Powdered Murder (Bison Creek Mysteries Book 1)

by A. Gardner

  POWDERED MURDER

  A Bison Creek Mystery

  A. Gardner

  Copyright © 2015 by A. Gardner

  Cover design by Yocla Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  RECIPES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOOKS BY A. GARDNER

  CHAPTER ONE

  He was never my lover and he wasn't my ex, but when I saw him standing in the great room my heart jumped. A lump that was difficult to swallow formed in my throat, and my chest started pounding as if I'd drunk too many espressos. I paused in the doorway marked Staff Only, and prolonged my trip through the hotel lobby by staring out a foggy window at the soft, fluffy snowflakes outside.

  The calm before the storm.

  "Get it together, Essie." My little sister Joy nudged me on the shoulder, breaking my train of thought.

  "I think Hell just froze over," I muttered, staring at a man I never thought I would have to see or talk to again. Patrick.

  "If that's true then we're living in Hell." Joy chuckled to herself, and glanced out the window. It was a snowy morning in the Rockies. The kind that starts out with an innocent dusting of flurries and later turns into a murderous snowstorm.

  "What is he doing here?" I whispered.

  Joy was all too aware of my feelings for Patrick. Old feelings. It started back in first grade when my mom babysat him after school. We would build snow forts in the backyard until our fingers felt like ice blocks. Moving to the touristy mountain town of Bison Creek from a scorching hot state like Alabama, naturally Patrick had a slight obsession with snow back then.

  "You need to get over him," Joy said. Joy is anything but joyous. In fact, spending more than a few hours with her would make anyone's blood boil. She attracts drama like flies to a honey stick. "Your little childhood crush is making you look like one of those zombie chicks from last year's Halloween parade. Essie, you're a thirty-five year old woman."

  "I'm thirty one," I corrected her. "And I would appreciate it if you round down instead of up."

  "Whatever." She gripped her clipboard tighter as she looked in Patrick's direction. "My point is that times have changed. You're the best fitness trainer in town, and you condition your hair now."

  "Thanks." I narrowed my eyes and acted as if she meant it as a compliment.

  "They all checked in last night, except for Patrick who is staying with his parents of course. Now go and congratulate them like a normal person." Joy tugged at her long-sleeved blouse that hid the tattoos on her forearm. It was tucked into a black pencil skirt she'd taken from my closet.

  "Who checked in?" I asked. "Congratulate who for what?"

  "You haven't figured it out by now?" She raised her eyebrows and looked me up and down. "I'm surprised. You notice everything about everyone."

  I glanced back at Patrick who was attempting to calm a very hysterical woman wearing leather leggings. The woman's face looked familiar. I had seen those duck-like lips and sunken cheeks a few times before on TV, but it hadn't occurred to me until now that she was Lila Clemton, the model turned actress. Her line of environmentally-friendly lipsticks had sold out in record breaking time when they'd hit the shelves. I actually bought one of her lip glosses solely because the color was called caramelized quinoa, and applying it to my lips made me laugh.

  My eyes darted to Joy's clipboard and sincere smile. She was Pinecliffe Mountain Resort's Assistant Event Coordinator in charge of all events at the moment since the Head Coordinator left to take a better paying position in Denver.

  "He's engaged, isn't he?" My stomach sank as soon as I said it.

  "Oh, he's more than that," she chuckled. "They're here for the biggest thing that has ever happened in this town. A secret celebrity wedding. If I nail this account, Essie, do you know what this means?"

  "More clients?" I guessed.

  "A promotion." Joy smiled. Only work could get her to smile like that. "I would be the Head Event Coordinator at the poshest ski resort in all the Rockies. Okay fine, more like the tenth poshest ski resort in all the Rockies. Do you have any idea how many more weddings we will book after this one surfaces in the tabloids?"

  "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you." I took a step back, thinking about slipping pass the stone fireplace with the waitressing staff. I didn't want to start my morning off with an uncomfortable blast from the past.

  The last time I saw Patrick Jaye, I was a completely different person. I was shy and I always wore my hair back in a ponytail because I hated the way it frizzed around my face. Back then, I spent most of my free time loitering near the slopes at Pinecliffe mountain, but not because I skied or snowboarded. Patrick did. Up until I graduated from high school I'd never even stood on a snowboard. It was difficult to imagine myself dodging baby evergreens and bending my knees just in time to land a jump when I was thirty pounds heavier.

  Patrick was the best snowboarder in the entire county. So when he medaled in the Winter X Games and received his first sponsorship deal at the age of sixteen, no one was surprised. He quickly became Mayor Millbreck's golden boy, and the whole town normally buzzed with excitement before he made one of his rare pass-throughs to see his parents.

  Not this time.

  "Come on." Joy pulled my arm, forcing me to walk with her to meet the happy couple. "Let him see that tight little--" Patrick's fiancée, in the middle of a rant, cut her off. Thankfully.

  "I can't believe she did this to me!" Lila jerked her hand away from Patrick just in time to almost slap me across the face. I leaned back at just the right moment.

  "Is everything okay?" Joy asked her. The tone of her voice changed. It was more calm and professional, and unlike the real Joy in every way.

  "No, it's not." Lila stamped her foot like an angry toddler. Up close she looked thinner than she appeared in magazines which already portrayed her as stick skinny. Her lips were plump and they stuck out like they were fluffy throw cushions separated by her tongue. "One of my bridesmaids backed out at the last second."

  "I am sorry to hear that." Joy nodded sympathetically.
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  "I can't have only three people in the wedding party besides Patrick and myself. My numbers are completely thrown off now. I need an even number or all the photos will look ridiculous." There was a Band-Aid on Lila's pinky finger, but no dried bloodstain on the bandage. She must have been using it to cover up a broken nail or chipped polish.

  "Well, maybe we can find someone to replace--"

  "No," Lila interrupted her, shaking her head. "The dresses have already been made, and I doubt I can find a girl in time who matches Bev's measurements." She eyed Joy and quickly looked away when her gaze wondered up to the tightly pinned bun on top of her head. Joy is taller than me, and her hips are narrow. Lila's eyes settled on me next. She tilted her head and glanced down at my trim waist, a product of years and years of core exercises and duct taping shut the cookie dough ice cream in my freezer.

  "How tall are you?" Lila quickly asked me.

  "I'm your average 5'5” last time I checked." My cheeks felt warm as I answered her because she wasn't the only one staring at my physique. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Patrick studying my face. He took a step closer so I could smell his cologne. Pine.

  "Turn around," Lila instructed.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Gwenessa?" Patrick finally stated. I turned and looked him in the eyes for the first time in ten years. My toes curled in my snow boots, and I was pretty sure that my forehead was turning cherry red. My face cringed slightly when he spoke my full name. I didn't start going by Essie until I lost thirty pounds, grew my hair out, and started training clients in the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort's private fitness studio.

  Gwenessa is the name my birth mother gave me, though I have never met her. I was adopted when I was a baby, and right after my new parents brought me home they found out they were having Joy. Joy and I aren't blood sisters, but most people in town couldn't tell the difference. Both of us have long, dark hair and a talent for attracting trouble.

  Well, Joy attracts the trouble.

  I'm the one who fixes it.

  "She goes by Essie now," Joy mentioned.

  "Whatever your name is," Lila butted in. She folded her arms, cell phone in hand. "Please, turn around so I can take a better look at you."

  I contemplated telling Lila that a request like that should be paired with an appointment at my studio or even a cash tip, but I observed the look on Joy's face. This wedding meant everything to her. Work was her life, and she would probably kill me if I badmouthed the bride when she was in desperate need of a substitute for her missing bridesmaid. I slowly turned around. Not because I wanted to make Lila happy, but because I wanted to prove to Patrick and to myself that I wasn't the girl I once was.

  "I don't know." Lila took a deep breath and scratched her porcelain face. Her makeup looked like it had been painted on permanently and not a hair on her head was out of place. Her hair was blonder than Patrick's and she fiddled with the buttons on her cell phone when she was nervous. "Can you dance? I mean, my bridesmaids have been taking lessons from professionals in L.A. for the past couple weeks, so. . . ."

  "She can dance," Patrick reassured her. "Can't you?" He gently touched the middle of my back, sending tingles down my spine. He grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers and pulled me towards the stone fireplace near the center of the great room. He twirled me around and as he did, memories came flooding back. Memories of the two of us and the few moments we did have together before I'd left for college. When Patrick officially left Bison Creek to pursue his career, I took a good look at myself and realized how weak I'd become.

  Patrick stopped noticing me because I brushed passed him at school like a frightened field mouse. I was afraid of saying something stupid, and dying later of embarrassment. But most of all, I was deathly scared of telling him how I felt about him. That I'd had feelings for him since middle school. Judging by the way he moved from girl to girl, starting with Big Boobs Bianca from gym class, I knew he didn't feel the same way. Avoiding him was my way of forcing myself to move on.

  "Patrick, what are you doing?" I asked him.

  "Come on. Can't an old friend ask for a favor?"

  I looked up into his deep hazel eyes and saw the old Patrick smiling back at me. The boy from down the street who once told me he could outrun a coyote any day. Patrick's dirty blond hair was wavy and combed back like the mountain air had styled it for him during his run down the slopes this morning.

  "Are we friends?" I replied. My voice sounded like it was quivering at first, but I quickly corrected myself.

  "I'm sorry I called you Gwenessa, but in all fairness you haven't kept in touch."

  "The door swings both ways, Bama." I took some pleasure in watching his wide smile curl when I called him the name he'd been branded with when he first moved to Bison Creek from a small town in Alabama. I was pretty sure by the shocked look on his face that no one had called him that in a very long time.

  "Okay." He chuckled, twirling me again. "I promise not to call you ‘Gwenessa’ if you promise not to call me ‘Bama.’”

  "Promise," I agreed. I followed Patrick's lead while he swayed from side to side, gradually dancing slower and slower, his attention focusing intently on the curves of my cheekbones.

  "I hope you don't mind me saying but--"

  "Enough of this, babe." Lila rolled her eyes. "We need to go over the wedding details, pronto." Her assistant, a short but sharply dressed man, brought her a glass of water. I smiled when I noticed that his choice of vessel was a wine glass. The kitchen staff would have handed him a traditional-style cup first. Her assistant either requested the wine glass or he'd rinsed out the residue of Lila's morning glass of white.

  "Lila isn't as over the top as she seems," Patrick whispered, letting go of my hand. "She obviously thinks you can fit into the dress. Please say you'll be in the wedding. I don't want her to feel too overwhelmed on our big day."

  "But I've never been a bridesmaid before and--"

  "Come on," he pleaded. He glanced over at his fiancée and beamed, holding up my hand. "Here you go, babe. She'll make the perfect bridesmaid."

  "What?" I murmured.

  "Just play along," he said through his teeth.

  "Fine," Lila agreed. She turned towards her assistant and resumed texting on her phone.

  "Great," Joy added, "I will print another itinerary." Joy tilted her head towards the exit while clenching her jaw, as if to tell me to leave before I did something stupid.

  "I guess I'll be seeing more of you, Essie. It'll be nice to have an old friend around." Patrick nodded, placing his hands in his pockets. It was the same nod he used to flash me from down the street when the two of us got home from school at the same time.

  "I guess so," I quietly replied.

  My eyes darted to the nearest exit as Lila exhaled loudly, her assistant reassuring her that everything was going according to plan. I quickly pushed open the door leading to the employee lounge and ran to change for my first training appointment. I had the feeling that I would be running low on sanity before the weekend was over, just like I was running low on cake-flavored protein powder.

  * * *

  "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 thro
ugh 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 running a half marathon in Denver. She wasn't looking for a full-time job that would take her away from the city, but I sold her on the idea by mentioning that a free ski pass would be part of her employee compensation package. Now, I manage the gym equipment and take care of high profile clients like Martha Millbreck. If you'd call her high profile.

  "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 running shoes. My mind had been on nothing else but the wedding since I'd changed into my black workout pants and fitted warm-up jacket with the resort's logo on it.

  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.