Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel

by Rose Pressey

  The sun shone down from a blue cloudless sky, covering the yard in yellow shafts. Birds chirped as they danced along the edge of the birdbath. The temperature hadn’t become unbearable yet. The honeysuckle bush beside the house wafted through the air and tickled my nose. The white wooden gazebo called my name, just waiting for me to sit down and relax. I couldn’t wait another minute to enjoy my surroundings in the shade, so I stepped down onto the stone path, enjoying the view of the perennials along the way. It wouldn’t take long for me to get used to this morning routine. I’d eat every meal out here if I could.

  A small table and chairs inside the gazebo would be great—another item to add to my growing list. Oh, and lights hanging from the ceiling would look nice, too. Two small iron chairs currently stood under the gazebo, plenty of room for more. They didn’t look all that comfortable, either.

  I eased down onto one of the rickety chairs and listened to my quiet surroundings. The only sound came from the small, bubbling waterfall pond next to me. How Mrs. Mathers had kept up the yard, I had no idea. I closed my eyes for a couple of minutes and willed the tension from my shoulders. The feeling hit me again, as if someone was watching me. I snapped my lids open and looked around. I didn’t see another soul, but something red caught my attention to my right. It was next to the waterfall. I stood and moved closer, then let out a gasp. My hand flew to my mouth. I made two steps forward, then I saw her.

  Chapter Nine

  She was lying on the grass near the gazebo. Flat on her stomach, she lay with her head twisted in an awkward position, her face to the side and her eyes wide open. In spite of her unfortunate condition, her blonde bob looked as if she’d just stepped out of the salon.

  As I rushed over, I tossed my mug to the ground. I’d never had any emergency medicine training. What if she needed resuscitation? Would I be able to handle the task? I couldn’t make the situation any worse, right? Well, if anyone could make it worse, I could.

  I raced toward her, stopping when I was just a few steps away. Her khaki pants and white blouse looked just as perfect as her bob, but blood pooled under her head. There was an object lying beside her body. It looked exactly like the candlestick that I’d used last night. Blood covered the heavy wooden base. Unless this was a very popular style of candlestick, I’d say it was the same one. Why was it outside and covered with blood? I knew why. It had been used as a murder weapon. Could someone else have the same candlestick? Unlikely.

  “Oh, my God. Nancy?” I called. “What happened?”

  She didn’t reply or move, not even a groan or a whimper. I knelt down and placed my fingers against her neck, but didn’t feel a pulse. The huge gash to the back of her head gave me a good indication that she was beyond any help. I prayed that this was all a dream. Sunlight streamed across her body. I blinked, trying to adjust my eyes further. The body of Nancy Harper was in my backyard.

  I hadn’t known her well, but she had always been nice when visiting the store. She was married with no children and taught first grade. Who would want her dead? How could she possibly have had any enemies?

  My heart raced as the blood rushed out of my face and my stomach turned. Nothing else seemed out of place in the yard—just the dead body. I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes.

  My hands shook as I struggled to catch my breath. I needed to call for help. With wobbly legs, I hurried up and spun around. The earth moved under my feet and I had to stop myself from fainting. The vision of Nancy’s lifeless body was burned into my brain. None of this seemed real. It couldn’t be. People just didn’t discover dead bodies in their backyards… yet that was exactly what had just happened to me.

  My heart thumped as I hurried toward the house. I was replaying the scene in my head. If I looked over my shoulder, would the body still be there? I glanced behind me. Yeah, she was still in the same lifeless position.

  I’d have to check the kitchen for the candlestick. Although I already knew I wouldn’t find it there. As my mind raced with thoughts, the idea hit me that I’d never thought to look for her killer. Maybe he was watching every move I made. Explosions of color from the flowers led my way to the back porch. Once I reached the steps, I scampered up, barely remembering to breathe. The eerie silence the backyard now held made the morning feel cold and bleak, in spite of the heat.

  I stumbled through the door like a crazed maniac. Where in the heck had I put my phone? I never could keep up with that thing. I’d tried keeping it in my purse, but I was always searching for my purse too, so that wasn’t much help. I ran around the room like a chicken with its head cut off before finally realization that it was on the counter right in front of me. I grabbed the phone and punched in the number, then while it rang, looked around the room for the candlestick. But just as I had suspected, the candlestick was nowhere in sight. What had happened? Had I imagined using that candlestick? I prayed that all of this was just a dream. Heck, maybe I finally was going bonkers. People in Honeysuckle already thought that I was crazy.

  Then another whammy hit me—the footsteps. Someone had been in the house and had taken the candlestick. But why that as a murder weapon? The huge knife I’d used to carve the watermelon had been in the kitchen sink where I’d washed it last night, why not use that? Had the person come to kill me and discovered Nancy instead? But why would Nancy be in my backyard? I had barely known her.

  “What’s your emergency?” A female voice boomed across the line.

  “Someone is dead…” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “I can’t hear you,” she said. “You’ll have to speak up.”

  “I think someone has been murdered,” I choked out. “Can you send the police?”

  “Get out. Seriously?” I thought I heard her smack her bubblegum.

  What did she just say? Did she think I was a prank caller? I recognized Joan Murdoch’s voice. “No, I’m not making this up. I assure you this is not a hoax. Can you just send someone right now? I don’t know what happened to her.”

  The calm that had been in my voice began to slip away. Within seconds I’d be a blathering mess on the floor in the corner of the room if they didn’t hurry.

  “The police are on their way. You said this is Raelynn Pendleton, right?”

  “Yes, Raelynn.” I nodded, although she couldn’t see me.

  “Wow, she didn’t waste any time moving into the place,” she whispered to someone on the other end.

  Yeah, I heard that. She was so completely unprofessional. But I guessed since her parents owned half the town she could get away with anything.

  “Thanks.” I hung up before I heard more than I wanted to.

  With the phone still clutched in my hand, I walked back onto the porch and stood near the steps, then waited; I didn’t know what else to do. Nancy was clearly beyond any help I could give. The serene setting seemed out of place now. I expected a dark cloud to roll over and hang above the scene. My phone was the only safety line I had. Please let the police arrive soon.

  The morning air had been pleasant until now. Sweat beaded on my forehead and heat circled my body. An anxious trembling coursed through me and I couldn’t shake it.

  Sirens sounded quickly. That was one perk of living in a small town. Thank heavens. It seemed like only seconds passed before car doors slammed from what sounded like the front of the house. The echoes of footfalls running hit my ears seconds later. I stood on the back porch with my feet frozen, yet my whole body trembled. I turned and stared into the side yard. The thought of watching any longer made my stomach turn. Sheriff Kent Klein appeared from the side of the house. He looked at me, but didn’t stop as I pointed toward the gazebo. A couple more policemen ran after him. I was pretty sure the entire force was now in my backyard.

  After a couple minutes, Kent approached me. “Ms. Pendleton, we need to talk.”

  “Do you want to talk here?” I gestured at my spot on the steps.

  He nodded and frowned.

  So I was Ms. Pendleton again. No more Rae? Not even Ra
elynn? He held up his professional façade, I guess. As if we’d barely spoken before. I knew his favorite drink was orange juice and his favorite sports team was the Atlanta Braves, for heaven’s sake. I turned to face him. He stood at the bottom step and took in my full appearance. I wanted to break free from his gaze, but I wasn’t sure what to do. His face held a frown unlike I’d ever see him wear. Talk about feeling uncomfortable. Before he opened his mouth to speak, he pulled a notepad from his pocket—all official-like. Claire Ann popped around the corner. Her mouth gaped. She spotted me and ran over.

  “Oh, God.” She held her chest. “I heard the sirens and heard they were headed for your house and I panicked. What happened?”

  “Ms. Claire Ann Grande,” Kent said. She stopped in her tracks. “I’m interviewing Ms. Pendleton. Do you mind waiting over there?” He pointed to the other side of the yard.

  She frowned, but didn’t argue with him, which kind of surprised me. I guessed murder had changed everything.

  “Now, tell me everything. I’m assuming you have an explanation as to why Nancy Harper is dead in your back yard.” His deep brown eyes made his question warm when I felt terrified on the inside. But the subject matter wasn’t warm in the least. It was cold and harsh and all too real.

  “I don’t know why she’s here. I barely knew her.” I shrugged.

  “Did you hear anything? See anything?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer, but he stared, so I knew I’d have to eventually.

  “No, I didn’t see anything.” I shook my head. Should I tell him what I had heard? The candlestick as the murder weapon was a significant detail that I probably shouldn’t leave out of the conversation. My mama would never get over me being in prison. It would kill her for sure. Heck, she was still mortified that I’d gone to traffic school. I wasn’t looking forward to explaining this turn of events to her. She’d likely have one of her fake heart attacks.

  “When I came out this morning I found her. It had to have happened last night. She wasn’t there when Claire Ann and I looked around yesterday,” I said.

  “I’m not sure of the time of death yet. Regardless, I can’t share that information with you.”

  Suddenly my shoes became very interesting. I didn’t know what to do or say.

  “We’ll be here for a while collecting evidence.” I looked up at him just in time to catch his worried expression. There was pity in his eyes. “I’ll be back to talk with you.”

  I rubbed my forehead, then shoved my hands into my pockets. Would he think I had anything to do with Nancy’s death? I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about hearing footsteps. Maybe it wasn’t related to this, but what if it was? It had to be, right? I shuddered thinking the killer was in my house. Did I tell him about the candlestick? Would my fingerprints be on the murder weapon? Yes, my mother would definitely have one of her fake heart attacks when she heard about this.

  The second Sheriff Kent had walked away Claire Ann ran over.

  “What the hell is going on, Raelynn? What happened to Nancy?” She turned her attention away from me and gazed across the yard.

  I shrugged. “She’s dead.” What else could I say?

  “This is incredible. What was she doing in the backyard?”

  I nodded, then sat on the step. Claire Ann joined me, draping her arm around my shoulders and giving my leg a pat.

  “I can’t believe this has happened.”

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked.

  I filled Claire Ann in on the footsteps, candlestick, and how I’d discovered Nancy. She’d probably write every word I said in the town newspaper. Just because the editor was my best friend didn’t mean she’d spare my feelings for a big story like this one. I’d be front-page news probably for years to come in a town the size of Honeysuckle. I couldn’t blame her for running the story. She had to; it was her job.

  “I know it’s scary, but you should tell them about the candlestick. They need to know that someone broke in the house so maybe they can catch the person.”

  I sighed. “I guess you’re right. But I just moved in. Do you think this has anything to do with this house? Was that why someone broke in? Maybe they were looking for something.”

  “That does make sense. But what would they be looking for?” She asked.

  “It doesn’t make any sense. Do you think this was a random crime? Did Nancy have any enemies?”

  “Her husband was cheating on her.”

  “Yeah. So there are two suspects already, huh? The husband and the mistress. Margaret McKenna always did have a temper. I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

  Sheriff Kent approached again.

  Claire Ann whispered, “Tell me, how did we get so lucky as to have Kent Klein as Honeysuckle’s sheriff? He is easy on the eyes, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you like to butter his biscuit?”

  I nudged her in the side. “You’ve got a filthy mind. I would not like to butter his biscuit.” Okay, maybe I’d like to butter his biscuit a little.

  “I need you to share the story with me again, Raelynn,” Kent said.

  “You’ll probably get sick of hearing it, so maybe I shouldn’t tell you again,” I said.

  “I need to know every detail. You may have forgotten to share something with me the first time.” Had he read my mind? Did he know something already regarding the candlestick? No, how could he? Sheriff Kent crossed his muscular arms in front of his chest.

  Claire Ann stood. “I have to get back to work. See you later. Sheriff.” She nodded at Kent.

  “Thanks for coming by and checking on me. I’ll call you later.” Leaving me alone to face this situation was not good. I wanted to hold onto Claire Ann’s leg like a dog. I’d rather have her drag me across the lawn than stay and answer questions again—no matter how good-looking the person asking was. Claire Ann disappeared around the corner. Sheriff Kent Klein’s gaze remained focused on my face. Heat gathered in my cheeks. I glanced down, but couldn’t help but look back up at him.

  I used every ounce of courage I had and said, “I guess I’ll just come right out and say this, but the murder weapon came from my house.”

  Chapter Ten

  “What? From where?”

  “My kitchen.”

  His face blanched.

  “It was the candlestick. I’d used it last night in the kitchen. I’m trying to save on electricity. Anyway, I think I heard someone come in the house after I went to bed. When I checked the rooms, I didn’t find anyone. I just assumed it was the old house making noises. But now…”

  “I’m sending in police to search for fingerprints. You need to stay outside.” He pointed toward the house.

  “Can I get dressed? Am I allowed to leave?”

  “I’ll send someone with you so you can get a change of clothing.”

  “Maybe I should just wear what I have on.”

  He looked me up and down. My mother was right. “Always look your best,” she’d said. “You never know whom you’ll see.” I should have listened.

  “That’s up to you. Now tell me again what happened last night.”

  After I recounted every single detail again, I prayed he was satisfied. No such luck.

  “Your fingerprints will probably be on the candlestick, you know?”

  “I realize that. What I don’t understand why the killer used that as a murder weapon. Why not use a knife? I had one in the sink that I used last night to cut the watermelon.”

  “It’s difficult to understand a murderer’s logic. Maybe you’ll get lucky and we’ll find the killer’s prints instead. Anyway, we’ll be here a while. I don’t know quite what to say, Raelynn. But I’m sorry this happened.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot,” I said.

  “I’ll need a statement from you and I’ll have more questions for you. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. Hell’s bells. I couldn’t help my emotions. He smiled and I thought I noticed a tinge of red on his cheeks, too.<
br />
  I stumbled when I stood from the step and Kent grabbed my arm. “Whoa. Easy does it.”

  “Thanks.” My cheeks tingled again, but that wasn’t all that tingled. His touch made my whole body quiver like Grandma Nettie’s Jello mold.

  “Just watch out.”

  “The step?” I asked.

  “No. Well, yes, the step, too. But I mean until we know what happened to the victim.”

  I loved how official he tried to be, as if I didn’t know the victim’s name.

  “Make sure you lock your doors. And call if you see anything suspicious.”

  I nodded.

  He smiled again. “I have to get back.” He pointed toward the gazebo.

  “Of course.”

  I watched as he walked away. Claire Ann had been right. Having him in the backyard wasn’t such a bad thing. I leaned back against the porch column and took in a deep breath. I felt numb from the life-changing experience. Police swarmed the scene like bees over honey. Back and forth from the gazebo to their cars out front. A few stood in a group, talking. The scene wasn’t as glamorous as they depicted on TV. One of the officers told another that the coroner had just pulled up and my stomach turned again. They’d take away the body soon. I wouldn’t look at it again. I couldn’t.

  I needed to get away. No way could I watch them haul the body off. And from the looks of things, they’d be there for a few hours. Yellow and black crime-scene tape decorated the yard. Police hovered over the body, paced around the lawn, and sifted through the bushes. Was it bad of me to shop when a dead body was discovered in my back yard? The thought of sitting around while they examined the crime scene was too much. If I distracted myself, maybe I’d come back and it would all be behind me. Then I could move on. Oh, who was I kidding? Things would never be the same. I’d always see that body in the backyard.

  A young officer approached. He looked as if he’d just graduated high school. His fresh buzz-cut screamed newbie.

  “You need to retrieve items from the house, ma’am?”

  “I’ll just get my purse, thanks.”