The Snowman Killer Read online

  Amanda eased her eyes toward the kitchen door. “Say,” she said in a low whisper, “actually, some bloke walked in a minute ago and sat down. I thought I should come back here and tell you.”

  “You didn't recognize him?” Sarah asked in a curious voice. Her friend was not the type of person to let a face pass by. Amanda Funnel knew every person in Snow Falls, and every person knew her.

  Amanda shook her head no. “I'll pour myself a cup of coffee and finish up these cinnamon rolls. You’d better go play waitress.”

  Sarah wiped her hands on the white apron she was wearing. “I guess I’d better,” she agreed.

  Amanda took the apron off of Sarah. “I'll bring the coffee out when it's ready, too.”

  “What would I do without you?” Sarah asked Amanda in a warm voice.

  “Don't ask me to leave you a tip,” Amanda teased and nodded toward the kitchen door. “He's a handsome bloke,” she grinned.

  “Oh?” Sarah asked. She winked at Amanda. “Then let me check my hair and make-up.”

  “You're beautiful,” Amanda promised, “now move it.”

  Sarah smiled and walked through the kitchen door. She looked past the front counter and saw a man sitting at the table near the back right corner of the shop. Sarah continued smiling brightly as she approached the table. “Cold day and good coffee,” she said in a friendly voice. “What can I get for you?”

  The man looked up at Sarah. “Just come coffee,” he said in a preoccupied voice. “Better make it two. The mayor will be meeting me shortly.”

  “Mayor Dalton?” Sarah asked and then quickly backpedaled. “Of course, two coffees,” she said. As she walked away she glanced over her shoulder. The strange man was wearing a nice gray suit. His hair was jet-black and his face spoke of intelligence and self-control, reminding Sarah of someone with military background. It was obvious the man was not a local.

  “Well?” Amanda asked, still working on the cinnamon rolls.

  “Two coffees... one for the stranger and one for the mayor, who he's meeting here,” Sarah said in a strange voice.

  “Really?” Amanda sounded fascinated. “Now who could that old custard tart be meeting?”

  “I'm sure we'll find out soon enough,” Sarah answered and hurried to make two cups of coffee. “Wish me luck,” she said, now holding two brown coffee mugs in her hands.

  “Good luck.”

  Sarah left the kitchen and spotted Mayor Dalton walking through the front door. “Ah, Sarah,” he said in a pleased voice, “I'm glad you're here.”

  “Where else would I be?” Sarah asked in an amused voice. She liked Mayor Dalton. The man was in his late fifties, short, plump, and yes, bald. He had a delightful sense of humor and never a cruel word to say about anyone. Although Sarah noticed some people might have cruel words to say about the brown-and-green plaid suit the man was wearing.

  “Of course.” Mayor Dalton smiled and looked at the strange man. “Detective Conrad Spencer, I'm so glad you could make it.”

  “Detective?” Sarah asked, surprised.

  Mayor Dalton smiled, took the two coffee mugs from Sarah's hands, and asked her to sit down with him. Sarah did as asked. She felt the writer in her secretly begin to take notes. “Detective Spencer has come to us from New York,” Mayor Dalton explained, setting down the coffee mugs.

  “Really?” Sarah was intrigued. “Detective Spencer, why would you leave New York to move to Snow Falls?”

  “Why did you leave Los Angeles to move here? And please, call me Conrad,” the detective told Sarah in a voice that was neither friendly nor hostile. He picked up one of the coffee mugs and took a sip. “So this is the woman?”

  Mayor Dalton nodded his head, looking anxious. “Ms. Garland will be your go-to woman if you ever need her. Her years of experience in the field of law enforcement—”

  “What are you talking about?” Sarah interrupted.

  “I'm the new detective in town,” Conrad told Sarah. “Mayor Dalton insisted I meet you.”

  “Our police department is so small, Sarah,” Mayor Dalton explained nervously, “I thought it best to introduce Detective Spencer to you in case he might need—”

  Sarah couldn't help but laugh. “Mayor Dalton, I'm flattered, I really am. But honestly, the only thing Detective Spencer is going to need my help with is locating a good set of snow chains. Snow Falls isn't exactly a crime-consumed metropolis.”

  Conrad studied Sarah's beautiful face. “I didn't think meeting you would hurt my pride,” he told Sarah. “Your reputation is impressive. You've cracked some pretty tough cases back in Los Angeles.”

  “Detective,” Sarah said, standing up, “my days of being a Dick Tracy are over. Please, excuse me.”

  And with that, she vanished back into the kitchen. Insulted, Conrad excused himself and left the mayor sitting alone. “Oh dear,” Mayor Dalton said and began drinking his coffee.

  “Well?” Amanda asked anxiously.

  Sarah laughed. “It was nothing. I'll explain later. Right now, let's work on those cinnamon rolls. If we don't sell them, we can't go home.”

  “Good enough,” Amanda said without being pushy. She knew Sarah would spill the beans when the time was right.

  Chapter Three

  Later, after serving only four customers and selling only two cinnamon rolls, Sarah locked up her coffee shop and drove home just as the sun was beginning to set. Amanda carefully followed in her truck. When Sarah reached her cabin, she looked into her front yard and suddenly slammed on the brakes, nearly sliding off the road. There, standing in the middle of the front yard, stood a hideous snowman wearing a black leather jacket with a candy cane shoved in its mouth. Feeling her blood turn cold, Sarah froze, unable to take her eyes off the snowman.

  Amanda jumped from her truck and ran to Sarah. “What's wrong?” she asked, yanking the driver's side door open.

  Sarah couldn't answer. Her eyes were locked on the snowman. The darkening sky was bathing the snowman with eerie, dangerous shadows that made it seem somehow... alive. “Sarah... hello... hey, Los Angeles, speak to me!” Amanda said in a worried voice and began snapping her fingers in front of Sarah's face.

  “How?” Sarah whispered.

  “How what?” Amanda asked.

  Sarah lifted a shaky finger and pointed at the snowman as the icy winds reached through the opened driver's door and snatched at her face with cruel fingers. “That...”

  Amanda turned around and looked at the snowman. “The snowman?”

  Sarah nodded her head. “Amanda... I didn't build that snowman... I...”

  Amanda looked at Sarah and then refocused her attention back on the snowman. “What are you trying to tell me?” she asked worriedly.

  Sarah forced her eyes away from the gruesome snowman and looked up at Amanda. “I need to get inside. Hurry,” she said, “get back to your truck.”

  Amanda backed away from Sarah's Subaru. She watched Sarah back up and swing her vehicle into the driveway, get out, and make a mad dash toward her cabin. “Maybe it's the cold?” she said, confused, and got back into her truck. After parking behind the Subaru, she hurried into the cabin and found Sarah in her writing room. “Sarah?”

  Sarah was sitting at her desk, staring at the computer screen. The words “The weather outside is frightful” were written across the screen over and over and over. “No...” Sarah whispered as fear gripped her chest, “it can't be.”

  “What can't be?” Amanda asked, alarmed.

  Sarah didn't answer. Outside, the icy winds continued to howl and scream, and night slowly pulled the remaining light away into a cold darkness.

  As she sipped on a hot cup of coffee, Sarah struggled to control her fear. After checking her cabin for signs of illegal entry, she had found that the window to her writing room had been pried open and there were a trail of wet footprints around the writing desk; the rest of the cabin seemed untouched. “What is this all about?” Amanda asked. She was sitting at the kitchen table across from Sarah.


  “Amanda, can I confide in you a very close secret that no one can ever know?” Sarah asked.

  Amanda wrapped her hands around her warm cup of hot cocoa and glanced down at the Glock 19 sitting on the kitchen table in front of Sarah. “I do hate those nasty things.”

  “So do I, but without them, the criminals would have complete control,” Sarah replied.

  “True,” Amanda agreed. “Okay Los Angeles,” she said, taking a deep breath, “confide away. My ears are all yours.”

  Sarah braced herself. She truly felt that Amanda had become more than a friend—more like a sister, she told herself. And even though trust was an issue with her, she felt that trusting Amanda seemed right. “Are you aware of the 'The Snowman Killer from Frostworth' series?”

  “Los Angeles, I'm more of a 'The Happy Bunnies Take a Picnic' type woman. Now, Jack, that silly bloke, he’s the one who reads those awful murder mystery books.”

  “Has he read the series I just mentioned?” Sarah asked.

  Amanda frowned. “I'm afraid so,” she confessed. “Whoever Milly Stevens is, she's one woman that needs a good swift kick in the pants. Jack spends his time before bed reading her books instead of talking with me.”

  Sarah folded her hands together and touched her mouth. “June Bug... my friend... I'm Milly Stevens. I write the 'The Snowman Killer from Frostworth' series. Milly Stevens is my pen name.”

  Amanda couldn't believe her ears. “No way!” she exclaimed. “You're the mental custard that's been causing my Jack to ignore me?”

  Sarah winced and shrugged her shoulders. “Do you want to get me sized for a straightjacket now or wait until later?”

  Amanda leaned back in her chair. “You're serious aren't you? And—” she stopped talking as a cold chill gripped her spine. “Wait a minute... oh my goodness... the front cover of the book Jack is reading has—”

  “A hideous snowman wearing a leather jacket,” Sarah finished.

  Amanda's eyes grew large. “I just now remembered...”

  “Someone built that hideous snowman in my front yard, broke into my writing room, and left me a message on my computer,” Sarah explained in a calm but tense voice. “Amanda, someone is playing the part of the Frostworth Killer... and that someone knows that Milly Stevens is me.”

  Amanda looked toward the back door. A kitchen chair was jammed under the doorknob. “Have you got another gun?” she asked.

  Sarah reached down to her ankle and took a 9mm Luger from an ankle holster. She placed the gun down on the table and slid it across to Amanda. “Here you go.”

  “Sorry, Los Angeles, I might end up shooting my foot off,” Amanda explained. “I didn't really think you had another gun.”

  Sarah left the Luger alone. “Amanda, I worked as a detective in Los Angeles for ten years. I became a cop when I was twenty-two and made detective when I was twenty-seven. During that time, I investigated some horrible crimes and tangled with some pretty bad people. Whoever built that snowman is someone who wants to mess with me, for whatever reason. And whoever that person is obviously knows that I write under the name Milly Stevens.”

  “You should call the police,” Amanda said.

  Sarah bit down on her lower lip. Then, reluctantly, she shook her head no. “Let's face it, June Bug, our local police department consists of a Chief of Police whose gun is dustier than the Sahara Desert and a few Barney Fifes that sit around at the bakery eating donuts. I like Andrew, Tom, and Edwin, but those guys couldn't track down a wounded moose if it was sleeping in front of the courthouse.”

  Amanda shifted her eyes to the window over the kitchen sink. Sarah had pulled the blue curtain hanging over the window closed. “What do you suggest we do, then?” she asked. “Los Angeles, someone broke into your cabin. That nasty criminal might be out there in the dark right now, watching your cabin, for all we know.”

  “Not in this cold. The temperature is well below zero by now. Whoever the intruder is, no one can survive outside in these temperatures.”

  “Hey,” Amanda said in a quick, urgent voice, “you never told me about the mystery man at the coffee shop. Maybe it's him!”

  “Detective Conrad Spencer from New York is our mystery man,” Sarah explained. “He's the new brain in town that will be solving the case of whoever is knocking over the 'Moose Crossing' signs in town. But then again,” she added, “the man sure did seem to know who I was, now didn't he?”

  “He did?” Amanda asked, finally looking away from the kitchen window. “Spill the sauce, sister. I'm sitting here scared half out of my wits. This isn't no time to play 'Sherlock Holmes Loses His Memory' with me.”

  Sarah sipped on her coffee while organizing her thoughts. “He told me my reputation was impressive and that I had cracked some tough cases, which means he's looked into my background. But why?”

  “I may be a silly Brit who isn't accustomed to your way of thinking, but I know enough to ask you to give more detail than that, please,” Amanda pleaded with Sarah.

  “Detective Spencer looked into my background,” Sarah explained. “But why would he do that? And why would a detective from New York relocate to Snow Falls, Alaska in the first place?”

  “Maybe he likes the snow?” Amanda suggested and took a sip of her hot cocoa.

  “And maybe he likes building creepy snowmen?” Sarah suggested in turn.

  Amanda looked across the table at her friend. “A stranger arrives in town, some bloke who seems to know about you, and all of a sudden your home is broken into and a creepy snow sculpture is left for you on your front lawn... two plus two is four, Los Angeles. I'm calling Barney Fife.”

  “I suppose I do need to file a report,” Sarah agreed. “Sure, go ahead and call the police station.”

  Amanda reached across the table and patted Sarah's hand. “I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere. You and I are like custard and cream now, Los Angeles.”

  Sarah gave Amanda a grateful look. “I can see that, now. But,” she said, still worried, “sometimes being the friend of a woman who has enemies can be very dangerous.”

  Amanda wrinkled her nose. “The British people know and understand that loyalty to duty outweighs concern for personal safety.”

  Sarah smiled, proud to have such a supportive friend. “I’ll refill our hot cocoas, you call Barney Fife,” she said.

  Chapter Four

  An hour later, a tall, thin man in uniform walked into Sarah's kitchen wearing a thick black jacket and warm ski cap pulled down over his ears. He greeted Sarah and Amanda, removing the gray winter hat from his head, and closed the kitchen door. “Ladies, sorry I'm late. The roads are icy tonight, can't go over fifteen or twenty miles per hour out there.”

  Amanda couldn't help but grin. Andrew Mayfield looked as silly as he did cold. He reminded her of a clown she had seen at a circus once. Yet there was a sweetness to his face that was honest and sincere. Sure, the man wasn't a combat warrior, but at least he was someone whose heart was warm. “Coffee?” she asked.

  Andrew quickly nodded. “That would be great, thanks. And while we're at it, you’d better make a second cup for Detective Spencer. He was right behind me.”

  “Detective Spencer?” Sarah asked, alarmed.

  “Yep. He was with me at the station when your call came through,” Andrew explained. He became very solemn. “All of us guys aren't sure about him. He's a strange sort of type… neither black nor white... just gray and cold.”

  “I see,” Sarah said uneasily and glanced at Amanda. “Two cups of coffee, governor,” she said in a pitiful, nervous British accent.

  Amanda bit down on her lower lip and looked at the back door. “Sure, two cups of coffee, love,” she answered back.

  Andrew began twiddling with his hat. “Us guys, we're all wondering why a man like Detective Spencer would leave New York and move all the way up here to Alaska. He doesn't have any family in this part of the world... doesn't make a bit of sense to anyone.”

  “And the pay cut
from New York to Alaska must have been harsh, too,” Sarah added. “Any idea where the new detective is residing, Andrew?”

  “Over on Polar Bear Lane. He's rented a room from Old Lady Grizzly herself,” Andrew informed her. “What a pair, you know?”

  Sarah didn't immediately respond. Her mind was struggling to make sense of Conrad Spencer. “Okay, thanks, Andrew. Please, sit down.”

  Andrew shook his head no. “I'd rather stand and—” A hard knock on the back door silenced Andrew in mid-sentence. “It's him,” he whispered.

  Amanda walked to the kitchen table and set down two cups of coffee. Sarah had the Luger resting in her ankle holster and her Glock at the ready, hidden under her purse next to the coffee pot. Amanda watched as Sarah made her way over to the kitchen counter and inched her hand closer to her purse. “Open the door,” Sarah told Andrew in a controlled but worried voice.

  Andrew turned around and opened the back door. A dark figure appeared, stepped across the threshold and pushed the back door shut with his black snow boot. Amanda hurried over to Sarah and grabbed her hand in fright. The man standing before them was wearing a black ski mask and a thick, black coat... and he was carrying a gun. “Detective,” Andrew said in a polite voice, “thought you got lost there for a bit.”

  Conrad took his left hand and removed the ski mask from his face, revealing a human being rather than a monster. “Have you looked around?” he asked Andrew in a stern tone.

  “Not yet,” Andrew answered. “I wanted to wait for you.”

  “Good,” Conrad said and focused his attention on Sarah. “When did you notice the unlawful intrusion?” he asked.

  “Are you hunting for night owls?” Sarah asked instead, nodding her head at the gun Conrad was holding in his right hand.

  Conrad looked down at his gun. “You know our business,” he scolded Sarah. “The intruder who broke into your home could still be lurking around. On a night like this, we're the hunted and he is the hunter.”

  “Nobody is lurking around outside in this cold,” Andrew assured Conrad. “Detective Spencer, you're not a native of these parts, so let me put your mind at ease when I tell that that no man can survive in these temperatures.”