Powdered Murder (Bison Creek Mysteries Book 1)

by A. Gardner

  "I'm sure this isn't the only copy," I pointed out.

  "No," she blurted out. “No. No. No."

  "Calm down," I said softly. Lila leaned against the dresser like she was fighting a dizzy spell, and I reached out to help steady her. "Can't you have your lawyers put a stop to all this?" I spotted a box of tissues next to the television and handed her one. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

  "Maybe," she gulped, looking down at the tear stains on her nightie. "I'm a mess, aren't I? All I want is a nice, quiet wedding, and this is what I get. Maybe the universe is turning against me? Do you ever feel like that?"

  I felt like that all the time, especially when Patrick showed up at my place of work unannounced with his fiancée after years of not speaking to me. Lila waited for my response with glossy eyes and an expression that made me feel sorry for her. She slumped her shoulders and inched closer to me like a lost puppy waiting to be scratched behind the ears. She probably did this every time Patrick tried to speak to her about the wedding and their future together. Lila was an expert at getting what she wanted, even sympathy from someone she hardly knew.

  "Did Patrick tell you I used to be…?" I pinched a roll of skin from my cheek, attempting to make her feel better. "Heavier?"

  "No," she quietly laughed. "He never mentioned that. You're joking."

  "Nope."

  "I knew that bod had to be years-in-the-making." She did a once-over of my physique, almost back to her snobbish self. "No offense."

  "None taken," I lied. "Being thin doesn't come easy to everyone."

  "Well, at least every time I nibble on sweets it doesn’t go straight to my thighs like Bebe," she said quietly. She took a deep breath. "Thanks, I feel do feel better." She headed towards the door. "Don't worry, this'll be our little secret okay. You are right. I'll get my people on this right away. This is a total invasion of privacy."

  "And tomorrow?"

  "We act like nothing is wrong," she replied. "For now." She smirked before leaving me alone to do some more snooping. The way her soft, innocent smile changed to a scandalous smirk within seconds gave me chills.

  I placed the briefcase back in the dresser drawer and continued looking through Franco's luggage. Everything was neatly pressed and not a crumb or wrinkle was in sight anywhere. His tell-all book was the only thing hiding in his room.

  I quickly left his suite, disappointed I didn't find something that pointed to Donna's murder. Just a ton of designer suits, a mess of a book dishing the secrets of life in the spotlight, and an old Dickens novel with a tattered cover.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I woke up Sunday morning to the sound of my phone ringing and glanced at the time. I hadn't fallen asleep until way past midnight so I could barely keep my eyes open.

  "Hello?" Patrick's wedding was hours away and I hadn't caught Donna's murderer yet.

  "Essie," the voice on the other end whispered. "It's Murray. I sent Dad out for the coffees, but he'll be back any minute." I sat up immediately and rubbed the drowsiness from my eyes. I might have to break my no-stimulants rule and down a coffee before the ceremony. "I have some information for you."

  "Is this about our little visitor?" I eagerly asked.

  "John Slagger," Murray answered. "Yes. I thought you should know he spent the last three years at a place in Northern Washington called The Cove."

  "The Cove?" I repeated. "What's that?"

  "I knew you would ask me that so I looked it up," he said proudly. "Are you ready for this one?" He paused for dramatic effect. I rolled my eyes, feeling a headache beginning to build behind my eye sockets.

  "Come on, Murray."

  "Right." He cleared his throat. "It's a prestigious recovery center for the mentally impaired. Or in other words, it's a classy looney bin."

  "Murray." My heart pounded as I grabbed the first pair of jeans and top I could get my hands on. "We've got to find him, you understand? Tell the sheriff to patrol the town as soon as he gets back."

  "Geez, Essie. Take a breath."

  "This is serious," I argued. "It's the morning of Patrick's wedding and there's a mentally unstable tourist running around. What if he lashes out at someone?"

  "Oh." I heard the odd sound of Murray's gulp. "I get it. I'll tell Dad."

  "Start with the bakery," I suggested. "Apparently he has a thing for Ada."

  I hung up just as I grabbed my coat and ran to the front door.

  "Essie!" Joy said, running from her bedroom. "Where's the fire?"

  I turned around, surprised to see Joy had actually spent the night in her room. I leaned to the side a little to peek into her bedroom.

  "No naked man this morning?" I joked.

  "Please, sit down," she insisted. "Your cheeks are practically on fire. Besides, you never told me what happened last night. We had a deal, remember? Today is the big day."

  "I know what day it is," I said, frustrated. Joy folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap it's just…"

  "This whole thing has turned us both into crazy people," she said. She scratched the side of her head and left a tangled piece of hair hanging across her face. I took a better look at her, noticing the bags under her eyes that were normally covered with concealer. Sores were on her cuticles from biting her hang nails until they bled. "I blame Patrick."

  "Yes," I agreed, thinking back to the moment we'd shared together last night. I opened my mouth to tell Joy that we'd kissed, but I quickly stopped myself. I'd already made the decision to move forward and let the past stay in the past. Patrick was free to make his own decisions, and maybe if he had decided to call off his wedding things would be different. But he didn't. He talked about it many times, but he still hadn't followed through with anything. He must have really loved Lila in some way. "Do you ever wonder what we would doing right now if Patrick had never chosen to get married at the resort?"

  "I wouldn't be on the brink of the promotion of my life," Joy answered.

  "You'll get your promotion," I responded. "And this town's reputation will remain intact. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a killer to catch." I zipped up my coat.

  "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  "What?"

  "You're a bridesmaid," Joy reminded me. "You should be at the resort right now getting ready for the ceremony."

  "I'll meet you there."

  Before she had the chance to argue with me, I stepped out into the cold morning air and smiled at the uncommonly clear weather. The snowstorm had passed for now and the streets were covered with white powder that glittered under the morning sun. It made the town look sweet and simple like a homemade marshmallow dipped in white chocolate.

  At the end of the street was the bakery. I would search there first for John. He was wandering around somewhere. He had to be. My mind raced as I passed Mrs. Henson out for her morning walk with her two Akitas.

  John Slagger was a nutter and if Franco wasn't the killer, then John was responsible for all of this. I didn’t know how he managed to murder Donna and peruse through Canyon Street at the same time, but I was going to figure out how he did it. John was the next suspect in line. There were no other explanations. The only question was why kill Donna?

  I kept speed walking until I found myself gulping down air. I arrived at the bakery and was disappointed when I looked through the windows and didn't see John Slagger anywhere. I turned around and made my way to the coffee shop. I crossed the street in front of the corner market and stopped dead in my tracks when something black and shiny caught the corner of my eye. I turned my head.

  The black BMW was parked behind the store. My chest felt heavy as I glared at it, waiting for the driver to step out of the front seat and face me once and for all. I took a step closer to it and froze. The door to the corner market swung open and a man in a khaki trench coat and brown slacks stepped out of the shop with a paper sack. His white hair matched the snow on the windowsills and his weathered face was tan and wrinkled. He carried himself with confidence,
winking in my direction as he walked past me and headed for his car. The black BMW with tinted windows.

  The man didn't look familiar. He casually unlocked the car door and checked his watch before getting inside. I took a deep breath, and walked towards him. This was either a brilliant idea or the stupidest one I've had in years. But I had to know the truth. I had to know what I was dealing with. Who I was dealing with. I might have never had the chance to confront the mysterious driver again.

  "Excuse me," I shouted. The man stopped and watched me approach him with a friendly smile on his face. He tilted his bag of supplies, letting the lid of Stella's prize-winning blackberry jam and a loaf of fresh-baked cinnamon raisin bread show. The man straightened the collar of his shirt and looked up and down the street as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

  "Can I help you?" he responded politely. I wasn't sure what to say or what not to say. All I knew was Martha had threatened me, someone was trying to kill me, and I wanted answers before the town of Bison Creek was crawling with press and policemen.

  "Hi, I'm Essie."

  "Pleased to meet you," he answered, refusing to return the gesture by giving me his name.

  "I've seen you around before … with Martha, I think." I took a deep breath and glanced up at the snow-capped peaks in the distance as I casually mentioned Martha's name. The man's polite grin turned sour as he chucked his grocery bag into his car.

  "Martha said this might happen," he muttered. "Stupid townies poking their noses where they don't belong." His voice sounded raspy as he blurted out insults. I took a step back into a pile of fresh snow. "Alright, what'll it take to shut you up?"

  "I don't understand what you mean?" I took another step backwards but almost stumbled on a snow-covered rock. I rubbed my arms together as a chill breeze brushed pass the two of us.

  "It's money you want, isn't it? How much?"

  "What are you talking about?" I replied, confused. The man reached into his pocket and my entire torso froze. When he pulled out his check book I exhaled a breath of relief.

  "Name your price," he repeated. "Come on, I haven't got all day." He glanced up and down the street again. "You must have a figure in mind."

  "Honestly, I don't."

  "Then what will it take for you to keep your trap shut about me and Martha, huh?"

  I covered my mouth, finally realizing what the man was talking about. The breakfast food. The sneaking around. The threats. And the overwhelming smell of aftershave.

  They were having an affair.

  "You mean what will it take to keep me quiet about the two of you having an affair?" I tested him to see if I was right. His face cringed when I said the word affair out loud like admitting it publicly would cause the heavens to send a mighty avalanche to engulf him and the town.

  "Keep your voice down," he pleaded, looking anxious.

  "How long has this been going on?"

  "That's none of your business," he snapped. "Either name your price or keep your mouth shut, got it?"

  "Fine," I agreed. The man got into his car and started the engine. "I'll keep quiet."

  "I kept telling Martha that meeting in town was too risky," he said quietly. "But I suppose that was part of the thrill." He sighed as if he'd been defeated once again. "Nice to meet you, Essie. And a little advice for the future? Stay away from the Millbrecks. They're all crazy." He slammed his door and immediately began backing out of his parking space.

  I stood still until the frozen morning started seeping into my bones. The whole town would spiral out of control if the townspeople learned the almighty Millbrecks were having marital problems. The mayor might actually having a running mate next election. I walked along Canyon Street watching each shop open its doors to wandering tourists and the residents of Bison Creek out on their morning errands. The black BMW was out of the running which was good and bad news. The good news was the driver was indeed harboring a secret, but it wasn't murder. The bad news was I was stuck with the same old suspects and no evidence that could force Sheriff Williams to make an arrest before the death of Lila's bridesmaid became front page news.

  At the end of Canyon Street, I looked up and saw the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort in the distance. It was bustling with new traffic and the chimneys in the kitchen were working overtime. Smoke was rising from the rooftops. The cool mountain air exaggerated the puffs of smoke and made them look like mini rain clouds. Real winter clouds were moving in from the Rockies. I knew the clear weather wouldn't last. Not today when everything was supposed to be perfect. Another snowstorm was headed our way.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  "Bad news." When I arrived at the resort I was met by Joy. She was dressed like usual in her gray pencil skirt and a conservative top hiding her tattoos. Her hair was brushed back and she had done her makeup flawlessly, hiding any evidence of her extreme exhaustion. "We've had to move the ceremony to the upstairs hall, and we've roped off half the hotel."

  My ears perked up in hopes that the bad news was that the wedding had been postponed until further notice. I followed Joy up the employee staircase and towards the new wedding location. The ceremony was now going to take place upstairs where there was a full view of Bison Creek and the chair lift leading up the slopes. The mountainside was empty this morning, and the fluffy snowflakes that began falling made the valley look peaceful and serene. It was like the events of the past couple days had never happened, and Mother Nature was doing her best to wash over the madness with fresh buckets of white powder.

  "What's happened?"

  "The goons have arrived," she said discreetly. We entered the room that was being set up according to Joy's instructions with a vintage, wooden arch and elegant white chairs.

  "Plain English, please. It's been a long weekend."

  "The press are downstairs," she said through her teeth. "I mean, some of them won't admit that they're paparazzi, but they've all got cameras and they're all loitering in the lobby."

  "Can't you get rid of them?" My heart raced. My time was up. It was only a matter of time before the world started asking questions about Donna.

  "We've been trying, but it's not like we have experience with this sort of thing." She straightened the bow on one of the chairs and snapped her fingers at a florist when a decorated evergreen was placed in the wrong corner. Joy had done an immaculate job turning the hall and adjacent rooms for the reception into a winter wonderland, even though the ceremony only consisted of a handful of people.

  "I can't believe you did all this and Mr. Kentworth still won't promote you to Head Coordinator."

  "Story of my life," she said under her breath. "When I get the chance to shine it's ruined with murder and mayhem." She rolled her eyes and ran her fingers over the vintage arch placed in front of the rows of chairs. "Sorry." She glanced at me. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, but--"

  "I know." I glanced down at the floor. "I was so close to solving everything. I guess I keep missing something."

  "If anyone can catch that killer, it's you."

  "So you keep saying," I replied.

  "I say it because it's true, Essie." She took a long, calming breath and began following the florist to make sure all the greenery she'd ordered was arranged tastefully on the railings overlooking the great room.

  I ran all the evidence through my head for what seemed like the thousandth time, stopping abruptly when I got to Patrick's kiss in the snow. Maybe if Patrick wasn't around I would have solved this case in no time.

  My train of thought was disturbed by footsteps pounding up the staircase. Eli's cheeks were rosy as he ran to Joy and stopped suddenly to catch his breath. Joy placed her hand on his back and waited impatiently for him to tell her what was wrong.

  What else could go wrong?

  "They're getting restless down there," he breathed. "One of them is demanding to speak to a manager. I didn't know what else to do."

  "Slow down," Joy replied. "Did you confirm that Lila is staying at this hotel?"
r />   "Um…"

  "Did you confirm that their getting married this morning?"

  "Um … I might have.…"

  "Eli!" Joy quickly broke her soothing, supportive demeanor and smacked him on the head. "What happened to no comment? No comment is your friend, remember? No comment will save you from blurting out the truth, remember? Or do I have to give my speech all over again?"

  "I'm sorry," Eli whined. "But they asked so many questions and it all happened so fast—"

  "Perfect," Joy said, raising her voice. "That's just great, Eli. Now I'm going to have to call the sheriff down here to keep them from parading upstairs during the ceremony. This is just what I need."

  "It was an accident, okay." Eli stood up straighter, regaining some of his confidence. "I didn't mean to give anything away."

  "Yes," Joy finally sighed. "Well, we would've had to deal with this sort of thing sooner or later." Eli nodded. "I just wish it didn't have to be sooner." She glared at Eli until he guiltily looked away. "Essie, will you take a peek at the damage? I need to check on Aggie in the kitchen."

  "Of course." I agreed because I knew sifting through reporters might be my last chance at finding John Slagger, the loon on the loose. After all, being an undercover reporter was his cover when I first met him. I followed Eli downstairs and braced myself for paparazzi overload. I imagined what I'd seen in the movies, lights flashing and crowds shouting things to get my attention. The lobby looked nothing like that.

  I walked with Eli to reception and found groups of people huddled all over the lobby and bar. Some had cameras and some were casually chatting. I couldn't tell which ones were guests and which ones had been sent from L.A., but one thing was certain. The press was here and I, like Eli, was confused.

  "This man over here," Eli muttered. "He won't chillax. He keeps insisting on talking to a manager." I scanned the crowd for a tall, thin man with a brand new ski coat. John Slagger was still M.I.A. and if he was loitering around the lobby I didn't recognize him. "Over here, Essie."