Camera Never Lies (21 page)

“But it’s crazy that I would walk to your room without waking up.”

“I can’t argue with you there. I’m getting dressed, then we’re going to move you in with me. And we’re getting rid of those sleeping pills, do you understand me?”

“But how am I going to make it—”

“I’m brooking no argument on this. Sleepwalking like you were last night, that could be dangerous.”

Mom slumped onto the edge of the bed and bit her nail. I hadn’t seen her do that before, but perhaps she did it in lieu of a cigarette, given her renewed interest in smoking. I hoped she would continue to bite her nails if it meant she wouldn’t smoke. I wasn’t sure how I could tolerate it in my room.

“Polly.” She gasped my name like she’d just watched me die. “You don’t think—”

“Stop. Don’t even go there. You’re not a murderer, even in your sleep.”
Please, no, God
.

“Well, that does explain one thing.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

“All those Jesus, Mary, and Joseph dolls I purchased from that infomercial.”

Any other time, that news would have made me laugh, especially if it weren’t so scary that one little pill could put a person out of control of their faculties. But considering a murder had been committed and Mom had said she wanted to kill the guy, the church bell of alarm clanged in my head.

I phoned the concierge to tell them we planned to move into one room. Then I looked at Mom in her nightgown and robe. “You’ll have to wear something of mine unless you want to go down like that to get your key. They won’t give me the key to your room.”

“Oh all right. Mind if I shower first?”

“Go right ahead. But please hurry.” I had the distinct feeling that the answer to Alec’s murder was within my grasp, hidden somewhere in the few clues we’d gathered. If I put the pieces on the table, maybe I could fit them together.

The phone rang. Well, I knew it wasn’t Mom. Thoughts of Spencer made my stomach flutter inside. I wondered why he’d waited so late to call. “Hello?”

“Polly. This is Bridget.”

Getting a call from my assistant at my portrait studio was the last thing I expected. “Bridget. Hi, how are you?” I tried to keep the frustration and impatience from my voice. After all, I had left her in charge of my business.

“Oh, I’m fine. It’s that dog of yours that’s the problem.”

Murphy
. “Surely you can tolerate him for a few more days. If not, just put him with boarding. He’ll live.” I cringed as I said those hateful words, but I couldn’t take on another problem. Not today.

“You don’t understand,” she said.

“Well, then, why don’t you explain?” This was Bridget’s way of talking, and at any other time, I would be amused.

“He’s gone. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Oh no
. “Are you serious?”

“Of course. I just thought you should know.”

“Um…have you looked for him?” I wished I could rush home. I didn’t feel I could trust anyone else to make a thorough search for him.

“Of course I have.”

“Where? Tell me where you’ve looked. I’m sorry, Bridget, I just need for you to find him. He’s my companion, ya know?” I thought of all the evenings I’d spent, watching movies and sharing popcorn with Murphy.

“Trust me, I’ve looked everywhere.”

I rubbed my temple. Where could he be? “I can’t come back until the wedding is over. Call me if you find him, okay?” I’d almost mentioned the murder investigation, but I didn’t feel like explaining that to Bridget, who would bug me until I spilled all the details.

After I hung up, Mom came out of the bathroom after her quick shower. Despite oversleeping, I took my turn—and my time—trying to wash away the exhaustion of the last few days and the news of Murphy’s disappearance.

“Lord, You promise never to give us more than we can handle. I’m absolutely positive that I can’t handle one more thing. My cup runneth over with all manner of bad things. In fact, it’s teetering on the edge of a table. One more thing and I’m sure it’ll tip and fall to the floor, dashed to smithereens.”

After Brandon disappeared, I’d tried to learn how to give my burdens to the Lord. I realized that I had forgotten to do that this weekend. My problems were more than the loss of Brandon. I did what I could to empty my heart to God.

Once I finished showering, I wiped at the steamy mirror then toweled my hair dry. I felt drained but in a good way—I was completely empty of the burdensome feelings.

But I wondered if that meant I needed to be ready for more.…

Mom knocked on the door.
Here we go again
.

“Polly, you in there?”

“Where else would I be?” Surely she didn’t think I’d gone down the drain.

“It’s Bridget. She wants to talk to you.”

I hadn’t meant the sarcastic tone before and made sure to correct it. “Okay, give me a sec.” Pulling sweats over my still damp body proved to be a challenge. Steam joined me as I exited the bathroom.

I grabbed the phone. “Bridget, what’s the news?”

“I found him! Polly, I found him.”

I closed my eyes, allowing myself complete peace with the news. “Where was he?”

“The little dickens. You’re not going to believe this. He was in the prop room in a box of costumes. You know the ones you keep for special photo shoots.”

“Oh, I’m so glad! You have no idea.”

“He’s so cute. I took some pictures. I’ll e-mail them to you. He’d somehow managed to come out of the box with a hat on his head, almost like that TV dog—”

“Wishbone.” While keeping Murphy for Mom, I learned quickly enough that the breed was nothing at all like the television version of the dog. “Thanks, Bridget, for holding down the fort. Just a couple more days, okay?”

“Sure thing, Polly.”

I hung up and sat on the bed, feeling exuberant as I pictured Murphy adorned in a disguise. That’s when two pieces of the who-killed-Alec-Gordon puzzle in my head slid together.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

T
he fact that Murphy helped me decipher a clue to Alec’s murder completely debunked my earlier theory about him causing everything to go wrong. I almost regretted that he’d been named Murphy.

Given Mom’s propensity to wear the theme-of-the-day clothing, I developed an eye for particular everyday fashion outrages. And Emily was an eyesore. Her dark look had drawn attention away from the disparity in her attire—a costume I now believed was a disguise.

“Okay, Mom, something’s come up. I’m going to need you to tag along with me today.”

“What? You know I can’t do that. You’re young and energetic. Me? I haven’t slept much, remember?”

I quirked a brow. That was a hard call. On the one hand, she’d been asleep while traipsing around the lodge. On the other hand, her body hadn’t gotten any rest.

“Which is exactly why you can either tag along or hand over those sleeping pills. You are not to take another one. That’s the only way I’ll agree for you to be alone.”

Mom huffed and paced. “I don’t know. I think I might be addicted. You better let me keep them for now.”

“There’s always that possibility. Tell you what. Why don’t you at least try to come with me for a while? You’ve been cooped up too long as it is.”

“But that’s because I haven’t felt well.”

“And exactly why you need to get out and get some fresh air. That will help you feel better.”

“All right, but first I need to get into something that matches.”

“Good, and then we’ll pack your things so you can move in with me.”

Mom frowned, but she didn’t argue. She probably knew it was for the best, too, considering the scary possibility that she’d done something heinous like commit murder.

After Mom retrieved another key from the registration desk, I escorted her to her room. She turned over her sleeping pills. I promised we’d address addiction problems later, and she promised to dress and pack her things. I’d come back for her within the hour.

I had to find Spencer to discuss what I’d worked out regarding Emily. Reasons why he hadn’t called this morning worked their way into my heart like a painful sliver. After kissing me, had he decided we were going too fast? That he still wasn’t ready to commit?

I found him all right, sitting at a table with the blond receptionist. Fury almost overshadowed my hurt. I reminded myself of his kiss—that I believed it genuine.

Spencer saw me as I strolled up to the table. “Polly!” He stood, grabbing his chair before it toppled over. “This is Amber. You remember her, don’t you?”

I nodded and smiled, afraid to say anything.

Her smile produced a brilliant white set of perfectly straight teeth. “Number 205. Well, I’d better get going. It’s almost time for my shift.” She nodded at me and left.

“Have a seat. I’d hoped to see you earlier this morning. But I hope you got some rest.” Spencer pulled out a chair for me.

If only he knew the sort of night I’d had. “You could have called.”

“I kept you up late last night. You looked exhausted, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I toyed with the unused fork. “What’s-her-name didn’t eat with you?”

“She saw me and sat down to chat for a minute.” Spencer reached across the table and grabbed my hand, stopping the clinking noise I was making with the fork against the plate. “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in her in the least.”

A waiter approached and asked what I’d like for breakfast. “Juice, please.”

Rubbing his chin, Spencer gave me a thoughtful look. “You’re not hungry?”

Considering I’d tucked Mom in her room to pack, I couldn’t eat without her, could I? “Well, maybe just a slice of toast. You haven’t heard about my night yet.” The waiter promptly returned with juice and toast. I explained everything that had happened around crunching on the toast and drinking two glasses of juice. “So, after I pictured Murphy in a disguise, that’s when I realized that Emily—”

“Raquel,” Spencer corrected.

“Whatever. I can’t think of her as anyone else. Now if you’ll allow me to get back to my story.”

“As you wish.”

“That’s when I realized that every time I’d seen her, she was completely decked out in her scary dark clothes, but she wore earrings that didn’t match and shoes she wasn’t used to walking in. I’m talking emerald-cut diamonds. I suspect she’s not who she wants us to think she is.”

“Hmm. You may be onto something there.”

“I know I am. She’s wearing expensive jewelry, and she has a safe-deposit box, so she must have more. George said Alec took something that fell out of Emily’s bag, and Hillary said Alec had shown her a large diamond ring that she claims is gone. So now all we need is to find Emily.”

“Well, I’ve got her room number if that helps.”

“You do? How’d you’d get it and why?”

“I needed to make haste while I had Amber’s ear. Actually, the girl has a photographic memory, and she talks about people by their room numbers, not their names. She called Raquel… er…Emily, as you call her, Room 422.”

“You’re kidding.” I set my glass of orange juice down. “So that explains her reference to my room number.”

“Yes. I’ve suggested she avoid that; otherwise, she won’t last much longer at this job.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Let me ask you something. Will you agree to go to the authorities as soon as we have what we need?”

“Yes. But I want to know who the killer is so there’s no doubt, no bungling, no finger-pointing. If you-know-who”— I glanced around to make sure no one was listening,—”committed the murder, I don’t want him to put someone else away.” As things stood right now, Ranger Jennings could lay the guilt on his wife, Hillary—which I doubted he would do—Mom, or maybe Emily, who was hiding something. I needed to find out more about her.

As for me, I wasn’t sure the authorities had lost interest in me yet, but I wondered why Ranger Jennings hadn’t talked to me about finding his wife in my closet. With so much else going on, however, there wasn’t much point in worrying about that until it happened.

After we paid the bill at the café, we headed to Emily’s room, hoping she hadn’t already checked out or left for the day. The police could have finished questioning her, giving her permission to leave. As we approached her room, a series of thuds issued from inside, then the door opened. Emily worked to keep it that way with her foot, wrestling with two bags over her shoulders, a suitcase, and a garment bag on wheels.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw us. “What do you want?”

I looked at Spencer. This wouldn’t be easy. “Um…we need to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say.” She shut the door behind her. “Now, get out of my way.”

How was I going to keep her from leaving without causing a scene? Might as well get to the point. “I think you killed Alec Gordon.”

She pushed past me. “You’re crazy, lady.”

“All I’m asking is for a few minutes of your time. Or I’ll call the rangers right now.”

“If you thought I’d killed him and could prove it, you would have already told them.” She kept walking.

“I know you’re hiding from someone.”

She dropped her bags and turned to face me, her gaze darting up and down the hall. “Oh, all right. Let’s go back into my room. But I can’t talk long.”