Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel

by Rose Pressey

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “What makes you say that?” Kent asked.

  “It’s just that the mayor and his wife want to bring the highway through here. They’ll need those buildings in order to do it. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

  “I can’t discuss this with you.”

  “I knew I would get details out of you.” I smiled.

  “I didn’t share with you anything you wouldn’t have heard around town anyway.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. So they want Nancy’s husband to sell the buildings so they can tear them down.”

  “Or something like that.”

  “Let me ask you something else.”

  “You’re just full of questions today. Aren’t I the one who should be asking questions?”

  “Should and would are two different things. What do you know about my neighbor?” I asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You keep answering my questions with questions.” I stood.

  He chuckled. “Does that bother you?”

  “Stop it! Anyway, my neighbor seems a bit unfriendly to say the least. I get the feeling she doesn’t like me.”

  “Well, I don’t think she likes anyone but herself.”

  “Is she involved in drugs or something?”

  He paused. I didn’t need any further answer. He was so easy. Was he that way only around me? Because otherwise, I wasn’t sure he was cut out for the law enforcement gig. The stairs creaked and I spun around. Had Mr. Littlefield been there? Did he hear my conversation? He was creeping me out slinking around like a cat.

  “Listen, I need to run. You weren’t calling to come arrest me, were you?”

  “No, no, I wasn’t.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon then.”

  “Be careful.”

  I didn’t even want to know what that meant.

  Later that evening, after a dinner of yummy Lean Cuisine, I took fresh towels up to Mr. Littlefield. As I reached the top of the stairs, his voice echoed through the door. He must have been on his cell phone. I was surprised he hadn’t heard my footsteps on the squeaky stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I know it would be a perfect location. And the owner wants to sell. His wife just died, so there’s a little wait, if you know what I mean. The mayor of this hick place wants a road through there, but if the owner isn’t willing to sell…”

  I held my breath. So that was why he was in town.

  “He doesn’t care, he got what he wanted.”

  I almost fell backward trying to get out of there before he heard me. The floor creaked and it was too late. He opened the door with a swoosh and I turned to look at him, as if I’d been caught with my hand in the snooping innkeeper cookie jar.

  “Let me call you back,” he said into the phone, then flipped it shut. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Huh?” I pointed to my chest.

  He gave me a look of disgust. “How long were you standing there?” He spoke slower and louder as if I had a hearing impairment.

  “I just came up to give you some fresh towels.” I held them out.

  He snatched them up, turned around, and stormed back into his room, slamming the door this time. If he’d wanted a private conversation he should have closed it in the first place.

  Kent didn’t answer his phone. I figured he needed to know what I’d overheard. It probably meant nothing to the case though. I’d try him again later.

  The next morning, I worked in the kitchen. The wall near the backdoor had old wallpaper and I stripped it off. Why only one wall was papered, I had no idea. Maybe they ran out of wallpaper. Soon, I’d attempt painting the countertops. It was the cheapest way to get rid of the ugly Formica.

  Mr. Littlefield finally took one of my muffins and some juice before leaving. He paid for yet another night. I’d miss the money when he left, but I wouldn’t miss his frosty and odd demeanor. He didn’t mention the conversation and neither did I. But I was none too happy about whatever scheme he had planned for Honeysuckle.

  Right after breakfast, I called the salon to schedule my appointment—just like a real sleuth. Margaret answered and had an opening in an hour, so I showered, dressed and headed out to question her. I hoped Claire Ann wasn’t right and Margaret didn’t shave my head. After all, Claire Ann had said she was known to have a temper. An angry hairdresser with scissors in her hand was not a good thing.

  When I reached the salon, I had second thoughts about my mission. It was too late to turn back, though, Margaret saw me watching from the sidewalk. She recognized me, I knew. Margaret loved to smoke Virginia Slims and drink Diet Pepsi. She came into the store twice a week for her fix. When I pushed through the old door, the bell chimed, alerting every old lady in the place to my arrival. They stared. They scowled. They whispered. Files, scissors and hairdressers stopped midair.

  “Come on back,” Margaret said. She motioned over her shoulder for me to follow her. I had to keep myself from swinging my hips and emulating her sashay. Her streaked blonde hair swayed in time with her walk. “Sit down.” She patted the chair. Her bright blue striped Capri pants didn’t hide her skinny legs, but the white v-necked T-shirt showed off her enhanced chest.

  “I have to say, this is a bit of a surprise. You never came to me before. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the murder, would it?”

  I almost choked. So much for my sleuthing ability. They made it seem so easy in the books. And what about Murder She Wrote? What a scam.

  She fastened the velour cape around my neck—a little too tight. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she asked with her gravelly voice.

  Couldn’t she be a little quieter? Everyone stared as it was. “No,” I croaked as I slipped my finger between the plastic and my neck.

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your hair?” With her hand she fluffed at the back of my head.

  “Oh. Just a trim, please.” Please don’t let her idea of a trim be six inches.

  We were silent for a while. She began cutting my hair, and so far, she hadn’t cut all of it off. I knew I had to ask something. Otherwise, the situation would be even more awkward.

  “I just wanted to come by and ask if the rumors were true. Were you seeing Mark Harper?” I felt like it was my duty to ask this for Nancy. This was my opportunity to confront a mistress. She wasn’t the woman who’d cheated with my husband, but maybe I could get some satisfaction out of this confrontation. I could say my peace, so to speak.

  “What’s it to you?” Her voice rose.

  “Like I said, I was just curious.”

  She stopped cutting. “Look, we were friends.” I caught a whiff of cigarettes and diet soda. “There’s nothing wrong with having a friend. And I didn’t have anything to do with the murder.” She pointed those scissors a little too close to my head. “You were the one who found the body. She was in your backyard.”

  “It had only been my backyard for less than twenty-four hours.” Why was I defending myself? I didn’t have to answer to her. “Look, I didn’t come here to accuse you. I came for a haircut.” I needed to smooth out the situation. Pronto. “Sorry if you thought that. I’m having a tough time of things, you know. People are looking at me like some kind of villain just because she was in my backyard.”

  “Just because she was in your backyard? That’s sort of a big deal, don’t you think, darling?”

  Now that she mentioned it, I guessed it was a big deal. But still… “I suppose I can see where it would seem odd, but I just moved in. I doubt anyone even thought I’d be there that night. They probably still thought the house was empty.” Maybe Nancy thought the house was empty. That could have been the reason she was there.

  She stared for a minute, then began to cut again. “All I know is I didn’t do it, and neither did Mark.”

  I didn’t respond. After a bit of silence, I decided to ask her about her necklace. I felt
it was a great segue. Very smooth. Okay, not so smooth. But she had scissors, what can I say? I was nervous.

  “I discovered this necklace in the backyard near where they found Nancy. I can’t believe the police didn’t see it. It’s very pretty actually. Has the initial—”

  “You can pay Lynnette.” She yanked the cape from around my neck and walked away, leaving me sitting there with all eyes focused my way. I wanted to yell, ‘What are you looking at?’ Probably not a good idea, though.

  I hurried from the chair to the front of the salon and paid. The whole scene couldn’t have been much worse. She hadn’t butchered my haircut, though, so I should thank my lucky stars and get the heck out of there.

  When I reached the sidewalk and set out in the direction of home, I felt a presence behind me—a hostile presence.

  “Word has it that you’re messing around with the buildings now.”

  I turned around. Martha Murdoch stood in front of me with her hands squarely on her hips. Her brown hair pulled back into a tight twist, and her crisp white suit made her look as if she were ready for a business meeting. Perhaps a meeting with the devil? But something about her rough demeanor made the clothing seem all wrong for her. Her eyes held a hatred behind them—a hatred for me and probably a long list of others. She needed horns and a pitchfork, then she could help lead the way in chasing me out of town.

  This was my chance to ask her about the buildings, but I didn’t think I could work up enough nerve. Turned out maybe sleuthing wasn’t one of my strong points. I needed to read a few more books.

  “Isn’t getting that house enough for you?”

  “Excuse me?” I tried to remain polite. I really didn’t want to go to jail today. Or any other day for that matter.

  She continued. “It’s more than you deserve. I won’t let you get in the way of this project. No way, no how.” She pointed her brightly tipped finger in my direction. “I get what I want. I have ways of taking care of this sort of thing, you know?”

  How did she know what I wanted? I assumed she referred to the old buildings. My mouth probably hung open. When I finally wrapped my head around the situation, I asked, “Don’t you want to make Honeysuckle a better place to live?”

  “What do you know about Honeysuckle? You move here a year ago with that deadbeat husband and think you own the place?”

  “I don’t think that at all.” I shook my head. “And he’s an ex-husband, thank you very much.”

  “And stay away from my home, too. I don’t want to catch you anywhere near me. I’ll have you arrested. The nerve, I can’t believe you’d come to my home.”

  That statement didn’t even deserve a comment. Honestly, I didn’t know how to respond. She had a screw loose. “Why do you hate me?”

  “Besides the fact that you’re a murderer? Isn’t that enough?”

  “The police don’t think I’m a murderer. If they did, don’t you think they’d have arrested me by now? Just because the woman is in my backyard doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it.”

  “That’s another thing. I’m looking into if that will was valid. I smell something fishy about this whole situation.”

  If she smelt something fishy it was probably her feet.

  My cheeks burned from the heat. I was surprised I didn’t have steam coming out of my ears. I hurried away. The faster I put distance between us, the better. How had she known about my ideas for the buildings? I’d only mentioned them to Claire Ann. Now that I thought of it, Claire Ann was the one working at gossip central. But she was my friend, surely she wouldn’t mention it.

  When I reached the store, I hurried through the doors. I didn’t care if people didn’t want me there or not. I’d had enough. Being accosted by the mayor’s wife was my breaking point. I had just as much right to go anywhere in this town as anyone else. If Claire Ann had told the mayor’s wife my plans, then she had betrayed me. Why would she do that?

  “Why did you tell the mayor’s wife about my plans?” I placed my hands on my hips.

  “I didn—”

  “Just stop, Claire Ann.” I held up my hand. “Who else could have? You’re the only one I told.”

  Claire Ann’s eyes widened.

  “I’m sick of this. I can’t trust you.” I stormed out before she said another word. What could she say? That she hadn’t told? I knew that was a lie.

  At that moment, the old Victorian seemed like my home more than ever. It was my refuge and I wanted nothing more than to be within its comforting walls before I was waylaid by anyone else. Going home and getting away from everyone for a while sounded like heaven. If I never saw anyone in Honeysuckle again, I’d be happy. What bothered me the most was I thought I could trust Claire Ann to keep her mouth shut.

  As I marched down the sidewalk, a couple old ladies walked toward me, but when I made eye contact, they turned and crossed the street. You’d have thought I had the black plague or something. I’d be darned if I’d let these crazy people stop me from enjoying my new home and living my life. When I neared the local bank, I realized I had all the money from Mr. Littlefield’s stay in my purse. With my rotten luck, my attacker would return and steal every penny. He could attack me if he felt the need, but hands off my money.

  The bank was in the largest building in town. It towered over everything else. By big-city standards, though, it was small. I made my way to the entrance. When I reached the front, a tall, thin man with gray hair approached. His suit fit every angle of his body and his red tie looked like pure silk. I couldn’t be certain, but I thought it was the same man who’d been talking with Mr. Littlefield. His shoulder brushed mine as he passed in a hurry. I stumbled forward, but caught myself. He rushed through the door. Did he see me? Did he notice almost knocking me flat on my face?

  “How rude,” I mumbled.

  I climbed the steps and entered the old structure. It was a square red-brick building, probably erected sometime around the turn of the century. It stood across the street from the store, a few buildings down. The lobby was empty except for the man who was now talking with a teller. I could have heard a pin drop. Was he whispering? It was as if I’d stepped into the library instead of a bank. Thank goodness the rude guy had gotten the not-so-pleasant Mrs. Manning. She’d worked at the bank since the building had been erected, or so I’d heard. The other teller stared at me from behind the counter.

  I approached and placed my deposit down on the counter. “Hi.”

  “You doing okay?” she asked as she picked up my deposit. “Doesn’t look like you’re having a great day.”

  “I’m not. Everyone in this town hates me.” I looked over my shoulder to see if the man was still there. He made his way across the lobby and out the door, mumbling under his breath.

  The teller’s gaze held sympathy. Joanne Davis had always been nice to me. Her style probably made her unpopular with other women in town, with her over-bleached blonde hair and too-tight blouses.

  “I don’t hate you. I don’t believe you had anything to do with the murder. And neither does anyone else, either. They just want to cause trouble.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Just trust me. They’ve always been that way.” She looked around, then whispered, “I heard they found a chemical smell on the body. Like on her hands or something.”

  My mouth hung open. Talk about random statements. When I could speak again, I said, “Really? Where did you hear that?”

  “I can’t reveal my source.”

  “Well, what else have you heard?”

  She leaned in, lowering her voice. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Nancy was making withdrawals from her account. I can’t say much, but there were lots of withdrawals, but not from her joint account, if you know what I mean. She had another account. I don’t think anyone else knew about it—other than the few people who work here.”

  Why was she telling me this? Whatever the reason, I was grateful for the few details. “But wouldn’t somebody here tell her husband?
”

  “I don’t think so.” She waved a hand. “My boss doesn’t like her husband, anyway.”

  I took my receipt, feeling a little dizzy from the details. “Thanks for the info.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome. Oh, and don’t tell anyone I told, ’kay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  She didn’t have to share the information with me, and I didn’t know for sure why she did. There was no time to ask now, though, I needed answers. The only person who could help was the one person who might throw me in jail. Regardless, I needed to call Kent immediately. I needed to solve the crime, with or without his help. He was the sheriff, and maybe the last person who should help me, but I didn’t have anywhere else to turn.

  Before I left, I said, “By the way, since you see most people in town, I thought I’d ask if you recognized this necklace.” I pulled the beaded chain and pendant out of my pocket.

  She held it in her palm. “It looks so familiar.” She turned it over. “Where did you find it?”

  Even though she’d given me information, I wasn’t sure I should share with her exactly where I’d found it. I needed to keep this clue to myself for the time being.

  “I picked it up from the sidewalk,” I lied.

  She handed it back. “It’s a style some of the young girls are probably wearing.”

  “True. I did find it on the route the kids would take to school.” The lying thing was getting easier. But it did make me think. Maybe the necklace had belonged to one of Nancy’s students. “Thanks again for the help.” I stuffed the necklace back into my pocket and headed toward the door.

  “Not a problem. Good luck, Rae.” She gave a half-hearted smile full of pity.

  I hurried home, not paying attention to my surroundings.

  As I walked, I dialed Kent’s number. No answer. Hells bells. I left a message telling him about the mayor’s wife and the chemical smell story. Was it just a story? Or was something strange happening in Honeysuckle? I left out the part about the bank withdrawals because Joanne had said not to tell anyone.