Amanda took her purse, drew in a deep breath, and nodded. “Into the wind we go, first,” she said in a voice that sounded like she’d been doused in cold water.
Sarah watched Amanda jump out into the wind. She grabbed her purse and followed. Feeling her boots sink down into ankle-deep snow, she began the tedious task of traveling to the cabin’s front door. Conrad opened the driver’s side door to his truck and eased out into the wind as well. Sarah was surprised to see the cigar still in his mouth. Stopping at the front of his truck, she looked into Conrad’s shadowy face. “Are you coming inside?” she asked over the howling winds.
Conrad nodded. “In a minute,” he said. His voice seemed distant.
“No smoking inside,” Sarah told him.
“I haven’t had a cigar in years,” Conrad replied. “I’ll explain later.”
“I think I already know,” Sarah said.
“Hurry up!” Amanda yelled, struggling through the snow.
“Don’t be too long,” Sarah told Conrad as the winds tore at her beautiful face.
Conrad watched Sarah fight her way to the cabin’s front door, unlock it, and hurry inside with Amanda on her tail. Looking down at the cigar in his bare hand, he wondered if allowing Sarah to see the cigar had been such a good idea after all? “Maybe... maybe not,” he said. He slung the cigar out into the snow as far as possible and walked to the front door with the bitter winds ripping at his face and hair.
“That man is going to catch his death,” Amanda said, running to the fireplace. “He wasn’t even wearing a hat to protect his head and ears.”
Sarah took off her coat and hung it up on the coat rack next to the front door. “He wasn’t even wearing a thick coat.”
Before Amanda could respond, Conrad opened the front door and stepped inside. Nodding, he took off his simple black rain jacket and hung it up next to Sarah’s coat, revealing a black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans. “I doubt you dress like that in New York winters,” Sarah scolded him. “You’re going to catch pneumonia.”
Conrad looked down at his black t-shirt. He hadn’t even been aware that his outfit wasn’t strong enough to protect him from the harsh cold outside. “Yeah, I guess I might need a sweater,” he admitted.
“What’s going on, Conrad?” Sarah scrunched up her eyebrows.
Conrad looked at Amanda. “Want me to start a fire?”
“Please,” Amanda said, still refusing to take off her coat. “I’ll go get some coffee going.”
Sarah walked over to the couch and sat down. Folding her arms together, she waited to speak until Conrad managed to create a warm and inviting fire in the fireplace. “You seem like a pro at making fires,” she complimented him.
“I grew up in upper New York state,” Conrad said as he stood next to the fireplace. “My old man was a serious outdoorsman. He taught me how to track deer when I was really young.”
“How does a woodsman like yourself end up as a cop in Brooklyn?”
“Long story,” Conrad replied. He warmed his hands. “I guess I do need to remember my gloves next time.”
“Seems to me that you have something on your mind,” Sarah gently pressed. Settling back on the couch, she watched Conrad warm his hands for a few seconds before speaking again. “I saw a limo in town. Do you know who the limo might belong to?”
“Ralph Gatti,” Conrad answered in a direct voice.
Sarah’s mouth nearly dropped to the floor. “Ralph Gatti, the mafia crime boss from Boston?”
“That’s the guy,” Conrad confirmed. “Sarah, you’re a cop, so I don’t need to go into detail here. I have a week to find out who killed my ex-wife or Gatti is going to kill me. I’m not afraid of the guy. I’m also not stupid enough to believe that I can survive a bare-knuckle fight with him, either.”
“What does Ralph Gatti have to do with your ex-wife?” Sarah asked.
“Ralph Gatti was in love with my ex-wife,” Conrad explained, keeping his back to her. As he looked into the warm fire, the image of a beautiful Italian woman floated into his mind. “Gatti wanted to marry her, but she didn’t care for him. You see, Gatti was at odds with the family her and her brother belonged to. Even though Gatti’s headquarters was in Boston, he still had a long reach that extended to New York. Gatti often visited his offices in the five boroughs.”
“Offices?”
“Bars, clubs, restaurants, pool halls. He met my ex-wife when she was working as a cigarette girl in one of his clubs. That was way before we met... she couldn’t have been more than nineteen at the time.”
“Go on,” Sarah said, looking at Conrad’s back.
“It was Gatti who brought my ex-wife’s...”
“Say her name,” Sarah insisted. “Conrad, say your ex-wife’s name.”
Conrad grew silent and closed his eyes. He listened to the howling winds outside the cabin for a few minutes. “Gatti was the person who brought Sophia’s brother into the business. He was a young pup, very impressionable, and easily deceived. He thought becoming a ‘Good Fella’ would make him something great, when in fact, it made the guy a low life criminal.”
“Gatti used Sophia’s brother to get to her, then?” Sarah asked in a careful voice.
Conrad nodded. “Yes,” he said, opening his eyes. “Sarah, Gatti is in his late sixties now. He had twenty years on Sophia. Sophia... she hung to the arm of Gatti for a while because it was fun, dangerous, and exciting to her. But when Gatti wanted to get serious and slap a ring on her finger, she backed off. He went after Sophia’s brother to punish her. But Sophia’s brother quickly changed sides and pledged allegiance to the current crime boss in New York, who is running City Hall.”
“And that’s where you came in,” Sarah deducted. “You were assigned to go undercover.”
“I went undercover and played a dangerous game with deadly people,” Conrad told Sarah. “I honestly thought my cover as a cop would be sniffed out at my first meeting with the crime boss. But I slipped by... don’t ask me how, but I did. I was assigned to walk around with Sophia’s brother and learn the ropes. I met Sophia a few days later.”
Sarah rubbed her chin and stood up. “Gatti’s flame for Sophia must have never gone out,” she said in a voice that told Conrad she was catching on. “Gatti knows that you went undercover as a cop. He must blame you for Sophia’s death.”
“And that’s why I have one week to find Sophia’s killer. Sarah, you and I both know the killer is long gone. A hit was put out on Sophia. I ran into too many dead ends back in New York,” Conrad said in frustration. “My last hope was leaving New York and moving here. I thought maybe if I could find a few clues... or even one clue... but so far I’m hitting more dead ends.”
“Are you sure Sophia was killed by the mafia?” Sarah asked. “I know that’s the logical explanation, but maybe not the correct conclusion. If Gatti is in Snow Falls, he must believe Sophia’s killer is here.”
“That’s a narrow alley you’re walking down,” Conrad warned. Turning away from the fire, he looked at Sarah. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful. The light from the fire gently glowed across her soft face with delicate kisses. Sarah was so different from Sophia. Sophia had been a wild cat: short-tempered, scrappy, self-centered, daring to the point of stupidity—but Sarah was strong, intelligent, unique, gifted and caring and... clean. Sarah wasn’t polluted with the lifestyle of crime that Sophia had been consumed with.
“What are you looking at?” Sarah asked, interrupting Conrad’s thoughts.
“I was thinking how much different you are than Sophia. I wish I had been smarter when I met her... but I wasn’t. I was stupid. I let looks and fireworks blind me. Sophia was a wild tiger, Sarah. I guess in time we would have ended up divorced anyway... but her death is still my fault. I have to find her killer.”
Sarah stared at him. “And what will you do if you find Sophia’s killer? Will you make a legal arrest or carry out a personal vendetta?”
Conrad shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. �
��I will make a legal arrest, even though every fiber of my being wants to make Sophia’s killer eat a bullet. I’m a cop, not a vigilante.”
Sarah nodded her head. “Good to hear.”
Conrad turned back to the fire and looked into the flames. “It is strange that Gatti has traveled from Boston to Alaska. I admit your theory strikes me as plausible. It’s possible that Sophia’s killer could be in Snow Falls.”
“I only suggested that because if Gatti believed Sophia’s killer was anywhere else, he would’ve ordered you to relocate to wherever he believes the killer is,” Sarah explained.
“You’re a smart woman who knows her stuff,” Conrad said warmly.
“So do you agree with my theory?”
“Gatti is staying close,” Conrad answered simply, ignoring her question.
“Coffee,” Amanda announced, walking into the living room carrying three brown mugs of coffee on a wooden serving tray. She paused, looked at Sarah and then at Conrad. “Blimey, you could cut the tension in this room with a butcher’s knife.”
Conrad turned and focused on Amanda. “I need your help,” he told her sternly. “Sarah trusts you, so I’m gonna trust you. I need you to team up and be her partner. Together, the three of us have one week to save my life and find a killer. Are you game?”
Amanda didn’t know what to say or how to reply. She looked at Sarah for understanding and help. “She’s game,” Sarah answered for her, and picked up a mug from the serving tray. “We have one week. Let’s get busy.”
Chapter Three
After dinner, Conrad excused himself and went outside to his truck. He returned to the kitchen carrying a black briefcase. Taking a minute to defrost, he sat down at the kitchen table and sipped on a hot cup of coffee. “The contents of the briefcase hold all I have about Sophia’s murder,” he explained.
Sarah walked to the kitchen table and sat down next to Amanda. Stuffed from two plates of delicious shepherd’s pie and a slice of homemade apple pie, she felt ready to burst. “I can’t believe I polished off two whole plates,” she told Amanda.
Amanda smiled and sipped on a mug of coffee. “We British know a thing or two about the kitchen.”
Conrad agreed. “Dinner was delicious. I haven’t eaten so much in one sitting in years.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said. “Now if only I could get my husband to eat shepherd’s pie. That bloke refuses to even look at it. Why? Who knows? I married a strange one.”
Conrad put down his coffee mug. “Okay,” he said, focusing on the briefcase, “let’s get started.”
Sarah patiently watched Conrad open the briefcase and pull out three brown folders. He handed Sarah and Amanda a folder each and kept one for himself. “Each folder contains the same information. Unfortunately, there isn’t much information to dissect.”
Sarah opened the folder in her hand and began exploring the contents: photos of members of two different crime families, arrest reports, copies of passports, credit card receipts, addresses, court dates, license plate numbers, tax records, car rental papers. “Conrad, there is a great deal of information to decipher here,” she said, shuffling through the papers.
“All dead ends,” Conrad said in a miserable voice. “I’ve checked out every member of each crime family. I checked passports, arrest reports, credit card purchases, car rentals... nothing. All the faces you see before you were in New England when Sophia was killed... every last stinking one of them has a credible alibi.”
“The Gatti Family and the Riva Family are well-established organized crime families,” Sarah explained to Amanda. “The Gatti Family works mainly out of Boston, but still has areas in New York under their control. The Riva Family hasn’t been around too long... twenty years at the most, I’d say. The Riva family went to war with the Sarti Family and came out the victor. Most of the Sarti Family integrated into the Riva Family when the war was over. This caused the Gatti Family to become weaker in New York because the Riva Family now had parts of the Sarti Family under their control.”
Conrad listened to Sarah explain the two crime families to Amanda with admiration and curiosity. “You seem to know a lot about the mafia,” he pointed out.
Sarah kept shifting through the papers in the folder. “Los Angeles is polluted with the Trapini Family,” she replied. “The Trapini Family is well known for running drugs for the Gatti Family while running guns for the Sarti Family. I found more than one body washed up on the beach or stuffed into a dumpster in some ugly alley as a result of bad blood between them.”
Amanda wasn’t sure what she was looking at or what to even be looking for. Frustrated, she closed the folder in her hands and placed it down on the kitchen table. “Mr. New York,” she said, “where is the report from our police department?”
Conrad reached into his briefcase and pulled out a fourth folder. “This report is not to leave this kitchen,” he warned Sarah and Amanda. “It’s been classified by the FBI. The Feds get touchy when someone dies under their protection. Not that Sophia wanted their protection to begin with. What choice did she have, though?”
“Stop punishing yourself,” Sarah told him gently. “Conrad, Sophia is dead and there is nothing you or anyone can do to bring her back. What matters now is finding her killer and saving your life.”
“Do you really think Gatti is going to let me live even if I do find Sophia’s killer?” Conrad asked. He sounded exhausted. “Let’s face it, Gatti is going to feed me a bullet whether I find the person who killed my ex-wife or not.”
Sarah didn’t reply. She knew Conrad was probably right. “Here,” Amanda said, taking the folder from Conrad, “let me have a look. I’m not a cop, but my cousin worked for Scotland Yard before he crippled his leg in a hiking accident. He use to tell me about his work all the time. Maybe some of his wits will help me?”
Conrad bit his lower lip and looked at the folder in his hand. “My career is on the line here... and so is my life,” he reminded her, and reluctantly relinquished the folder as a powerful gust of icy wind began shaking the cabin.
Sarah scooted her chair closer to Amanda and studied the report with her friend. “Okay, let’s see what we have here.”
Conrad watched Sarah and Amanda study the report together. Picking up his coffee mug, he sipped on the hot brew and waited. Although he knew the report by heart, he hoped that Sarah and Amanda might catch something—a minor detail, no matter how small—that he might have missed. “Well?” he finally asked.
“Your ex-wife was found with money in her purse,” Amanda said, confused. “She was found fully clothed, wearing a warm winter coat, yet the cause of her death was ruled as hypothermia.”
“Sophia’s body was found off to the side of a well-traveled ski trail north of town, next to a boulder,” Sarah continued, reading from the page in front of her. “The coroner states that she had been dead at least three days before her body was discovered by a Park Ranger patrolling the area. If I’m not mistaken, Conrad, that time frame puts us—”
“The snowstorm!” Amanda interrupted. “Oh, sorry for interrupting, love.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Sarah said. “That’s what I was going to say. We make a good team.”
Amanda smiled proudly. “Yes, we do.”
“Snowstorm?” Conrad asked, confused. Setting down the coffee mug, he leaned over the table and snatched the folder from Amanda’s hands. “The report states that the weather was clear,” he said, reviewing the report. “Why would Sophia have ventured out into a snowstorm... and why would the Feds lie about the weather report?”
“Here’s another question,” Sarah said. “Why would a hitman follow Sophia into a snowstorm? Conrad, we both know how the mafia operates. No hitman hired by the mafia is going to drag a person out into a snowstorm and wait until they freeze to death.”
Conrad slammed the folder down onto the table and jumped to his feet. “Are you ladies sure about the snowstorm?” he asked. “I mean, are you absolutely sure?”
“Mr. New Yo
rk,” Amanda said in a stern tone, “I may not be a bloody genius, but I know how to check the weather reports each morning. On the night the snowstorm tipped a wink, I was in my kitchen with my husband Jack baking muffins. Afterward, we played a game of Scrabble and cuddled in front of the fireplace together. I remember because it’s not often my husband and I have nights like that because we’re arguing over our son most of the time.”
“I was in my writing room when the snowstorm arrived,” Sarah told Conrad. “I remember how powerful the winds were and that I was worried that the power might go off. Somehow the power remained on, though.”
Conrad wasn’t sure what to make of the new information. “That means Sophia might have attempted to escape? But why? She didn’t have any Feds watching her. The Feds stuck Sophia up here and told her to be a good girl if she wanted to live. Sophia didn’t mind throwing curveballs at me, but she was terrified of the Sarti Family. She hated the Feds but knew if she wanted to stay alive, she needed to accept being hidden in the Witness Protection Program.”
“Did Sophia ever give up any information on the Sarti Family?” Sarah asked.
Conrad shook his head no. “The Feds put her on ice up here, hoping that she would come around and spill what she had on the Sarti Family.”
“Maybe the poor woman knew someone was out to kill her and tried to escape in the snowstorm?” Amanda asked.
“The snowstorm,” Sarah whispered and stood up. She walked to the coffee pot sitting on the kitchen counter and studied the coffee inside. “I’ll make a fresh pot,” she said.
“Wait,” Conrad ordered, “tell me what you’re thinking first. I can read your face, Sarah. This is not the time to hold back on me.”
Sarah leaned back against the kitchen counter. “The police report doesn’t give the location of Sophia’s residence here in Snow Falls. What was her address?”
Amanda looked at Conrad. Conrad rubbed his eyes. “184 Snow Bird Lane,” he said. “The address belongs to a little one-bedroom cabin north of town. I checked out the cabin, though. It’s clean. All of Sophia’s personal belongings were removed.”
Deep in the Snow Page 2
