Powdered Murder (8 page)

"I know, Doc. I'm just trying to figure out what happened. I was … I was one of the people who found her."

"You?" he replied. "Oh yes, that's right. You're in the wedding party. Martha was here yesterday."

"Of course she was." I rolled my eyes.

"Look, Essie, I don't want to—"

"Please," I begged. "You can't tell your
unofficial
opinion to a friend?"

He frowned as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk. He fiddled with his navy blue tie and finally took a deep breath. He rubbed the bridge of his nose before he gave in and cleared his throat to tell me what I wanted to know.

"Okay," he agreed. "But listen very closely because I'm only going to address this once. I shouldn't speak of it at all to be quite honest with you. All I've ever seen around here are deaths of natural causes. Elderly folks passing away at home, or accidents on the slopes."

"When in all my life have I ratted you out?" I asked.

"I know you won't blab through town," he answered. "Yes, I examined the poor girl. She was found in the pool, but that's not how she died."

"It's not?" I thought back to the moment I'd walked into the spa. I remembered the way I'd frozen like a block of ice when I saw Donna floating face down in what was supposed to be the most refreshing healing waters in all the county.

"No, she had some pretty severe red patches and swelling around her chest and neck. I've seen reactions like that before. A simple injection would have stopped it all, but unfortunately her epi-pen must have been up in her room."

"So she had an allergic reaction?"

"Oh yes, I'm fairly certain she went into anaphylactic shock." He nodded casually. "Most likely it was the half-eaten cupcake that was found at the scene."

"I thought maybe she had choked on it," I commented.

"Whatever was in that cake did far more than choke her." He shook his head and glanced out his frosty window. "Such a terrible circumstance, and to fall into the pool as it was happening? No wonder she couldn't manage to keep her head above water. Sometimes freak accidents happen I suppose. At least, I hope it was a freak accident."

"Could she have been pushed?" I asked.

"Anything is possible." He took a deep breath. "But you
didn't
hear that from me. Do you understand?"

I nodded. If Donna wasn't alone when she died that meant that there was someone out there who let her die.

A killer.

"Do you know about what time she died yesterday?"

"Only a rough estimate. This is not my specialty you see, but I do remember a thing or two from my forensics rotation back in the day."

"Yes," I urged him on. "And?"

"Well, uh …"

"Doc." I raised my eyebrows the way my mother did when she caught me sneaking extra helpings of dessert from the fridge.

"Oh maybe she had been there for an hour or so before she was found? The window had been open long enough to let a good amount of snow flurries stick to the ground."

"If only Misty and Eli hadn't been making out in the storage closet," I muttered.

"But I told you I'm rusty," he added. "I was elected county coroner a long time ago because I was the only M.D. in town. Bison Creek is so small that it normally doesn't occupy too much of my time. Like I said, I'm used to the elderly and ski accidents. Nothing like what happened at the resort."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Sure. I'll have Maggie call you when we get more of your client's test results in."

"Thanks," I said, stepping out of the office.

My mind raced as I walked back through the waiting area and out the front door. Maggie didn't bother saying goodbye or even looking up from her desk. I stepped back into the cold knowing exactly what I needed to do next. I needed to pay a visit to Miss Korston, the resort's Head Baker. She would know exactly what was in the cupcake that Donna had eaten.

I took a step and almost slipped on a patch of black ice because I was so deep in thought. Someone snatched the side of my jacket and helped me find my balance. I took a deep breath and forced a smile when I realized it was Sheriff Williams. He and his son Murray were holding sacks of their usual morning pastries from the Bison Creek bakery.

"Watch your step there," the sheriff said.

"Sheriff, I've been meaning to stop by the station to—"

"I know very well what you're trying to do, Essie." He handed his bag of morning sweets to his son and took a step closer, trying to intimidate me with his fierce glare. "But
I'm
the sheriff in this town, not you.
I
am handling this investigation, not you."

"I'm only trying to help," I reminded him, but I knew that the reminding wouldn't do any good. Sheriff Williams was the sort of man who needed to fall on his own face first before he accepted any form of criticism. One year he let old man Simpkons keep his favorite horse tied up in front of the bank because he didn't trust him to be alone in his stables with the other horses. It wasn't until Sheriff Williams literally fell into a mountain of horse manure that he realized how much tourists really
do
like clean streets and walkways.

"By nit-picking at my son's interview skills and degrading his police equipment?"

“Again," I glanced at Murray who immediately looked down at his shoes like a small child who had ratted out his older sister. "Just trying to help out. That's all."

"I can handle this investigation, Essie. This ain't my first time." He lifted his chin and looked down at me. I hate it when people do that.

"Oh good," I answered. "So you're already on top of that background check on the lone undercover paparazzi
guy who conveniently arrived right before the murder? And you've obviously run a report on the plates of the mysterious black BMW that has been rolling through town?"

"Uh." The sheriff looked to his son. Murray shrugged, but his father continued to stare at him until he pulled a notebook from his pocket and began jotting it all down.

"How do you spell
paparazzi
?" Murray muttered.

"Gentlemen." I nodded and walked past the two of them. Nothing could keep me from finding out what happened to Donna. Especially not since the entire town's livelihood was at stake, not just Joy's job and the resort’s reputation.

I continued walking back towards The Painted Deer. The chill breeze hit the side of my cheeks and the tip of my nose. I took a deep breath and the brisk, dry, mountain air filled my lungs so suddenly that I had to stop and cough. My eyes darted around the corner to the tiny parking lot set aside for tourists who come to browse the souvenir shops. My eyes first caught the snow-capped mountains in the distance before wondering down towards a car parked next to Mrs. Tankle's pickup truck.

It was the black BMW. The one that Wade had mentioned was cruising through town yesterday. I gulped as I took a few steps towards it, unsure by the tinted windows if the driver was inside of it.

For all I knew, the driver was the killer.

My chest pounded as the passenger door slowly started to open. I took a few steps back and ducked behind a thick, wooden pillar that made up a portion of the ice cream parlor storefront. My heart rate sky rocketed when a leg moved cautiously out of the car followed by a dainty manicured hand that gripped the top of the car door for balance. My eyes went wide when a woman slammed the door shut and glanced up and down the street suspiciously.

It was Martha Millbreck, the Mayor's wife.

Martha put as much distance between her and the black BMW as she could in the heels she was wearing. She jogged across the snowy street, but considering that she wasn't wearing the appropriate footwear it was more of a succession of hops. She threw the tail of her scarf over her shoulder and didn't look back when the black BMW backed out of its parking space and sped off in the opposite direction.

I ran farther down the street hoping that Martha wouldn't notice I'd been close enough to see her. I casually walked towards Martha as she turned the corner and faced my direction. She glanced at me and nonchalantly fixed a lock of her light brown bob.

"Morning," I spoke first.

"Oh hi, Essie dear."

"Hitting the shops this early in the morning?" I asked

"Oh you know Mayor Millbreck." She forced out a quiet laugh. "He loves Ada's chokecherry scones with his morning coffee." She glanced down the street at the bakery – the one shop that was always bustling before dawn.

"Of course. Tell him I say hello."

"Oh, I will dear." Martha took a step closer and nudged my arm. "And I trust that you're prepared for Sunday?"

"Sunday?"

"Yes, the
big
day." She winked as she said it. "I know it's supposed to be a small, intimate wedding—"

"And private," I butted in. "Very,
very
private."

"But who can say no to the Mayor?" She chuckled, pleased with herself for climbing to the top of the Bison Creek social ladder. Not a tough ladder to climb. "I bet even the Mayor of Silverwood and his wife haven't been to a celebrity event of this significance," she whispered. Silverwood was our neighboring town boasting better slopes and shops. Naturally she despised it.

"I honestly wouldn't know."

Martha continued to look pleased with herself as she kept walking. Our conversation had been completely one-sided. She'd said whatever it was she needed to say, and then moved on with her day.

Martha never ignored the chance to gossip. If she knew about Donna's terrible fate she wouldn't have been able to keep the information inside, especially since I might've had some extra details to add now that I was in the wedding party. I couldn't explain why the black BMW dropped her off here instead of somewhere more convenient like her house on the other side of town. I also didn't know who was driving.

Maybe the black BMW snaking around town yesterday was just a coincidence?

I checked my watch. There was still time to visit the kitchens at the resort before the major breakfast rush. I had to figure out what was in that cupcake that was found next to Donna's body.

Before I headed back towards The Painted Deer Bookshop, I watched Martha Millbreck stop and say hello to Mrs. Henson who came out early every morning to walk her two Akitas. Martha leaned down to pet both dogs, but as soon as Mrs. Henson kept walking she pulled some hand sanitizer out of her purse. Martha sped down the sidewalk … and she walked right past the bakery without a backward glance.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"The wedding is still on," Joy happily stated. "And you're late for Saturday morning brunch."

"Brunch?"

"Yes, people still do brunch nowadays." She placed her hands on her hips and waited for me to smile and follow her to the dining room. I decided to stop by the resort and check up on Taryn with the thought that I might run into Patrick too.

"And that's it?" I urged her on. "Everyone seems happy with that decision?" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as Joy studied me from head to toe.

"Essie," she said, shaking her head. "I know what you're getting at." She bit the side of her lip and put her clipboard under her arm. I think it was the first time she had pulled her eyes away from it all morning. "He agreed to move forward too."

"What?"

"Patrick," Joy said quietly. "He's getting married tomorrow."

"Yes, I know." I took a step past her and acted like it didn't bother me, but it did. I knew Patrick once, and when I saw him again I thought I still knew him. I was wrong. He obviously had second thoughts about marrying Lila and who knew what happened between him and Donna. But he agreed to marry Lila anyway.

"Um brunch is
that
way." Joy pointed in the opposite direction.

"Yeah." I sighed and looked down at my casual choice of jeans, snow boots, and a Christmas red sweater. I hoped it wouldn’t make me look too out of place amongst Lila's custom made diamond necklaces or one of Franco's designer suits. Maybe I should have changed first.

I walked through the staff hallway leading towards the kitchens and glanced through the window as Miss Korston, the head baker rapidly kneaded dough like it might explode in a few seconds. She formed a loaf and placed it in a pan to rise. The sound of high heels coming down the hallway made me keep moving. Joy was making sure I fulfilled my bridesmaid duties to the max.

"Don't worry about the sweater." In no time Joy was standing next to me again as I hesitated to push open the final door that led into the dining room. Joy eyed my sweater and kept a twisted smile on her face. It was like she could read my mind. "You look just fine. I mean, Lila is wearing a dress, but it isn't formal. Although I do think the fur collar is made from an actual fox."

"Whatever," I muttered. "If she doesn't dig the jeans she can find another bridesmaid."

"There you go, sis." Joy nodded, impressed that I was tossing around some attitude for once. The whole
screw it
mentality was more her thing. Not really mine. "I know it's completely backwards, but I love it when you get ticked off. It reminds me that you're human."

"Lovely."

"But nix the scowl so I don’t get fired, okay?"

Joy opened the door for me and instantly I smelled the fresh scent of pines and evergreens. The wedding brunch was set up beautifully in one of the private rooms near the kitchen. It was decorated in delicate white lace tablecloths and the mantle on the brick fireplace was draped in real greenery and pine cones. There was a large arched window that overlooked the mountains and through it the sky was a perfect Tiffany blue. It was as if Mother Nature arranged everything perfectly just for today. Next to the window, Franco was standing at the buffet table. His eyes darted from the fresh fruit platter to a tall cake that looked like it had been rolled in powdered sugar. He shook his head when he saw me enter the room.

"Poinsettia red is so out this season," he said quietly taking a knife to slice a piece of cake. "It's all about royal blue."

"I'll have to remember that," I replied. I looked at the table where the rest of the wedding party was sitting with untouched plates of food. Lila ran her fingers over the porcelain vase filled with light peach roses that acted as one of the center pieces. Bebe slowly sipped a Mimosa as she glared at a plate of colorful pastries. Patrick looked up when he saw me. Our eyes met and for a second my heart pounded like it was being squeezed by a pair of gargantuan hands.