Powdered Murder (7 page)

"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."