Powdered Murder

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

The smell of rubbing alcohol filled my nose. I walked with Patrick's parents to the hospital waiting room designated for family and close friends. We were informed by a nurse Patrick was in the middle of surgery. Our car ride through the winding mountain roads took longer than I'd anticipated because of the snow. The car ride was mostly silent. I guess the Jayes had decided they weren't ready to know yet what had really happened. Maybe they wanted to hear it all from their son?

The white, blank hallways and the bright lights weren't something I was used to. I'm the type of person who, despite my regrettable years spent with extra flab, only visits Doc Henry once a year for an a

"Oh, thank you," she said kindly. "Why don't you sit right here next to me."

I'd pla

"Sure." I accepted her invitation and sat beside her.

"Patrick so wanted to get married," A

"I know he did, but this is probably for the best."

"Lila was a nice girl the few times we spoke," she continued. "But she wasn't really right for Patrick."

"Well, they're both famous." I folded my arms, playing with the edges of my sweater with my fingers. "Not a lot of people have that in common with him."

"Fame is not what he needs." A

"Oh, we'd all like someone like that, Mrs. Jaye."

"Someone like you perhaps?" She raised her eyebrows and gave me a look that made me want to confess to her all of my dark secrets. She paused long enough that I had to stop and wonder if she knew more about Patrick and I than she was letting on.

"Me?" I finally said. "Me and Patrick?"

"Uh-huh." She paused again and studied my expression. She was trying to trick me into saying too much. I did the same exact thing sometimes with clients like Martha who lied through their teeth about how many portions of dessert they'd eaten over the weekend. If I paused long enough and stared hard, most of them decided to confess. Maybe it was because they felt like I already knew the truth. It was like A

"Patrick, your son?"

"That's right," A

"We hardly speak anymore," I admitted.

"But the two of you were such good friends growing up." She rubbed the palm of her hands on her dress. "I wish you both would stop being so stubborn."

"Mrs. Jaye, whatever feelings I had or may have had for your son don't matter anyway. He doesn't feel the same." I cleared my throat. "Hypothetically, of course."

"Of course." The side of her mouth widened with a twisted smile. "But you know I don't believe you."

I laughed uncomfortably.

"Patrick has always been a giver," she added. "No matter how many times I tell him how proud I am to be his mother he always reaches for something more. He wanted so badly to start a family of his own. To give me the gift of a grandchild." She clasped her hands together and placed them in her lap, exchanging looks with her husband. "We only want him to be happy, single or married it makes no difference to us."

"I'm sure he knows that deep down," I said.

"I hope he does." A

The three of us sat impatiently for what felt like hours. Patrick's dad continually tapped his shoe on the shiny floor and chewed on a toothpick he had snagged from the coffee cart that had come by a couple of times. A

When a group of nurses walked past talking about today's special in the cafeteria, I glanced at the time. Our day had progressed rapidly, and it was now near di

"Are you the Jayes?" the surgeon asked with a straight face.

"Yes," Patrick's dad answered.

"He's doing just fine," the surgeon replied. He kept his expression blank in spite of the fact he was delivering good news. "The surgery went well. He's been moved to a recovery room, and can start seeing visitors."

“Oh, thank you, doctor." A

"Two at a time, please," the surgeon instructed, eyeing me in the background. "If you may."

"Go ahead," I whispered. "I'll wait out here."

I took A

I listened to a weather update. Snow. Snow. And more snow. I sat up straighter when the woman on the screen mentioned Bison Creek. I gulped. The media had already caught onto the story. My eyes darted up and down the hallway, but it was mostly empty and I seemed to be the only one paying attention.

"It's a sad day for fans of international model and actress Lila Clemton," the newscaster a

I bit the inside of my cheek. Lila was still alive and there was a possibility she might pull through. I wasn't sure what to think about the news because I wasn't sure what to think about Lila. She had a debt that needed to be paid if she survived and I would forever be looking over my shoulder if she was eventually released from custody someday.