Текст книги "Powdered Murder "

Автор книги: A. Gardner

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"Remind me."

The truth was that I had a whole lot on my mind that night. I couldn't decide if I should have told him how I felt about him or act like it was no big deal that he was moving away to become a professional athlete. I didn't remember exactly what I said to him that night. All I remembered was how I kept everything I wanted to say inside, and then cried about it afterwards until I gave myself a migraine. That was the last time I ever cried over him.

"You told me to keep doing what I do best," he answered. "That saying has always stuck with me. It's why I didn't give up the first time I tanked at the Winter X Games. You might not believe it, but you give excellent advice, Essie. It feels weird calling you Essie now."

"I should have switched to that name in high school," I replied, trying to take the conversation away from a night I didn't care to relive. "I don't know why I didn't think of it?"

"Well, it does suit you." He tilted his head. "Though there was nothing wrong with Gwenessa."

"Oh there were a lot of things wrong with Gwenessa," I joked.

The two of us laughed. Patrick inched a little closer until the edge of his thigh brushed against mine. I nervously looked down at our knees. They were closer together. I took a sip of my tea as I thought about what else I could've said to keep the conversation away from the past. I couldn’t think of a single thing.

"I hope I haven't made you too uncomfortable," he said quietly.

"Oh no." My eyes widened.

"I know things have changed a lot since we were kids. I mean, I assume you have a boyfriend or a fiancé or something. He isn't here, is he?" His eyes darted to the hallway leading towards the bedrooms. "Maybe I should get going."

"Patrick," I reassured him as he stood up. "There's no one. There was someone years ago, but that's over."

"Oh." He nodded.

"Yeah," I sighed. I stood up to walk him out. "By the way, I'm just curious. Did you know Donna well?"

"Donna?" He shrugged. "We've talked a few times, but I haven't known her for very long. Lila has tons of friends. Sometimes it's hard for me to keep track of who she has introduced me to. Franco usually gives me a brief overview so I don't forget."

"Do you remember the last time the two of you spoke?"

"Last night," he admitted. "She uh . . . well, she came and found me after she'd checked in. It was late and she'd already had too much to drink."

"I see," I calmly responded. "Is she another reason why you think you should call off your wedding?"

"Actually . . . yes." He watched me bite the corner of my lip. "It's not what you think though. I swear." He anxiously waited for me to nod or say I believed him, but a buzzing sound coming from the kitchen table startled me. It was my cell phone.

I raised my eyebrows and looked at Patrick. We both walked towards the kitchen table and stared curiously at my vibrating phone. The caller ID said it was Joy. I answered it immediately as Patrick folded his arms and waited for me to speak.

"Joy," I answered. "Is everything okay?"

"Essie." She sounded out of breath. "You have to come quick and take a look at this."

"What happened? Please tell me that you're fine."

"I'm okay. It's Lila I'm worried about." She paused for a minute to take a deep breath. "Someone broke into her room."

"Someone broke into Lila's room?" I repeated so Patrick could hear me.

"Yes . . . while she was in the shower."

CHAPTER FIVE

Bebe was standing next to Lila when I arrived at the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort with Patrick. Lila was staying in one of the top level suites that overlooked Pinecliffe Mountain. Even at night the brilliant white powder at the top of the mountain peaks could be seen in the moonlight. Though it was almost midnight, the hotel felt like it was wide awake and in a frenzy. Joy escorted us to Lila's suite and on the way there we passed a handful of busy maids, a few kitchen attendants who stayed late working on tomorrow's menu, and Joy's boss Mr. Kentworth, the owner of the hotel.

"Where have you been? Franco and Bebe are already here. I would've thought that my fiancé would be the first person to check up on me." Lila scolded Patrick the second he walked through the door. Her eyes looked at me suspiciously. Her skin was puffy like she'd been crying and her hair was damp. She was wearing silk pajamas with no bra. Lila was slender enough that she probably didn't need one, but I couldn't help but cringe every time she leaned forward or back and revealed a little too much of her chest.

"Now, Lila." Franco stepped out of her bathroom where he was splashing cold water on his face. He too was wearing his pajamas. "Relax, darling." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Breathe in and breathe out."

"I only just got in," Patrick replied calmly.

As I stepped inside Lila's suite, I glanced at the overturned coffee table in the sitting area, the ripped fabric on the furniture, and the tornado of clothes that looked like they blasted through her closet and across the entire room. Bebe stood up from the formal sitting area and began picking up the mess.

"Bebe," I shouted. The volume of my voice took her by surprise and she gasped.

"Good Lord, Essie." Bebe placed a hand on her heart. "I was only trying to help. You never know with these maid services sometimes." She briefly looked at Joy. "No offense, but every hotel has its quirks."

"Don't touch anything until I have had time to look around," I replied.

"You brought her to investigate?" Lila questioned my sister. "Where are the police? I demand that this be properly looked into."

"They are on their way," Joy said politely. The way she kept a smile on her face while she was continuously being insulted was impressive. She was just as good of an actress as Lila. Maybe even better.

"See if you can pull up some security camera footage," I whispered to Joy. She nodded and took a step towards the door.

"Why don't you uh . . .?” I looked at Patrick and tilted my head away from the vandalism in the main entrance to her room.

"Right." Patrick put his arm around Lila and led her towards the dining area of her suite. Lila sat down at the table while Patrick poured her a glass of water.

"I need something stronger than that, babe." She pushed the water glass aside and watched Patrick as he looked through the mini bar. "Bebe, mix me one of those cocktail things that you always make."

"Sure," she agreed.

I slowly examined Lila's suite starting with the entryway. Her room was in a small hallway with only four other suites. The entryway was paved with shiny wood floors and a side table that once had a vase of wildflowers in it. The vase was laying in pieces on the floor now. Past the entryway was the sitting area and the bathroom where Lila was supposedly showering when the mishap occurred.

I studied the furniture in the sitting area. The sofas had been ripped and stuffing was all over the floor. I leaned in and looked closely at the tears in the cushions. They were perfectly straight as if the knife had followed a dotted line. The stuffing was scattered all around the room. Some of it even reached as far as the bathroom and dining area. Places that were far from the couch itself.  A clump of fuzz was even spread across the corner of a landscape painting hanging on the wall. It reminded me of putting up fake cobwebs for Halloween. Lila's clothes had been thrown from her closet and spread around the room. Unlike the mutilated couch cushions, her clothes hadn't been maimed or torn in any way.

Deeper into the suite was the bedroom. It was situated close to the windows overlooking the mountains. The mattress had been kicked off its frame and the headboard had been scratched and destroyed. The perpetrator definitely had a knife. I checked the windows and didn't find any signs that they had been tampered with. The locks on the front door also appeared to be intact. No scruffs or broken hinges.

"Lila," I said casually. "Are you sure you didn't see who did this? Not even the back of his head?"

"No," she said abruptly. "If I had then that person would be in jail right now." She rubbed her temples and gulped down Bebe's homemade cocktail. "I was in the shower and all of a sudden I heard banging. So I jumped out thinking that maybe one of the maids had come in for some reason. But when I saw the broken vase in the entryway, I locked myself in the bathroom. I'm not a complete idiot. I know how these break-ins can go."

"We never said you were," Bebe said gently. "Here, drink some water."

"Luckily, I had just been texting Franco before I got into the shower so my phone was with me in the bathroom," she continued. "I called him, but he'd heard the noises and was already on his way to check on me. By the time he got here, whoever it was had already gone."

"Did you hear voices or shouting?" I asked. "Did anyone try to force open the bathroom door?"

"No." She narrowed her eyes when she looked at me. "You're awfully nosey for a girl who works at the gym."

"Lila," Patrick spoke up.

"What? I didn't mean it in a rude way." She took a sip of the water that Bebe offered her. Franco wandered around the room looking panicked when his eyes fell on each wrinkled dress that would need to be washed and pressed all over again.

"I'm calling it," Franco stated, holding up his hands. "I have to clean up this mess or it is going to drive me crazy." He paced back and forth counting his steps as he did.

"Not until the police get here," Patrick instructed.

"I don't see how it matters," Lila said, gulping down a second drink of something strong. "I already know who did it. The same guy who keyed my car last summer and sent me a chicken head in the mail."

"Oh dear." Bebe covered her mouth with a look of disgust on her face.

"Some psycho fan who is obsessed with me." She waved at Bebe to mix her another drink.

"Now, Lila," Franco addressed her. "You don't know that it was that particular stalker. We get loads of threats a week."

"You do?" My eyes widened. I would be an obsessive paranoid basket case if I had received just one threat of any kind, let alone hundreds. No wonder she needed the pills.

"It comes with the fame," she admitted. "It's the bit that the magazines leave out."

"Franco is right," Bebe agreed. "It could have been anyone, but I'm sure they'll catch the guy since it's such a small town, right?" Bebe looked to me for reassurance.

"Of course," I replied.

"No," Lila disagreed. "The crazy bastard sent me a note before we left L.A. I didn't think he would figure out where we were going and that we were planning a secret wedding." She glanced out the window. "Of all places, how would he know to come here?"

Murray and his father, Sheriff Williams, knocked as they entered the room. Murray glanced around the room with his fingers looped casually in his belt loops. He nodded as his eyes darted from the overturned tables to the mutilated furniture.

"Yep," Murray observed. "Definitely a break in."

I rolled my eyes.

Murray's father stepped past him and approached Lila to shake her hand. Sheriff Ronald Williams was smarter than his son. He had gray hair and a matching gray mustache that looked like it had seen serious action once upon a time. He was a retired train engineer who smoked as much as he breathed. Though he did know more about the law than his son did, Sheriff Williams wasn't very light on his feet. His feet sounded like two bricks of concrete smacking against the pavement when he came walking. He wasn't a terribly large man, but he was sturdy.

"Sheriff Williams," he introduced himself. "Is anyone here hurt?"

"No, we're all fine, officers." Franco put aside his anxiety about Lila's clothes and paid close attention to the men in uniform.

"Then I would like to ask you all a few questions." The sheriff nodded at his son. Murray pulled out a voice recorder and got it ready to record interviews.

I took another turn around the suite and stopped when Joy poked her head through the door. Her jaw clenched when she spotted me. She nodded at the sheriff and quickly walked towards me holding up her clipboard.

"Bad news," she muttered, pretending to show me tomorrow's revised schedule. "Lila requested that the cameras on this floor and a bunch of others around the resort be turned off upon her arrival."

"What? Why?"

"Something about how she has stayed places before where the staff stole private footage and tried to sell it to the tabloids?" She thumbed through a few papers until she came to a copy of the signed and approved request. I skimmed the letter and squinted when I read the signature at the end.

"Why did Franco sign this?"

"He put in the request on Lila's behalf," she whispered. "What? You think he might have done this? That wouldn't make any sense."

"No forced entry. No damage done to the designer apparel, apart from being thrown on the floor. It is possible." I glanced up at Franco as he gave the police his statement. He placed his hands on his hips for a few seconds before waving them in the air as he described the state of the room when he arrived.

"He is strange though." She took a deep breath. I knew she was dying inside. "Mr. Kentworth is watching me like a hawk, Essie."

"Hang in there," I quietly replied. "Slowly but surely the truth will come out. It always does."

"I hope you're right or I won't be able to pay my share of the rent."

"It won't come to that," I muttered.

"Her bridesmaid was knocked off at the hotel spa and now her room has been vandalized," Joy said through her teeth. "She'll definitely call the whole thing off after this."

I looked at Lila and the way she tossed her head back when she drank. Her lips twisted like she hated the taste, but she kept drinking as if she was desperate to forget about what had happened. Patrick rubbed her shoulders and shook his head when she requested another. He looked up briefly and our eyes met.

I knew what Patrick was thinking.

Another sign from good ol' Snowflake.

CHAPTER SIX

I couldn't sleep at all when I got back to my apartment. Instead, I'd spent the rest of the night reading through the guest list that Joy printed off. It contained everyone who had checked into the hotel this weekend. I'd glanced in the parking lot before I drove off hoping to see the mysterious black BMW that Wade had mentioned, but I couldn't find it. Disappointed with myself, I'd fallen asleep with my head on the kitchen table.

My neck ached Saturday morning as I walked past The Painted Deer and towards Doc Henry's office. The sidewalks were a little icy from not being shoveled since last night and the sky was a brilliant blue. Doc's office was at the end of the street. It was the closest business to the resort, and he was the only doctor in town, often seeing guests who were staying at the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort. After the resort had opened, he bought the shop next door and transformed his business into an up-to-date medical suite complete with a professionally designed waiting room with flat screen TVs and a counter with complimentary tea and coffee.

I pushed open the door and immediately unzipped my ski coat. Doc's receptionist, Maggie, looked up from her computer screen ready to say that the office wasn't open yet, but she sighed when she saw my face.

Maggie isn't the receptionist type. She hardly smiles. She stares at her computer screen when she checks patients in rather than looking them in the eyes. I once saw her filling out Publisher's Clearinghouse entries while she had patients on hold. But Maggie is the only girl in town who has a high school diploma, lives in Bison Creek full time, and can type fast enough to transcribe all of the Doc's dictations.

"Oh, it's you," Maggie commented. "He's in his office."

"You know if you locked the door, you wouldn’t have to tell people to come back at nine o'clock."

"It saves me an extra trip up there," she answered. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to walk through the records room, all the way down the hallway, then through the waiting room just to open the door?"

"Like five seconds?" I muttered.

"Whoever designed this layout wanted to keep the receptionist prisoner." She tossed aside her curly auburn locks and continued typing on her keyboard. I noticed a small damp spot on her sleeve that had been rubbed raw with a wet towel. An almost coffee stain from her morning brew.

I opened the door leading to the exams rooms and walked towards the doctor's office.

Doc Henry and I are far from strangers. He has been my doctor since my parents adopted me. The Doc moved to Bison Creek from Denver because his wife was tired of city living. The two of them moved in one street over from us. When the doc's wife passed away a few years ago, he decided to stay and keep his practice running. I don't think he wanted to part with the spacious three-bedroom lodge that the two of them built together.

Now, Doc Henry and I are business partners. He runs special blood tests on most of my clients that produces a panel of every vitamin and mineral they're deficient in. Using this test I can tell each client exactly what he or she needs to eat more of, and eat less of.

I knocked on the Doc's door as I entered his office.

"Essie." He looked up from studying a file on his desk. "What brings you here?"

"Hey, Doc," I replied. "I just thought I would stop by and see if you have any results in for me."

His office looked like his living room. There were pictures of him and his late wife on the walls, tons of medical books, a sofa, and a counter with a microwave and coffee pot. It was like his office also acted as a mini apartment. He spent way too much time here.

"You know I always have Maggie call when they're in," he commented. His white hair was shiny against the light of his desk lamp. "You are worried about something, aren't you?"

"I know you can't say anything because of that patient confidentially stuff, but I know you looked at the body of that girl at the resort yesterday." I slowly sat down and clasped my hands together.

"Yes, your sister called me." His voice was quieter. "And you two shouldn't be talking about that stuff. Find something more cheerful to occupy your time."

"Well, what do you think happened to her?"

"I haven't finished my report so I can't say for sure," he whispered. "Essie, you can't go around asking questions about this. Hardly anyone knows about it and I would like to keep it that way. Do you know how much business I get from the resort? Half my patients come from there, and I don't want word of the accident to spread so far that it scares business away from town."

"I know, Doc. I'm just trying to figure out what happened. I was … I was one of the people who found her."

"You?" he replied. "Oh yes, that's right. You're in the wedding party. Martha was here yesterday."

"Of course she was." I rolled my eyes.

"Look, Essie, I don't want to—"

"Please," I begged. "You can't tell your unofficial opinion to a friend?"

He frowned as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. He fiddled with his navy blue tie and finally took a deep breath. He rubbed the bridge of his nose before he gave in and cleared his throat to tell me what I wanted to know.

"Okay," he agreed. "But listen very closely because I'm only going to address this once. I shouldn't speak of it at all to be quite honest with you. All I've ever seen around here are deaths of natural causes. Elderly folks passing away at home, or accidents on the slopes."

"When in all my life have I ratted you out?" I asked.

"I know you won't blab through town," he answered. "Yes, I examined the poor girl. She was found in the pool, but that's not how she died."

"It's not?" I thought back to the moment I'd walked into the spa. I remembered the way I'd frozen like a block of ice when I saw Donna floating face down in what was supposed to be the most refreshing healing waters in all the county.

"No, she had some pretty severe red patches and swelling around her chest and neck. I've seen reactions like that before. A simple injection would have stopped it all, but unfortunately her epi-pen must have been up in her room."

"So she had an allergic reaction?"

"Oh yes, I'm fairly certain she went into anaphylactic shock." He nodded casually. "Most likely it was the half-eaten cupcake that was found at the scene."

"I thought maybe she had choked on it," I commented.

"Whatever was in that cake did far more than choke her." He shook his head and glanced out his frosty window. "Such a terrible circumstance, and to fall into the pool as it was happening? No wonder she couldn't manage to keep her head above water. Sometimes freak accidents happen I suppose. At least, I hope it was a freak accident."

"Could she have been pushed?" I asked.

"Anything is possible." He took a deep breath. "But you didn't hear that from me. Do you understand?"

I nodded. If Donna wasn't alone when she died that meant that there was someone out there who let her die.

A killer.

"Do you know about what time she died yesterday?"

"Only a rough estimate. This is not my specialty you see, but I do remember a thing or two from my forensics rotation back in the day."

"Yes," I urged him on. "And?"

"Well, uh …"

"Doc." I raised my eyebrows the way my mother did when she caught me sneaking extra helpings of dessert from the fridge.

"Oh maybe she had been there for an hour or so before she was found? The window had been open long enough to let a good amount of snow flurries stick to the ground."

"If only Misty and Eli hadn't been making out in the storage closet," I muttered.

"But I told you I'm rusty," he added. "I was elected county coroner a long time ago because I was the only M.D. in town. Bison Creek is so small that it normally doesn't occupy too much of my time. Like I said, I'm used to the elderly and ski accidents. Nothing like what happened at the resort."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Sure. I'll have Maggie call you when we get more of your client's test results in."

"Thanks," I said, stepping out of the office.

My mind raced as I walked back through the waiting area and out the front door. Maggie didn't bother saying goodbye or even looking up from her desk. I stepped back into the cold knowing exactly what I needed to do next. I needed to pay a visit to Miss Korston, the resort's Head Baker. She would know exactly what was in the cupcake that Donna had eaten.

I took a step and almost slipped on a patch of black ice because I was so deep in thought. Someone snatched the side of my jacket and helped me find my balance. I took a deep breath and forced a smile when I realized it was Sheriff Williams. He and his son Murray were holding sacks of their usual morning pastries from the Bison Creek bakery.

"Watch your step there," the sheriff said.

"Sheriff, I've been meaning to stop by the station to—"

"I know very well what you're trying to do, Essie." He handed his bag of morning sweets to his son and took a step closer, trying to intimidate me with his fierce glare. "But I'm the sheriff in this town, not you. I am handling this investigation, not you."

"I'm only trying to help," I reminded him, but I knew that the reminding wouldn't do any good. Sheriff Williams was the sort of man who needed to fall on his own face first before he accepted any form of criticism. One year he let old man Simpkons keep his favorite horse tied up in front of the bank because he didn't trust him to be alone in his stables with the other horses. It wasn't until Sheriff Williams literally fell into a mountain of horse manure that he realized how much tourists really do like clean streets and walkways.

"By nit-picking at my son's interview skills and degrading his police equipment?"

“Again," I glanced at Murray who immediately looked down at his shoes like a small child who had ratted out his older sister. "Just trying to help out. That's all."

"I can handle this investigation, Essie. This ain't my first time." He lifted his chin and looked down at me. I hate it when people do that.

"Oh good," I answered. "So you're already on top of that background check on the lone undercover paparazzi guy who conveniently arrived right before the murder? And you've obviously run a report on the plates of the mysterious black BMW that has been rolling through town?"

"Uh." The sheriff looked to his son. Murray shrugged, but his father continued to stare at him until he pulled a notebook from his pocket and began jotting it all down.

"How do you spell paparazzi?" Murray muttered.

"Gentlemen." I nodded and walked past the two of them. Nothing could keep me from finding out what happened to Donna. Especially not since the entire town's livelihood was at stake, not just Joy's job and the resort’s reputation.

I continued walking back towards The Painted Deer. The chill breeze hit the side of my cheeks and the tip of my nose. I took a deep breath and the brisk, dry, mountain air filled my lungs so suddenly that I had to stop and cough. My eyes darted around the corner to the tiny parking lot set aside for tourists who come to browse the souvenir shops. My eyes first caught the snow-capped mountains in the distance before wondering down towards a car parked next to Mrs. Tankle's pickup truck.

It was the black BMW. The one that Wade had mentioned was cruising through town yesterday. I gulped as I took a few steps towards it, unsure by the tinted windows if the driver was inside of it.

For all I knew, the driver was the killer.

My chest pounded as the passenger door slowly started to open. I took a few steps back and ducked behind a thick, wooden pillar that made up a portion of the ice cream parlor storefront. My heart rate sky rocketed when a leg moved cautiously out of the car followed by a dainty manicured hand that gripped the top of the car door for balance. My eyes went wide when a woman slammed the door shut and glanced up and down the street suspiciously.

It was Martha Millbreck, the Mayor's wife.

Martha put as much distance between her and the black BMW as she could in the heels she was wearing. She jogged across the snowy street, but considering that she wasn't wearing the appropriate footwear it was more of a succession of hops. She threw the tail of her scarf over her shoulder and didn't look back when the black BMW backed out of its parking space and sped off in the opposite direction.

I ran farther down the street hoping that Martha wouldn't notice I'd been close enough to see her. I casually walked towards Martha as she turned the corner and faced my direction. She glanced at me and nonchalantly fixed a lock of her light brown bob.

"Morning," I spoke first.

"Oh hi, Essie dear."

"Hitting the shops this early in the morning?" I asked

"Oh you know Mayor Millbreck." She forced out a quiet laugh. "He loves Ada's chokecherry scones with his morning coffee." She glanced down the street at the bakery – the one shop that was always bustling before dawn.

"Of course. Tell him I say hello."

"Oh, I will dear." Martha took a step closer and nudged my arm. "And I trust that you're prepared for Sunday?"

"Sunday?"

"Yes, the big day." She winked as she said it. "I know it's supposed to be a small, intimate wedding—"

"And private," I butted in. "Very, very private."

"But who can say no to the Mayor?" She chuckled, pleased with herself for climbing to the top of the Bison Creek social ladder. Not a tough ladder to climb. "I bet even the Mayor of Silverwood and his wife haven't been to a celebrity event of this significance," she whispered. Silverwood was our neighboring town boasting better slopes and shops. Naturally she despised it.

"I honestly wouldn't know."

Martha continued to look pleased with herself as she kept walking. Our conversation had been completely one-sided. She'd said whatever it was she needed to say, and then moved on with her day.

Martha never ignored the chance to gossip. If she knew about Donna's terrible fate she wouldn't have been able to keep the information inside, especially since I might've had some extra details to add now that I was in the wedding party. I couldn't explain why the black BMW dropped her off here instead of somewhere more convenient like her house on the other side of town. I also didn't know who was driving.

Maybe the black BMW snaking around town yesterday was just a coincidence?

I checked my watch. There was still time to visit the kitchens at the resort before the major breakfast rush. I had to figure out what was in that cupcake that was found next to Donna's body.

Before I headed back towards The Painted Deer Bookshop, I watched Martha Millbreck stop and say hello to Mrs. Henson who came out early every morning to walk her two Akitas. Martha leaned down to pet both dogs, but as soon as Mrs. Henson kept walking she pulled some hand sanitizer out of her purse. Martha sped down the sidewalk … and she walked right past the bakery without a backward glance.