Powdered Murder

"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 Do

"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 Do

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 Do

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 Do

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.