Read Online Trash To Treasure Crafting 1 - Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel by Rose Pressey - Free Book Online Page B

long.
    A cough caught my attention and I whipped
around. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I didn’t like being caught
Dumpster-diving, but it was an occupational hazard. A man stood
near the house where the dresser had probably come from.
    “You can have them,” the old man said.
    “Thanks. I was just trying to figure out how
I’d get them home.” I swallowed my humiliation.
    He looked at me, then the Mustang. “That’s a
fine car you got there, but it’s sure not good for hauling.”
    I shook my head. “No, it’s not good for
that.”
    “Where do you live?” He stuffed a bandana in
the back pocket of his overalls.
    “Honeysuckle.” I motioned over my
shoulder.
    “I could deliver them for you.”
    “You’d do that?” Wonder what the catch was?
Then again, did I really want a stranger at my house? But if I was
running a hotel, I’d better get used to the idea. “I don’t have
money to pay you.”
    “Don’t worry about it. I was headed in that
direction anyway. I’m just happy to see them put to use versus
going in the Dumpster.”
    “I’ll put them to use, all right.” I
smiled.
    I scribbled down my address for him and
headed back toward the thrift store. I felt guilty for having him
deliver free pieces of furniture, but maybe I could repay him
sometime. The next stop yielded a couple of grapevine wreaths, a
small urn, vases, and a bag full of Styrofoam balls and cones.
    When I returned to Honeysuckle, the gawkers
had dispersed. Thank goodness. The police had vanished, but the
crime-scene tape still blocked off the yard. I hoped it wouldn’t
stay long; I didn’t need a reminder of the horrible event. By the
time I unloaded my goodies from the car and took them inside, the
sound of a loud vehicle rattled in the driveway. My free pieces of
furniture had arrived.
    “Hey, thanks for bringing them. I didn’t
expect you so soon,” I said as I rounded the side of the house.
    “I was headed this way anyway.”
    “It’s a heavy piece, huh?” I climbed onto the
back of the truck.
    “Yes, it’s sturdy. I’ll grab this end if you
grab that one,” he said from where he stood at the back of the
truck. “Where should we put it?”
    “On the front porch is fine. I’m going to
work on it right away.”
    Thank goodness there were only three steps up
onto the porch.
    “Beautiful home. You live here?” He eyed the
crime scene tape as he headed around to his truck to retrieve the
small desk.
    I didn’t want to explain what had happened.
Word would probably spread to Belleville soon enough. The faster he
left, the better off I would be.
    The man frowned as he looked from the
direction of the backyard to me. “Well, good luck.” He set the desk
down, walked back to his truck, then waved as he climbed into the
cab.
    “Thanks again, I really appreciate it.” I
waved.
    As he drove off, he looked at the house
again. He probably wondered what the heck was going on, but he’d
find out soon enough. All he’d have to do was pick up the
newspaper. I was just glad he hadn’t asked.
    On the way home from my little shopping
extravaganza, I’d picked up paint and supplies. I planned on
getting to work right away. If it would take my mind of the
horrific scene I’d found under the shade of the gazebo for even a
minute, it was worth it.
    With supplies at hand, I got down to work.
The sooner I painted my discarded Dumpster find, the sooner I could
get it inside and decorate—one of my favorite things to do. I
lifted one end of the dresser and scooted newspaper underneath with
my foot, then did the same to the other side. It wasn’t easy
balancing on one foot while scooting paper with the other, plus
folding up the dresser—I was barely able to raise it off the
ground. Probably not how Martha Stewart would do it. I didn’t have
to make the process pretty, just the after-product. As long as I
got the job done, that was all that mattered. Lesson learned
though, because I should have put paper down first, then placed