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

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