Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel

by Rose Pressey

  The sun shone through the windows, splashing across the crystals, making a sparkling design along the hardwood floor. The curved front wall had three windows with a seat tucked beneath overlooking the front porch. Pocket doors led into the dining room. The plaster walls were in surprisingly good shape. A few patches here and there would do the trick. Claire Ann moved into the next room, but I was almost afraid to go any further.

  “Where’s the table?” she asked.

  I shrugged “How should I know?” When I looked over my shoulder, I spotted TV trays next to the sofa in the parlor. “Looks as if they ate in front of their favorite programs, so I guess they didn’t need a table.”

  There were eight wooden high-backed chairs, though—all grouped together in the right corner. The cheery yellow walls were much better than the red in the parlor. I liked the color, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right choice for the room, or at least not the color I would have chosen. Down the hall was a small bathroom, then the kitchen.

  “Wow, those appliances look new.” Claire Ann ran her finger along the stovetop.

  “Yeah, they do. I was expecting avocado-colored ones. The countertop is dated, but I love the old porcelain farm sink.” I walked the length of the room. “The room is huge, though.”

  “I love the breakfast area.” Claire Ann pointed out the window. “You can see the rose bushes over here.”

  I opened a little door at the back of the kitchen. “Look, there’s a staircase. I thought it was a closet.”

  Claire Ann poked her head through the cracked door. “I bet it was for the servants.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

  “Come on. Let’s check out the main bedroom.” Claire Ann bounced past me.

  I followed her down the hall and into the room.

  “I like it,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest and nodding her head.

  “Me, too.” Our voices echoed across the room.

  “Do you think she slept in this room? It’s so big.”

  “I imagine she did. I doubt she climbed the stairs every night.”

  “Good point.” Claire Ann paced the length of the floor. “Did she die in here?” she whispered.

  “She’s dead, remember? She can’t hear you. No, I think she was in the hospital in Belleville.”

  “Oh, well, that’s good.” Claire Ann shivered.

  I frowned. “That’s good?”

  She continued pacing. “I mean, not that she died, just that she didn’t do it here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I can just imagine all the things you could do with this room.”

  A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the room. Windows flanked the sides with views into the back yard. There was another fireplace in the room. It also had a mantel with intricate details of little flowers and scrolls.

  After examining the bedroom, we checked the upstairs. At the top of the stairs, the large landing opened into the hall. There were three more bedrooms and a full bathroom—all with hardwood floors and lots of light. The house gave off a good vibe. I felt the past lives in every room. I wasn’t talking about ghosts, per se, but the previous owner’s energy, as if I knew there had been many happy days spent behind these walls.

  When Mrs. Mathers left me the place, she knew the house would live on with my care. It had a life of its own, and only needed someone around to take care of it once in a while.

  Next, we traveled back down the stairs and out to the back porch. Just when I thought I couldn’t love the house any more, I saw it. The lush backyard was filled with flowering trees and numerous perennials—too many to count. Redbud and dogwood trees, crepe myrtle, hydrangeas, peonies, rose bushes, and daylilies I spotted right away. A brick-paved walkway led to a gazebo at the edge of the yard. It reminded me of a mini-park. And this was all mine? Was someone playing a lousy trick on me? I had never been this lucky.

  After a minute of gawking at the yard, we trailed back inside to the living room.

  “I still don’t know how I’ll afford this place. Maybe I can get a job in Belleville.” I ran my finger across the top of the little dust-covered table in the corner of the room. “Not sure if there’s any place hiring. Hey, are you listening to me?”

  Claire Ann moved away from the window where she’d appeared to be lost in thought. She plopped down on the velvety sofa, releasing dust motes into the air. “I’ve got an idea.” She clicked her tongue.

  Chapter Five

  My face felt as if it drooped like a melting candle. “Oh, no. I told you I have no desire to work at The Booby Patch.” I wiggled my index finger at her.

  She tossed a pillow at me and I ducked. “Shut up!” She picked at the fringe on the remaining toss pillow. “Why don’t you run this place as a hotel? Kind of like a bed-and-breakfast, but without the breakfast. ’Cause we all know you suck at cooking.”

  I frowned. One bad batch of brownies and I had been forever labeled. “A hotel?”

  “Well, this town doesn’t have one, and there’s a need for one quite often.”

  “There is?” I sat on the leather recliner and it bounced backwards. “Whoa.” I righted myself. “You know, that’s not half bad. You’ve had some cockamamie ideas before, but maybe this one would actually work.” I paused and studied the room. “But look around. This place doesn’t really scream cozy bed-and-breakfast.”

  “The outside does. Besides, I’ve seen what you can do with décor.”

  “Yeah, when I actually had a home, or thought I had one.”

  She stood, walked over, and knelt down beside me. “Don’t waste any more energy worrying about Ross. It’s been a year. Time to move on and this is your chance.” She waved her hands through the air, gesturing at the room. “Carpe diem.”

  “How can I afford to decorate? I don’t know how to run a hotel. Don’t I need some sort of permit?”

  “You’ll think of something. Google it.” She patted me on the back and stood. “I have to get back to the store. What are you going to do?”

  I scrambled up from the chair. “I guess I’ll move into my new home.”

  She smiled and I wrapped my arms around her and gave a big squeeze. “Good for you. Go get ’em,” Claire Ann said.

  I followed her out the front door, then stopped to lock up my new house as she made her way through the gate. “I’m going to get my belongings. I’ll call you later,” I yelled.

  Claire Ann waved and I watched her march down the sidewalk away from my new front porch. I couldn’t believe I owned all this. Could I really turn it into a hotel? Finding something ugly for a few dollars and turning it into something beautiful had always given me a thrill. Maybe I could do it.

  All I wanted to do was sit and stare at the house, afraid I’d wake up from a dream, but as I stood there gawking, something caught my attention. A chill ran down my spine and I had the distinct sensation that someone was watching me.

  I looked around, but didn’t see anyone. A car zipped down the road out front, but the driver hadn’t noticed me. A dog barked in the distance, but I saw nothing unusual. I shrugged it off and stepped down from the porch and onto the path leading to the iron gate.

  “Hi there,” the gravely southern accent said.

  My heart did a flip. I whipped around to find the source of the voice, a woman with brown hair piled high on her head standing at the edge of the fence to the right side of the property.

  I held my hand up to my chest. “Oh, hi. You startled me.”

  “Sorry about that.” She pointed toward the house. “If you’re looking for Mrs. Mathers, you know she died.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. I was at the funeral. I didn’t see you there.” If people knew she had died then why the heck hadn’t they attended the funeral? That was making me angry.

  “I’m her neighbor, Judy Maupin. Or was… until the sweet dear passed. So tragic.” She shook her head.

  Call me suspicious, but she didn’t sound sincere.

  “Um, yes, it was very tragi
c,” I offered.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked while crossing her arms in front her bloated waist.

  Wow, this was awkward. How did I tell people that I owned the place now?

  “Well, I…”

  She stared at me. “Yes…”

  I couldn’t help but look down at her bulging-at-the-seams white shorts, then at her round blotchy face again. Had she been running? I glanced down at her shoes. Bright-red wedge heels. Nope, she hadn’t been jogging.

  “Who are you?” I asked, throwing the ball into her court.

  “I live next door.” She gestured toward the small white house with her thumb so hard that I thought she might have broken it. “Who the hell are you?” She scowled.

  We were getting off to a great start. “You don’t recognize me?” I thought everyone recognized the outsider in town.

  She studied my face. “You work in the store, right?”

  I moved closer to her and stretched out my hand. “Yes, that’s right. I’m Raelynn Pendleton. I’m the new owner of this house.”

  Her mouth dropped. When she regained her composure, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “Mrs. Mathers left me the house.” I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder.

  “She what? Did she even know you?” She scanned the length of my body before focusing on my face again.

  “Of course she knew me. She came in the store all the time. We were friends. Since she didn’t have family, I guess she wanted to leave it to me.” I shrugged and smiled. The last thing I needed was a feud with my neighbor. Judging by the scowl on her face, and the fact she didn’t shake my outstretched hand, I was too late. Just call me Hatfield and her McCoy.

  “I was friends with her, too. I baked the woman those damn chocolate-chip cookies and she scarfed them down as if she hadn’t eaten in a month.” She whirled around, stumbled on her wedge heels, spat a colorful phrase, then stomped off.

  “Nice meeting you, Judy,” I muttered in her wake.

  I shook my head as I headed toward the gate. No time to worry about her now. I needed to get to my boarding room, pack my belongings in the Mustang and get back before dark. Nighttime was no time for moving. Not that I had much to move. What I owned would fit in a couple of suitcases. Pathetic, really.

  I made my way down the sidewalk, but stopped and turned around to look back at the old Victorian one more time. Somehow, it seemed not as sad. I knew I wasn’t; I was smitten. After a few seconds, I turned and continued along the sidewalk, down Main Street, past the supermarket, and other homes, until I made it to Mrs. Wilkins’ house. I wouldn’t miss living there. It would be a big adjustment though, going from one room to a big house… so many rooms to do with whatever I wanted with.

  I had never been particularly fond of Adele Wilkins, the woman I rented from. She’d tried to enforce a curfew on me and she didn’t like when I used her kitchen, although kitchen access had been part of the original deal. Nonetheless, her place had been all I could afford. I imagined the expression on her face when I told her I was moving out tonight. She’d twist her mouth into a snarl and glare at me with her beady little eyes. I’d pay for the month I owed. Heck, I’d pay for another month if she needed me to, until she found another sucker to rent the place, but I needed out of there. Yes, the more I thought about it, the more I realized inheriting the house was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  The back door was ajar, so I eased the screen open and slipped in. It might be a small town, but I still wouldn’t be trusting enough to leave my doors unlocked. I hated when she did. Trying to ease the screen door open and shut so as not to alert my lovely landlady of my presence was no easy feat. It creaked slightly and I held my breath waiting for her to pop out from a corner somewhere like a crazed lunatic. Thankfully, she didn’t.

  The drawn shades made the house perpetually dark. Light from the back door was the only way I kept from tripping over the abundance of furniture. The floorboards squeaked as I made my way across the tiny kitchen. A buffet cabinet stood directly in the path of the hallway. I attempted to weave around it, but being a klutz, I banged my knee on the way. My hand flew to my mouth and I suppressed a scream. I rubbed my knee and continued down the hallway with still no sign of the dragon lady.

  When I eased past her bedroom, I glanced over. Her door was open, so I stopped and peeked in. Her body was spread across the bed, one arm dangling off the side. With her mouth open wide, and a loud snort slipping out with every other breath, I let out a sigh of relief. She might have been drooling onto the eyelet lace pillow, but I didn’t care to get close enough to find out.

  Maybe it was wrong of me, but I was thankful I didn’t have to talk to her. I’d leave a note to serve as my written thirty-day notice. That was the way it worked, I thought, although we’d never signed a lease, so she could “kick me out anytime she wanted.” Her words, not mine.

  I eased back away from the bedroom door, down the hall, and upstairs to my room. The floorboards up there creaked as well. Sometimes, I wondered if she did that on purpose so she’d know every move I made. My bedroom was the second door on the left. There were three rooms total up there, but I was the only one staying at the moment, which made me happy.

  Trying not to wake Mrs. Wilkins, I eased the door open to keep from hitting the edge of the bed. I wouldn’t miss the place—it was smaller than most closets. I’d never realized how depressed and hopeless I had felt until now, standing in the tiny room.

  Mrs. Wilkins hadn’t wanted me to decorate or change a thing. A twin-sized bed was shoved up next to the wall. Some mornings I had awoken with my big toe sticking through a hole in the threadbare quilt I had used as a cover. A small nightstand, a writing desk, and a straight-back chair with a thin, yellow cushion filled up the space. The sun had set and a soft amber glow streaked across the room. The faster I got out of there, the better. No time to reminisce about how much I hated it.

  Working my way through the maze of furniture, I opened the closet, then stuffed my clothing, photos, and other personal items into a couple of suitcases. Before leaving, I grabbed a pen and paper from the desk and jotted down a quick note. The urge to write I’m out of here across the paper gnawed at me, but I decided against it. I’d be professional and courteous, in spite of her not offering the same in return. I’d gladly pay a couple more months’ rent if she wanted, just to get out of there. Sure, I couldn’t afford it, but I’d find a way, any way to escape. A noise sounded from downstairs, reminding me I needed to hurry if I didn’t want to be caught, so I stuffed the paper in my pocket and grabbed my things. The evil one had probably woken up.

  I set the luggage down outside the door, then turned around for one last look at the tiny room. Outside there was still a sliver of light, but the dark floor and walls made the room perpetually shadowy and glum. The dark blue walls appeared darker. No longer would I squeeze between the bed and the window to stare outside, watching life pass me by. I closed the door on my past.

  Chapter Six

  Back downstairs, I realized no noise came from her bedroom, other than her soft snoring. False alarm. Thank goodness, she hadn’t woken up. The grandfather clock chimed as I moved past her room again, into the kitchen, and slipped the note under the ugly floral arrangement on the table.

  Once free from the depressing house, I high-tailed it for the Mustang, stuffed my life’s possessions into the trunk, and jumped in. Backing out of the driveway, I glanced in the rearview mirror. No head peeked out from any windows, so I let out a sigh of relief and hit the gas.

  Driving through town was like being in a ghost town. If tumbleweeds had bounced across the street, I wouldn’t have been surprised. People rolled the sidewalks up when the first star twinkled. It was sad really, because the quaint little town had a lot to offer. More of a nightlife would do it good. A café and an antique shop would be great. Downtown was full of historic homes and old building sitting empty. At the edge of Main Street four attached storefronts looked like a
bandoned orphans. With a little updating, they would add a great rustic appeal to Honeysuckle. A wooden covered sidewalk connected the stores—kind of like an old western town. They screamed for activity again. Why no one had taken notice was beyond me. Why build new when you could redo the old?

  Within a couple of minutes, I was parked in front of the Victorian. A gravel drive lay at the side of the house, but until my new neighbor calmed down, I figured I’d keep my distance and park on the street. As I climbed out from behind the wheel, a rustling noise sounded in the nearby bush. I prayed it was a cat. My legs moved a little quicker when I contemplated all the creatures it could have been. I hoisted the luggage from the trunk, bumped open the gate with my hip, and marched up the path. The sun had set, taking away my natural light. Full darkness was approaching, so I stumbled my way up the front steps in a hurry. The only light came from my new friendly neighbor’s cottage.

  After setting my bags down, and fishing for the key from my pocket, I entered my house. How long would it take to get used to those words? Once I’d put my belongings in the main bedroom, I shuffled through the house, strolling from room to room, taking in every detail. The bedrooms upstairs each had iron-framed beds with simple quilts stretched across them. None of the furniture matched, but they were quality pieces. Lace curtains hung from the windows. They looked as if they used to be white, but now they appeared more beige. I checked each closet and every last drawer. The attic ladder was broken, or I would’ve gone up there, too.

  After a couple hours of looking through all the nooks and crannies, my stomach growled. I’d forgotten to eat. In the back of the cupboard, I found a can of tomato soup. I flipped it over to examine the expiration date. It was still good, so I dumped the contents into a saucepan and placed it on the stove. I stared around my new kitchen space. Not bad, but I hated the ugly gray Formica countertops. I’d always drooled over granite countertops—almost had to take one of grandpa’s nitroglycerin pills every time I saw the prices though. The kitchen walls were a soft sage color and the cabinets white. As soon as time permitted, I’d repaint them a lovely cream color. I couldn’t decide if I should use crystal knobs or black knobs for the kitchen cabinets. Oh well, plenty of time to decide later. Simple white dishes would work nicely for accessorizing. Splashes of red from kitchen towels would add just the right amount of color.