Powdered Murder

The newscaster continued with an aerial view of Bison Creek and Pinecliffe Mountain Resort. It was only a matter of time before someone grabbed a hold of what had happened to Do

"Essie," a voice said quietly. Patrick's parents had made their way back to the sitting area. "Go on back. He's been asking for you." A

"Really?"

They both nodded.

"He looks well," A

I quickly and quietly walked towards Patrick's private room. My heart pounded and my palms were damp. When I came to his door, my limbs were tingly. I imagined myself in the room staring into his dark hazel eyes. I knock lightly as I entered and the tingling didn't go away.

Patrick was lying in a stiff bed wearing a hospital gown. A light blue blanket covered his lower half and bandaging material stuck out from underneath his sleeve. He tried to sit up when he saw me but groaned from the discomfort.

"Don't hurt yourself," I said, smiling. There was a chair next to his bed that looked like it was placed there specifically for me. "Your mom moved this chair, didn't she?"

"So you've caught on," he replied. He spoke softly, taking long breaths in between sentences like it was tiring to speak.

"Did you tell them what happened?"

"I will." His eyes followed me as I approached his bed and sat beside him. "In due time. My publicist is already all over me telling me not to mention a thing about it until I get home. Anyone could be listening in here."

"How are you feeling?" I asked. My eyes darted to his chiseled forearm and immobile hand. It was close to the edge of the bed.

"I'm not covered in snow so that's a plus." He chuckled. "My parents told me about Lila."

"I'm really sorry, Patrick."

"I gave that relationship all I had," he said quietly. "I should've listened to old Snowflake on this one." If Patrick was well enough to bring up his dead childhood cat he swore was still wandering Canyon Street at night, then he was definitely on the road to recovery.

"Snowflake?" I said, watching the grin on his face grow wider. "Really? You've just come out of surgery for a gunshot wound and you want to discuss the habits of a deceased feline?"

"What can I say? She's my guardian angel cat. I should have followed my gut instinct about the wedding. None of this would have happened." He tried to move his hand towards his face, but he stopped suddenly and groaned again. It was painful for him to use the arm of his injured shoulder.

"How were you to know all this would happen?"

"I should have seen the signs," he muttered. "She started asking me where I was all the time. Who I was with. Why I didn't tell her I loved her enough. Staying up all night. I just thought it was anxiety from all the wedding stuff. She used to trust me a lot more."

"How do you feel now?" I asked. I said it in a general way, but really I wanted to know how badly his heart had been crushed, and if there was ever a chance someone could come along and pick up the pieces.

"Tired and … kind of lonely."

"You've got me." It was a bold thing to say, but I meant it. I glanced down at his hand again. This time he moved it towards me and I reached for it, letting our fingers intertwine.

"They say I've got to be here for a while." He sca

"What will you do when you get out?"

"Start fresh I guess," he sighed. "In the house I bought. The one I told you about."

"Work should be interesting tomorrow," I responded.

"Hey, Essie," Patrick said softly. His gaze wandered down to our bonded hands before he looked at me again. He swallowed hard enough for me to hear it. My chest went tight when I noticed his breathing had increased. It was hard to hide because he had on a heart rate monitor that gradually beeped a little faster. He was suddenly nervous.

"Yes, Patrick."

"Can I … take you out for a coffee?" He paused and waited the same way his mother had done in the waiting area when she quizzed me about our relationship. "In the near future," he added. "When I can actually move my arm."

"I don't drink coffee," I teased. "I've given up caffeine. New Year's resolution." At first, Patrick's eyes went wide. He was so nervous it took him a few minutes to catch on that I was only kidding. "But I drink tea?"

"Right." He exhaled, sounding relieved. "I forgot. You’re the Head Trainer."

"It took me years to get that job," I continued. "I can't just throw it all away for the first hot thing that walks through my door."

"So you find me attractive?" he retaliated. I knew Patrick was kidding, but I still felt my cheeks go warm. I tried so hard not to let myself blush that blushing was inevitable.

"Oh … uh…"

"Relax," Patrick responded. "I'm just having a little fun."

"I knew that," I lied.

"Obviously, you do think I'm attractive."

"Patrick," I scolded him. We were back to our usual middle school games which had been a roundabout version of truth or dare, but mostly truth. Of course, neither of us ever gave straight answers. Now as adults nothing really seemed to have changed. I still found myself stuttering to say the right things, and over-thinking what to say so I didn't embarrass myself.

"I'll tell you the truth if you tell me the truth," he continued. "Pinky swear?"

"Save it for tea time," I answered.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Monday morning came way too fast. It started at 7 a.m. when Mrs. Tankle had knocked on my door to ask me if I was still pla

I'd ended up inviting her in for tea and toast. I didn't tell her much more than what the BC Gazette had already reported, but she was grateful to hear more about it from me. Joy had spent the night at the resort. I could only imagine the sort of damage control she was dealing with. Mrs. Tankle had avoided looking towards Joy's bedroom. When she had finished her toast, she got up to leave.

I headed up to the resort for work. I took my time finding a parking space only because I knew what I was in for. The employee entrance was supposed to be private, but I could see news vans and reporters pacing the parking lot through my rear view mirror. The resort had placed a security guard at the back entrance to keep any unwanted guests from wandering about. I quietly stepped out of my car and looked down at my turquoise work out shoes.

"Excuse me. Excuse me!"