Powdered Murder (18 page)

I followed her lead and opened a few dresser drawers. Folded socks and underwear. Colognes lined up alphabetically. I pulled open the third drawer and found a black leather briefcase. As soon as Lila's eyes caught sight of it, she threw it on the bed. It required a number combination to be opened.

"There's the little Devil," she muttered. She tried a few numbers, but the briefcase remained locked. "He purposefully tried to hide this from me when we arrived." She tried another number combo followed by two more. She sighed and closed her eyes. "His birthday … his
mother's
birthday." Her eyes blinked open. She hurriedly tried another set of numbers. The briefcase made a distinct clicking noise and the lid rose. Lila anxiously peered inside, finding a stack of papers.

"What is all this?" I grabbed a paper and began reading it.

"That dirty snake," Lila murmured, lowering her voice. The expression on her face changed. She scowled, but it wasn't the sort of face that my dad made when he found out Joy and I had been cheating at cards. It was the sort of face Joy once made when she came home to find that Wade had totaled her car. "He'll pay for this."

"Pay for what?"

Lila tossed a few pages aside and neatly folded them so they would fit in her hand. She looked up at me and almost immediately tears streamed down her face. Her silk nightie fluttered against her chest as she jumped up and handed me a title page that read
Life with Lila: A Woman on Edge.

"He's writing a tell-all book about me," she sniffled. "I knew he couldn't afford that Rolex on the salary I pay him." She threw the papers back into the briefcase. "Essie, we have to destroy it. This'll ruin me!" She paced back and forth, rubbing the side of her head. Her chest rose up and down, her breathing becoming heavier and heavier as if she was on the brink of a panic attack. She shoved the case towards me.

"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.