“Dave wrote out his statement. He wanted to leave, but I asked that he wait for you. Did you see him out in the front lobby?”
Conrad nodded. “I told him to leave and send his co-workers down to the station for questioning.”
“I think I’ll stick around myself,” Sarah said, nodded her head at Amanda. “Amanda made a good point a few minutes ago, Conrad. She suggested that the killer... or killers... might try to go after the three remaining park rangers.”
Amanda turned in her chair to face Conrad. “I was thinking that maybe the killers... he... she... they... whoever... might think Mr. Raymond talked to the other park rangers, you know. I mean, the man was obviously killed for some reason or another, and the killer, or whoever, might think the other park rangers know that reason.”
“Amanda watched a rerun of ‘Murder, She Wrote’ last night,” Sarah smiled.
Conrad didn’t smile. The suggestion held strong credibility. “Good thinking, Amanda. Thanks a lot,” he said thoughtfully, and reached for his phone. “Andrew, I want Dave, Shelia, and Matt all back at the station. Their lives could be in danger. Yes, now.” He put down the receiver. “One of the park rangers could be the killer, but then again, maybe not. But we have to assume they’re innocent until proven otherwise.”
“Why do you think one of the park rangers could be the killer?” Amanda asked.
“Charlie was a loner. So who else knew he liked the area around the lake except for his fellow park rangers?” Conrad pointed out. “Now, there is a chance he knew the killer and made arrangements to meet at the lake, too. So, until we begin narrowing down the possibilities, we have to make broad assumptions and mark everyone as a suspect.”
“Except Dave,” Sarah pointed out.
Conrad hesitated and then nodded. “I don’t think Dave killed Charlie Raymond,” he confessed. “But we still have to treat him as if he did for now.”
Sarah slowly stood up. “I’ll let you call Yellowstone,” she said. “Amanda and I will be at my coffee shop. You can have the rest of my food if you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” Conrad admitted gratefully. “But listen, you two stick around. I want you here when our three park ranger friends arrive.”
“My coffee shop is just a few blocks away,” Sarah protested. “Just ring me when they arrive and we’ll come running.”
“Okay,” Conrad agreed. He was looking at Sarah’s takeout container of food. “And bring some more coffee when you come back.”
“You got it,” Sarah promised. She walked to the wooden coat rack next to the office door and grabbed her coat. “Conrad, my gut is telling me more than one person is involved in this killing.”
“Why?”
“Yeah, why?” Amanda echoed, taking her own coat off the coat rack.
“Charlie’s body position was too perfect,” Sarah explained with the voice of an expert. “I could tell that Dave disturbed the body when he was performing CPR. However, even with that bit of disturbance, the body was still in a far too perfect position. I didn’t see any signs of a struggle, any bruises, bleeding, or scratches on the body or any tears in the uniform.” Sarah put on her coat. “At the location where the body was found, it would have been nearly impossible to ambush the victim. Either Charlie Raymond knew his attackers, or he was shot in the neck from a distance with the poison that probably killed him.”
“The distance from the edge of the woods to the lake makes that type of shot nearly impossible,” Conrad pointed out. “Only an expert could have carried out a shot from that distance.”
“I agree,” Sarah said as she opened the office door. “Which leads us back to door number one: Charlie Raymond knew his attackers.”
“I’d better get on the phone with the people at Yellowstone,” Conrad said and stood up.
“We’ll be at my coffee shop,” Sarah promised. “Ready, Amanda?”
“Ready, partner,” Amanda said and pulled on her ski hat. “Conrad, I’ll bring back some cinnamon buns along with the coffee. Something tells me we have a very long night ahead of us.”
“Thanks,” Conrad said and hurried behind his desk. Without saying another word, he snatched up his phone and got to work. Sarah tilted her head toward the hallway. Amanda put her finger to her lip and quietly followed Sarah out of the office. Outside, a heavy snow began to fall.
Chapter Three
“The weatherman didn’t predict any snow for today,” Amanda said, shivering. Walking beside Sarah down a sidewalk covered with rock salt, she felt like a woman out of a mystery novel, walking beside a tough cop and searching the streets of some dangerous metropolis for criminals.
Sarah glanced up into the low, dark, cold gray sky. “Well, it’s snowing now,” she said and stopped walking.
“What?” Amanda asked. “Why did you stop walking?”
Sarah pointed at the display window of a cozy bakery. The window was filled with delicious cakes, cookies, donuts, muffins, and pies. “This is what life should be,” she told Amanda. “Life should be this display window... warm, cozy, inviting... safe. But instead, life is full of murder, danger, crime, hate... why? Why do people insist on acting like animals instead of human beings? In all my years in law enforcement, I could never understand why.”
Amanda examined the display. She settled her gaze on a mouthwatering coconut cake with miniature ice skater figurines on top of it. “It’s been a while since Jack and I have been ice skating,” she said sadly. “Sometimes we get so caught up in everyday living that we forget the important stuff. I guess that’s the way it is for some people... the bad ones, I mean. They just forget that God created us with a heart and depend on the darkness inside of them instead.”
“How much darkness has to be in a person to allow them to take another life?”
“Not how much darkness is in them,” Amanda corrected Sarah. “The question is: how dark has that person allowed him or herself to become? How dark peoples’ hearts can become over the years is a very scary thing. Crime doesn’t stop at the American shoreline, love. Back in London, you would be amazed at the rate of murder. Drugs... alcohol... hate... violence... there always seem to be a trigger for people to kill themselves with.”
“A few years back, in Los Angeles,” Sarah said, gazing at a cozy box of donuts covered with sprinkles, “I was assigned to a homicide case that involved a married couple. The husband had killed his wife and claimed that a home invader had carried out the gruesome attack. He carried out so many elaborate deceptions to make his home look as if it had been broken into. The only problem was he tried too hard and became entangled in his own lies.”
“How horrible,” Amanda said. “I hope they locked the creep up and threw away the keys.”
Sarah kept staring at the donuts. “He was a rich guy with enough money to hire the best defense team money could find. In the end, the guy claimed that his wife tried to kill him and he fought back in self-defense but then panicked. Needless to say, he was acquitted.”
“You’re kidding me,” Amanda exclaimed, shocked.
“A jury of his peers found him not guilty,” Sarah said in a disgusted voice. “That’s when I knew that my time as a homicide detective was really coming to an end. I had done my job, captured a killer, and brought peace to a suffering family, only to have a bunch of bleeding-hearts throw justice back in my face.”
“My goodness,” Amanda said in disbelief.
“Money talks.” Sarah looked up into the snowy sky. “I know it’s very cold here and the snow can sometimes be a bit too much, but it’s quiet, small, and cozy. The last thing I would have ever expected was all this trouble in such a small town.”
Amanda glanced up at the falling snow. “I fuss about the snow, but honestly, love, I adore it. I adore every single snowflake. The snow makes life seem clean and pure to me. But,” she added, “if we don’t get out of this cold right now, you and I are going to turn into icebergs.”
The thought of a hot cup of coffee pulled Sarah away from the dis
play window. She began carefully walking down the sidewalk, taking care not to slip on the icy, compacted snow. “Hey,” she said suddenly “look at that poor little thing over there.”
“Oh my,” Amanda said, following Sarah’s eyes and spotting a stray kitten curled up against the doorstep of a hardware store. “The poor dear.”
Sarah approached the kitten. It began crying. “It’s okay,” she said in a soothing voice. She carefully picked the kitten up and placed it inside her coat. “You’re freezing.”
“I think the little bloke is an orange tabby,” Amanda observed.
“Let’s hurry and get it inside. I’ll give it a warm bowl of milk at the coffee shop.”
Sarah and Amanda hurried to the closed coffee shop. Once inside, they hung up their coats and ventured into the kitchen. “I’ll take the wee thing,” Amanda offered.
Sarah handed Amanda the kitten and quickly walked to the refrigerator to retrieve a carton of milk. “Poor thing must be starving,” she said.
“No collar or tag,” Amanda said, petting the kitten’s neck. The kitten, realizing it was safe and warm, began purring in Amanda’s hands. “Well, what do you know, the little bum likes me.”
Sarah opened the carton and poured some milk into a small silver pot sitting on the stove. “Hold on, little guy,” she said. “Dinner is about to be served, and—” Sarah stopped talking as a movement from her office caught her eye. In one quick flash, she bent down, grabbed the gun from the holster attached to her right ankle, and yelled: “You, in my office, come out with your hands up, now!”
Amanda ran behind Sarah, cradling the kitten in her arms. “Yeah... we’ve got you surrounded,” she called out with false bravado.
The first thing Sarah saw emerge from her office was the silver tip of a cane. A distinguished-looking older man followed. “No need for violence, my dear.” He spoke in a calm, precise tone.
Despite his intelligent tone, Sarah stared at him in shock. She could barely believe her eyes. How in the world had this man broken into her coffee shop—and why would he break into her coffee shop? “Who are you?” she demanded, keeping her gun at the ready.
The man lifted his left hand and brushed at the expensive gray suit he was wearing. “My name is Bradley Preston,” he answered in a relaxed voice that betrayed no concern for the gun still pointed at him.
Amanda stared at the man and absorbed his features. Neatly combed thin gray hair, neatly trimmed thin gray mustache, neatly alert gray eyes, neatly pressed gray suit, neatly shined gray shoes, neatly polished gray cane with a silver tip... he was nearly all gray. “You’re British,” she said.
“Indeed,” Bradley replied. Raising his cane, he pointed at the cat Amanda held in her arms. “Please keep that feline far from me. I have certain allergies that do not agree with cats.”
“Who are you?” Sarah repeated, keeping her voice firm. “I want answers, Mr. Preston.”
“I’ve come for a killer,” Bradley answered, keeping his tone even. He sounded almost bored. “Or, should I say killers?”
“You know who murdered Charlie Raymond?” Sarah asked.
“Indeed,” Bradley said, finally locking eyes with Sarah. “However, I am not here to offer assistance to you women. My objective today in making this personal visit is to request that you stand down, Ms. Garland. I will track down the killers, relieve you of their threat and vanish into the wind.”
“Oh my,” Amanda said in alarm.
“What?” Sarah asked. “Amanda, speak to me.”
“This man... I believe he’s British intelligence. You know, MI-6 Los Angeles, do as this man asks, please,” Amanda explained in a frightened voice.
Bradley shifted his glance to Amanda. “You are a very smart woman. I’m sure Jack would be well pleased to hear you make such a wise suggestion to Detective Garland.”
“Get your hands up in the air,” Sarah ordered Bradley. “I don’t care who you are or how you know Jack. A murder has taken place and you have just admitted that you know the killers. I’m placing you under arrest unless you can prove your identity.”
“My dear, you are retired, are you not?” Bradley asked. “Under whose authority are you detaining me?”
“I’m making a citizen’s arrest,” Sarah answered bravely.
“Los Angeles,” Amanda whispered, scared out of her wits, “you don’t know who this man is. Please, do as he asks.”
“A man has been murdered,” Sarah answered in an even tone. “I have a duty.”
“Oh dear,” Amanda said. “We’re dead... so very dead. Goodbye Jack...”
Bradley shook his head at Amanda. “My dear girl,” he said drily, “I have no intention of harming anyone, if you cooperate. My only objective is to catch my quarry and then leave.” Bradley looked at Sarah again. “Detective Garland, I certainly can’t force you to stand down, but I will warn you that if you get in my way, I may be forced to take extreme measures to ensure my objective is carried out successfully.”
Sarah slowly lowered her gun. “Mr. Bradley,” she said evenly, “you know that I will not be able to stand down. The wisest path for us to take is to work as a team.”
“I’m afraid that will not be possible. The people I am after are very vicious, rabid animals that must be hunted as such. I have no need for a part-time... sleuth. I must work alone in catching them.”
“You mean killing them,” Sarah said.
“Oh no,” Bradley assured her, “my objective is to simply catch these animals. If in the future they are put down, then that will be the decision of someone who has more authority than I.”
Sarah wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Mr. Raymond knew something he shouldn’t have, is that it?” she asked, quickly fishing for whatever scraps of information she might be able to obtain. “Mr. Raymond acquired very important data that should not have come into his hands?”
Bradley sighed. “Detective Garland, I made my objective clear. Please, dear, agree to my terms. If you fail to listen to me, however, perhaps I will be forced to end Detective Spencer’s career earlier than he anticipates.”
“Hands up,” Sarah ordered in response, raising her gun again. “I’m placing you under citizen’s arrest.”
Bradley swiveled his eyes to Amanda. “Speak sense to this woman,” he commanded her in a cold voice that clearly told Amanda he was finished with polite talk.
Amanda placed the kitten down on the kitchen counter and slowly reached out to touch the gun in Sarah’s hands. “He’ll kill all of us, Sarah. Please listen to me. As your friend, I’m begging you to put your gun down. This man is MI-6. These people are worse than your CIA. They have weapons that you Yanks can only dream of having.”
Sarah thought back to the needle hole on the side of Charlie Raymond’s neck. “Who killed Charlie Raymond?” she demanded, her gun still firmly pointed at Bradley.
“Los Angeles, please,” Amanda begged, and then with one strong, swift motion she pushed the gun in Sarah’s hand down. “Listen to me, this man will kill us,” she nearly yelled, hysterical to get her point across.
Sarah looked into Amanda’s terrified eyes. “Stand down,” Bradley warned as he began walking toward the back door. “Detective Garland, I appreciate your dedication to duty, but certain matters must be handled at a higher pay grade than ‘volunteer town detective’.”
“I’m not standing down,” Sarah warned. “You can insult me, but I won’t back down. I’m going to fight you. Detective Spencer will fight you. We won’t submit to your threats.”
Bradley stopped at the door and threw a deadly look at Sarah. “Then be prepared to die.”
“Get out of my kitchen,” Sarah retorted, “before I shoot you myself.”
Bradley opened the door and left without saying another word. “Oh love,” Amanda said in an incredulous voice, “you just signed our death certificates.”
Sarah stared at the back door. “Here in America, June Bug, we don’t back down. If that man wanted us dead, we would be dead. He c
ould have killed us when we were out at the lake. He came here to make a threat that he has no intention of carrying out.”
“How do you know that?” Amanda asked in a scared voice. She snatched the kitten up into her arms again. “Los Angeles, you Yanks have a thing or two to learn about the British.”
“How did you know he was British intelligence?” Sarah asked as she cautiously inched her way toward the back door.
“His appearance,” Amanda confessed. “I can’t explain it, love... his appearance told me what I needed to know.”
“He must have someone waiting for him close by, because he walked outside without a coat,” Sarah said. She eased open the back door and poked her head out into the snowy, dirty alley. Bradley was nowhere to be seen, but she did spot his footprints heading out of the alley. Without wasting another second, she dashed out of the kitchen and ran in the direction of the prints. When she reached the end of the alley, she turned just in time to see a gray SUV driving away. Shielding her eyes from the snow, Sarah desperately tried to make out the license plate. “Temporary tag,” she said out loud in disappointment.
“You’re going to get us killed,” Amanda said, running up behind her. “And of course, I’m crazy enough to chase after you.”
Sarah watched the gray SUV turn right on a side street and vanish around the corner. “Come on,” she said and turned to run back to her coffee shop.
“We’re dead,” Amanda moaned, following Sarah.
Sarah burst into the kitchen and rushed to her office. Plopping down in the office chair, she bent down to replace the gun in her ankle holster and then called Conrad. “We had a visitor,” she said grimly, still breathing hard.
Amanda closed and locked the back door to the alley, and then walked into Sarah’s office. Her face was twisted in fear. “British intelligence,” she muttered miserably, “of all the places in the world...”
“Who?” Conrad asked, hearing the alarm in Sarah’s voice.
“A Mr. Bradley Preston... British intelligence,” Sarah explained.
Snow Happens (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 3
