Deep in the Snow Read online

  “Big fellow. He was wearing a gray coat and brown pants with fancy shoes. His hair was bushy and red. Neatly trimmed beard. He was wearing glasses, too. And I remember how neatly trimmed his fingernails were. To be honest, I guess the fellow could have been from the rental company from the way he looked, but I knew better.”

  “Did you make a report?” Amanda asked.

  “Nah. What would bothering the Chief have accomplished? All he could have done was send someone out to take a statement from me. The fellow requesting the keys could have easily denied any claims I made against him. It was better to just let the matter drop.”

  Sarah rested her chin in her hands and peered across the table into Steve’s face. “You said the back door to the rental cabin had been kicked open?”

  “Yep,” Steve said, “and the wooden floor inside the kitchen door was damaged. It was clear a good deal of snow had piled up on the floor. I even found large wet spots on the living room carpet.”

  “Indicating that the snow from outside had been blowing into the cabin for quite some time,” Sarah concluded.

  Steve agreed. “That back door must’ve been off the hinges for at least a full day, if not more.” Looking down at his coffee, Steve grew quiet for a minute. “The man who I ran off my land killed the woman, didn’t he? I’ve run my brain around this problem a few times and... well, I know I can’t exactly blame myself for the woman’s death, but I guess I should have called the Chief and made a statement.”

  “You did what you thought was right,” Sarah assured him.

  “I agree,” Amanda added. “And honestly, what would Andy and Barney have done? Let’s face it, we don’t have a squad of Einsteins on our local police force.”

  “Maybe not, but each man in uniform is a good man,” Steve answered. He looked up at Sarah. “Sure was strange how those suits were running around so fast at that cabin. They cleared the place before I could finish putting on the last lock. And my paycheck came from the FBI, not the rental company, too. Is that helpful?”

  “Could be,” Sarah replied in a grateful tone. Her gaze rested on Steve’s mug, and she suddenly hungered for a cup of coffee herself. “Did you see what was carried out of the cabin?”

  “Mostly cardboard boxes,” he explained. “There was a large white moving truck parked outside. The three FBI guys got all the furnishings out into the truck first and then packed up the small stuff. I heard them fussing to themselves a few times... snapping at each other, as they worked.”

  “Did you hear why they were being fussy with each other?” Amanda asked.

  “I’m not an eavesdropper,” Steve said, sounding proud of himself, “but... sure, I heard. How could I not have heard?”

  Sarah tensed up in her chair. “Is it okay to ask what you heard?” she asked carefully.

  Steve picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee. “A book,” he said simply. “Those three suits kept fussing over a book. I kept hearing them say ‘The book has to be in the cabin somewhere’.”

  “Book?” Sarah whispered to herself. She paused, unsure what to ask next. “Amanda—”

  But Amanda had already read Sarah’s mind. “You want coffee. I’m on it. I could use a cup myself. Steve, would like a hot cinnamon roll?”

  Steve patted his stomach. “Oh no, thank you. Lana has me on a strict diet. If I cheat with a cinnamon roll, Lana will shove my head into her oven.”

  Amanda smiled at him. Sure, Steve wasn’t a British man with a dignified tongue, she thought; he was just a simple, kind, hard-working American who appreciated the simple things in life and believed in being honest. “I’ll be back in a jiff,” she said.

  “Steve, did you leave the cabin before or after the FBI agents?” Sarah asked.

  “Those three suits left me alone. After they packed up, one of them told me that my check would be in the mail, asked me for the key to the new locks, and left. That’s it.”

  “Did it seem like they’d found the book in question?”

  Steve shook his head no. “No way. They were extremely grumpy when they finally left. I have to admit, I took longer than needed on the door and locks. I guess I did that because I kinda liked to see the suits unhappy.”

  “Did you walk around the cabin before you left?”

  “I sure did,” Steve said, lowering his voice secretively. “I know the builder who put the cabin up. He’s not an honest man... cuts corners, buys cheap material, bribes the building inspector... those kinds of things.” Steve took a sip of coffee. “You see, when I installed the cabinets I built, I had the chance to inspect the quality of the cabin, but... well, something about the place somehow seemed different, and I didn’t know what.”

  “Oh?” Sarah prompted.

  “The quality of the cabin is well... junk. I could barely get the cabinets I built to stay up on the walls. I’m not saying the quality changed... only...” Steve scratched the back of his head. “Something was changed.”

  “Could you find out what?” Sarah gently pressed.

  Steve took another sip. “Nah,” he said. “I built the cabinets over four years ago. I don’t have the best memory, either. All I know is that something seemed different from the last time I was in the cabin. I’m kinda anal that way... when something doesn’t sit right with me, I have to take a look around and investigate.”

  Sarah sat silently for a couple of minutes, assembling the information Steve had revealed to her into a neat file in her mind. “Have you ever seen the red-headed man since? Maybe around town?” she asked, expecting a flat ‘No’ as an answer.

  But Steve surprised her. “Yeah,” he answered. “I saw the guy at Jacob’s grocery store a couple of days before that snowstorm hit us last month. Speaking of which, I’m worried the storm brewing outside now is going to be a tad worse.”

  Sarah drew in a deep breath. “Was he with a woman?”

  Steve shook his head. “No, that fellow was parked out front in a red truck. I don’t think he even recognized me. But, you know what, now that you mention it... maybe he was with someone?”

  “Or maybe he was watching someone,” Sarah added. “When you left the grocery store, was the red truck still parked outside?”

  Steve shook his head again and finished off his coffee. “No,” he said. He began to stand up. “But you know,” he said, pausing halfway up, “when I walked into the grocery store, a woman I had never seen before was fussing with a cashier... I mean, this woman was really raising the roof. She had a funny accent, too. Lana and me, we didn’t pay her much mind, though. We figured she was an out-of-towner and went on with our shopping.”

  “What did this woman look like?”

  Steve thought back to the day that he and his wife of thirty-five years had walked into Jacob’s grocery store. “It was mighty cold, and Lana was in a rush to get inside. The store was crammed full of folks, like sardines in a can. I just kinda glanced over at the fussing woman... all I really remember about her was that she was awful pretty to have such an ugly attitude.”

  Sarah nodded. “What color hair did she have?”

  Steve struggled to remember but finally tossed out blonde as the hair color.

  “Steve, you have been wonderful. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Maybe you can drive some customers my way, then,” Steve sighed. “Business is tight.”

  “Sure,” Sarah smiled. “The cabinets in my kitchen are old and I’ve been planning to replace them, along with the bathroom cabinet. I also wanted a bookshelf built for my living room. If you’re interested?”

  “You bet I’m interested,” Steve beamed.

  “Great,” Sarah smiled again. “Please, wait right here.” She rushed into the kitchen, noticed Amanda sitting in her office talking on the phone, grabbed her purse, and ran back out to Steve. Opening her purse, she pulled out a checkbook. “This is only a deposit,” she said, writing out a check. “I’ll cover the difference when you come up with an exact quote.”

  Steve took the check from Sarah. H
is eyes went wide. “That’s some deposit. I can’t accept this.”

  “Take it,” Sarah insisted. “Please.”

  Steve looked at her warmly. “I’ll make sure to do really good work on your cabinets,” he promised. “I’d better be getting home now.”

  “I’ll call you in eight days,” Sarah promised and walked Steve to the door. After he left, Sarah ran back to her office just as Amanda was ending her call. “Who was that?”

  “That was Mr. New York. He has some news for us and wants us to come to the police station right away.”

  “Let’s close down and get moving,” Sarah said in an urgent tone. Just then, she heard the front door of the shop open, and she sighed. “The last thing I need right now is a customer.”

  She walked into the front room and stopped in her tracks. A man with bushy red hair was sitting down at a table. The man looked at Sarah, and she saw a mysterious look in his eyes. “I’ll have a coffee,” he said with a confident voice.

  “One coffee,” Sarah yelled through the kitchen door at Amanda. “We have cinnamon rolls too if you’d like.”

  “Just coffee,” the man said. He hadn’t taken off the dark green coat he was wearing. “I saw Steve Mintfield leave,” he added abruptly. “On a day like today, a man like Steve Mintfield doesn’t travel into town just for a cup of coffee.”

  “He might,” Sarah said. She was still standing behind the front counter, keeping a safe distance from the man. “Do you know Steve?”

  “Not personally.”

  Amanda pried the kitchen door open and handed Sarah a mug full of coffee. Sarah took the coffee and placed it down on the counter. “Here’s your coffee. If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Ralph Gatti is in town,” the man said as he stood up. He walked over to the front counter, picked up the mug of coffee and took a sip. “I noticed that he paid you a visit today as well, Detective Sarah Garland.”

  “Who are you?” Sarah demanded.

  “Someone with answers,” the man said, locking eyes with her. “If you help me, I’ll help you.”

  “Help you?”

  “Gatti wants the same thing I want. He’s not here playing Romeo. He stopped loving Sophia many years ago. Sophia had to protect her brother, though, didn’t she? Of course she did.”

  Intuition and facts rallied together in Sarah’s mind, and she let her accusation fly out of her mouth. “You killed Sophia, didn’t you?” She braced for his response.

  But the man merely shook his head and continued to stare at her with icy eyes. “If you want answers, help me. If you refuse, then so be it. But let me warn you: Gatti will carry out his threat against you, Detective Garland. I know you have seven days to find the killer. I can help you.”

  “Who are you?” Sarah demanded again.

  “I’ll be in touch.” and the man took another sip of coffee. “A bit too strong,” he commented, and then he was gone.

  Sarah drew in a deep breath, resisting the urge to call out to him and demand more answers. Instead, she quietly watched him leave her coffee shop and walk outside into the snowstorm. “Well,” Amanda said, walking out of the kitchen, “this has been a very interesting morning, to say the least.”

  Chapter Five

  “The day seems to be just beginning,” Sarah said to Amanda as she looked around the front room. “Maybe I should turn this place into a fancy tea room, add some pretty furnishings, put some expensive paintings up on the walls, purchase a lovely carpet... maybe then I won’t feel like my coffee shop is a beacon for criminals.”

  “You would be flat broke in a week,” Amanda teased. “Come on, let’s go see what New York has to say. Oh, and he wants a to-go coffee, please, ma’am, and a cinnamon roll.”

  “At least someone likes my coffee,” Sarah sighed. She looked at the front door. Outside, danger was dancing in the snowstorm with a heart of ice.

  Conrad munched on his cinnamon roll hungrily. “Haven’t had a chance to eat yet,” he said.

  “You were gone when we woke up this morning.” Sarah was standing by the window in his office, feeling slightly amused as she watched Conrad devour the roll.

  Amanda took off her coat and put it down on the chair sitting in front of Conrad’s desk, and then briskly brushed a few pieces of lint off the pink sweater she was wearing over her warm yellow dress. “So what’s the news, New York? You sounded urgent on the phone.”

  Conrad polished off the cinnamon roll and grabbed a brown paper cup full of coffee that was now lukewarm instead of hot. Still dressed in his black t-shirt and blue jeans from last night, he looked rough and exhausted. “I made a few calls this morning. My first call was to McLeary’s Cabin Rentals in Fairbanks. I got the exact date that Sophia moved into the cabin. The date does not match the date on her records that a friend in Washington dug up for me earlier this morning. There is exactly a two-week discrepancy between the date on Sophia’s file and the date on file at McLeary’s.” Conrad chugged some coffee down.

  “What does that mean?” Amanda asked, confused.

  “It means that Sophia had a two-week vacation before she arrived in Alaska.”

  Sarah looked through the Venetian blinds covering the window. Out on the snow-covered front street, a black limo crawled past the police station. “Gatti paid me a visit,” she told Conrad. “It now seems that Amanda and I have seven days to live, too, unless we help you locate the man who killed Sophia. Gatti is certain the killer is a man and that the killer is still in Snow Falls.”

  “Club buddy.” Amanda’s attempt to joke with Conrad failed because Conrad, lost in thought, hadn’t even heard her. Plopping down in the chair across from Conrad, she sighed miserably. “You know, Jack is going to take me back to London after all of this. Not that I wouldn’t mind; I miss London. But I do love my new home, too.” Amanda looked at Conrad, then at Sarah. She realized she was talking to herself, as the two of them were completely wrapped up in the case.

  Conrad leaned back in his office chair. “What else did Gatti say?”

  “That’s about it,” Sarah replied. “He just rode past the police station in his limo, though. I think he’s making laps around the block.”

  “The way the snow is falling, he won’t be making laps too much longer,” Conrad said. “The man who operates the plow that runs through town hurt his ankle this morning. He’s having his brother take over the plowing, but his brother won’t be able to start for another hour or so.”

  “By then the roads might be impassable,” Amanda pointed out.

  “If we could find out where Gatti is staying, maybe we can trap him?” Sarah suggested. “Of course, that would be foolish,” she added hastily.

  Conrad frowned. “Gatti is staying at the hotel in town. It would be wise to leave the hornet’s nest alone for now.”

  “You bet we will,” Amanda promised. “I’ve seen some mean blokes in my time, but that guy puts the cherry on the ice cream.”

  “Cake,” Sarah corrected.

  “Poison cake,” Amanda shivered.

  “Conrad, we also spoke to Steve Mintfield,” Sarah said, turning away from the window. She walked to the second chair standing in front of Conrad’s desk and sat down without taking her coat off. Calmly but efficiently, she relayed to Conrad every detail Steve had mentioned to her. Conrad listened with skilled ears. “And then,” Sarah finished, taking a deep breath, “after Steve left, the redheaded mystery man appeared. In my coffee shop.”

  “From the look on your face, I’m guessing this man didn’t have much to say?” Conrad asked.

  Sarah shook her head and explained the exchange that had taken place between the red-headed man and herself. “Whoever this guy is,” she said, “he’s either the man who killed Sophia or he’s after something related to the case.”

  “Maybe the book the Feds were looking for? The one Steve mentioned?” Conrad suggested.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Amanda chimed in. “Sarah, you said this red-headed man told
you that Sophia had to protect her brother. So maybe she had something on Gatti that made that creep back away?”

  “Something on Gatti and the Feds,” Conrad added. “And whoever this mystery man is wants the book for personal reasons?”

  “Maybe,” Sarah agreed. “I can’t say he spoke with a northern accent, but I think I detected a hint of Brooklyn in his tone... faint, but there. I’m wondering if this man is part of the Sarti Family?”

  Conrad drained his coffee. “This man has been in town a while,” he said, tossing the paper cup into the metal trash can sitting beside his desk. “Why didn’t he leave after Sophia was killed?”

  “Are you suggesting Mr. Red is not the killer?” Amanda asked.

  “Yes,” Conrad stated honestly. “This man is searching for the same item Gatti is. He wouldn’t have killed Sophia without making her confess the location of this item first.”

  “Good grief,” Amanda fussed, “we have a major crime boss in town, a weirdo with red hair running loose, and some fussy FBI agents trying to find a book... yet, we have no killer. Need I remind you two that we have seven days before we die?”

  “Whatever Sophia had kept Gatti and the Feds at bay,” Conrad said.

  “But,” Sarah pointed out, “Sophia was AWOL for two weeks before arriving in Snow Falls. What are your thoughts on that?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but my friend back in Washington is working on it for me.”

  “I’m hungry,” Amanda announced and rubbed her tummy. “I’m also very scared. Sarah, I want to go back to your cabin. We can get a bite to eat and brainstorm there. The last thing I want to do is get stuck in town.”

  Sarah listened to the snowstorm howl and scream outside the police station. “It’s going to be impossible to find a killer in this storm.”

  “Well,” Conrad said, standing up, “there is one fact we can rely on. Whoever killed Sophia wasn’t after whatever Gatti, the Feds and this mystery man are—”

  Bang! A bullet exploded through the window and slammed into the wall behind Conrad’s head. Sarah grabbed Amanda and slung her down onto the floor as Conrad dived down behind his desk and yanked out his gun. Sarah reached down to her ankle for her own gun. “You good?” she called out to Conrad.