Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel by Rose Pressey

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 Raelynn? He held up his professional façade, I guess. As
if