Powdered Murder

"No," the Sheriff spoke up. "I'm afraid those were gunshots. I heard them when I arrived and I called an ambulance."

"That's why you barged in like you did," Joy muttered. "I thought you were just being a jerk as usual. No offense, Sheriff." He narrowed his eyes.

"I'm afraid there are still matters that need to be dealt with," he said. "And seeing as your groom is on his way to the hospital, and the bride is on the top of Pinecliffe Mountain, I think it's best that you send all those folks in there home."

"What?" Joy had a difficult time processing the news. The time had finally come to do what she dreaded the moment she'd heard there was a dead body in the spa. "Are you sure?"

"Joy," I added. "Do it before everyone starts asking questions."

"Too late," a voice came from the doorway. Eli raised his eyebrows. He waved at us to follow him as he periodically glanced over his shoulder.

The three of us followed him down the hall towards the place where the wedding ceremony was waiting to begin. A large window overlooking the mountain ran alongside the wall. It had a full view of the chair lift and the chalet building at the base of it. Bebe was standing near the window biting her nails.

There was yelling coming from downstairs. Voices resonated up the staircase and disturbed the peaceful silence that graced the new wedding location. The members of the press that had arrived in town this morning were getting restless, especially after hearing the commotion going on out back.

"Some of them slipped through the back fence after the ambulance left," Eli said looking down towards the lobby. "What do we do?"

"We remain calm," Joy said impatiently. "That's what we do. You go down there and tell those reporters everything is fine. Got it?"

"Oh Lord!" Bebe yelped, looking out the window. I ran to join her, realizing there was just as good of a view of the chair lift from inside. I peered out the window and saw Lila and John making their return trip down the mountain.

"Bebe," I hesitated. "Did you see…?"

"Oh no, darlin'." She placed a hand on her chest. "You'll have to tell me what happened down there because I couldn't see a thing as soon as you walked around the other side of that building."

"Oh uh—"

"And you could use a major touch up," she went on.

Lila was waving her arms and arguing with John again. She was still too far away for me to see the look on her face. I was relieved that my parents and Patrick's didn't have the opportunity to see what had really happened between the three of us. Patrick's mom might have dropped dead if she saw her only son shot by his fiancée right before the wedding.

Lila shook her head. She turned away from John and wouldn't stop shaking her head. John outstretched a hand to comfort her, but Lila jerked her hand away. I could barely see her face now. She glanced down at the snow and then back at John before she slid from her seat. My stomach churned. John grabbed her arm just in time.

Lila dangled from the ski lift and she didn't look the least bit frightened. She swung her body, trying to force John to let go, but he wouldn't budge. I turned around and saw that all eyes were on the frosty window. Bebe gasped again, then the room fell eerily silent.

The chair lift was still high enough that falling would cause serious injuries or even death. I studied the look on John's pale face as best I could from a distance. He clenched his jaw and wrinkled his entire face. He was holding onto Lila with all his might. In the meantime, Lila was furious she hadn't fallen. With her free, dangling arm she clawed at John's fingers. He cried out, but his yells were muffled from behind the glass.

Sheriff Williams was already outside watching from above. I ran back towards the bride's room and to the open patio. The cold stung my face as I stepped back into the snow. My body shivered. I hadn't fully de-thawed from my first adventure in freezing temperatures.

"Hang in there, son." The sheriff was shouting encouraging words at John. "Hold her steady."

Lila screamed. Her shrieks shot up and down the canyon and I thought they might cause a mini avalanche. She swung her body again and this time she was successful. I let out a yelp, and my lungs felt like they had been squeezed to half their size as I watched her plummet into the snow. Sheriff Williams went ru

Bebe had followed me and stood at my side. She buried her face in her hands, hiding tears. As she wiped her cheeks, her gaze steadily wandered down to the ground beneath us. She froze just like she had the moment she saw Do

"Let's hope she's not dead," Bebe quietly muttered. "Otherwise, the world is going to hate this town."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

By the time John Slagger was back on the ground, another ambulance had arrived and more medics were making the trek up the snowy mountain to meet the sheriff. His son, Murray, staid near the hotel keeping the press under control and shouting no comment as they rattled off lists of ridiculous questions. Bebe retreated back to the wedding party to offer words of comfort to Patrick's frail mother, and Joy prepared a private room for family to wait and receive word about the bride and groom's conditions.

John's hand shook so hard he shoved them into his coat pocket. He looked at me as a medic who'd stayed to wait for him checked his pulse and listened to his breathing. John hung his head, and bit the corner of his lip. When we finally made eye contact again his eyes were glossy as if he was holding back tears.

"I thought there was hope for her," John said to me. "She seemed so bright when she left."

"Left where?" I asked. I folded my arms, wondering why he'd been admitted to The Cove in the first place. He seemed perfectly average. Then again, no one would have suspected Lila would've shot her fiancé and herself to make it look like she wasn't guilty. "Are you talking about The Cove? What is that? A rehab center? An insane asylum?"

"It's an experimental rehabilitation facility for patients struggling with severe personality disorders," he answered. "It's reserved for people like Lila who deal with their disorders under public pressure."

"So you aren't a patient there?"

"What?" He chuckled. "No, I'm a psychologist. Lila agreed to do her post-therapy followups with me. She skipped her last one. I kept calling her to reschedule, it is vital to prevent relapses you see, and she told me to just meet her here."

"So that day when you approached me--"

"She wouldn't return any of my calls," he responded. "The hotel wouldn't cooperate. The townspeople I spoke with wouldn't point me in the right direction so I stuck around hoping she would eventually reply."

"She stopped taking her medication," I informed him.

"I figured it out when I heard there had been a suspicious death." He scratched his forehead and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't sleep a wink when I overheard it was a bridesmaid."

"Why didn't you go straight to the sheriff?"