Snow Ordinary Family Read online

“Shoot,” Nate said and leaned against the door jam tiredly.

  “How long will the plows be keeping the main road clear?”

  “Old Steve will plow the main street every half hour or so and keep making his rounds until he gets hungry for lunch. Then he'll run a few more rounds...oh, probably until three or so when it gets really dark, and then go on home.”

  Sarah didn't know Steve very well but felt grateful the man ran his snow plow for the town, and on his own dime and time, too. “When will the schools reopen?” she asked.

  “As soon as this storm ends and the mayor decides to pay a few more people to start plowing the roads,” Nate explained. “Mr. Walnut will give you a call.”

  “Mr. Walnut is—?”

  “Superintendent. Mr. Walnut oversees the elementary, middle and high school,” Nate told Sarah. “All three schools are located in one building...not much to it, really. Snow Falls isn't Anchorage, you know. You could count the last graduating class on one hand.”

  Sarah smiled. “I guess you're right.”

  “Any more questions?” Nate asked.

  “All the important phone numbers?”

  Nate pointed to Conrad's desk. “Top left hand drawer.”

  “Got it,” Sarah replied and then frowned: “Emergency calls?”

  Nate let out a deep breath. “Sarah, like I said, we live in a small town. Snow Falls doesn't have a 911 dispatcher or call center like the larger places do. All calls come straight in to the station. That's why it's required that one officer be on duty at the station at all times, and one other be available to make rounds, if the roads are passable.” Nate fought back a round of coughs. “You and Amanda are going to have to take turns.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Sarah told Nate and then let out a tired smile. “Maybe I should go around town and slap a badge on every healthy person I see?”

  “Wish you could,” Nate told Sarah. “But every person Andrew slaps a badge on has to be reported to the state and then there’s a background check—”

  “All the red tape. I understand.”

  Nate nodded. “It's a headache to deputize a new local onto the force. It's not like Andy deputizing Floyd the barber while he goes on a picnic with Helen Crump—Floyd retired from the force, you’ll recall, so he’s on the level with the state,” he explained. “New folks are lots of paperwork and a whole bunch of useless questions. You and Amanda, though, you’re all set.” Nate looked at Sarah with grateful eyes. “You're a cop, Sarah. We’ll all feel safer with you at the station manning the helm. If Andrew had grabbed a local, he would have had to stay at the station. Can't leave an untrained local alone, you know.”

  “I'm glad to be...performing my civic duty,” Sarah tried to joke but she could tell Nate wasn't in the mood for a joke. The poor man was slap happy with fatigue and ready to punch out. “Go home, Nate. I can cover the station until Andrew feels better.”

  “Thanks, Sarah,” Nate said and managed a weak smile. “Call Andrew first if anything goes wrong, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  Nate waved a weak hand in the air and shuffled away, leaving Sarah all alone to manage the station. “Well,” Sarah said and began tapping her right finger on Conrad's desk as the winds howled and screamed outside, “what to do...what to do?” Sarah looked at the phone sitting on the desk. “I really should call Conrad and let him know—” Before Sarah could finish her sentence the phone rang. “Oh...” she said in a startled voice and answered the call. “Hello...uh…Detective Garland...I mean, Detective Spencer speaking.”

  “Detective Sarah Spencer, I like that,” Conrad's voice floated into Sarah's ears from the Bronx.

  “Oh, Conrad, I was just getting ready to call you,” Sarah exclaimed in an excited voice. “I was—”

  “Thinking about me?” Conrad smiled, standing in a small, stuffy apartment, staring at a man with a pair of binoculars in his hands, watching through the window.

  “Well...yes,” Sarah blushed. “I miss you.”

  “I was thinking about you, too,” Conrad promised Sarah, turning his back to the man. “Amanda told me you were at the station. What's going on?”

  “Everyone is sick and I've been deputized…nominated to perform my civic duty,” Sarah explained and then let out a little laugh. “Andrew and Nate just went home. I'm...solo until Amanda arrives. Uh...how are things in New York?”

  Conrad listened to a hard, cold rain falling and then closed his eyes. “I'm on a stakeout,” he whispered. “My buddy Jack...isn't doing so good, Sarah. He's being framed. Unless we catch the people framing him, he could lose his job and his pension into the bargain.”

  “Oh my,” Sarah said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Pray,” Conrad replied. “Pray we catch them before it’s too late.”

  “Of course.”

  “And,” Conrad added, “since you're at the station, maybe you can run a few names for me?”

  “Absolutely,” Sarah promised and grabbed a pen and piece of paper. “I'm ready for the names, honey.”

  “Honey?” Conrad whispered, “you don't know how sweet...how your voice...how...oh. how I wish I were home with you.”

  “Conrad, is something the matter?” Sarah asked in a worried voice.

  “Yes,” Conrad confessed. “I...well, Sarah, I didn't tell you the whole truth about my trip.”

  “The truth?” Sarah asked, feeling her heart sink. Surely Conrad was going to express his desire to divorce her—end their marriage—and leave Snow Falls. His former life as a detective in New York City was calling him, she just knew it.

  “Sarah, I hate getting sick, but that's not the reason I left Snow Falls,” Conrad began to explain as his friend Jack lit a cigar.

  “Why then?” Sarah asked.

  Conrad glanced at Jack. “To help Jack.”

  “You told me about Jack.”

  “But I didn't tell you that someone was out to kill him, Sarah,” Conrad explained. “And it’s more than that. I’m afraid that whoever is out to kill Jack might have connected me to him…and then try to harm you to get to me and Jack. I left Snow Falls because...I was scared for you.” Conrad ran his left hand through his hair. “I know you're one tough cop, Sarah...the best, in my book...and maybe I did act like an over-protective husband...but you've been through so much already and I was scared for you—”

  “Stop,” Sarah begged as tears began to fall from her eyes, “you don't need to say another word.”

  Conrad heard Sarah begin to cry. “Sarah...baby...I didn't mean to upset you.”

  “These are tears of relief,” Sarah promised. “I was...so afraid you left Snow Falls because you wanted to...leave me.”

  “Leave you?” Conrad asked in a shocked voice.

  “I've...put you through so many stressful situations,” Sarah explained, allowing her tears to fall. “I was scared you became upset with me in Los Angeles. I didn't mean to vanish on you...and cause you worry, but Pete received an urgent call and we had to act. I wanted to call you, but we didn't have time and—”

  “Sarah,” Conrad interrupted in a confused voice, “why would I get upset? We're cops. I understand how vital it is to act when the door opens. You explained everything to me at the time. Sometimes all we have is a split second to catch the bad guys.”

  “I was nearly killed, and I thought you—”

  “Honey,” Conrad said in a soft, loving voice, “that's all part of the job. I would never want to end our marriage because you risked your life to save others. I mean...if I ever lost you my life would be over...but I can't put you in a cage. I wanted to keep you safe after you and Amanda nearly died at the hot springs, but I realized that if I tried to pen you up somewhere...I would lose you.” Conrad saw Sarah's sweet and beautiful face whisper into his mind. “Honey, you're an amazing cop, writer and woman, and I love you for you who are. I can't slap chains on you any more than you can on me. I mean, look at me, I'm on a stakeout trying to track down some very dangerous people. Does t
hat mean you're going to end our marriage?”

  “Of course not,” Sarah promised, shocked.

  “Exactly,” Conrad continued. “I love you, Sarah, and I know that you love me. We belong together and that's a fact. You're my...soul mate.”

  “You're my soul mate,” Sarah whispered as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Conrad closed his eyes again. “Sarah, I called because I wanted to hear your voice...and because you're the only person I can trust right now. I'm sure I could trust Andrew, but he has a lot on his plate right now. I knew it was time to stop keeping you in the dark about what’s going on and bring you on board.”

  “I'm on board,” Sarah promised. “I'll run the names you gave me and call you—”

  “No,” Conrad quickly interrupted. “Don't call me. Just in case. I'll call you tomorrow around this time, okay?”

  “Hey, we have movement,” Conrad's friend called out.

  “Honey, I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow.”

  “Okay...love you,” Sarah promised Conrad.

  “Love you more than life,” Conrad answered back and ended the call.

  Sarah slowly put down the phone, wiped at her tears and then looked down at the names she had written down. Then the phone rang again. Sarah snatched up the phone: “Conrad?”

  “Los Angeles, this is Amanda,” Amanda told Sarah in a scared voice. “You better get back to the coffee shop.”

  “I’m supposed to be manning the phones for emergency calls, I can’t leave. What's the matter?”

  “Mitchel Cochran is dead,” Amanda told Sarah, peeking her head out of the kitchen toward the dining room of the café. “I went to refill his coffee and...his face was down on the table, next to his coffee. I thought the old guy had fallen asleep...I checked his pulse...he's dead.” Amanda let out a scared whimper.

  “Heart attack?” Sarah asked, her mind racing.

  “I don't know,” Amanda said, “but what I do know is that there are three old women standing over Mitchel's body. I don’t know who they are. They were standing over his body when I went out to refill his coffee. I barely got past them to check his pulse. It was so awkward. I don’t feel safe here with them and they won’t leave. Oh, Los Angeles, hurry and get over here.” Amanda shivered all over and lowered her voice to the smallest possible whisper. “I think those old bats killed Mitchel.”

  Sarah bit down on her lip. She wasn't supposed to leave the station unmanned, but what choice did she have? “I'm on my way.”

  “Hurry.”

  “You bet.” Sarah slammed down the phone, grabbed her gloves, and raced outside into the snow. The storm greeted her with an angry howl and the winds pelted heavy snow into her face. Sarah ignored the snow and icy winds, slapped on her gloves and snow hat, and carefully aimed her body toward the coffee shop. “It has to be a heart attack,” she reassured herself, trudging through deep snow. As she worked through the snow, Sarah let her eyes wander around. Not a single person was in sight. The main street was covered with white, clean snowdrifts, piled at the edges where the snow plow had passed through. Only a few daring businesses remained open and only a handful of tough trucks were parked in the snow. “It has to be a heart attack...Mr. Cochran is an old man...” But who were these old women in her coffee shop hovering around the body, and what did they know? What had they done?

  Sarah finally reached the coffee shop door, pushed her way inside, and, sure enough, there stood the three women over Mitchel Cochran’s body, chatting away in lowered voices. All three women were in their early to mid-seventies, dressed in winter clothing and dusted with snow; like Mitchel, the cold didn't seem to bother them one little bit, judging from their lack of heavy winter attire. “Uh...good morning, ladies. What seems to be the problem here?” Sarah asked, pushing the front door closed behind her. The women turned to look at her, all three pairs of eyes unblinking and staring at the same time.

  Before any of the three women could answer Sarah, Amanda burst out of the kitchen, grabbed Sarah's arm, and dragged her back toward the kitchen. “Those three women have been standing over the body this entire time,” she explained in a creeped-out voice. “Like vultures...”

  Sarah peeked her head through the kitchen door and studied the three women standing over Mitchel's body and craning their necks to look at the kitchen where Sarah and Amanda had vanished. “Maybe I should question them?” she asked. “We can’t be rude and stay back here, Amanda. You’re safe with me now.” Sarah patted the gun safe in her ankle holster.

  “I...guess,” Amanda winced.

  “Come on.” Sarah took Amanda's hand and walked her back into the main room. “Ladies, my name is Detective Garland...Spencer.” She realized she recognized the women as the O’Healey sisters. Rarely seen around town, Abigail, Martha and Betty were known as somewhat eccentric. Sarah wracked her mind trying to remember the last time she had seen them out and about. It had been some time. She stepped forward confidently. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to stand back. I need to examine the...body.”

  “Why?” Abigail O'Healey asked. “Mitchel is dead.”

  “Oh, yes, he's dead,” Martha O'Healey confirmed.

  “Oh yes, indeed,” Betty O'Healey added, “Mitchel is dead.”

  “Uh...do you ladies know how he died?” Sarah dared to ask, taken aback by their chorusing voices, seemingly identical and almost in a sing-song tone.

  “Of course we do,” Abigail told Sarah in a proud voice that wavered only a little with age.

  “How?” Sarah asked.

  “We killed him,” Martha answered.

  “We had no other choice,” Betty added. “It was time.”

  “Oh yes, it was time,” Abigail said, and Martha nodded. “We waited far too long.”

  Sarah’s stomach felt colder than a brick of ice at hearing their matter-of-fact words, so chilling and creepy. She glanced at Amanda. Amanda shrugged her shoulders. “Crazy old bats,” she whispered.

  Sarah winced. She did not for a second believe the women had actually killed Mitchel. What a mess. “Uh...ladies...I've seen some of you in Snow Falls—”

  “We live in Snow Falls during the winters,” Abigail informed Sarah primly. “In our cabin located at 89 Whitebridge Road.”

  “Whitebridge Road isn't too far from town,” Amanda said, glancing at Sarah.

  “We like to stay close,” Betty explained.

  “Very close,” Martha added.

  Amanda looked at them in confusion, then back at her friend. “Arrest them, love.”

  Sarah drew in a deep breath. “Uh...ladies, how did you kill Mr. Cochran?” she asked.

  “Oh, we can't tell you that,” Betty told Sarah.

  “Never,” Martha agreed.

  “Our secret will go to the grave,” Abigail finished.

  “Uh...well,” Sarah struggled to speak, “because you confessed to killing this man...I have no other choice but to place you under arrest.” She shrugged at Amanda, knowing she would have to explain later. If these women were indeed mentally ill, or perhaps senile with age, an investigation would surely turn up evidence one way or another as to how Mitchel had actually died.

  Abigail, Martha and Betty turned and looked at Sarah, unblinking again. “We said we killed him...but we didn't say it was our hands that did the killing,” Abigail explained.

  “No, our hands did not kill Mitchel,” Martha confirmed.

  “Our hands are clean,” Betty added and then looked down at Mitchel. “But we did kill Mitchel, nonetheless. What choice did we have?”

  “No choice,” Abigail and Martha consoled Betty. “We waited far too long to begin with.”

  Sarah felt confusion grip her mind. She didn't have time to untangle the ramblings of three old women. Conrad was in danger and needed her help. However, a man was dead, which meant an investigation would have to be opened. Surely they would need to call for a forensic psychologist from Anchorage to determine the truth anyway, so all Sarah had to worry about was keeping
them safe and preserving the evidence. She sighed hugely. “Okay, ladies,” Sarah said, “I'm afraid I have no choice. You're going to have to come down to the station with me.”

  “Police work,” Abigail whispered loudly to Martha and Betty. “I've seen it on the Perry Mason show. We're suspects.”

  “Oh, how exciting,” Martha and Betty whispered to each other.

  “Isn't it?” Abigail whispered back and clapped her hands together.

  Amanda stepped up to Sarah. “Love, you better call the people who run the padded room-type hospitals,” she said. “Does Conrad keep any straitjackets in the station?”

  “I don’t know...I just...” Sarah tried to form a coherent thought but couldn't speak. All she could do was stare at the three old women standing over Mitchel's body and wonder what in the world was going on.

  2

  Marching three old ladies through a snow storm over icy sidewalks covered in snow wasn't an easy task. The storm was growing worse but, to her relief and delight, Old Steve was keeping the main street clear; for the time being, at least. “Are you ladies okay?” Sarah called over an icy wind.

  Abigail touched the lapels of her old fashioned brown peacoat that draped down to a pair of old snow boots. “We're fine, dear,” she answered and smoothed down a furry winter hat covering her short gray hair. It looked like real fur, and from its vintage look Sarah guessed it might be mink, or perhaps beaver. The older woman stood up straight and marched through the snow with purpose. “I've lived through more winters than you've been alive, and so has this hat.”

  “We all have,” Betty pointed out, bravely walking through the snow with her gray coat open and flapping in the wind. The poor woman should have been frozen, yet she seemed content in her simple winter coat, which was white and boxy and came down nearly to her narrow calves. She also wore a white fringed wool scarf and a white winter hat. “Our parents took us to the Yukon Territory in our youth many times. As for me, the cold and I are very old friends. My sisters would all say the same.”

  “Indeed,” Martha agreed. Martha, like her two sisters, displayed no concern about the cold. She wore a green wool frock coat with a pale cream ruff of fur along the lapels, a matching green hat, and a loosely knotted wool scarf flapped in the wind around her. Her coat was not even buttoned. The woman, although thin and fragile in appearance, was obviously very tough. “You kids today wouldn't have survived in the old days.”