Camera Never Lies (8 page)

“Just walk and tell me about things as you see them.”

For the next hour, George showed me everything from the flower-trimmed grass surrounding the lodge and parking lot to picnic areas positioned within various groves of trees distanced from the lodge. He’d even begun a project to complement a newly added atrium with local plants inside the east side of the lodge.

George captivated me with his tour of the grounds. He was warm and friendly but never mentioned a word about the murder or Alec Gordon. I could feel the disappointment surface, though I tried to hide it.

After showing me the atrium, he led me outside once more, where we walked along the lake rim until we were far enough away that I could photograph the lodge, which enfolded the rim. From here, I could see the Terrace Café as well.

“And this is about the extent of the grounds that I oversee. Except I do help the tour guides, if someone’s sick. They let me keep my boat at the lodge dock, too.”

My spirits lifted as I gazed through the lens at a wide angle. “Yes, this is a beautiful place to get married.”

“Married, you say? Are you planning your wedding here?”

His question stunned me for a moment because I hadn’t realized I’d spoken my thoughts out loud. That habit kept getting worse, which scared me. I was destined to become my mother, with her enlarged space bubble. “Oh, no, I’m not. I’m here to attend a friend’s wedding.”

“Is that right?” He inclined his head and nodded.

“It must be wonderful to work here, to see this beauty on a daily basis. I admit I’m a tad jealous.”

He laughed, giving the half grin that I’d grown to like. “No need to be jealous. Every job has its problems. Even mine.”

His comment was the first thing he’d said that gave me an opening. “Come on George, what problems could you have?”

“I hope your friends have the stick-to-it thinking to make a marriage last. I work hard on mine, but there’s still always that worry.”

He’d not exactly answered my question about his job, but I was still intrigued. I tried to take pictures that included him as he talked. His face exuded character, and I caught a perfectly framed snapshot of him, looking rugged, with the lodge behind him in the distance. Look out, George Hamilton the actor.

“What worry?” I hoped he would keep talking.

The conversation had turned personal for some reason. Obviously George’s marriage had been on his mind lately. My comment about the wedding was all it had taken to bring it out. Too bad he hadn’t been thinking about Alec Gordon.

“That she’ll leave me.”

“Surely not.”

“I’ve been through a lot. The truth is, if I don’t keep this job, I might lose her again.”

Ah. So his job problem was intertwined with marital discord. Not so unusual. I felt I was intruding by taking photos, but I was afraid that lowering my camera might distract him, stop him from talking.

“You seem like you’re doing a fine job here. I can’t imagine why you’d fear losing it.”

Deep lines edged his frown. “I’m not sure it matters how good of a job I do anymore. But I’m not going to stand for someone threatening me.”

His words held a warning in them. I lowered my camera to stare, his stern expression surprising me. Though I was curious about who had threatened his job and why, the sense stirred inside that I had to steer the conversation now or lose it altogether. I hadn’t exactly lived up to Spencer’s claim that I always got to the point. My conversation with George had strayed under my ill-equipped shepherding, but I would remedy the problem now.

If Alec frequented the park as he said, then George might know something. “What do you think about the murder?”

A cold, sharply angled stone slab, like those he’d used to besiege his flower beds, replaced the warm and friendly George. He drew his gaze from the lake and looked through me, not at me. “Nothing is ever what it seems on the surface, Miss Perkins. You remember that. Good day to you.” With that, he left me standing there.

I watched him walk away, feeling like I’d bungled everything. Once he was out of sight, I headed down the sidewalk toward the lodge. A tall, familiar figure in the distance waved.

Spencer?

Relief blew through me as I rushed downhill. Before I realized it, I was in his arms. The joy at seeing him washed all the tension away. When he loosened his grip, I came to my senses and stepped away.

He smiled. “You missed me.”

His statement caught me off guard. Rather than consider the matter, I changed the subject. “They let you go?”

His eyes grew wide, then he laughed. “But of course. You act as though I’m guilty.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Tension rushed back into my neck. I looked away.

“You’re upset. What’s going on?”

“I’ve spent the last hour or so with the groundskeeper, hoping to gather information about the murder. But I think I botched it.”

A strange, incredulous laugh escaped him. “Are you telling me that you’re sleuthing? As in…” He snapped his fingers, ticking off milliseconds while he tried to remember a name. That was the first time I’d seen him without the right word.

With pleasure, I beat him to it. “Jessica Fletcher in
Murder, She Wrote.”

The right corner of his mouth lifted, revealing his dimple. “But Polly, you can’t be serious?”

I suppose he thought his smile would soften the question, but his words burned me, and I hoped he felt the venom I intended. “Yes, I am serious. I don’t believe I can leave the lives of those I care about in someone else’s hands.”

“Not even God’s?” Spencer sobered.

“I’m asking Him for help.”

He rubbed his hand over his chin, looking more haggard than I’d ever seen him. “Well, I’m going to help, too. Tell me everything. I want in on every detail.”

His words were forceful, controlling even. My earlier thoughts regarding his temper raced through my mind. Why? Why did he need to be “in on every detail”?

Judging by the circles under his eyes, his experience with the rangers must have been difficult. Especially if he had something to hide.

Oh, Spencer. I hope you didn’t follow Alec to that room
.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

I
f only I’d read a few Nancy Drew mysteries as a girl, then I’d be prepared to follow the clues left by the killer or at the very least find them. But I hadn’t. My mind muddled with confusing thoughts about the whole incident, I needed a fresh perspective. Clean air to clear my head and new scenery for my camera would solve my immediate problem.

Hence, I stood in line behind ten people to sign up for the boat tour of the lake. It was already nine in the morning, and the next tour wouldn’t start until eleven. At the speed I gathered information on Alec’s murder, the rangers would have Mom put in prison before I had my first solid clue, and if not Mom then probably Spencer. The feeling that the rangers would find one of them guilty wouldn’t leave me.

Spencer had looked frazzled after his questioning, which didn’t help me shake the notion he was hiding something. Though he insisted he join my amateur investigation, he recommended we work on our own to cover more ground. This surprised me, but I resolved to believe he needed time to collect his thoughts, as would I once the rangers took me aside to grill me. I hoped Spencer would fare better at sleuthing than I had. With a little help from above, we might know something by this afternoon. I thought more about my conversation with George. He’d not given me much, but perhaps I shouldn’t give up on him yet. All I could do from this point was learn from my mistakes. Next time I had the opportunity to talk to someone about the murder, I planned to be forthright. Spencer had commented that I was always to the point, but that wasn’t the case when it came to investigating murder. Still, the first step in making progress was to recognize one’s weakness.

My turn at the boat-tour desk finally came. I signed my name for the appropriate time slot. I’d purposefully hidden my wallet deep in my bag so I’d have to search for it, giving me time for a short conversation, which I hoped would provide me with clues, glorious clues.

I took a breath as I continued to dig. “So, what do you think about all this hullabaloo?”

“Hullabaloo?” The young blond girl behind the counter smiled.

I wanted to slap my forehead, but I kept a straight face. Why had that word popped into my head? A short time around Spencer, and I’d slipped into using one of his father’s words? “Well, um, yes. You know…all this hubbub about the murder?” I handed over my credit card.

“Well, I’m not sure what ‘hubbub’ is either, but I gather you either mean what do I think about the murder, or what do I think about the commotion it’s causing?”

Suddenly feeling old, I sighed. “Whichever.” I couldn’t even ask a simple question.

“Honestly, I try not to think about it too much; that way it won’t affect me.” She handed the card back. I signed for the charge and tried to hide my astonishment at her attitude.

Disappointed, I nodded then grimly left the counter to go back to my room where I could decompress until the tour. Time locked on a boat with a few passengers would hopefully produce good results. In the meantime, I had to devise a methodology to interrogating—was there such a thing?

On the trek back to the lodge, I worked to create specific, easy-to-understand questions. Once in my room, I wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot bath. Delving into a murder mystery made me feel dirty, but it had to be done—Mom was in deep.

I hadn’t seen her this morning, and I needed to check on her. If she was napping, I didn’t want to wake her. Still, if she’d taken one of her sleeping pills, a phone call might not disturb her.

I needed to hear her voice, so I opted to at least try. She sounded horrible. Instead of napping, she’d been suffering with a stomach ailment. I didn’t doubt the source of her illness lay with her announcement that she’d wanted to kill someone who’d ended up dead mere hours later. I told her to call me if she needed anything then hung up.

Briefly I wondered what Rene and Conrad were doing. What trails they’d decided to hike. I hadn’t spoken with Rene since our conversation earlier that morning, nor had I seen them roaming the grounds. Time spent together should solidify their upcoming nuptials all the more, so I put aside any concerns I had about them.

While I filled the tub with hot water, I tried to relax and pray. But too much had happened in a short period of time, and my mind couldn’t let go of the many thoughts clamoring for attention.

This weekend was ranking high on my worst-time-ever list, which included the weekend my husband, Brandon, disappeared. Before that, my worst weekend had included Spencer. I’d been much younger then and considered our split to be the breakup of the century. Looking back now, I saw that I’d made a terrible mistake in my attempt to force his hand. Without a commitment from him, I believed I needed to move on. It had taken Brandon walking into my life to patch up my wounded heart.

But I never loved him. Not like I’d loved Spencer.

I slid under the water and wet my hair. I had to bury this line of thinking.

After soaking for twenty minutes, I stepped from the tub. In the mirror, I examined the newest wrinkles around my eyes. It had been ten years since I first met Spencer. Now that he was back in my life—in a manner of speaking—his entrance was no less grand than his exit.

A knock at the door caused a mad dash from the bathroom. I looked from my old sweats on the bed to the clothes hanging in the closet. My hair was a wet, tangled mess. The knock became insistent. I relaxed. Spencer would have spoken through the door by now.

“Just a minute.” I pulled on the T-shirt and sweats I usually slept in. Then it occurred to me that it could be a ranger. What if my number had come up—they’d discovered my connection to Alec? I drew in a quick breath then opened the door.

A woman with black hair stood in my doorway. Was she the same woman from the restroom last night? Her black hair was styled the same, but her appearance was somehow different. “Emily?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes widened.

Then I knew it was her. “Did I say that out loud?”

The smallest of smiles crept over her lips, then she hardened her expression. “I need to talk to you. May I come in?”

Considering there was a killer out there somewhere, I wasn’t sure letting her in would be wise. I studied her as I pondered the question. Now I saw what was different from the night before. She brandished two nose piercings, one upper-lip piercing, and a small tattoo on her bare shoulder, none of which matched the emerald-cut diamonds in her ears. She’d gone with a considerably darker look today than last night. Whereas before, she could almost have been called cute in her gothic dress, today she was downright scary. But I should be accustomed to that sort of fashion abuse by now. Such atrocities abound these days.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. What’s this about?”

“Look, I’m not a murderer, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I’d never been face-to-face with a murderer, and at that moment, I was sure I wouldn’t know if I had, but she brandished no weapon. “All right. You’ll have to excuse my appearance though.”