Powdered Murder (6 page)

"What's the matter? Did this guy stand you up for a date or something?" Wade had a smug look on his face. He liked to push my buttons the same he did with Joy, but I had a cooler temper. Since working at the resort, I'd learned to be patient with people. It was the only way I was able to teach them.
And
it was the only way I could bear training Martha Millbreck all these years. She was a high-paying client, but not many people got along with her.

"Something like that," I lied, turning to leave.

"Wait," Wade blurted out. He ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the patch of scruff on his chin. "There's something else."

I stopped to listen.

"What?"

"If I tell you…" He paused. "You have to promise me something."

Where's my bargaining chip?

"Just tell me, Wade."

"First, swear that you'll tell Joy I'm seeing someone," he said. "Someone out of my league."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not going to tell her that," I answered. "She has enough to deal with right now as it is. Tell me, and I won't tell her what we talked about tonight." Wade raised his eyebrows. "It'll drive her just as crazy. I promise."

Wade chuckled and nodded his head.

"Okay, somebody else came into town early this afternoon," he explained. "Another out-of-towner. Drives a black BMW with tinted windows."

"What did he look like?" My heart pounded as I imagined the killer stepping out of the vehicle in a trench coat and sunglasses. "Or was it a
she
?"

"I don't know. I can't see through tinted windows, but I'll ask around."

"Well, did you at least see where the car was headed?"

“Definitely," he replied. “The resort.”

*   *   *

When I drove back into town, the sun had gone down. I pulled up in front of The Painted Deer Bookshop and eagerly jogged to my apartment door. I lit a fire as soon as I got inside and rubbed my cold hands together for warmth. It was nights like this that I would usually dig through my box of bargain books that Mrs. Tankle let me borrow, and find a good read to go along with my before bedtime tea. Joy called it my
teacap
because an herbal tea before bed was my way of winding down. And it went along well with my stimulant-free new year's resolution.

My “no coffee” rule was the hardest one to swallow. I'd made it my new year's goal to cut the caffeine. I drank it so much that my first week going cold turkey consisted of daily headaches and mood swings worse than Joy's. I must have been more dependent on the stuff than I realized, but I was able to cure some of my cravings with a Green Ginger Pick-Me-Up smoothie – a smoothie of my own creation consisting of green vegetables, pineapple, and fresh ginger root for a zest of energy.

My fingers brushed across a few books, but I couldn’t concentrate. It was too late to go wandering around town. Joy wasn't home yet, and her room usually remained untouched. She was most likely still at work trying to clean up the mess from tonight.

Like the majority of my nights, I was on my own for a late dinner. I put a kettle on the stove and started making a mental checklist of everything I needed to do tomorrow, including visiting Doc Henry to ask about Donna's body and paying another visit to Murray at the station. I chose a bag of pumpkin spice tea that Mom had given me last winter. I'd used the tea sparingly since I would have to drive to another county just to buy more.

My mind wouldn't relax, even when I took a giant whiff of the cinnamon and spice that was swirling around in my mug. My brain was on overload and I couldn't figure out a way to force it to power down. I retreated to my living room. It was next to my kitchen and had two tall windows that overlooked Canyon Street. The wooden floors creaked and droplets of water always dripped in the sink, sometimes waking me up at night. But I loved this place.

I sat down on my sofa and inhaled the steam rising from my mug. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. My heartbeat gradually slowed down until there was a light knock on the door. My heart jumped and my muscles froze. It couldn’t be Joy. She had a key.

I slowly stood up and tiptoed towards the peephole just as another light knock hit the door. I peered through the peephole and gulped at a face I wasn't expecting to see. I quickly straightened my hair and adjusted my top before answering. I opened the door to Patrick who was waiting on the other side with a hopeful look on his face. He seemed relieved when I answered the door, anxiously stepping inside and looking from side to side to see if I was alone.

"Patrick," I gasped. "What are you doing here?"

"I went to your old house but . . . you moved."

"Yeah," I responded. "I've been here above the bookshop for quite a while now."

"Oh." He cleared his throat and glanced at the sofa. His cheeks were rosy and his hunter green ski coat had flakes of snow on the shoulders.

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Yes, thanks." He hesitated at first, but finally tried to make himself comfortable as I walked towards the kitchen.

"Can I get you something?" I asked. "Coffee? Tea? The Scotch that Joy has been hiding under the sink?"

Patrick chuckled.

"No, I'm okay."

My hands trembled as I joined him on the sofa, casually sitting so that our knees were inches away from each other. I gripped the handle of my mug tight as I took a sip of my tea, hoping that the warm liquid would calm me down or at least distract me from saying something stupid.

"So," I said. "Is everything okay?"
Of course, it's not.

"Essie," he purposefully said loudly. "I know that you know about . . . Donna."

"Unfortunately…" I gulped. "I was there when Bebe found her. I'm so sorry, Patrick."

As Patrick nodded and glanced down at his snow boots, my mind jumped back to what Bebe had said about the two of them. My curiosity kicked in and I sat up straighter. My stomach settled down when I focused on the very important task I'd been given. I forced my feelings aside and reminded myself what could happen to this town if the ski resort had to close down.

"I think I'm still in shock," he muttered. "I hope you don't mind, but I didn't know who else to talk to. Lila is resting and my parents have turned in for the night."

"It's fine. I'm not expecting Joy for at least another few hours. That is if she's not sleeping at the resort again tonight."

"About that," he said quietly. "I spoke with Lila the second I got home and she still wants to get married, but . . ."

"Now you're not so sure?" I guessed.

"I just don't know if it's the right thing to do under the circumstances, but she's insisting." He looked up at me and for a brief few seconds our eyes connected. It took everything I had to keep my heart from bursting out my chest. "I hope you don't mind me barging in on you like this, but my parents love Lila. I think all they care about at the moment are their future grandkids."

"I don't blame them." I smiled. "My parents have given up on that dream. I don't date much." I blurted out that last part without thinking.

"I doubt that's true." He studied my face and grinned back. "I have been gone for far too long."

"What did Lila say when you talked about postponing the wedding?"

"She said we'd never get a chance like this again what with the paparazzi thinking we're on a plane to Italy for the weekend." He rubbed his eyes as if he hadn't slept in a while. "But to tell you the truth, it has been one thing after another since we got here. I'm starting to wonder if it's all a sign or something." He scooted a little closer to me. "Remember when we played over by the silver mine when we were kids and--"

"I know what you're going to say," I interrupted him.

Patrick used to snowboard with a piece of fabric tied around his ankle underneath his snowboarding boot. He said it was his lucky charm - a piece of the onesie he'd been wearing when he fell through the railing of his parent's second story balcony as a baby. Patrick is very superstitious.

"You do?"

"Yes, you always bring up your old cat Snowflake. And I always remind you that she died when we were nine."

"And I always remind
you
that I've seen her since then. She definitely wasn't dead that day at the mines when she jumped in front of us before we could wander inside."

"Cave-ins happen all the time," I responded. "Yeah we were lucky that day that we were too scared to go inside, but we shouldn't have been playing there in the first place."

"Anyway." He grinned as he moved on with his story. "I'm not saying that I saw Snowflake today, but the feeling was the same. When I thought about canceling the wedding, I felt . . . relieved. Almost like I had escaped a disastrous fate yet again."

"If that's the way you feel," I answered. "Then I think it's pretty clear what you should do. You don't need me to tell you."

Patrick chuckled as he eyed the mug in my hand. His gaze wandered from the tips of my fingers to the balls of my cheeks. The gesture made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. He was thinking about the old days. The way things used to be before he got famous and I transformed from Gwenessa the husky weirdo into Essie the fitness guru.

"It's just like old times, isn't it?"

"Not really," I answered.

"Oh come on." He leaned towards me, close enough for me to smell the cologne on his neck. "You don't remember what you said to me the night before I left for California?"

"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.