Camera Never Lies (12 page)

After giving the waiter my order, I gazed through the lens of my camera and pulled out to a wide angle. I then positioned it on the table, giving me the ability to photograph Emily without holding the camera to my face. With the sophisticated photography tools available today, I could zoom in for an even closer look later, using software.

She sat alone, sipping from a disposable cup, which led me to believe she’d purchased her drink to go. Maybe she was waiting for someone. I wished I’d thought to notice at dinner last night who she was sitting with.

A commotion to my left drew my attention. Spencer disentangled himself from a chair he’d fallen over. As he stood, he placed his hand on a table, knocking someone’s teacup off. I cringed at the sight and the awful noise. The only thing worse than a teacup shattering is a fingernail across a chalkboard. I couldn’t remember Spencer ever being so clumsy.

He made his way toward me. So much for clandestine sleuthing. Emily couldn’t have missed the racket. Certain that she’d spotted me, I willed myself to ignore her glare, pretending I hadn’t seen her.

“Polly.” Spencer panted like he’d been running. “I’ve been worried about you. Where’ve you been?”

“Shh. Sit down and relax. You realize the last time you were here you created a scene, too.” With his grand entrance, all eyes were on us. So far, the Terrace Café seemed to act as a studio, producing melodramatic miniscenes.

“Correction. The last time I was here, I was waiting on you.”

Ouch. I sucked in air. “Sorry about that.” I glanced around to see if anyone was looking. “Let’s not draw any more attention to ourselves.”

“I agree. How about we discuss something resembling a return to normalcy. That is, after you explain where you’ve been.” He narrowed his eyes.

Such beautiful blue eyes. I didn’t miss the sheer relief I saw there, and it pleased me. I smiled in response. “I’m—”

“A delightful sight, that.” His eyes softened and crinkled at the corners.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your smile.”

I sighed. I couldn’t decide if it was in satisfaction or despair. The waiter brought my pink lemonade then took Spencer’s order. I’d lost my appetite and wondered about his order of tea but assumed he’d eaten while waiting on me earlier. The reprieve allowed me to collect myself after his obvious flirtation. Maybe later I’d explore what I had to admit was a deep-seated hope of reuniting with Spencer. I was sure wisdom and experience would caution me to let go of that hope.

I glanced in Emily’s direction. She’d left her table. “I’m sorry about keeping you, but I was delayed when Mom called.”

George warned me against sleuthing. I wondered if sharing the additional information I’d gathered would create concern in Spencer. Would he try to stop me as well?

Spencer gave a courteous nod at the waiter who brought his hot tea with milk. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could drink hot tea in the middle of a warm day like this, even at eight thousand feet. But British tradition wasn’t to be trifled with.

“How’s your mum? What did the police say?”

I tried to remain calm. Getting upset wouldn’t help me find the real killer. “Thanks for asking. She’s beyond stressed right now. She told them everything about her involvement with Alec and his scam, why she’d said she could kill him.”

Spencer looked thoughtful then shook his head. “Say, Polly, after this is over—the investigation and the wedding—I’d love for you to come see my parents’ new estate.”

My heart rate increased. I didn’t want him to see any visible signs of my reaction, such as the pulsing at the hollow of my throat, so I stared at him over the edge of my glass, taking much too long of a drink. Why had he brought this up now?

He leaned closer and spoke in a soft voice. “We were supposed to talk about ordinary things, remember?”

I set my glass down and wiped at the condensation. “Reading my mind again?”

He chuckled. “I suppose I am.” His gaze held mine for what seemed like an eternity. If he could read my mind, did he know that I harbored hope for us? Why couldn’t I read his in return?

I snatched up my camera, thinking to catch his expression on film so that I could apply my ability to read emotions in photographs to him. Sliding my chair from the table a few inches, I leaned back and focused the lens on the trees behind him, keeping his face in the picture while I took a few snapshots.

“Polly, do you have to do that while we’re talking?”

I lowered my camera to look at him. “I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

“It doesn’t, usually. But right now I’d like to have your full attention.” His blue-eyed gaze sent a warm sensation through me.

I liked the way he’d said that. “I’m listening.”

“My parents bought a historic castle here in the states. Did you know that?”

The news surprised me. “Rene hadn’t mentioned anything to me.” Come to think of it, Rene hadn’t mentioned Spencer in years. “Why did they buy it?”

“It’s an old castle. The original owner moved it over, stone by stone.”

“Aha. They wouldn’t want to purchase anything that wasn’t British, would they?” I had long expected that one of the reasons Spencer remained noncommittal to me was his parents. They were British snobs and never liked me, despite that at one time I’d maintained dual citizenship.

“Now, Polly. Be nice. I thought with your new interest in photographing historic lodges, you’d find it intriguing.”

A small laugh escaped me. “My, you’re quite observant. I admit I’m a bit charmed by it all.” But if I visited Spencer at his parents’ estate, I’d risk exposing myself to their ridicule all over again. I’d risk exposing my heart to Spencer, which I couldn’t do until I was certain of his intentions. I couldn’t allow him to toy with my emotions. Why had he invited me?

I turned to thoughts of historic lodges and took some snapshots of the lodge, focusing on the second floor, the room next to where I stayed in the good old days before the murder.

As I considered whether or not I wanted to visit Spencer’s parents’ estate, I noticed movement in the window of the room where Alec was murdered. Someone peeked through the curtain. I zoomed in to see if I recognized one of the rangers or detectives, but I couldn’t tell.

After taking a few more snapshots, I loaded my camera into the case. Though my mind now spun with thoughts regarding Alec’s murder, I hadn’t forgotten Spencer’s invitation.

Apparently he hadn’t either, because he had the expectant look of someone waiting patiently for a response as he studied me.

I inclined my head and peered at him, uncertain how he would take what I had to say. “I’m not sure it would be a good idea.”

The lines around his eyes smoothed out as his smile faded. “Why not? Why isn’t it a good idea?”

I couldn’t bring myself to commit to something I might regret later. Instead of answering, I said, “Come on, Spencer. We’ve got work to do.”

He sighed. I wasn’t sure if he was disappointed because we were back to sleuthing or because I hadn’t responded favorably to his invitation. Even without my camera I could see a deep sadness and—had I imagined it because I wanted to see it?—longing. Part of me wished I could dispense with all of the misery surrounding matters of the heart and rush into his arms.

But for the moment, one thing stopped me.

Alec Gordon’s murder.

Spencer joined me in a small, secluded alcove furnished with chairs, a desk, and a small table on the ground floor of the lodge. He thought it would provide enough privacy for us to discuss what we’d discovered thus far about the murder. I’d told him about seeing someone at the window of Alec’s room, and we both agreed looking at the snapshots I’d taken was imperative. Though it was only early afternoon, our failed attempts to meet over the last few hours created a greater sense of urgency.

I’d retrieved my laptop from my room and opened it on the desk. “Now that we have some privacy, I’m going to load the photos. Why don’t you tell me if you’ve discovered anything important while we wait.”

He pulled up a chair next to me. “Before I forget, I ran into Rene and Conrad while looking for you.” He placed strong emphasis on the last three words.

“I hope you didn’t tell them anything about our plans to discover who killed Alec Gordon.”

He threw his head back and scoffed. “Not a word. They didn’t ask, so I didn’t tell. They appeared to be in soon-to-be-married heaven.”

I wanted to ask him why he’d never married, but that would be a serious detour. I selected the image I wanted to view. “See that? Someone’s looking through the curtains.”

Spencer shook his head, frowning. “So?”

“Uh, that’s the room where Alec was murdered.”

“Yes. Well, it’s probably someone investigating the crime. They still have the place blocked off. Yellow tape and that sort of thing.”

Why had it caught my attention? “Something about the way they’re looking through the curtains seems…off.” I enlarged and enhanced until I could see who it was.

I gasped. “Spencer, it’s the woman who discovered the body. The housekeeper.”

“I see her.” He stood and held his chin. “She couldn’t be cleaning, could she?”

“Well there’s one way to find out. We can ask her. Or we can go to the room first to see if the yellow tape—whatever they call it—is gone.” Had they found the killer? Was the investigation over? How would we know? I moved to close my laptop.

“Wait.”

When he didn’t continue, I turned my head to look at him.

“Tell me exactly how it happened yesterday…when you saw his body.”

I’d not told anyone about what I’d experienced. Sure, I’d told the ranger about what I’d seen in the closet, but they’d not questioned me further yet. How much should I tell them? Was my past relationship with Alec relevant? I suppose if they asked me if I knew Alec before, I’d have to tell them we’d gone to school together. Spencer’s request brought on a slew of unpleasant thoughts and images. But rehashing those now wouldn’t get me anywhere.

“Polly?” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “You all right?”

I swept my hand slowly down my face, but I couldn’t wipe the memories from my mind. Spencer sat next to me once again and took my hand—I assumed for a show of support—though I had the strong sense that he wanted to hold me.

After sharing every detail I could remember, I realized it wasn’t much at all.

“Polly, you mentioned the horror of it all. But one thing you didn’t mention strikes me as odd.”

I frowned. “What’s that?”

Spencer looked at my camera then back at me. “If I know anything about you, I know that you reflexively take pictures under pressure. It’s one of the things I…” He trailed off but let his eyes remain on me.

I stared at him, waiting for the rest of the sentence. My better judgment told me not to finish it, but when had I ever listened to my better judgment? Had the rest of the sentence been…
love about you?
Suddenly my throat became parched.

Still, just the word “love” didn’t offer much hope. Love could be such a generic term in the English language. People love their houses, their cars, their clothes.…

“Have you looked at them?” he asked, breaking the spell.

“At what?”

“The pictures—the ones you took of Alec’s body.”

My mind drew a complete blank at his statement. “No, I… I’m afraid I haven’t.” I’d not wanted to see them earlier when I’d searched for Emily and found George scowling.

Surprise registered that the ranger hadn’t come immediately after me for my photos, if for no other reason. Maybe due to the horror of the event, his subconscious had blocked out the memory that I’d been taking photographs of the body. One could wish. I couldn’t remember if he was in the room or not during my snapshot frenzy. It all seemed a blur. Perhaps shock did that to a person.

I scanned through the images, searching. Dread engulfed me. Would seeing Alec’s pictures make me relive the moment? “I don’t know if I can look.”

“Then let me do it.”

I moved from the seat, feeling like I was in a daze and wishing I had, in fact, deleted the crime scene pictures. Leaning against the wall next to the desk where I could face Spencer, I watched his expression contort, his frown deepen.

“Oh, Polly. I’m sorry you had to see this.” He looked up at me, compassion in his eyes. “I didn’t realize how awful it must have been for you.” His gaze moved back to the laptop screen.

I studied his eyes, imagining I could see the reflection of the photos there. “I can’t take this anymore. I’ve got to see them, too.”

Before he could stop me, I’d rushed around the desk. By the time I could see the screen, he’d managed to bring up the housekeeper’s face rather than Alec’s body.

“Question. Had she been cleaning the room and discovered the body? Or is there more to it?” he asked.

I studied her face. “I know it sounds crazy. But when I see faces in photos I’ve taken, I can read their emotions. Of course, there’s no way to know how accurate my methods are.”

“And what do you read in her expression?”

“She looks completely distraught.”

“And I agree, though I claim no gift.” He glanced at me, offering a smile. “Here, you sit now.”