Snow is not the Time (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 4) Page 2

  “I bet it is,” Sarah said, shaking her head with a sigh. “People never cease to amaze me. So how did your ex-Killers friend know what had happened to Mickey?”

  Conrad started to reply, when suddenly the back door opened and Amanda burst into the kitchen, covered from head to toe in an icy sprinkling of snow. “Here I am,” she announced happily.

  Sarah gave Amanda a confused look as Amanda stomped snow from her feet and began to remove her white coat. “Here you are?” she repeated.

  “Sure.” Amanda smiled as she hung up her coat. “Our movie date, love, remember?”

  Conrad watched Amanda remove the pink ski cap from her head and then take off a pair of thick pink gloves. He chuckled. “Cute sweater.”

  Amanda glanced down at the oversized knitted pink sweater she was wearing and tapped the white bunny that was appliqued on the front. “On cold days like today, Mr. Bunny and I prefer warmth over style. And speaking of warmth, my it’s cozy in here. Did I... interrupt something?” Amanda teased, tousling her hair to shake out the icy crystals.

  “What? Ah—no…” Conrad said, standing up a touch too fast. He could feel Sarah’s eyes on him and that only increased the uncomfortable warmth of his face. “I... a friend of mine was killed. I came here to ask Sarah for her help.”

  Amanda immediately frowned. “How many people can die in one small town?” she said in an incredulous voice. “Please, can’t we just go back to fussing over some spilled tea like we were a couple of weeks ago?”

  “Not here, June Bug. No one was murdered in Snow Falls,” Sarah assured her. “Conrad’s friend was killed in Minnesota.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that,” Amanda said and then clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, Conrad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. I’m so sorry about your friend.”

  “I understand,” Conrad said. “I feel the same way.” He ran a hand over his face in sudden fatigue.

  Amanda walked over to the kitchen table, grabbed Sarah’s half-full mug and took a sip. “Forgot about our movie date, didn’t you, Los Angeles?”

  “Sorry,” Sarah winced. “I woke up early and started writing. I only took a little break to bake some muffins and then went back to work.”

  “Muffins?”

  Conrad tossed a thumb at the kitchen counter. “Blueberry muffins. And they’re well worth a skipped movie.”

  Amanda hurried over to the counter and tore into a muffin. “Delicious. Your coffee may be a bit strong, but your baking skills are amazing.”

  “Maybe I should open a bakery instead,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “If you two will excuse me, I think I’ll go change into something more appropriate.”

  “We’ll be here,” Amanda promised.

  Conrad watched her walk out of the kitchen. He found it impossible to look away from Sarah’s beauty. Amanda noticed the look in Conrad’s eyes. She sat down in Sarah’s chair and cleared her throat. Conrad looked at her, startled. “What?”

  “You know what,” Amanda grinned. “So, when is the wedding?”

  “What? No, no. Sarah and I are friends, Amanda,” Conrad protested.

  “Sure, you are.” Amanda smiled and sipped at her coffee. “You might be in denial, but even a blind person could see the way you two look at each other.”

  “You’re crazy,” Conrad exclaimed. He cautiously sat back down. “Believe it or not, I have other things on my mind besides romance. I have to fly to Minnesota and investigate my friend’s death. I was hoping Sarah might tag along with me... and you, as well. It seems like we three make a good team.”

  Amanda studied Conrad’s face, thinking. “My Jack came home for one week and then returned back to London. I’ll be alone for the next two weeks, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend those two weeks chasing after a bunch of alley cats crazier than my Aunt Jean was.”

  “I understand,” Conrad said. He knew how both Sarah and Amanda felt. Sarah was retired, and Amanda had her husband to think about. Who was he to drag them into a dangerous case of murder again?

  And, he thought, did Sarah not feel what he had felt during their last investigation? Was he imagining that electric charge that passed between them when they were on the trail of a murderer? It was more than just the thrill of the chase – unless it wasn’t.

  Amanda looked at Conrad. “Oh, don’t make that sad puppy dog face at me,” she smiled, rolling her eyes fondly.

  “What sad puppy dog face?”

  “That sad puppy dog face.” Amanda pointed at Conrad’s face and imitating his dejected, hangdog look.

  Conrad raised a hand to touch his face with an impish grin. “I wasn’t aware that I was a dog.”

  “Well, you are.” Amanda sighed. “So... is Sarah going to Minnesota with you?”

  “No.”

  “Well... I guess that leaves me,” Amanda said “I must be crazy. But how can I let you go alone with a face like that?”

  Conrad felt a smile on his lips. “Thanks, Amanda. You’re something else.”

  “I wish my husband knew that. It seems that taking care of his dad is more important than taking care of his wife, at the moment.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. When we had dinner at your cabin last week while Jack was here, the man couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  Amanda put her left hand under her chin and sighed. “Then why is he back in London?”

  “Because as a son, he has a certain duty toward his old man,” Conrad reminded her gently. “The heart may be torn, Amanda, but the heart never forgets who it loves.”

  “So now you’re a poet,” Amanda joked. “But seriously, thanks for cheering me up. Now, fill me in. What were you and Sarah talking about?”

  Conrad drew in a deep breath and went through the details. He finished with his friend Mickey being found dead in a motel room in Minnesota. “That’s all I have for now.”

  “I’m still in shock that you were a gang member,” Amanda said, shaking her head in amazement. “I could slap you silly. You silly bloke.”

  “My time with the Blades was a long time ago.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” Sarah said, walking into the kitchen.

  Amanda looked at Sarah and tutted, “Ladies and gentlemen, here we have a beautiful woman wearing a plain brown dress with her hair in a plain ponytail. Yes, Sarah Garland is ready to dazzle the world.”

  “This dress is warm,” Sarah protested.

  Amanda shifted her eyes meaningfully toward Conrad. She said in an undertone, “You have other dresses.”

  Flustered, Sarah smoothed her skirt. “This dress is fine for today,” she said. She poured herself another cup of coffee. “Conrad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Buy two extra plane tickets. Amanda and I are flying to Minnesota with you.” Sarah locked eyes with Amanda. “I know you, June Bug. By now you’ve agreed to team up with Conrad again.”

  “I sure did,” Amanda smiled impishly. “How else was I going to get you to follow me?”

  Conrad stood up from the kitchen table, clearing his throat nervously. His smile threatened to redden his face again, so he ducked his head. “I... uh, already booked our flight,” he explained with a sheepish smile, easing toward the back door. “Our plane leaves Anchorage at ten o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. You ladies had better pack. We’ll be staying in Minnesota for a week, maybe more.”

  Sarah propped her hands onto her hips. “So you knew I would agree to tag along?”

  “I hoped,” Conrad confessed, opening the back door. “I’ll be by early to pick you ladies up. Be ready.”

  Amanda watched Conrad hurry out the back door and close it behind him. “We’re crazy,” she told Sarah. “Our lives just returned to a peaceful state, and here we are chasing after danger again.”

  “In Minnesota, no less,” Sarah added, plopping down in the chair Conrad had just vacated. She couldn’t help but feel that behind her indignation at Conrad’s little ploy, she felt a thrill. “I have to get my book writt
en, June Bug. I’m way behind. But... the truth is... I have a little writer’s block.”

  “I know you do.”

  “How?” Sarah asked, confused.

  “Your eyes were really wandering when you had dinner with me and Jack last week. I could tell what you were thinking about,” Amanda explained. “But seriously, Los Angeles, who can blame you? Your mind must feel like mush right about now.”

  “I admit, my brain does feel like it’s been strapped into a straitjacket and thrown into a padded room.”

  “You need a rest,” Amanda pointed out. “Unfortunately, we’re two crazy ladies who seem to thrive on danger. So for now, strap into that straitjacket again because we have another case to solve.”

  “And you, of all people, seem excited about it,” Sarah added with a smile.

  “Well,” Amanda said in a strange voice, “I have to admit that after we dealt with Bradley and his loony gang, I realized that what we do is important... and a bit exciting. Bradley was attempting to release a virus that could have killed millions, and we stopped him. I don’t mean to sound insane, but... I was scared out of my wits, but now that we’re sitting here alive and I can review everything with a clear mind, well, the things we’ve been through together have been... thrilling.”

  “Dealing with a crazy model, a deranged mafia wise guy, and a deadly British agent was thrilling?”

  “Absolutely.” Amanda smiled and raised her coffee into the air. “Cheers, love.”

  “I must be out of my mind,” Sarah groaned good-naturedly as she raised her coffee mug into the air too. “Hey, did Conrad tell you that his friend who was murdered worked for McCallister?”

  “Yes.” Amanda took a sip of coffee. “McCallister is the second largest security firm in America with local and global offices,” she recited in a precise tone. “I have been informed, Los Angeles, and I’m up to date.”

  “And you’re not the least bit concerned that Jason McCallister’s people, the ones who probably killed Conrad’s friend, might decide to follow the same protocol regarding certain investigators who might get too close and uncover the truth?”

  “The thought did cross my mind,” Amanda admitted, “but we don’t really know if Mr. McCallister killed poor Mickey. All we know is that Mickey worked for McCallister as one of their numerous law blokes.”

  “The ball seems to be in McCallister’s court, though.” Sarah stood up. “Want another muffin?”

  “Please.”

  Sarah fetched two muffins and returned to the kitchen table. She handed one to Amanda and sat down. “Conrad said that the first attempt on his friend’s life took place in New York.”

  “Which,” Amanda said in a thoughtful voice, “ran the poor man out of town.”

  “But why Minnesota?” Sarah asked, nibbling on her muffin. “Why did this Mickey guy run to a small town in Minnesota?”

  “That’s what we have to investigate,” Amanda replied and took a large bite of her muffin. “Delicious, love. Your baking skills are amazing.”

  “I wish my coffee skills were just as amazing,” Sarah sighed. “At least Conrad likes my coffee.”

  “I bet he does,” Amanda grinned.

  “Don’t start,” Sarah begged. “Conrad and I are only friends. I’m not ready to accept an invitation to dinner, let alone entertain the idea of romance.”

  “I know, I know,” Amanda said warmly, “but please, love, don’t slam the door in Conrad’s face.”

  “Right now,” Sarah pointed out, “I’m more interested in working on my novel. You know being a writer is very important to me. I’m passionate about my work, and I love writing my stories.”

  “Your last story nearly cost you everything,” Amanda said in a worried voice. “Seriously, Los Angeles, why can’t you write about fluffy clouds and sunshine?”

  “Because,” Sarah countered quickly, “all I know is dark alleys and dark minds. Every writer writes about what they know. I spent years delving into the minds of killers in order to capture them. I explore my experiences... and transform them into stories.”

  “You’re a sick woman. You’re very good at changing the subject, don’t think I didn’t notice that, but you’re also sick,” Amanda grinned. She polished off her muffin. “But we’re all sick in one way or another. I, for instance, used pickle-green nail polish on my toes last week. How sick is that? And before you agree, let me just point out that I was in a mood, okay?”

  “You were sitting in your bedroom, angry at Jack, listening to your jazz records, eating chocolate and drinking fruit punch,” Sarah guessed and winked at her friend. “Did I hit a home run?”

  Amanda wrinkled her nose at Sarah. “Yes, Detective Garland, you have once again penetrated the mind of a very sick criminal and captured her most deranged character traits with your splendid mystery-solving skills.”

  “June Bug,” Sarah laughed, “it would take me many lifetimes to capture all of your character traits. I’m still aghast at how you eat pickles with marshmallows.”

  “My demented mind will never reveal the reason.” Amanda let out a spooky mad scientist laugh. “Now, please, go into the basement and fetch my second head. Two heads are better than one, after all.”

  “I wish I had two heads. Maybe an extra brain would have an idea to break through this writer’s block. Then I’d leave that one at home to write and send the second head to Minnesota.” Sarah knew if she stayed home she would only write and rewrite the same sentence over and over again, as she had been doing for most of the early morning. “By the way, it’s kinda early for a movie date, isn’t it?”

  Amanda grinned. “We didn’t have a movie date planned, love,” she confessed. “I was lonely and needed an excuse to come over. I knew you would think you forgot if I mentioned it.”

  Sarah stared at Amanda. Behind the grin she saw loneliness in her best friend’s eyes. “Honey, you can come over and stay with me anytime you want. You don’t need to make up an excuse.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that, I actually have my suitcase in my truck,” Amanda beamed. “I love my home, but it’s sad being there alone. I thought I would stay with you and do girly stuff until Jack returns home. Now it seems that we’re about to take off on another exciting case.” Amanda plopped her chin down onto her hands. “Can you believe Mr. New York actually fought in a gang?”

  Sarah leaned back in her chair. “June Bug,” she said, “at this point, anything is possible. Not only do I believe that Conrad was a member of the Back Alley Blades, but I believe that someone from his old neighborhood might have been involved in the killing of his friend Mickey.”

  Amanda nodded her head but remained quiet. Outside, a light snow began to fall.

  Chapter Two

  Sarah pulled back the dark green curtain and peered out into the wet, rainy parking lot. “I don’t know what’s worse... snow, or freezing cold rain,” she said to Amanda in a depressed voice.

  Amanda shrugged her shoulders and opened her light brown suitcase. “In London, you become best mates with cold rain. I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I like warm rain,” Sarah replied, still focused on the rainy parking lot. Its cracked paving was attached to the Snowflake Inn, a single-story motel with worn, green wooden siding. It held fifteen rundown rooms, with five rooms to a wing. The first wing ran parallel to the street while the second and third wings ran perpendicular. A large wooden snowflake sign stood above the motel lobby that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 1960s. Tall weeds poked out of banks of dirty, half-melted snow, and trash littered the parking lot. “How picturesque,” Sarah commented.

  “This is where Mickey bit the bullet,” Amanda reminded Sarah as she began to unpack. Glancing around the room, she grimaced at the sight of the worn, brown shag carpet, with numerous cigarette burns and mysterious stains. Her eyes fell on the two queen beds with their two miserable, ugly brown blankets. “I’m no spoiled princess, but this place is enough to make a person run to a shrink. The walls,” Amanda sai
d with a shudder, “are right out of a horror movie.”

  Sarah turned away from the window and looked at the badly stained walls. “The walls look like someone lost their lunch on them,” she said in a disgusted voice. “Amanda, I can’t sleep here. I’m going to get a room at a chain hotel out by the interstate.”

  Amanda stopped in the middle of unpacking a gray sweater. She shook her head in defeat. “Grab your suitcase, love,” she said and threw the sweater back into her own suitcase. “No need to tell me twice.”

  Sarah retrieved her suitcase, hurried to the door, and yanked it open, only to be greeted by Conrad. “Going someplace?” he asked. He held a black umbrella over his head.

  “Yes,” Sarah said firmly, “Amanda and I are going to get a decent room.”

  Conrad nodded with an apologetic smile. “I was thinking the same,” he confessed. “I won’t stand in your way,” Conrad continued, gesturing with a thumb to the depressing parking lot over his shoulder and the winding road back to the interstate.

  Sarah felt relief wash through her. She grabbed her own umbrella and fussed with her white coat collar with her free hand. “This motel ought to be condemned.”

  Amanda set down her suitcase and began to button up her pink coat. “I agree.”

  “Back in the late sixties, this motel was owned by a hippie who was into the ‘Peace and Love’ movement, which meant this whole place was a stomping ground for drug users and drunks.”

  “Kill your brain and destroy your liver... yeah, that’s far out, man,” Amanda said in a sour voice.

  “The owner looks like he never left the old days, when we checked in he still looked pretty ‘far out’,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “Conrad, I didn’t question Mr. Dean. I can’t say I want to go back into the front lobby and talk to him, either. The lobby smells of urine and cigarette smoke. Did you get anything out of him?”

  “Dean was paid to keep his mouth shut and he’s doing just that,” Conrad said in a calm tone. “You could toss the guy on the grill for weeks and all you would get out of him would be a request for a cigarette.”