if they weren’t careful, next thing they knew, a Wal-Mart would sprout up beside them.

  The bell on the handle jangled as the man entered. His blue, wrinkled suit looked as if it had never met an iron. Someone should introduce the two. His gray hair fell downward against his forehead. Beads of perspiration covered his face.

  “May I help you?” I asked and gave the widest smile my face would allow. The store might not look like much, but the least I could do was give everyone a pleasant shopping experience. I’d want the same done for me, although lots of folks in this town weren’t the hospitable type, to say the least.

  The man’s wide brown eyes gave me the once-over. “I’m lookin’ for Raelynn Pendleton.”

  “Oh, that’s me.” I wondered if this had to do with that snake, Ross Perkins. He wasn’t getting the TV (mainly because I’d already pawned it), my bedroom furniture, or my grandmother’s heirloom necklace. It was all I’d escaped with from the stinking divorce.

  “My name’s Albert Whiteman.” He shifted the ratty leather briefcase to his other hand and stuck out his hand for me. I reached over the counter and grasped it. His palm was as sweaty as his face.

  Claire Ann adjusted her pink tank top and brushed invisible dirt from her white capri pants. She stood straighter as she eyed the stranger up and down.

  I looked him up and down. “What business do you have with me?” As I wiped my hand on my pants, I asked, “You’ll have to speak to my lawyer. Like I said, my divorce is final and I have nothing left to say to that man.”

  Claire Ann nodded in agreement, folding her arms in front of her chest.

  He scrunched his brow together and placed his briefcase on the counter. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He popped the lock on the old leather tote. “I’m the executor for Mrs. Opal Mae Mathers.”

  He pulled a stack of papers out. One flew across the floor landing at Claire Ann’s feet. Of course she reached down and grabbed it. She’d been straining her neck to hear what he was saying from the moment he walked in the store. I should have just told her to come on over before she did permanent nerve damage.

  “And?” I asked with my gaze focused intently on his face.

  After Claire Ann had taken several seconds to study the paper, she handed to the man. He scowled, then took it from her outstretched hand.

  “I’m sorry to contact you at work. Is there someplace else you’d like to speak?” He glanced over his shoulder at Claire Ann, then whispered, “Someplace private?”

  I looked from him to Claire Ann, then back at him again. “Um, no, I can’t really leave. Can it wait until after work?” I didn’t really want to wait, and I prayed he’d say that it couldn’t wait.

  “I suppose it can, but I’d really like to get this settled soon.” He stepped closer to the counter, his cheap shoes squeaking as they moved across the linoleum.

  “Well, um, we can speak here, if that’s all right with you?” No way was I waiting to hear what this man had to say. What could he possibly want with me? Why was the attorney for the widow from down the street here to see me? She’d recently passed. When her husband died a year ago, I’d feared she wouldn’t stick around long.

  He cleared his throat and continued, “As you know, Mrs. Mathers has passed away.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. I went to the funeral.” I met his gaze. “I didn’t see you there, Mr. Whiteman.” I tapped my fingers against the counter.

  He glanced down at my hand, then back at my expectant stare. “Um, I was out of town, and unfortunately, couldn’t make it. It was unavoidable.”

  “Yeah, well, apparently, Mrs. Mathers didn’t have relatives. The only people there were a few neighbors. So sad.” I shook my head.

  “Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Mathers never had children.” He nodded.

  I paused, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t say a word as he looked down at his shoes. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat again. How long could he keep up the silence?

  “Right, well, the point of my appearance here today…”

  Awkward silence again. Was he praying while looking at his shoes? Was it a moment of silence for Mrs. Mathers? How long had he known her?

  “I’ll get right to the point. Mrs. Mathers left all of her belongings to you. You’re the sole heir to her estate.”

  Chapter Two

  I clutched the edge of the counter. The air had been sucked out of my lungs when I let out a gasp. Me? She’d left everything to me? When I finally caught my breathe again, I glanced at Claire Ann. Most of the color had drained from her face and I prayed she wouldn’t pass out. Who would pick me up if she was out for the count on the floor?

  Mr. Whiteman wiped his forehead and continued, “I’ll read the will to you.”

  “Right here?” I choked out.

  He shuffled papers. “Not much to read, actually.”

  A haze filled my head. I couldn’t believe my ears. Why would she leave anything to me?

  He continued. “I, Opal Mae Mathers, being of sound mind and body…”

  My mouth dropped a little further, if that was even possible. Was this really happening? I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but the room seemed smaller. The walls appeared narrower, and the lights brighter. And I was pretty sure the floor was swaying like in one of those carnival fun houses.

  “… do bequeath all of my belongings to Raelynn Pendleton.”

  I let out a squeak that sounded like a cross between a mouse and a sheep.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Claire Ann hurried around the counter. “Here, have a seat, honey.” She pulled out the old stool and led me to it, her hand on my elbow.

  “I think I got a little dizzy for a second.” I rubbed the side of my head.

  “Yeah, I think you did.” Claire Ann frowned.

  I practically saw the little wheels spinning in her head. She lived for gossip and big events such as these. It didn’t matter if it was someone else getting good news, as long as there was news.

  “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to shock you.” Mr. Whiteman leaned closer to the counter, meeting my gaze.

  Claire Ann waved her arm in his direction. “Look what you’ve done. You scared the poor girl to death. Do you always go around scaring people?”

  His face grew a shade of red that matched his tie as he glanced down at his shiny brown loafers.

  “I’m fine. I don’t need y’all fawning over me.” I waved a dismissive hand and grabbed the towel next to me, then wiped my forehead. “Please, do go on.” I took the bottled water Claire Ann handed me and gulped half of it. They watched me as if they’d never seen anyone drink before.

  “Like I said, she left you everything.” He shuffled through a few more papers.

  “Everything?” I swallowed hard.

  “Everything?” Claire Ann repeated my question.

  He nodded. “Everything… the house and its contents. The house is lovely. It just needs a little work. It has new-ish plumbing, the electricity is okay and the roof is just a few years old. Beautiful old house.”

  “But I hardly knew her.” I set the water bottle down. I didn’t stand yet; I’d have to let the news settle in for a while before I attempted to use my legs. “There must be some kind of mistake.”

  “Well, like I said, she had no children and no living family. She left you this letter.” He extended the paper toward me. “She said you were the only one who was nice to an old lady in this town.”

  With a shaky hand, I took the letter from his outstretched hand. I unfolded the paper and read.

  Dear sweet Raelynn,

  If you’re reading this letter then you know I’ve gone to be with my beloved Peter. The news must have bee
n a surprise to you, but I know a kind soul like you will take care of my home. It’s all we had. You were the only one who seemed to genuinely care how my husband and I were doing. When I visited you in the store, I knew I was speaking with a true friend. Enjoy the home. May it bring you as much joy as it did my husband and me.

  Sincerely,

  Opal Mae Mathers

  I didn’t know what to say. Why would she do such a thing?

  “Wow,” Claire Ann said from over my shoulder. “She really liked you. What did you do to her?”

  I looked up at her shocked face. “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “She came in every other day and we’d chat about nothing in particular. I knew she was lonely because she talked about her husband a lot.”

  “She was eccentric, that’s for sure,” Claire Ann added.

  “Well, apparently you were the only one who talked to her, so she left you her home. Best of luck. Congratulations and all that.” He gave a little salute.

  “I can’t possibly accept it.” I pushed the paper toward him.

  “It’s yours now. What you choose to do with it is totally up to you. I just need you to sign some papers and I’ll give you the keys. We can settle a few other things in the next few days. The utilities are on, but you’ll have to switch them into your name.”

  I stood, but my legs still shook. With my trembling hand, I signed on the line he pointed out. I supposed I should have read it before leaving my signature or, at the very least, skimmed over the contents, but my mind wasn’t functioning correctly.

  My watch read five p.m. Still an hour until Becky showed up and I could take off. How would I concentrate now, knowing the empty house waited for me? Did I go to the house after work? It would feel strange traipsing around someone else’s place. Or apparently, my place. No, the words sounded too strange. This seemed like a dream.