Powdered Murder

"Hey, you're Essie right?" a voice called out behind me. It was Eli making one of his rounds.

"Do you ever actually wait tables like you're supposed to?"

"Not really." He chuckled and handed me a letter. "This came for you."

I glanced down at the envelope. It was plain with no writing on the front except my name spelled in all caps. I studied it, turning it over and searching for a return address or at least a seal of some kind that might tell me where it came from.

"Who from?" I asked.

"I don't know." Eli shrugged. "It was sitting against your locker in the break room. I thought I would bring it to you in case it was important."

"Thanks, Eli." He tilted his head like he was tipping an invisible hat before he walked away.

I took a few steps back towards the grand arched windows facing the parking lot and the Rocky Mountains. I tore open the letter as a ray of sunshine escaped through the glass and pushed its way towards my eyes. I took another step and glanced out the window.

My chest froze.

There it was again – the black BMW. It slowly crept through the parking lot before it turned a corner and headed for the exit. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears. My feet were heavy like two useless dumbbells that wouldn’t budge. I gulped. My gut told me that the mystery car was bad news. It kept popping up.

I took a couple of calming breaths and carefully opened the letter, tearing the envelope where it was previously sealed so nothing important ripped. Inside was a plain sheet of paper with only two words typed in an ordinary font.

You're Next.

I kept my eyes glued to the message for fear of looking up and seeing the killer waiting for me with a baseball bat. I forced my calf muscles to relax as my gaze wandered down to one last thing. A smudge on the paper that was light brown in color and looked pretty fresh. I knew what it was instantly. It was peanut butter.

Someone had to be watching me.

It was hard to contain myself. I knew that whoever had sent this could be watching my reaction as I read the threat. I couldn’t give that person the satisfaction of knowing I was freaking out inside. I forced myself to make a straight face and casually folded up the letter, placing it back in its envelope. I'd stepped into a forbidden realm. My questions and personal inquiries were no longer a casual thing. I'd ventured into dangerous territory, and I'd given away my position.

My stomach churned, and I felt queasy just thinking about the fact that someone in Bison Creek was capable of something as sinister as murder. I could hardly control my thumping heart and shaky hands. I closed my eyes. I'd dealt with physical pain like this once before. I could keep it together. I could control my outward appearance, appearing on the outside like I didn't want to run and hide.

Last summer I ran a marathon in Salt Lake City. It was one of the toughest things I have ever done. Near the middle of it, my mind and body engaged in an i

In the end, I shut myself up and let my legs do what I'd trained them to do. I wasn't going to quit and my body obeyed my commands until I crossed the finish line. It wasn't until I stopped ru

Now I had to do the same thing again.

I had to force my body not to topple over. Not to turn the color of Franco's ruby red bowtie. Not to let my eyes explode with frightened tears. I had to make the choice to ignore my head and carry on like normal until I was back in the safety of my own apartment.

I did just that.

I folded the letter and shoved it in my purse, joining the others at the edge of the great room where the ceiling extended up towards a circular stained glass window overlooking the mountain tops. It was an exquisite place to get married. I knew Patrick wouldn't have had it any other way. He was starting the next chapter of his life where the previous one had begun. On the slopes.

"There you are," Bebe muttered. "Lila was just about to—"

"She's here," Lila shouted impatiently. "Let's move on with our day, people."

"Pastor," Patrick commented. "You remember Gwen … I mean, Essie?"

"Of course," the Pastor smiled and nodded in my direction. "I see your parents once in a while, but I haven't seen much of you lately."

"Someone is being called out," Franco muttered. He and Lila both chuckled quietly. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from saying anything. I would be surprised if the two of them have attended a church service once in their lifetimes.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Pastor Tad lined everyone up in their official spots with Patrick and Lila at the head of the room facing each other. I stood next to Bebe as the Pastor reviewed what he was going to say during the ceremony.

"Bebe," I whispered. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can," she whispered back.

"Does stuff like this happen to Lila a lot? I'm just curious."

"You mean the stalker stuff?" she clarified.

"Yeah." I sighed as Patrick recited a short version of his vows. Lila's eyes were locked on him as he did so.

"Unfortunately, yes." Bebe moved a strand of hair away from her eyes and back to its proper place. For a brief few seconds, her eyes fixated on her bracelets.

"Has that stuff ever happened to you?"

"Heavens no," she exhaled, glancing at me suspiciously. "I would die if I received as much hate mail as she does, but I'm not the right person to ask about this stuff. I haven't known Lila as long as Bev has."

"Bev," I responded. "The flaky bridesmaid."

"If you ask me she dodged a bullet by backing out at the last minute."

"Have you talked to her recently?" I asked.

"Not since we left L.A." Bebe directed her attention forward when Pastor Tad remarked on Lila and Patrick's kind words and moved on with the ceremony by reading a few paragraphs about the importance of long-term commitment. "Are youokay, Essie? You look a little flushed."

My attempts to turn off the panicking side of my brain started to wear off. All I could think about was the letter, and the fact that I had no idea who the killer was, but the killer knew exactly who I was. I instinctively looked over my shoulder and sca

"I think I'm a little dehydrated," I lied. "I'll be fine."

"Good," she muttered. "Because you're the only sane one around here."

"What do you mean?"

"Lila and Franco have been arguing more lately," she whispered, careful not catch Franco's attention. "He tells her everything. Maybe a little too much. I think he does it on purpose because he craves the drama."

"What about Patrick?" I asked.

"He's a doll," she admitted. "But anyone who isn't Lila can see that his heart isn't really in this anymore. I'm sure you've noticed that too. I mean, you know him better than me."

"Sometimes." I watched him squeeze Lila's hand when Pastor Tad said man and wife. "And sometimes I have no idea if he's even the same guy from down the street."