by A. Gardner
"So," I said. "Is everything okay?" Of course, it's not.
"Essie," he purposefully said loudly. "I know that you know about . . . Donna."
"Unfortunately…" I gulped. "I was there when Bebe found her. I'm so sorry, Patrick."
As Patrick nodded and glanced down at his snow boots, my mind jumped back to what Bebe had said about the two of them. My curiosity kicked in and I sat up straighter. My stomach settled down when I focused on the very important task I'd been given. I forced my feelings aside and reminded myself what could happen to this town if the ski resort had to close down.
"I think I'm still in shock," he muttered. "I hope you don't mind, but I didn't know who else to talk to. Lila is resting and my parents have turned in for the night."
"It's fine. I'm not expecting Joy for at least another few hours. That is if she's not sleeping at the resort again tonight."
"About that," he said quietly. "I spoke with Lila the second I got home and she still wants to get married, but . . ."
"Now you're not so sure?" I guessed.
"I just don't know if it's the right thing to do under the circumstances, but she's insisting." He looked up at me and for a brief few seconds our eyes connected. It took everything I had to keep my heart from bursting out my chest. "I hope you don't mind me barging in on you like this, but my parents love Lila. I think all they care about at the moment are their future grandkids."
"I don't blame them." I smiled. "My parents have given up on that dream. I don't date much." I blurted out that last part without thinking.
"I doubt that's true." He studied my face and grinned back. "I have been gone for far too long."
"What did Lila say when you talked about postponing the wedding?"
"She said we'd never get a chance like this again what with the paparazzi thinking we're on a plane to Italy for the weekend." He rubbed his eyes as if he hadn't slept in a while. "But to tell you the truth, it has been one thing after another since we got here. I'm starting to wonder if it's all a sign or something." He scooted a little closer to me. "Remember when we played over by the silver mine when we were kids and--"
"I know what you're going to say," I interrupted him.
Patrick used to snowboard with a piece of fabric tied around his ankle underneath his snowboarding boot. He said it was his lucky charm - a piece of the onesie he'd been wearing when he fell through the railing of his parent's second story balcony as a baby. Patrick is very superstitious.
"You do?"
"Yes, you always bring up your old cat Snowflake. And I always remind you that she died when we were nine."
"And I always remind you that I've seen her since then. She definitely wasn't dead that day at the mines when she jumped in front of us before we could wander inside."
"Cave-ins happen all the time," I responded. "Yeah we were lucky that day that we were too scared to go inside, but we shouldn't have been playing there in the first place."
"Anyway." He grinned as he moved on with his story. "I'm not saying that I saw Snowflake today, but the feeling was the same. When I thought about canceling the wedding, I felt . . . relieved. Almost like I had escaped a disastrous fate yet again."
"If that's the way you feel," I answered. "Then I think it's pretty clear what you should do. You don't need me to tell you."
Patrick chuckled as he eyed the mug in my hand. His gaze wandered from the tips of my fingers to the balls of my cheeks. The gesture made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. He was thinking about the old days. The way things used to be before he got famous and I transformed from Gwenessa the husky weirdo into Essie the fitness guru.
"It's just like old times, isn't it?"
"Not really," I answered.
"Oh come on." He leaned towards me, close enough for me to smell the cologne on his neck. "You don't remember what you said to me the night before I left for California?"
"Remind me."
The truth was that I had a whole lot on my mind that night. I couldn't decide if I should have told him how I felt about him or act like it was no big deal that he was moving away to become a professional athlete. I didn't remember exactly what I said to him that night. All I remembered was how I kept everything I wanted to say inside, and then cried about it afterwards until I gave myself a migraine. That was the last time I ever cried over him.
"You told me to keep doing what I do best," he answered. "That saying has always stuck with me. It's why I didn't give up the first time I tanked at the Winter X Games. You might not believe it, but you give excellent advice, Essie. It feels weird calling you Essie now."
"I should have switched to that name in high school," I replied, trying to take the conversation away from a night I didn't care to relive. "I don't know why I didn't think of it?"
"Well, it does suit you." He tilted his head. "Though there was nothing wrong with Gwenessa."
"Oh there were a lot of things wrong with Gwenessa," I joked.
The two of us laughed. Patrick inched a little closer until the edge of his thigh brushed against mine. I nervously looked down at our knees. They were closer together. I took a sip of my tea as I thought about what else I could've said to keep the conversation away from the past. I couldn’t think of a single thing.
"I hope I haven't made you too uncomfortable," he said quietly.
"Oh no." My eyes widened.
"I know things have changed a lot since we were kids. I mean, I assume you have a boyfriend or a fiancé or something. He isn't here, is he?" His eyes darted to the hallway leading towards the bedrooms. "Maybe I should get going."
"Patrick," I reassured him as he stood up. "There's no one. There was someone years ago, but that's over."
"Oh." He nodded.
"Yeah," I sighed. I stood up to walk him out. "By the way, I'm just curious. Did you know Donna well?"
"Donna?" He shrugged. "We've talked a few times, but I haven't known her for very long. Lila has tons of friends. Sometimes it's hard for me to keep track of who she has introduced me to. Franco usually gives me a brief overview so I don't forget."
"Do you remember the last time the two of you spoke?"
"Last night," he admitted. "She uh . . . well, she came and found me after she'd checked in. It was late and she'd already had too much to drink."
"I see," I calmly responded. "Is she another reason why you think you should call off your wedding?"
"Actually . . . yes." He watched me bite the corner of my lip. "It's not what you think though. I swear." He anxiously waited for me to nod or say I believed him, but a buzzing sound coming from the kitchen table startled me. It was my cell phone.
I raised my eyebrows and looked at Patrick. We both walked towards the kitchen table and stared curiously at my vibrating phone. The caller ID said it was Joy. I answered it immediately as Patrick folded his arms and waited for me to speak.
"Joy," I answered. "Is everything okay?"
"Essie." She sounded out of breath. "You have to come quick and take a look at this."
"What happened? Please tell me that you're fine."
"I'm okay. It's Lila I'm worried about." She paused for a minute to take a deep breath. "Someone broke into her room."
"Someone broke into Lila's room?" I repeated so Patrick could hear me.
"Yes . . . while she was in the shower."
CHAPTER FIVE
Bebe was standing next to Lila when I arrived at the Pinecliffe Mountain Resort with Patrick. Lila was staying in one of the top level suites that overlooked Pinecliffe Mountain. Even at night the brilliant white powder at the top of the mountain peaks could be seen in the moonlight. Though it was almost midnight, the hotel felt like it was wide awake and in a frenzy. Joy escorted us to Lila's suite and on the way there we passed a handful of busy maids, a few kitchen attendants who stayed late working on tomorrow's menu, and Joy's boss Mr. Kentworth, the owner of the hotel.
"Where have you been? Franco and Bebe are already here. I would've thought that my fiancé would be the fi
rst person to check up on me." Lila scolded Patrick the second he walked through the door. Her eyes looked at me suspiciously. Her skin was puffy like she'd been crying and her hair was damp. She was wearing silk pajamas with no bra. Lila was slender enough that she probably didn't need one, but I couldn't help but cringe every time she leaned forward or back and revealed a little too much of her chest.
"Now, Lila." Franco stepped out of her bathroom where he was splashing cold water on his face. He too was wearing his pajamas. "Relax, darling." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Breathe in and breathe out."
"I only just got in," Patrick replied calmly.
As I stepped inside Lila's suite, I glanced at the overturned coffee table in the sitting area, the ripped fabric on the furniture, and the tornado of clothes that looked like they blasted through her closet and across the entire room. Bebe stood up from the formal sitting area and began picking up the mess.
"Bebe," I shouted. The volume of my voice took her by surprise and she gasped.
"Good Lord, Essie." Bebe placed a hand on her heart. "I was only trying to help. You never know with these maid services sometimes." She briefly looked at Joy. "No offense, but every hotel has its quirks."
"Don't touch anything until I have had time to look around," I replied.
"You brought her to investigate?" Lila questioned my sister. "Where are the police? I demand that this be properly looked into."
"They are on their way," Joy said politely. The way she kept a smile on her face while she was continuously being insulted was impressive. She was just as good of an actress as Lila. Maybe even better.
"See if you can pull up some security camera footage," I whispered to Joy. She nodded and took a step towards the door.
"Why don't you uh . . .?” I looked at Patrick and tilted my head away from the vandalism in the main entrance to her room.
"Right." Patrick put his arm around Lila and led her towards the dining area of her suite. Lila sat down at the table while Patrick poured her a glass of water.
"I need something stronger than that, babe." She pushed the water glass aside and watched Patrick as he looked through the mini bar. "Bebe, mix me one of those cocktail things that you always make."
"Sure," she agreed.
I slowly examined Lila's suite starting with the entryway. Her room was in a small hallway with only four other suites. The entryway was paved with shiny wood floors and a side table that once had a vase of wildflowers in it. The vase was laying in pieces on the floor now. Past the entryway was the sitting area and the bathroom where Lila was supposedly showering when the mishap occurred.
I studied the furniture in the sitting area. The sofas had been ripped and stuffing was all over the floor. I leaned in and looked closely at the tears in the cushions. They were perfectly straight as if the knife had followed a dotted line. The stuffing was scattered all around the room. Some of it even reached as far as the bathroom and dining area. Places that were far from the couch itself. A clump of fuzz was even spread across the corner of a landscape painting hanging on the wall. It reminded me of putting up fake cobwebs for Halloween. Lila's clothes had been thrown from her closet and spread around the room. Unlike the mutilated couch cushions, her clothes hadn't been maimed or torn in any way.
Deeper into the suite was the bedroom. It was situated close to the windows overlooking the mountains. The mattress had been kicked off its frame and the headboard had been scratched and destroyed. The perpetrator definitely had a knife. I checked the windows and didn't find any signs that they had been tampered with. The locks on the front door also appeared to be intact. No scruffs or broken hinges.
"Lila," I said casually. "Are you sure you didn't see who did this? Not even the back of his head?"
"No," she said abruptly. "If I had then that person would be in jail right now." She rubbed her temples and gulped down Bebe's homemade cocktail. "I was in the shower and all of a sudden I heard banging. So I jumped out thinking that maybe one of the maids had come in for some reason. But when I saw the broken vase in the entryway, I locked myself in the bathroom. I'm not a complete idiot. I know how these break-ins can go."
"We never said you were," Bebe said gently. "Here, drink some water."
"Luckily, I had just been texting Franco before I got into the shower so my phone was with me in the bathroom," she continued. "I called him, but he'd heard the noises and was already on his way to check on me. By the time he got here, whoever it was had already gone."
"Did you hear voices or shouting?" I asked. "Did anyone try to force open the bathroom door?"
"No." She narrowed her eyes when she looked at me. "You're awfully nosey for a girl who works at the gym."
"Lila," Patrick spoke up.
"What? I didn't mean it in a rude way." She took a sip of the water that Bebe offered her. Franco wandered around the room looking panicked when his eyes fell on each wrinkled dress that would need to be washed and pressed all over again.
"I'm calling it," Franco stated, holding up his hands. "I have to clean up this mess or it is going to drive me crazy." He paced back and forth counting his steps as he did.
"Not until the police get here," Patrick instructed.
"I don't see how it matters," Lila said, gulping down a second drink of something strong. "I already know who did it. The same guy who keyed my car last summer and sent me a chicken head in the mail."
"Oh dear." Bebe covered her mouth with a look of disgust on her face.
"Some psycho fan who is obsessed with me." She waved at Bebe to mix her another drink.
"Now, Lila," Franco addressed her. "You don't know that it was that particular stalker. We get loads of threats a week."
"You do?" My eyes widened. I would be an obsessive paranoid basket case if I had received just one threat of any kind, let alone hundreds. No wonder she needed the pills.
"It comes with the fame," she admitted. "It's the bit that the magazines leave out."
"Franco is right," Bebe agreed. "It could have been anyone, but I'm sure they'll catch the guy since it's such a small town, right?" Bebe looked to me for reassurance.
"Of course," I replied.
"No," Lila disagreed. "The crazy bastard sent me a note before we left L.A. I didn't think he would figure out where we were going and that we were planning a secret wedding." She glanced out the window. "Of all places, how would he know to come here?"
Murray and his father, Sheriff Williams, knocked as they entered the room. Murray glanced around the room with his fingers looped casually in his belt loops. He nodded as his eyes darted from the overturned tables to the mutilated furniture.
"Yep," Murray observed. "Definitely a break in."
I rolled my eyes.
Murray's father stepped past him and approached Lila to shake her hand. Sheriff Ronald Williams was smarter than his son. He had gray hair and a matching gray mustache that looked like it had seen serious action once upon a time. He was a retired train engineer who smoked as much as he breathed. Though he did know more about the law than his son did, Sheriff Williams wasn't very light on his feet. His feet sounded like two bricks of concrete smacking against the pavement when he came walking. He wasn't a terribly large man, but he was sturdy.
"Sheriff Williams," he introduced himself. "Is anyone here hurt?"
"No, we're all fine, officers." Franco put aside his anxiety about Lila's clothes and paid close attention to the men in uniform.
"Then I would like to ask you all a few questions." The sheriff nodded at his son. Murray pulled out a voice recorder and got it ready to record interviews.
I took another turn around the suite and stopped when Joy poked her head through the door. Her jaw clenched when she spotted me. She nodded at the sheriff and quickly walked towards me holding up her clipboard.
"Bad news," she muttered, pretending to show me tomorrow's revised schedule. "Lila requested that the cameras on this floor and a bunch of others around the resort be turned off upon her arrival."
>
"What? Why?"
"Something about how she has stayed places before where the staff stole private footage and tried to sell it to the tabloids?" She thumbed through a few papers until she came to a copy of the signed and approved request. I skimmed the letter and squinted when I read the signature at the end.
"Why did Franco sign this?"
"He put in the request on Lila's behalf," she whispered. "What? You think he might have done this? That wouldn't make any sense."
"No forced entry. No damage done to the designer apparel, apart from being thrown on the floor. It is possible." I glanced up at Franco as he gave the police his statement. He placed his hands on his hips for a few seconds before waving them in the air as he described the state of the room when he arrived.
"He is strange though." She took a deep breath. I knew she was dying inside. "Mr. Kentworth is watching me like a hawk, Essie."
"Hang in there," I quietly replied. "Slowly but surely the truth will come out. It always does."
"I hope you're right or I won't be able to pay my share of the rent."
"It won't come to that," I muttered.
"Her bridesmaid was knocked off at the hotel spa and now her room has been vandalized," Joy said through her teeth. "She'll definitely call the whole thing off after this."
I looked at Lila and the way she tossed her head back when she drank. Her lips twisted like she hated the taste, but she kept drinking as if she was desperate to forget about what had happened. Patrick rubbed her shoulders and shook his head when she requested another. He looked up briefly and our eyes met.
I knew what Patrick was thinking.
Another sign from good ol' Snowflake.
CHAPTER SIX
I couldn't sleep at all when I got back to my apartment. Instead, I'd spent the rest of the night reading through the guest list that Joy printed off. It contained everyone who had checked into the hotel this weekend. I'd glanced in the parking lot before I drove off hoping to see the mysterious black BMW that Wade had mentioned, but I couldn't find it. Disappointed with myself, I'd fallen asleep with my head on the kitchen table.
