Camera Never Lies (5 page)

But where was Spencer? I might give the wrong impression if I asked after his whereabouts.

Rene pulled a bag of lozenges out of her purse. After unwrapping one and popping it into her mouth, she and Conrad loosely held hands on the table. He toyed with Rene’s pinky finger. She attempted conversation with Mom around the lozenge, but it was easy to see they were both preoccupied, and even I had to feign interest. Rene’s smile seemed limp, and the shadows beneath her eyes told where her thoughts were.

I’d resolved not to think about Spencer, but what choice did I have? It was either Spencer or Alec Gordon. Spencer’s absence screamed for my attention. I conjured up all sorts of imaginings: I’d spoken to Alec Gordon, a man from my past, who ended up dead. Spencer was also a man from my past, and, though I knew little about fast cars, my imagination shifted into high gear. I wished I’d never watched all those Alfred Hitchcock movies.

A deep sigh escaped. It felt as if I’d released all my depressing thoughts in one breath. Horrified, I recovered with a quick smile.

“What’s wrong?” Rene asked. She looked expectant, like she thought I’d made an important discovery. Was she pretending that she’d forgotten about the death?

“Nothing.” Still, thoughts of Alfred Hitchcock disturbed me, because he was another dead man. Where was Spencer?

The glass of water I’d been tapping fell over, due to one tap too hard, and soaked the tablecloth. I scooted back to avoid getting water on my favorite turquoise-colored slacks.

“Oh, Polly.” Mom’s expression teetered between agitation and concern as Rene and I worked to clear the mess.

I was thankful Mom didn’t bring up the obvious. She knew it was best not to unwrap what we’d neatly wrapped and topped with a bow in our agreement to discuss only the good. Though I didn’t remember if Mom had actually agreed.

A twentysomething waiter came to assist with extra napkins then took our drink orders. He smiled and thanked us before moving from the table, revealing Spencer standing behind him.

Spencer caught the waiter’s attention before he’d moved too far and gave his order. Tomato juice with lime. His tastes hadn’t changed much. I wondered if his tastes in women had. He pulled out the chair directly across from me and winked as he sat. Not wanting to appear like a giddy schoolgirl, I offered a weak smile.

But a giddy schoolgirl was exactly what I felt like. Ridiculous.

He unbuttoned his sports jacket, looking resplendent. I suppose that’s what first attracted me to him all those years ago. His gaze flicked from his menu to me. Mine flitted back to my own menu in search of my usual dish. But food wasn’t the only thing on my mind. The waiter brought our drinks and took our orders.

Spencer struck up a lively conversation. It had always been his nature to relax people. I was glad he noticed our dire need. Soon we were all mesmerized, lost in the hypnotic effect his voice created.

The conversation went from rare breeds of dogs to the race to claim the Arctic. I’d never realized the Arctic hadn’t been claimed yet. Apparently with the melting of the polar ice cap, the battle was on. Perhaps Spencer’s delay to dinner could be blamed on whatever magazine he’d browsed before coming down. In any event, he discussed countless topics to lighten the mood.

When the discussion turned to what each of us had been doing over the past few years, I excused myself and went to the ladies’ room. I didn’t want to share how drab my life had been after Brandon’s disappearance. Or how my thoughts had turned to Spencer and all the unanswered what-ifs of our long-ago relationship. What was I thinking? Spencer had his chance with me. He’d been unwilling to step into a more serious commitment. And I was too old to play those games now. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I exited the bathroom stall. “Like he’s even expressed an interest in me.” I thrust my hands under the running faucet then gave a brief smile to a woman washing her hands.

“Excuse me?” She eyed me curiously.

Had I said that out loud? “I’m sorry…it’s nothing.” I tried to hide my embarrassment and focused on lathering the soap on my hands. But I so wanted to stare at her. In that short glimpse, she’d caught my photographer’s eye.

In the mirror, I noticed her shrug. She turned her back to put her hands under the dryer. That was my chance. I continued to wash my hands and stared at her reflection. She looked like a grown-up version of Emily the Strange, at least what I imagined Emily the Strange would look like if she were a real person. In actuality, Emily the Strange was a brand name of preadolescent, gothic-themed products.

Facing the mirror, she inspected herself. Long black hair down to her midback, green eyes peered from beneath her bangs. Skulls and black cats decorated her clothes. Mom would have had a fit to see that her elegant earrings didn’t match her clothes.

I’d long forgotten not to stare when she flashed a you-must-be-crazy look at me then spun on her heel and left.

When I returned to the table, our food had arrived, and Spencer was deep in conversation with Conrad. I sat down to my usual Hawaiian chicken with rice pilaf. The rest of us were quiet, as though we were too busy eating the wonderful fare to talk. I noticed I wasn’t the only one pushing food around my plate. We’d hoped to enjoy our evening and forget about what had happened earlier this afternoon. As I gazed around the dining room at other diners, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were pushing food around on their plates as well. Had they heard the murderous news by now?

If so, how could they eat at such a time? For that matter, how could I? Everyone was going about their lives as if nothing had happened. A chilling thought hit me. Any one of the diners could be the murderer. We could be dining with a killer. The girl in the restroom could even be the killer. I dropped my fork.

Spencer drew his gaze from Conrad. “Polly, you look like you’ve seen a—”

Rene choked on her water and began coughing uncontrollably. Mom patted her on the back. Why did people always think that helped? Rene lifted her giant purse onto the table as though it held a twenty-pound weight. On the positive side, we could use it for a weapon if needed.

She began scrambling through the contents—a nervous habit not unlike Mom’s. She dumped everything onto the table, surprising us all. Rene had always carried a pharmacy in her purse, and tonight was no exception. Analgesics, nose spray, prescription bottles, and of course, the lozenges. The irony in light of her granola bar ideology wasn’t lost on me. She quickly snapped up her inhaler.

I recalled the first time I met Rene. I was thirteen and had just learned my parents were divorcing. I had escaped to a nearby park to cry out my frustration and sorrow, and Rene found me, sitting in a swing, weeping and gasping for breath. I couldn’t get enough air. Rene came to my aide, offering her inhaler—though I didn’t have asthma. Our similar reactions to the stresses of life brought us together, resulting in a lifelong friendship. I would have smiled at the memory, but Rene was suffering at the moment.

After two puffs, she held her breath.

I think we all did.

Finally Rene leaned back in her chair, releasing her breath. She blinked rapidly, put a broad smile on her face, and started cramming everything back into her purse. “So Polly, how’s the photography business? Bridget? That dog…what’s his name?” Of course, she wanted to divert the attention away from herself and, I suppose, onto me, because I’d been absent during their show-and-tell of the past.

“Yes, Polly. Let’s hear about that dog of yours. It’s Murphy, if I’m correct.” Spencer grinned, obviously lending his help to lighten the conversation.

My heart skipped. How would Spencer know about Murphy unless Rene had told him? Did that mean he’d asked about me? They’d been discussing me? “Yes, it’s Murphy. Remember… after the law? To tell you the truth, he’s been a problem lately. Growling and baring his little teeth—cantankerous as ever.” Though I knew the conversation would grow lighter if we talked about the weather, I enjoyed sharing about Murphy, and that embarrassed me. I rather missed him. For a moment, I pictured him dressed in a little black jacket with a bow tie, sitting at the table with us. The image brought a smile to my lips.

But Rene didn’t seem to share my vision. She dropped her fork. That made two fork droppings at the table tonight. Her eyes grew wide as she stared behind me. Spencer looked stricken. Earlier Conrad had given his roll to Spencer because he was on a starch-free diet—or “lifestyle”, as he called it—but now he snatched the roll back and began buttering it. He appeared to have every intention of eating it.

“Whatever is the matter?” Mom turned to see and gasped.

Other diners casually glanced in the same direction, but their reactions weren’t as severe. My back was to the door, so I scooted my chair enough to see what had caused the commotion.

Three park rangers stood in the restaurant entrance.

CHAPTER
FIVE

U
nfortunately the diners at my table were all guilty by reaction.

Except for one thing—of our little wedding party, only Mom and I were at the lodge when Alec was murdered. Spencer, Rene, and Conrad hadn’t yet arrived. It seemed odd that the appearance of rangers in the restaurant should have such a dramatic effect on Spencer and Conrad. Then again, their apprehension could be centered around Rene’s possible overreaction.

Dressed in typical national park garb, the rangers filed into the room, removed their ranger hats, and quietly dispersed among the various tables of diners. One of them—the tall, nice-looking one who had been first on the scene of the crime—strode directly to our table.

He addressed us with his hands behind his back. “Good evening. I’m sorry for interrupting your dinner. I’m Park Ranger Jennings.” A nod to the badge he wore confirmed this for us, as if we wouldn’t take his word.

“What’s this all about?” Spencer was quick to the point, though he’d earlier pinned that description on me.

Ranger Jennings looked at me, recognition registering on his face. “As some of you may already know, there’s been a death in the lodge. Preliminary findings suggest we’re dealing with a homicide. We’ve secured the crime scene and are gathering forensic evidence.”

Rene sucked in a breath, but I stared straight ahead, vaguely aware that everyone sat stiff, waiting to hear the rest.

Ranger Jennings paused, allowing us to absorb this information before he continued. “We’re asking all the guests to remain at the lodge until we’ve interviewed them.”

“But how long will that take? What if we need to leave? This is ridiculous.” Spencer tossed his napkin on the table and leaned back, cocking his head just so. A challenge, to be sure.

“If you need to leave, please check with us first.” Ranger Jennings continued, dismissing Spencer as though he’d not heard a word. “On the other hand, if we consider you a suspect… “ He didn’t bother to finish his statement. Instead, he eyeballed everyone at the table to make sure we understood, his gaze stopping to rest on Spencer.

“I’m not up on American law, but I do watch the American version of
CSI
—you can’t keep us without a reason.” Spencer arched his brow.

What was he doing? I kicked him under the table.

“Ouch.” Rene jumped in her seat and glared at me. I mouthed an apology.

Ranger Jennings’s smile flattened. I imagined that he wanted to do more than lose his smile. I had to admire him for keeping his composure. “The state police detectives will help us with the initial investigation until such time as we, the U.S. Park Service, have adequate resources in place. With scores of tourists to interview, we ask for your patience. And sir—” Ranger Jennings took his turn at arching his brow as he singled out Spencer “—we rely on tried-and-true methods of investigation.”

Oh great! What exactly did that mean? The old-fashioned way? I glanced at Mom, remembering our earlier conversation. “Pale” wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her.

Ranger Jennings pulled out a notepad and pen. “Can I get your name, sir?”

Spencer’s mouth dropped open. “Now wait just a minute—”

“Sir?”

Conrad nudged Spencer into compliance. I’d never seen him so cheeky, to put it in his words. Why wasn’t he cooperating? His attitude seemed to draw the ranger’s attention.

“Spencer Bradford.” Elbow on the table, he covered his mouth and looked away, clearly disgruntled.

“Thank you. Now, if I could get all of your names, this will help me keep tabs on who I’ve informed.”

My lungs ached. In fact, they’d deflated.

I feared that Spencer had crossed some sort of invisible line with the ranger—the one that authorities use to determine who they’ll ask nicely and who they’ll force into submission. I resolved to be on the compliant side—I needed all the help I could get. And so did Mom.

Ranger Jennings continued to glance at Spencer with the slightest of scowls while writing down each of our names. I hoped he noted he’d already interviewed me once. Queasiness threatened at the thought of Alec’s corpse. I looked down at my plate and wondered if the ranger planned to reimburse us for the dinner he’d spoiled.