Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel Read Online Free PDF

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