Powdered Murder

"Fine," I agreed. The man got into his car and started the engine. "I'll keep quiet."

"I kept telling Martha that meeting in town was too risky," he said quietly. "But I suppose that was part of the thrill." He sighed as if he'd been defeated once again. "Nice to meet you, Essie. And a little advice for the future? Stay away from the Millbrecks. They're all crazy." He slammed his door and immediately began backing out of his parking space.

I stood still until the frozen morning started seeping into my bones. The whole town would spiral out of control if the townspeople learned the almighty Millbrecks were having marital problems. The mayor might actually having a ru

At the end of Canyon Street, I looked up and saw the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort in the distance. It was bustling with new traffic and the chimneys in the kitchen were working overtime. Smoke was rising from the rooftops. The cool mountain air exaggerated the puffs of smoke and made them look like mini rain clouds. Real winter clouds were moving in from the Rockies. I knew the clear weather wouldn't last. Not today when everything was supposed to be perfect. Another snowstorm was headed our way.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"Bad news." When I arrived at the resort I was met by Joy. She was dressed like usual in her gray pencil skirt and a conservative top hiding her tattoos. Her hair was brushed back and she had done her makeup flawlessly, hiding any evidence of her extreme exhaustion. "We've had to move the ceremony to the upstairs hall, and we've roped off half the hotel."

My ears perked up in hopes that the bad news was that the wedding had been postponed until further notice. I followed Joy up the employee staircase and towards the new wedding location. The ceremony was now going to take place upstairs where there was a full view of Bison Creek and the chair lift leading up the slopes. The mountainside was empty this morning, and the fluffy snowflakes that began falling made the valley look peaceful and serene. It was like the events of the past couple days had never happened, and Mother Nature was doing her best to wash over the madness with fresh buckets of white powder.

"What's happened?"

"The goons have arrived," she said discreetly. We entered the room that was being set up according to Joy's instructions with a vintage, wooden arch and elegant white chairs.

"Plain English, please. It's been a long weekend."

"The press are downstairs," she said through her teeth. "I mean, some of them won't admit that they're paparazzi, but they've all got cameras and they're all loitering in the lobby."

"Can't you get rid of them?" My heart raced. My time was up. It was only a matter of time before the world started asking questions about Do

"We've been trying, but it's not like we have experience with this sort of thing." She straightened the bow on one of the chairs and snapped her fingers at a florist when a decorated evergreen was placed in the wrong corner. Joy had done an immaculate job turning the hall and adjacent rooms for the reception into a winter wonderland, even though the ceremony only consisted of a handful of people.

"I can't believe you did all this and Mr. Kentworth still won't promote you to Head Coordinator."

"Story of my life," she said under her breath. "When I get the chance to shine it's ruined with murder and mayhem." She rolled her eyes and ran her fingers over the vintage arch placed in front of the rows of chairs. "Sorry." She glanced at me. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, but--"

"I know." I glanced down at the floor. "I was so close to solving everything. I guess I keep missing something."

"If anyone can catch that killer, it's you."

"So you keep saying," I replied.

"I say it because it's true, Essie." She took a long, calming breath and began following the florist to make sure all the greenery she'd ordered was arranged tastefully on the railings overlooking the great room.

I ran all the evidence through my head for what seemed like the thousandth time, stopping abruptly when I got to Patrick's kiss in the snow. Maybe if Patrick wasn't around I would have solved this case in no time.

My train of thought was disturbed by footsteps pounding up the staircase. Eli's cheeks were rosy as he ran to Joy and stopped suddenly to catch his breath. Joy placed her hand on his back and waited impatiently for him to tell her what was wrong.

What else could go wrong?

"They're getting restless down there," he breathed. "One of them is demanding to speak to a manager. I didn't know what else to do."

"Slow down," Joy replied. "Did you confirm that Lila is staying at this hotel?"

"Um…"

"Did you confirm that their getting married this morning?"

"Um … I might have.…"

"Eli!" Joy quickly broke her soothing, supportive demeanor and smacked him on the head. "What happened to no comment? No comment is your friend, remember? No comment will save you from blurting out the truth, remember? Or do I have to give my speech all over again?"

"I'm sorry," Eli whined. "But they asked so many questions and it all happened so fast—"

"Perfect," Joy said, raising her voice. "That's just great, Eli. Now I'm going to have to call the sheriff down here to keep them from parading upstairs during the ceremony. This is just what I need."

"It was an accident, okay." Eli stood up straighter, regaining some of his confidence. "I didn't mean to give anything away."

"Yes," Joy finally sighed. "Well, we would've had to deal with this sort of thing sooner or later." Eli nodded. "I just wish it didn't have to be sooner." She glared at Eli until he guiltily looked away. "Essie, will you take a peek at the damage? I need to check on Aggie in the kitchen."

"Of course." I agreed because I knew sifting through reporters might be my last chance at finding John Slagger, the loon on the loose. After all, being an undercover reporter was his cover when I first met him. I followed Eli downstairs and braced myself for paparazzi overload. I imagined what I'd seen in the movies, lights flashing and crowds shouting things to get my attention. The lobby looked nothing like that.

I walked with Eli to reception and found groups of people huddled all over the lobby and bar. Some had cameras and some were casually chatting. I couldn't tell which ones were guests and which ones had been sent from L.A., but one thing was certain. The press was here and I, like Eli, was confused.

"This man over here," Eli muttered. "He won't chillax. He keeps insisting on talking to a manager." I sca

Eli directed me towards a man with dark hair and trimmed beard. He was dressed in a suave suit and had a matching leather shoulder bag across his chest. He lifted his chin when he saw me – the way Martha sometimes did when she met someone new. It was her way of showing the other person she was a woman of importance. As if raising your chin above someone means you are high on the totem pole.