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

filled up the space. The sun had set and a soft amber glow
streaked across the room. The faster I got out of there, the
better. No time to reminisce about how much I hated it.
    Working my way through the maze of furniture,
I opened the closet, then stuffed my clothing, photos, and other
personal items into a couple of suitcases. Before leaving, I
grabbed a pen and paper from the desk and jotted down a quick note.
The urge to write I’m out of here across the paper gnawed at me,
but I decided against it. I’d be professional and courteous, in
spite of her not offering the same in return. I’d gladly pay a
couple more months’ rent if she wanted, just to get out of there.
Sure, I couldn’t afford it, but I’d find a way, any way to escape.
A noise sounded from downstairs, reminding me I needed to hurry if
I didn’t want to be caught, so I stuffed the paper in my pocket and
grabbed my things. The evil one had probably woken up.
    I set the luggage down outside the door, then
turned around for one last look at the tiny room. Outside there was
still a sliver of light, but the dark floor and walls made the room
perpetually shadowy and glum. The dark blue walls appeared darker.
No longer would I squeeze between the bed and the window to stare
outside, watching life pass me by. I closed the door on my
past.

Chapter Six
    Back downstairs, I realized no noise came
from her bedroom, other than her soft snoring. False alarm. Thank
goodness, she hadn’t woken up. The grandfather clock chimed as I
moved past her room again, into the kitchen, and slipped the note
under the ugly floral arrangement on the table.
    Once free from the depressing house, I
high-tailed it for the Mustang, stuffed my life’s possessions into
the trunk, and jumped in. Backing out of the driveway, I glanced in
the rearview mirror. No head peeked out from any windows, so I let
out a sigh of relief and hit the gas.
    Driving through town was like being in a
ghost town. If tumbleweeds had bounced across the street, I
wouldn’t have been surprised. People rolled the sidewalks up when
the first star twinkled. It was sad really, because the quaint
little town had a lot to offer. More of a nightlife would do it
good. A café and an antique shop would be great. Downtown was full
of historic homes and old building sitting empty. At the edge of
Main Street four attached storefronts looked like abandoned
orphans. With a little updating, they would add a great rustic
appeal to Honeysuckle. A wooden covered sidewalk connected the
stores—kind of like an old western town. They screamed for activity
again. Why no one had taken notice was beyond me. Why build new
when you could redo the old?
    Within a couple of minutes, I was parked in
front of the Victorian. A gravel drive lay at the side of the
house, but until my new neighbor calmed down, I figured I’d keep my
distance and park on the street. As I climbed out from behind the
wheel, a rustling noise sounded in the nearby bush. I prayed it was
a cat. My legs moved a little quicker when I contemplated all the
creatures it could have been. I hoisted the luggage from the trunk,
bumped open the gate with my hip, and marched up the path. The sun
had set, taking away my natural light. Full darkness was
approaching, so I stumbled my way up the front steps in a hurry.
The only light came from my new friendly neighbor’s cottage.
    After setting my bags down, and fishing for
the key from my pocket, I entered my house. How long would it take
to get used to those words? Once I’d put my belongings in the main
bedroom, I shuffled through the house, strolling from room to room,
taking in every detail. The bedrooms upstairs each had iron-framed
beds with simple quilts stretched across them. None of the
furniture matched, but they were quality pieces. Lace curtains hung
from the windows. They looked as if they used to be white, but now
they appeared more beige. I checked each closet and every last
drawer. The attic ladder was broken, or