Powdered Murder

"It's fine. I'm not expecting Joy for at least another few hours. That is if she's not sleeping at the resort again tonight."

"About that," he said quietly. "I spoke with Lila the second I got home and she still wants to get married, but . . ."

"Now you're not so sure?" I guessed.

"I just don't know if it's the right thing to do under the circumstances, but she's insisting." He looked up at me and for a brief few seconds our eyes co

"I don't blame them." I smiled. "My parents have given up on that dream. I don't date much." I blurted out that last part without thinking.

"I doubt that's true." He studied my face and gri

"What did Lila say when you talked about postponing the wedding?"

"She said we'd never get a chance like this again what with the paparazzi thinking we're on a plane to Italy for the weekend." He rubbed his eyes as if he hadn't slept in a while. "But to tell you the truth, it has been one thing after another since we got here. I'm starting to wonder if it's all a sign or something." He scooted a little closer to me. "Remember when we played over by the silver mine when we were kids and--"

"I know what you're going to say," I interrupted him.

Patrick used to snowboard with a piece of fabric tied around his ankle underneath his snowboarding boot. He said it was his lucky charm - a piece of the onesie he'd been wearing when he fell through the railing of his parent's second story balcony as a baby. Patrick is very superstitious.

"You do?"

"Yes, you always bring up your old cat Snowflake. And I always remind you that she died when we were nine."

"And I always remind you that I've seen her since then. She definitely wasn't dead that day at the mines when she jumped in front of us before we could wander inside."

"Cave-ins happen all the time," I responded. "Yeah we were lucky that day that we were too scared to go inside, but we shouldn't have been playing there in the first place."

"Anyway." He gri

"If that's the way you feel," I answered. "Then I think it's pretty clear what you should do. You don't need me to tell you."

Patrick chuckled as he eyed the mug in my hand. His gaze wandered from the tips of my fingers to the balls of my cheeks. The gesture made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. He was thinking about the old days. The way things used to be before he got famous and I transformed from Gwenessa the husky weirdo into Essie the fitness guru.

"It's just like old times, isn't it?"

"Not really," I answered.

"Oh come on." He leaned towards me, close enough for me to smell the cologne on his neck. "You don't remember what you said to me the night before I left for California?"

"Remind me."

The truth was that I had a whole lot on my mind that night. I couldn't decide if I should have told him how I felt about him or act like it was no big deal that he was moving away to become a professional athlete. I didn't remember exactly what I said to him that night. All I remembered was how I kept everything I wanted to say inside, and then cried about it afterwards until I gave myself a migraine. That was the last time I ever cried over him.

"You told me to keep doing what I do best," he answered. "That saying has always stuck with me. It's why I didn't give up the first time I tanked at the Winter X Games. You might not believe it, but you give excellent advice, Essie. It feels weird calling you Essie now."

"I should have switched to that name in high school," I replied, trying to take the conversation away from a night I didn't care to relive. "I don't know why I didn't think of it?"

"Well, it does suit you." He tilted his head. "Though there was nothing wrong with Gwenessa."

"Oh there were a lot of things wrong with Gwenessa," I joked.

The two of us laughed. Patrick inched a little closer until the edge of his thigh brushed against mine. I nervously looked down at our knees. They were closer together. I took a sip of my tea as I thought about what else I could've said to keep the conversation away from the past. I couldn’t think of a single thing.

"I hope I haven't made you too uncomfortable," he said quietly.

"Oh no." My eyes widened.

"I know things have changed a lot since we were kids. I mean, I assume you have a boyfriend or a fiancé or something. He isn't here, is he?" His eyes darted to the hallway leading towards the bedrooms. "Maybe I should get going."

"Patrick," I reassured him as he stood up. "There's no one. There was someone years ago, but that's over."

"Oh." He nodded.

"Yeah," I sighed. I stood up to walk him out. "By the way, I'm just curious. Did you know Do

"Do

"Do you remember the last time the two of you spoke?"

"Last night," he admitted. "She uh . . . well, she came and found me after she'd checked in. It was late and she'd already had too much to drink."

"I see," I calmly responded. "Is she another reason why you think you should call off your wedding?"

"Actually . . . yes." He watched me bite the corner of my lip. "It's not what you think though. I swear." He anxiously waited for me to nod or say I believed him, but a buzzing sound coming from the kitchen table startled me. It was my cell phone.

I raised my eyebrows and looked at Patrick. We both walked towards the kitchen table and stared curiously at my vibrating phone. The caller ID said it was Joy. I answered it immediately as Patrick folded his arms and waited for me to speak.

"Joy," I answered. "Is everything okay?"

"Essie." She sounded out of breath. "You have to come quick and take a look at this."

"What happened? Please tell me that you're fine."

"I'm okay. It's Lila I'm worried about." She paused for a minute to take a deep breath. "Someone broke into her room."

"Someone broke into Lila's room?" I repeated so Patrick could hear me.

"Yes . . . while she was in the shower."

CHAPTER FIVE

Bebe was standing next to Lila when I arrived at the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort with Patrick. Lila was staying in one of the top level suites that overlooked Pinecliffe Mountain. Even at night the brilliant white powder at the top of the mountain peaks could be seen in the moonlight. Though it was almost midnight, the hotel felt like it was wide awake and in a frenzy. Joy escorted us to Lila's suite and on the way there we passed a handful of busy maids, a few kitchen attendants who stayed late working on tomorrow's menu, and Joy's boss Mr. Kentworth, the owner of the hotel.