Snow Ordinary Family Page 3

  Abigail let out a chuckle. “Kids today can't live without them gadgets they're always playing with. In our day,” she said, pausing in front of a bakery and studying a delicious plate of muffins in the display window, “we played outside in the woods, became acquainted with the wildlife, bathed in the river and climbed trees.”

  Sarah hugged her coat tighter around her. “Where...exactly…are you ladies from?” she asked as snow pelted her frozen face.

  “The northern territories of the Alaska interior,” Martha explained. “Our papa was a lumber man and a hunter. Born in Alaska after the Gold Rush, you know.”

  “The Gold Rush?” Sarah asked, confused. “Wasn’t that…quite some time ago?”

  “Of course, dear,” Abigail replied. But from her suddenly thin lips and glances at her sisters, Sarah realized she had made a mistake to refer to the sisters’ ages so blatantly.

  “Well, you must love Alaska very much,” Sarah said, trying to salvage the conversation and still hoping the sisters would reveal some clue as to the death of Mitchel Cochran. “What brought you to this little town?”

  “Why, where one sister goes, the others must follow,” Abigail smiled, ignoring the cold striking her wrinkled face. This did not quite answer the question, but all three sisters smiled enigmatically and seemed to think they had explained themselves fully.

  Sarah let out a low moan. “Uh...well, that's...nice.”

  “I’m sorry we haven’t met before today’s…uh…tragic events,” Sarah said. She thought quickly about a more polite way to ask about their age. “Who is the eldest sister?”

  “I'm the oldest,” Abigail explained. “I'm seventy-five. Betty is seventy-three and Martha is the baby.”

  “I'm only seventy-one,” Martha smiled at Sarah. “Mother had me late in life. The poor dear was twenty-two years old.”

  “Twenty-two...late in life?” Sarah asked. “I...well, I...suppose that could be considered late.”

  “Have you any children, dear?” Abigail asked Sarah, studying the woman's eyes. She saw a special light—a goodness—in Sarah that pleased her heart.

  “Uh...no,” Sarah answered in a painful voice. “I was never blessed with children.”

  “Oh,” Betty and Martha exclaimed in matching sad tones, “we're so sorry to hear that. Children are such a beautiful gift from the Lord.”

  “I have five children,” Abigail told Sarah as the snow continued to fall. “Betty has four children. Baby sister Martha has five children.”

  “Mostly boys, but a few girls,” Betty explained.

  “And lots and lots of beautiful grandchildren,” Martha beamed.

  “Indeed,” Abigail smiled. “When we get the time, we leave the territory and go see our families.”

  “All of our children live south of the snow line,” Betty explained. “They prefer the warmth. We like the cold.”

  “Papa and Mother are buried in the northern territory and someday,” Abigail told Sarah, “my sisters and I will be buried next to them.” She nodded happily as if looking forward to her own death.

  Sarah shuddered. She glanced around at the deserted main street. “We better get to the station.”

  Abigail nodded politely and continued walking. Betty and Martha followed like two women simply taking an afternoon stroll in a sunny park.

  When Sarah reached the station, she carefully ushered the three women inside and closed the front door. “Amanda is watching the body,” she explained. “Doctor Milton will be by soon, after he checks on a patient of his who is nursing a broken leg. I'm going to have to go back to my coffee shop when Dr. Milton arrives. But in the meantime, I need to ask you ladies a few questions.”

  “Oh, just like Perry Mason,” Abigail beamed.

  “Uh...yes,” Sarah said and pointed toward Conrad's office. She could not fathom ushering this trio of oddball ladies into an interrogation room, and in any case, they did not strike her as dangerous in any way, shape, or form. “If you please,” she said, holding open the door for them.

  Abigail, Betty and Martha all clapped their hands in delight and walked into Conrad's office like three excited children preparing to ride a roller coaster for the first time. “This is so much fun,” Abigail said and quickly sat down in one of the two chairs facing Conrad's desk and removed her hat. “Betty, you sit down next to me. Martha, dear, you sit in that chair over there in the corner.”

  “Oh no, she can have this chair,” Sarah said and pulled Conrad's office chair out from behind the desk and stationed it for Martha. “I'll sit on the edge of the desk.”

  Martha smiled at Sarah. “So polite,” she said, sitting down. “All the policemen in Snow Falls are polite.”

  “Indeed,” Betty agreed, sitting down next to Abigail. “Very friendly people.”

  “Sure,” Sarah replied. She slowly removed her ski cap and set it beside her on the desk. Her recent misadventures in Los Angeles weighed heavily on her mind and she could not stop herself from adding a few words. “Ladies, there are some very bad and crooked cops in this world. You can't trust a person simply because he or she is a cop. Cops are the bad guys sometimes, too.” She sighed, remembering everything she had been through lately.

  “Oh my,” Martha gasped, “we didn't know that.”

  “Indeed,” Betty exclaimed. “That is horrible news.”

  “Tragic,” Abigail tutted. “We thought all officers were good people.”

  “Not all of them, I'm afraid,” Sarah explained, assuming she was simply informing three old women about a sad reality of the real world. Instead, she’d created an unforeseen problem that Conrad would end up laughing about for years, because it would turn out the three sisters were more taken by this piece of information than she ever could have guessed. “Now—”

  “Just a minute, dear,” Abigail said in a serious voice and quickly motioned her sisters over. Sarah wrinkled her brow as the three women huddled together and began whispering to one another.

  After a couple of minutes passed, Abigail looked up at Sarah with curious eyes. Even though she saw good in Sarah, it seemed obvious the woman couldn't be trusted, after her little announcement about crooked police; or so Abigail's confused and excitable mind believed. “I saw on a Perry Mason show a man was told he didn't have to talk to the police if he didn't want to. Is that true?” she asked in a careful voice.

  “Well, you don’t have to answer my questions unless—well, listen, you’re not under arrest yet. Not technically. If you were, I would read you your rights and say something like ‘you have the right to remain silent’ and—”

  “We wish to remain silent,” Abigail announced.

  “Indeed,” Betty agreed.

  “We do not want to talk to bad cops,” Martha added and made a sour face at Sarah.

  Sarah stared at the three women in shock. “Ladies, I'm not a bad cop,” she said in a desperate voice. “I was only telling you before—”

  “That you can't be trusted,” Abigail cut Sarah off and then looked at her sisters. Her face flushed with excitement. “Oh, this is too fun,” she giggled. “We're trapped in the snow with one of the bad guys from Perry Mason!”

  “Ladies, I'm not a bad person. I was simply trying to explain that not all cops are good,” Sarah begged in a strained voice.

  “Indeed,” Betty said and pointed at Sarah. “You were very kind to inform us that you yourself are not to be trusted.”

  “But that’s not…I—”

  “We appreciate your honesty, dear,” Abigail told Sarah firmly and offered her a warm smile. “Honesty is very important.”

  “Papa said a dishonest person is worse than a snake in the grass,” Martha explained. “As it says in Proverbs, whoever takes a crooked path will be found out.”

  “But I was explaining about...” Sarah stopped talking, let out a heavy sigh, and then looked down at the coating of snow slowly melting off of her winter coat. “Why me?” she mumbled and sat silent for a minute. Finally, she raised her head. “Ladies
, a man is dead. You admitted to killing him.”

  “Not with our hands, dear,” Abigail explained and then quickly covered her mouth. “Oh, I'm not remaining silent, am I?”

  “No, you're not,” Betty replied.

  “Afraid not,” Martha agreed and looked at Sarah. “Please, stop talking. We don’t want to tell this person anything.”

  “But I have to ask you a few questions,” Sarah insisted. “A man is dead.”

  Abigail, Betty and Martha quickly huddled together again and began whispering. After a few minutes Abigail poked her head up into the air. “Dear, on the Perry Mason show we watched, a man demanded he be given a phone call to call...one of them...law men.”

  “Lawyer is the word the bad man used on the show,” Betty quickly explained to Abigail. Abigail beamed and patted Betty's arm. “You were always the smart one,” she said. Betty blushed.

  Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Yes, ladies, you can contact a lawyer. Once you’re under arrest.”

  Abigail, Betty and Martha clapped their hands in victory. “Oh, this is so much fun,” they said.

  “Who is your lawyer?” Sarah asked, too overwhelmed to explain once again that they were not under arrest yet.

  “Our lawyer?” Abigail asked.

  “Yes, who is your lawyer?” Sarah asked again. “You do have a lawyer, don't you?”

  Abigail frowned. “I'm afraid we don't, dear. Isn’t that your job? Don’t you have a Perry Mason type person we can use?”

  Sarah moaned again. “Snow Falls doesn't have a public defender,” she explained.

  “What is a public defender, dear?” Abigail asked.

  Sarah closed her eyes. “Give me strength,” she begged. Before she could say another word the telephone on Conrad's desk rang. “Excuse me for a minute,” she told the sisters. “Hello, this is Detective Garland...I mean, Spencer, speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Doc called me,” Andrew's voice came over the phone, thick with phlegm and fatigue. “What's going on, Sarah?”

  “Oh, Andrew, I’m so glad it's you,” Sarah said in a relieved voice. “I was going to call you.”

  “Doc said Mitchel Cochran is dead?” Andrew asked from his spot on a soft and warm couch covered with a blanket. He reached out his right arm, took a glass of orange juice from a wooden dinner tray, and took a sip.

  “It's nothing to worry about, Andrew,” Sarah promised. “I have three...suspects...at the station as we speak.”

  “Suspects? Three of them?” Andrew asked as his weary eyes looked at his beautiful stone fireplace holding a roaring fire. He sure loved his cabin—the smell of pine and peppermint—and surely wasn't interested in going back out into the storm. Besides, he had on his special warm socks that were making his feet all nice and cozy.

  “Yes, three...three women in their early to mid-seventies,” Sarah explained, looking at the supposed killers sitting before her. What vicious killers they were, too, Sarah sighed.

  Andrew put down his orange juice. “Sarah, are you talking about the O'Healey sisters?” he asked in a shocked voice.

  “Yes, do you know them?” Sarah explained. “I was trying to get a few answers, but it’s proving…difficult.” She looked at Abigail. “Your last name is O'Healey, correct?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” Abigail smiled. “My last name by marriage is O'Healey.”

  “My name by marriage is O'Healey, too,” Betty smiled.

  “And my name by marriage is O'Healey as well,” Martha finished.

  “We married three Irish brothers working the land,” Abigail explained. “Our maiden name came from Papa’s family. Papa's last name was Greenlight and mother's last name was Wallace. Papa's folks were from the old country and came over in—”

  “You can tell me your family history later, I promise,” Sarah told Abigail and offered her a kind smile and focused back on the phone call. “Yes, Andrew, I have the three O'Healey sisters in front of me.”

  “And you think they killed Mitchel Cochran?” Andrew asked in a shocked voice. “Sarah, did you fall and hit your head? Or did they hit their heads, perhaps?”

  Sarah turned her back to the three sisters and whispered in a frustrated voice. “Andrew, they admitted to killing the man. What was I supposed to do? It's standard procedure to question someone even if we don’t think they—”

  “I know, I know,” Andrew replied. Even though he felt awful, a smile touched his face. “The O'Healey sisters...oh, this is good,” he said and then sneezed all over himself.

  “They admitted to killing Mitchel Cochran,” Sarah repeated.

  “Sarah, the O'Healey sisters are harmless. Every winter they come back to town and every spring they go south to visit their children. Why they come in the worst of the winter weather I’ll never understand. They’ve always been a tad…different, I guess you could say. But they’re good people. Why, the O'Healey brothers helped build Snow Falls back in the old days.”

  “Andrew, I don't care if the O'Healey brothers helped build the entire southern hemisphere. The O'Healey sisters confessed to a murder and it's my duty to investigate,” Sarah grumbled in a voice that let Andrew know he was making an annoyed woman very, very mad. And if there was one truth Andrew knew and lived by, it was that you didn't make a woman mad unless you wanted to face dire consequences. He was smarter than that, or at least he hoped so.

  “Maybe I should come down to the station,” Andrew offered, even though his body was aching and moaning.

  “Andrew, I dealt with the Back Alley Killer. I think I can handle three old ladies,” Sarah replied and rolled her eyes. “The O'Healey sisters aren't exactly vicious killers.”

  “Maybe not,” Andrew said and fought back a grin, “but all the old-timers in town know that Mitchel Cochran's people had a running feud with the Greenlights.”

  “A feud?” Sarah challenged him, disbelieving. “As in...a hillbilly ‘your cow knocked over my fence’ kinda feud?”

  Andrew bit down on his lip to hold back laughter. It was clear that Sarah was annoyed, and he didn't want Sarah to come over to his cabin and shoot him. “Uh...no,” he said. “Years back, way back in the old days, Matthew Greenlight claimed that Billy Cochran trespassed on his claim, dug up some gold, and stole it.”

  Sarah turned around and focused on Abigail, Betty and Martha, who were still whispering among themselves and ignoring her. “Okay, Andrew, I'm all ears. Tell me all that you know.”

  “Well,” Andrew explained, “I did do a little digging myself...out of curiosity...when I was in my early twenties. It’s quite the story. But you should know—” Before Andrew could finish, the call went dead in Sarah’s hand.

  Andrew heard the sound of a crashing tree just before the phone line cut out in the middle of his call. “Honey,” he yelled in a scratchy voice, “that old tree just knocked out the phone line.”

  “What about Sarah?” a sweet voice called from a warm room.

  Andrew put down the phone in his hand and began laughing. “I think Sarah is going to have a fun day with the O'Healey sisters.”

  Sarah lowered the phone. “Guess the phone went out,” she said. “I better try the coffee shop.”

  “We're in no rush, dear,” Abigail smiled.

  Sarah nodded and called Amanda. Amanda picked up on the first ring. “Where is Doctor Milton?” she begged.

  “It takes a while to fix a broken leg, June Bug,” Sarah told her frantic friend. “I was talking to Andrew and then the call went...dead. I'm just making sure the phones are working in this area.”

  Amanda peeked her head out of the back office. “I know Mitchel was an old man...but now he's a dead body…and dead bodies are creepy.”

  “Doctor Milton should be arriving soon,” Sarah promised. “When he arrives, I'll walk back down to the coffee shop.”

  “Why did I get stuck watching a dead body?” Amanda complained. “I thought we were both deputized. Aren’t we sisters?”

  “We are, we are,” Sarah promi
sed. Even though she felt frustrated, the absurdity of Amanda babysitting a dead body made her smile. “June Bug, just lock the door and sit tight, you’ll be fine. You're an amazing woman.”

  “Don't try to flatter me,” Amanda griped and hurried back into the office and closed the door. “You're not going to get out of buying me an entirely new wardrobe.”

  “Deal,” Sarah promised. “I'll be over when Dr. Milton arrives.”

  “I'll call you as soon as I hear his truck pull up,” Amanda assured Sarah.

  “Thanks, June Bug.” Sarah hung up the phone, leaving Amanda stranded with a dead body, and focused back on Abigail, Betty and Martha. “Ladies—”

  “We want to remain silent,” Abigail reminded Sarah. “We can't trust you, remember?”

  Sarah sighed. “Okay, okay,” she said and held both hands up into the air, “I get it.”

  “You're a very smart woman,” Martha smiled. “My sisters and I can plainly see that you are very smart.”

  “Indeed,” Betty agreed. “We read all about you in the local paper and saw you on the news. You're a very popular woman.”

  “The people of Snow Falls are very impressed with you,” Abigail explained and then added in a careful voice: “However, dear, some people are very weary of you. They claim that you have brought only trouble to Snow Falls.”

  Sarah didn't know what to say. It was no secret that many people in Snow Falls respected her and accepted her as their own. It was also no secret that many people in Snow Falls desired for her to move far, far away and leave them alone. Trouble had its way of following her no matter where she went. “People have the right to have their opinions of me,” she finally spoke, “as long as their opinion is peaceful and nonviolent.”

  “Oh, indeed,” Betty nodded. “There is far too much violence in this world.”