Powdered Murder (3 page)

"Where are you from?" I asked, before he had the chance to think of some fake story that would make me feel sorry for him.

There was only one reason that a non-tourist would venture all the way to Bison Creek. This man was a reporter. An
out-of-town
reporter which meant that he was here to dig up dirt on the only thing this town had to brag about. Patrick Jaye.

"California," the man answered. He reached out his hand, offering me an invitation to be his ally.

I kept my hands at my side. Joel Buntley from the local truck stop made friends once when a nosey reporter came sniffing around. An MTV tour bus broke down and stopped here last winter and Joel assisted them with getting back on the road. He'd made a hefty five grand by selling his many insights into the lives of the celebrities on board to the press, but the whole town practically shunned him for it. Plus, one of the stars on board ended up suing him for insinuating that she'd bought a pregnancy test at the convenience store.

"Really? What brings you
here
?"

“Well," he chuckled, "I'm following a story. Maybe one that you can help me with?"

"A story," I said quietly. I gripped the badge in my pocket and leaned toward the staff entrance. “Sorry, Mr...?”

"John," he answered. "John Slagger."

“Let me guess, John. You are here to inquire about a guest and you thought I might want to make some extra cash?"

"Well--"

"I'm not interested," I said abruptly.

"If you change your mind--"

"I won't." I briskly swiped my badge and stepped inside the employee doors, shutting them tightly behind me.

I headed towards my staff locker, but Joy was waiting for me in the hallway, clipboard in hand. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She glanced at her watch and speed walked in my direction. I stopped so I wouldn't run into her.

"You're late," Joy barked.

"I was looking for a gift for Lila." I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one had followed me inside.
No one named John.

"Let me guess," Joy replied as she placed a hand on her hips. "You couldn't figure out what to get her, so you ended up walking through Mrs. Tankle's shop and lost track of time?"

"No … I looked at the clock." I grinned, but Joy didn't always find my sense of humor amusing.

"Here." Joy handed me a small box wrapped with baby blue wrapping paper and a white bow. "I took care of it."

"Thanks." I accepted the gift and slipped it into my bag. "What is it?"

"I heard from Mr. Shapely who heard from the concierge who heard from the head maid who overheard Lila's assistant say that she still doesn't have
something blue
for Sunday. It's a silver anklet with a blue snowflake charm made of Swarovski crystal."

"Hopefully it's her taste."

"I heard from the maid assigned to her suite that she has a thing for Swarovski pieces."

"Then she'll love it," I responded. Joy bit the inside of her cheek and drew in long breaths. Sometimes she counts as she breathes to keep herself calm. "Don't worry. Everything will go according to plan. It always does, right?"

"It will if the paparazzi doesn't bombard this place before Sunday. I mean, I know it's inevitable, but I was hoping to prolong it for as long as possible. I promised Patrick that our staff would keep their mouths shut. It's only Friday. How am I going to make it the full weekend?"

"There's something you should know." I cleared my throat. "I think you might have a leak that needs plugging."

Joy huffed and her cheeks turned rosy. I knew that telling her about John would only add to her stress, but I thought it was better than having thousands of cameramen pull into town at the last second.

"Leak?" she repeated. "What do you mean by that? What did you hear?"

"There's a guy in the parking lot asking questions and--"

Before I had the chance to explain any further, she pushed past me and threw open the door searching for the trespasser. I jogged to keep up with her, and to make sure she didn't dash through the parking lot in her high heels, slip, and break her neck. The wind blew through a loose strand of her dark hair as she looked left and right. John was nowhere to be seen.

"You need to tell me everything." Joy got that look in her eye that only came when she was about to “red line,” as Dad put it when we were teenagers.

Joy is horrible at balancing just about everything. She has the unfortunate habit of taking on too many responsibilities both at work and at home. She hasn't been on a date in months and even though she moved in with me last summer to save on rent, I rarely saw her anywhere but at the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort.

"Okay," I agreed. I placed my hand on her shoulder and nudged her back inside. "I will when you come inside and sit for a couple of minutes. When was the last time you ate?"

"I don't have time to sit down
or
eat," she answered. "You need to change and I need to make sure Ira polishes the silver for real this time, that crazy woman."

"You mean for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night?"

"No, Essie, I mean for the bridal shower tea you're supposed to be at in five minutes in the Aspen Room." She started speed walking again, and I had to jog some more to stay by her side. Moving that fast in high heels had to be some kind of world record. "Now come on. Get moving."

"What am I even supposed to talk about with these women?"

"I don't know. Shoes. Carbs.
Patrick.
You'll figure it out."

*          *          *

"Bebe," Lila scolded one of her bridesmaids. "You have a dress to fit into."

Bebe discreetly pushed aside the porcelain bowl of sugar cubes and stirred her tea with a worried look on her face. She was thin just like Lila, and she wore too much perfume. Her blonde hair was curled and a diamond-studded flower clip held some of it back.

Bebe glanced down at her wristband, a plain white band surrounded by diamond tennis bracelets. With all that bling to distract the eye, the band in between was hardly noticeable.

The three of us were sipping our tea like it was an old time tradition, but Lila kept glaring at the grandfather clock on the wall. We were waiting for her maid of honor, Donna. She was supposed to have arrived ten minutes ago.

The Aspen Room was the sunniest sitting room in the entire hotel. It had all white furniture and a crystal chandelier that had been flown in from Germany. I felt as though any movement other than a dainty tiptoe would cause the room to crack in half, or at least shatter the display of handcrafted vases displayed on a shelf next to the window. The owner of the resort, Mr. Kentworth, had made sure that each room was superiorly decorated with one-of-a-kind pieces. Years ago after he'd inherited the place, he transformed the quaint historic hotel into a luxurious, more modern resort. Sometimes I found myself staring at the shiny wood floors as I walked through the hallways, wondering why he'd chosen to strip the ground of its ancient ancestry and have all the wood replaced. I preferred the more traditional feel the hotel used to have.

"Where is she?" Lila muttered to herself. "This is
so
typical of Donna." Lila jumped to her feet and exhaled loudly. Her assistant rushed through the door as if he'd been listening to us in the hallway.

"Deep breaths," he said to her. "Deep breaths. Let me get you some water."

"Where have you been?" Lila snapped at him. "I haven't seen you since lunch."

"I told you." Her assistant's eyes darted from her to picturesque view out the window. "I had some work to catch up on." He cleared his throat and focused on her again. "Emails," he added.

"Whatever, just find her, Franco," she commanded him. "Find out where Donna is or I will find her myself and it won't be pretty."

"Yes, of course."

Lila's assistant, Franco, was an older man and he obeyed Lila like she was his elderly aunt about to cut him out of her will. He wore a tailored suit and his rectangular glasses complimented his grayish facial hair. He was shorter than Lila, and could zip from one end of the room to the next like a nervous squirrel. The moment he had the opportunity to sneak out, he scurried to the door and quietly shut it behind him.

"Ugh," Lila murmured. "I need some air." She fanned her face until she caught sight of double doors leading onto a sun deck. They were normally kept closed this time of year, but Lila walked right up to them and took her frustrations out on the door knob. She pushed and pulled before the doors finally creaked opened. When she walked outside into the chilly afternoon air, Bebe set her teacup down and snatched a shortbread cookie.

"Oh Lord," Bebe said under her breath. She spoke with a southern accent that made me pay close attention when she talked. "Get me out of this nightmare. She is going to explode one of these days and someone needs to explain to her that this isn't the golden state. She can't go prancing around in the winter air like that or she'll catch a nasty cold."

"Planning a wedding can be stressful," I responded, attempting to lighten the mood.

"I swear she's going to fall over dead before Sunday rolls around." Bebe grabbed another shortbread cookie and shoved it in her mouth like it was her last chance to eat before the world ended. "I don't blame Bev for backing out of this at the last minute. Heavens, I wish
I
had thought of that first. And Donna . . . well, it wouldn't surprise me if she was boarding a flight back to L.A. right about now. Especially after last night."

Bebe hurriedly looked over her shoulder and wolfed down another cookie. Her lips moved so fast that she reminded me of a baby sucking the life out of a brand new pacifier. When she was finished, she delicately wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. It was a complete contrast from the way she had savagely downed her food.

"What happened last night?" I asked. I didn't touch anything at the table except my tea, though I had been eyeing a jumbo vanilla cupcake that I knew I couldn't have unless I wanted to spend the rest of my evening doing lunges.

"Well." Bebe leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I heard that Franco saw Patrick and Donna together in one of the dining rooms. It looked like they were getting just a little
too
cozy if you know what I mean." She giggled.

"That doesn't sound like Patrick. Franco must have walked in at the wrong moment."

"Maybe." Bebe shrugged. "But Franco tells Lila
everything
. She threw a fit."

I raised my eyebrows and tried to imagine what Patrick and Donna must have been talking about. They could've been discussing anything, and yet Franco took it upon himself to drop a bombshell on Lila right before her wedding. If it was even true?

The doors leading outside slammed when Lila finally came inside looking calm and collected. The chill air was just what she needed because her cheeks weren't as fiery red and her expression wasn't one of a constipated debutante. She approached the table with a twisted smile – her demeanor now the opposite of what it had once been. As Taryn would sometimes say at the gym, it looked like Lila had “found her zen.”

"Ladies," she said calmly and pleasantly, "I have decided that we should go ahead and make our way to the spa without Donna. I don't know where she is or what she's doing, but if she decides to join us later then that's great. If not, then that's okay too."

Bebe and I looked at each other, unsure how to respond.

"Sounds great," I answered. I stood up and waited for Bebe to do the same. Clutching Lila's bridal shower gift in my hand, I glanced at the nearest exit. The door opened before I could lead us all out of the room. Franco came sputtering back in.

"I'm so sorry," he said while panting. "I can't find Donna. She's not in her room. She's not at the gym or in the dining area."

"Maybe she's out shopping?" I suggested.

"Yes, that must be it," Lila agreed.

Bebe smiled widely as she headed for the door. I followed her and glanced behind me to make sure that Lila followed us to the spa. If anyone needed a good massage right now it was her. Franco patted Lila on the back and helped her with her bag. He quickly handed her a small pill bottle that Lila slipped casually into her purse.

"Enjoy your time at the spa," he said to her. "Don't worry, I will take care of everything."

"Okay." Lila nodded and looked at me. The two of us stepped out into the hallway just as Bebe grabbed the next available elevator. Lila took her time instead of rushing to join her, glancing at every painting on the wall. The elevator doors closed slowly and Bebe looked relieved to finally have a moment to herself.

I stood next to Lila and waited for the next one.

"Oh." I reached into my bag and pulled out the gift box that Joy had given me. "This is for you."

"How sweet. You didn't have to do that." Lila accepted the package. She examined the wrapping and neatly tied bow. "Honesty, I'm just glad you turned up this morning. It's nice to meet an old friend of Patrick's. He doesn't talk much about his childhood."

"Hmm." I raised my eyebrows and anxiously watched the button above the elevator, hoping it would turn red soon. "I guess there's nothing worth mentioning."

"Personally, I don't know how he survived so long in a town like this. No offense."

"Right," I muttered.

"It's so small here. Everyone knows too much about everyone else's business. That would drive me crazy."

"Unless you are the person who knows it
all
."

"That's true," she responded. "But I have a hard time as it is with the people who don't know me."

The elevator door dinged and the two of us stepped inside.

"Small towns aren't so bad," I commented. "You just have to know how to act around the locals. For example, don't take phone calls when you're picking up groceries at the corner market because Stella Binsby is a horrible eavesdropper. And don't mention any of your past relationships to a man named Booney at the Grizzly. He works at the
BC Gazette
. He likes to dig."