Powdered Murder

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"I bet he's excellent in the sack," Mrs. Millbreck commented as she warmed up on her treadmill. The resort's private training room had windows facing the Rocky Mountains and the parking lot. The resort sat slightly above the town with a pristine view of Canyon Street. From far away the quiet shops along the road looked like the ideal place for a leisurely walk and Sunday brunch.

"Mrs. Millbreck," my co-worker Taryn gasped. "You're the mayor’s wife. You can't say things like that."

"Honey, when you're my age you can say whatever you want. Patrick's wedding should be the talk of the town. But the media bombarded his poor fiancée at her latest movie premiere so I have to keep my mouth shut. Whoever heard of a secret celebrity wedding anyway? I say the more cameras the merrier." Martha Millbreck is practically president of the outspoken women's club. Being the Mayor's wife, she knows every scandal that passes through town.

Martha was a small, petite woman with light brown hair that fell to her shoulders and an addiction to Botox. Though she denied it, I noticed the miniscule bumps across her forehead every six months that looked like bee tracks. Martha had been my first client every Friday morning for the past two years.

"Maybe they want a little privacy?" Taryn suggested. She continued setting up her Pilates equipment for her next appointment.

Taryn is the first person I hired when I was given the position of Lead Fitness Trainer. For years, the entire fitness studio consisted of only me. I got to the point where I had to turn down new guests to accommodate my regulars. I met Taryn while ru

"Oh please." Martha laughed. "Privacy doesn't exist when you're famous like that. I mean, just yesterday the BC Gazette contacted me wanting to know what kind of pie I served Herald for Sunday brunch. Nosey paparazzi."

"Isn't that for the day in the life article they're writing for the Mayor's birthday?" Taryn wasn't born and raised in Bison Creek which meant she had no problem telling the locals what she thought.

"Possibly." Martha lifted her chin and focused on pumping her arms back and forth. For as long as I've known her, the only time she avoided confrontation was when she knew she was wrong.

"Five more minutes,” I reminded her as I folded my arms and glanced down to admire my new turquoise ru

The studio door opened and Joy stepped inside, smiling politely when she saw Mrs. Millbreck. She handed me a folder and opened it up to the first page. She pointed to the first heading marked Friday.

"Here is your itinerary," she said. "Tonight is the bridal shower and you have to be there."

"Listen, Joy, I don't know if this is such a good idea--"

"Do not spoil this for me," she interrupted, breaking her professional composure. She stopped herself when Martha casually glanced over her shoulder. "I promise I will . . . do your laundry for a month. I will give you a year's worth of spa vouchers. I will have your car detailed. Please, do this for me. Please. Please. Please."

"Fine," I replied quietly. "But after this, no more bringing up that time I went with you and your softball team to the ice caves."

Joy leaned in closer. "If I hadn't have grabbed your hand when you started to slip, you might have died."

"I know," I responded. "But you can't keep bringing that up every time you need a favor. We were teenagers."

"Okay." She exhaled. "My lips are sealed from now on."

"And I want the spa vouchers."

She nodded in agreement.

"And," I quickly added before she left the room, "No more digging through my closet when I'm out for a run."

"Anything else?" Joy asked with a forced smile on her face.

I could have asked for a whole lot more, but I shook my head. As Joy quietly left the fitness studio, I flipped through the pages of my weekend schedule. I instantly frowned when I realized that the actual wedding was on Sunday. No amount of favors or spa vouchers would keep me from having to watch Patrick take Lila's hand and say “I do.” Seeing him again, even for a few minutes, made me feel like I was still that chunky little girl who had knitted her own mittens to match her prom dress.

"What have you got there?" Martha asked. As soon as her five minutes were up, she bounced off her treadmill and immediately peered over my shoulder. "Oh my," she gasped. "Don't tell me that you're part of the wedding party?"

Taryn looked up from her yoga mat and stared at us.

"Not officially."

"Honey," Martha didn't hesitate as she snatched my itinerary and began looking through it. "This looks pretty official to me. Well, how about that? After all these years, our dear Patrick is putting one of his little childhood friends in his wedding. Oh, what a sweetheart."

"That's not exactly what happened," I said quietly.

"Oh, Essie," she said, sizing me up and down. "You shouldn't even be here right now. You have a million things to do. You need a gift for tonight, and a dress. You have a fitting this afternoon. You have a dress rehearsal tomorrow. This is so exciting!"

There were butterflies in the pit of my stomach, but it wasn't from the excitement. I was more nervous than ever to see Patrick again. Just thinking about the way he'd grabbed my hand made me wish I was too tall and too fat to wear that extra bridesmaid dress. I hadn’t known what to do or say when Patrick stood there watching me. He had a way of making me so nervous that the room around me started spi

"I guess." I gulped.

"You look like you could use some help. Do you even know what to bring to the bridal shower?"

"Not really." I shook my head. "My cousin had one the night before her wedding, but it was more of a wild girls' night than a fancy shower."

"You mean one of those parties with candy shaped like man parts?" Martha commented nonchalantly. I looked in Taryn's direction just in time to see her roll her eyes.

"I would rather not say."

"Of course, dear." Mrs. Millbreck winked before she marched to her first exercise on the squat machine. "You have a lot to think about, and I have a ladies' lunch to attend after this so let's get started, shall we?"

CHAPTER TWO

My dress fitting went by too fast, and before I knew it was nearing di

Drooling over pictures of desserts is one of my guilty pleasures, but it's probably more torturous than satisfying. I live on Canyon Street above the book store which wasn't the smartest idea on my part since the shop owner, Mrs. Tankle, is my Landlady.