Chapter 1
Spring Mystery
The snow was gone – for now, at least. The yard surrounding Sarah's cabin was sprouting with life and beauty. Of course, to Sarah, the ground still felt frozen and her bones were cold from a long, hard, winter. But it was nice to be able to step outside without her ears freezing off and her face turning into a mask of ice. “I still love the snow, though,” Sarah smiled, stepping outside and closing the front door to her cabin. She drew in a deep breath of warm, fresh air, listened to the sweet sounds of the musical birds, studied the lush, green blossoming trees surrounding her land, and then smiled again. “The snow can wait for a bit. But my day of shopping can't.”
Sarah lazily watched the wind play with the long-sleeved blue and white dress she was wearing. The wind ruffled across her dress for a few moments and then ran its fingers through her soft, recently shampooed hair. She loved the way the wind felt, she loved the wilderness that surrounded her home, and she loved the way Alaska felt like home. Sure, since she had moved to Snow Falls there had been some serious problems, beginning with the menacing snowman she found in her yard wearing a black leather jacket and chewing on a peppermint candy cane. And sure, Conrad had faced off with a deadly mafia killer. And then there was the problem with the dead forest ranger and Conrad's old friend in Minnesota. But all of those things were in the past. Spring had arrived and Sarah was determined to put the long, dark winter she had fought against behind her. “Time to go shopping,” she said and began walking toward her Subaru. She hadn’t gotten far when her friend Amanda pulled into the driveway.
“Hey, you!” Amanda waved at Sarah as she jumped out of her truck wearing the brightest yellow dress Sarah had ever seen in her life. “Where are you off to?”
Sarah sighed. She loved her best friend; she adored her best friend; she would even die for her best friend. But why did she have to dress like a neon sunflower? “Where did you find that dress?” she asked, walking up to Amanda's truck.
Amanda glanced down at the yellow dress. “You don't like?” she asked in a curious, offended voice, assuming a fake German accent.
“Well,” Sarah winced, “it's...the color...the material is...kinda bright.”
“I know,” Amanda beamed. “My dear hubby hates this dress. So I picked this wonderful, delightful...very annoying...gift out of my closet simply to annoy him, the poor dear.” Amanda smiled triumphantly.
Sarah fought back a smile. “How is his leg?” she asked.
“Still in a cast,” Amanda replied. She folded her arms together. “I told that hard-headed dumbbell to stay off the roof, did I not?”
“You did.”
“Did that hard-headed dumbbell listen to his wife?”
“He didn't,” Sarah replied, watching her best friend’s face turn bright red anew with anger.
“And what happened to him, you might ask?”
“Your husband slipped and fell off the roof and broke his leg,” Sarah finished for Amanda.
Amanda nodded her head up and down, up and down, until it seemed like it might go flying off into space. “And who gets to become his personal maid?”
“You.”
“That's right, love, me. Dear old, poor old, Amanda.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “Get me this, get me that, I need help going to the bathroom...oh, my leg hurts...I'm hungry...fetch me the newspaper...get the tv remote for me...where's my crossword...Oh!” Amanda slammed her truck door closed behind her with frustration.
“I take it you're here because you needed some fresh air?”
“I'm here because I want to go shopping with you, love,” Amanda forced a smile to her face. “O'Mally's Department Store is selling off its winter stock at 70% off.” Amanda grinned. “Ready to fight the crowds?”
“I doubt there will be any crowds to fight off, Amanda. This is Main Street in Snow Falls, Alaska we're talking about, it’s hardly Fifth Avenue,” Sarah pointed out.
Amanda made a pouty face. “Can't we at least pretend there will be a huge mob to fight through?” she begged Sarah.
Sarah smiled. “Sure. I'll even go back inside and get my gun. I’ll fight off the horde while you shop.”
“That's my girl,” Amanda beamed. “After dealing with my husband for two solid weeks, I need this so badly.”
Sarah laughed. “Let’s say I just leave my gun at home, take you shopping, and then treat you to lunch?”
“Deal,” Amanda smiled. She grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her toward the truck. “I’ll drive. My truck has more room for goodies.”
Sarah didn't argue. She climbed into the passenger's seat, buckled up, and waited for Amanda. A relaxed feeling entered her heart. “This is going to be a nice morning,” she whispered as her eyes rested on her cabin. The cabin seemed at peace, surrounded by the untamed wilderness, at one with the land.
An hour later Sarah found herself inside O'Mally's Department Store going through a rack of women's winter sweaters. To Amanda's disappointment, the store was only half full of easy-going shoppers, none of whom had the least desire to brawl over a few sensible sweaters. But in contrast to Amanda, Sarah found the store's quietude merely relaxing and fun. “What about this one?” she asked and held up a dark green sweater with a soft yellow line zig-zagging across the middle.
Amanda studied the sweater with careful, curious eyes. “Ah...no,” she finally said and shook her head.
Sarah examined the sweater. “I guess you're right,” she agreed and put the sweater back on the clothing rack. Amanda picked up a soft pink sweater. “I like it,” Sarah said. “Pink is your color.”
Amanda smiled and draped the sweater over her arm with a few other lucky finds. “So,” she said looking up and down the clothing aisle, “when is Conrad getting back from New York?”
Sarah glanced at Amanda. She figured the subject of Conrad would come up sooner or later. “Next week.”
“Oh, that soon, huh?” Amanda asked. She picked up another soft pink sweater and added it to the pile on her arm. “Has he...called?”
Sarah sighed, knowing her friend wanted all the gossip but was too polite to come out and say so. “Conrad called me last night.”
“Oh, that's nice,” Amanda replied with uncharacteristic restraint.
Sarah smiled and fingered a dark brown sweater. Amanda crinkled her nose and shook her head no. “Conrad asked me to tell you hello,” she told Amanda and passed the brown sweater by.
“That's nice,” Amanda said and grinned at Sarah. “Anything else?”
“No,” Sarah told Amanda and cheekily tossed a white sweater at her. Amanda caught it, examined the style, and nodded. “Is that one my color?”
“Yes,” Amanda said and lovingly piled it together with the others she had gathered. “Are you sure Conrad didn't say anything else...like maybe…I miss you?”
“Maybe we should walk over to the sporting goods department and get you a fishing pole and a hook,” Sarah teased Amanda.
“Oh, come on, love,” Amanda pouted, “I just want to know if you two...you know...are becoming closer.”
“In time,” Sarah promised. “I like Conrad, I really do. He's a good guy. And maybe...in time...we'll become more than friends. But for now,” Sarah cautioned Amanda, “my heart isn't ready to dive into romance. I'm comfortable in my life. I'm...getting used to the idea of being a divorced woman.”
“Fair enough,” Amanda said and backed off.
Sarah gave Amanda a grateful look. “Thanks—” she began to say but stopped when she saw Andrew walking up. Andrew was wearing a serious expression on his face. “Oh no,” she whispered.
“Ladies,” Andrew said, straighte
ning the jacket of his crisp Chief of Police uniform. Although it made him look professional, Sarah could see that deep down, Andrew felt silly and out of place without his usual police department parka and blue jeans; and boy, did the starch in that uniform look like it made his skin itch.
“We're off duty,” Amanda admonished him and grabbed Sarah's arm. “Let's go.”
Sarah bit down on her lower lip and was too startled to protest as Amanda rushed them away. But Andrew tugged at his collar and then gave chase. “Now, wait a minute,” he begged, jogging to keep up with them through the displays of clothing in the women’s department.
“Not even a second,” Amanda called out over her shoulder. She dragged Sarah and her armful of sweaters around a hard corner and hurried toward Intimates, taking a gamble. Surely Andrew wouldn't follow them into the bra department.
Andrew slid to a stop as he realized where Amanda had led the chase, scratched at his starchy collar again, and sighed. “I can wait,” he promised.
Sarah looked over her shoulder. She spotted Andrew trying to scratch his pants leg surreptitiously. Pity entered her heart. Andrew was a good man. A good husband. A good cop. “Maybe we better see what Andrew wants?” she asked Amanda, who had begun looking through a rack of slips with feigned interest.
“Oh,” Amanda said as she stomped the tan carpet under her feet, forgetting the slips for the moment. “Why? We were having such a pleasant morning.”
“I know,” Sarah agreed, “but look at him standing over there, scratching himself...looking like a lost puppy.”
Amanda studied Andrew. “The poor bloke does appear pitiful.” Her heart caved in. “Oh...alright. But you still owe me half a girls’ day out!”
“Deal.” Sarah took Amanda’s hand and walked back to Andrew. “We're all ears.”
Andrew stopped scratching at his pants leg hurriedly when he saw them approach and seemed relieved. But Sarah could also see that bad news was waiting for her. “A group of bird watchers were out hiking earlier this morning and came across a dead body. A hunter, it seems.”
“I knew it,” Amanda fussed.
“Now, wait just a minute,” Andrew cautioned, “the body showed no signs of foul play. It appears this man got himself lost and froze to death. It also appears he's been frozen for a long time, too.”
“So, what do you need with me?” Sarah asked Andrew.
“Well,” Andrew said, “the body belongs to a man named William Archie Hopski...”
“Which means you found identification on the body,” Sarah said.
Andrew nodded. “If the man had been murdered, I'm pretty sure I wouldn’t have found his wallet with an ID, never mind that it was full of money.”
“If you don't think this Mr. Hopski was killed, why bother us?” Amanda asked again. Sarah suppressed a smile. She could tell that despite her fussing, her best friend was secretly intrigued already.
Andrew tugged at his shirt collar again. “Darn starch,” he muttered.
“Mrs. Tarrington does go heavy on the starch,” Sarah agreed.
“I should arrest her,” Andrew said with a roll of his eyes. “Listen, Sarah, Mr. Hopski wasn't a young buck. The man was ninety-two years old. He is, or rather was, extremely – and I mean extremely – wealthy.” Andrew pulled a small notepad out of his pocket and consulted his notes. “There's a missing person report out on him in Los Angeles. He's been missing since December of last year. Now either the man got lost and froze to death or had himself a heart attack. But my guess is he got himself lost.”
“Why is that?” Sarah asked.
“Just a hunch, I guess,” Andrew confessed. “He was found near a trail system that heads down a series of foothills toward town, so my guess is that he was headed back. More importantly, I also found an empty bag of beef jerky in his right coat pocket and an empty canteen next to his body. Unlikely he was headed out with no supplies, unless he was senile. And the missing person report makes no mention of anything like that.”
Sarah considered the evidence. “Any weapons on him?”
“I found his rifle lying a few feet from the body,” Andrew nodded. “It’s likely that the rifle might have been disturbed by wind or snow or even a curious bear. But it was there. He had his hunting license in his wallet.”
“Maybe the fright of being lost gave the poor old man a heart attack?” Amanda suggested, lost in thought and resting her pile of sweaters on top of a nearby clothing rack. “I know if I became lost I sure wouldn't be singing happy campfire songs.”
“Could be,” Andrew agreed, looking at Amanda. “I'll know the cause of death once I get the coroner’s report.” Andrew focused on Sarah. “Sarah, Mr. Hopski's three children are flying up to our little town here, angrier than wet hornets. One of them already tried to strongarm me into releasing the body, but I told them the state has very strict guidelines about performing an autopsy first, and I don’t have the authority to override that, no matter what. Also, Mr. Hopski's wife...a younger woman...is joining the bandwagon. These people are city folk from Los Angeles, your neck of the woods. So, you see...”
“Oh, I understand,” Sarah said, humoring Andrew with a smile. “You want me to deal with the cappuccino drinking, freeway hogging, snotty brats and their diva of a stepmother who are all storming up to our cozy little corner of Alaska from the bright lights of Los Angeles?”
“Please,” Andrew begged. “I can starch my good uniform stiff as a board and I’ll still be just a small-town hick to these people.” He looked at Amanda. “You're a big city woman from London. You can help Sarah, too.”
Amanda raised an eyebrow. “Well, I wouldn't call myself a big city woman anymore, but I do know how to handle the wild streets of London,” Amanda stated in a proud voice. She looked at Sarah. “It seems like our services are needed, love. We can't leave poor Andrew in a bind, now can we?”
“And neglect performing our civic service for our fair community? No way,” Sarah told Amanda. She winked at Andrew. “Okay, Chief, we'll help you out. What's your plan?”
“I have to wait until I get the official cause of death,” Andrew explained in a grateful voice. “In the meantime, I'm swearing you two ladies in as my official Public Relations team.”
“Public Relations, I like it,” Amanda said happily. “Oh, it’s a shame that this is going to give me an excuse...I mean require me to take more time away from my dear hubby. Just think, my ears will be free of that blasted bell. Oh, the joy of it all.”
Sarah felt a smile touch her lips. Sure, a man had been found dead, but for once she wasn’t needed for a murder investigation. No, what Snow Falls needed was a cultural ambassador who could negotiate between the little town and the city folk. However, her gut told her that the incoming visitors weren’t motivated by grief or anguish; a rich man with a young wife and three children from a big city spelled more to do with greed, in her experience. She only hoped that she was wrong. “Call us when the war party arrives.”
“Hey, thanks ladies,” Andrew said in a relieved voice and scratched at his trouser leg again. “I better get back down to the station. I'll be in touch.” Leaning down to scratch more urgently at his knee, Andrew backed up into a display of silky nightgowns, eliciting a gasp from the passing Mrs. Turner and giggles from the few other nearby shoppers. “Oh, sorry,” he said, his face turning bright red as he tried to pick up the fallen nightgowns hurriedly.
“Andrew, what would your mother say?” said Mrs. Turner, indignantly swinging her hard-sided black purse into his arm as she swept past him.
“Uh...Mrs. Turner, I didn't see you. Have a nice day,” Andrew said lamely, rubbing his arm. “For seventy-eight years old, that woman sure packs a wallop,” he muttered as he stalked off toward the exit.
Amanda grinned as she turned to catch Sarah’s reaction to this. Sarah barely held back a laugh. “Well, Amanda, looks like our day out may not be interrupted after all. We still have plenty of time to get lunch at the diner before our PR services are needed.”
Amanda smiled happily as they set off through the sale racks once again. “You know,” Amanda said in a curious voice as she lingered at a display of wool socks, “I wonder what kind of mess we're getting ourselves into now?”
“As long as it's not murder,” Sarah pointed out and walked Amanda back to the sweater rack.
“Ah, but a man was found dead,” Amanda replied and focused on a bright green sweater that she knew her husband would despise and quickly tossed it onto the growing pile on her arm.
“True,” Sarah admitted and bit down on her lower lip to avoid commenting on the outrageous green sweater. “But,” she continued, “Mr. Hopski was found dead with his canteen empty, no food, a wallet full of money, and his rifle. I'd surmise that the poor man got lost and froze to death. It's even possible the fear of being lost gave him a heart attack, like you suggested. But...”
“But what?” Amanda asked in a quick voice. “Come on, love, don't hold back on me.”
Sarah picked up a pretty teal sweater and held it against her body, considering. “Andrew didn't say he found any medication on the deceased.”
Amanda shivered. “Call him Mr. Hopski, love...when you say 'deceased' I feel all creepy inside.”
“Andrew would have told us if he found any heart medication,” Sarah said and Amanda approvingly placed the teal sweater on the pile in her arms. “We need that coroner’s report to know more. And...I hate to say this, but I think we need to cut our shopping trip short. I need to go make a few calls.”
“I kinda figured you were going to say that,” Amanda pouted. “But at least use the payphone at the diner, okay love, because this woman's stomach is beginning to complain.”
“I admit, a greasy cheeseburger does sound good right about now,” Sarah grinned and winked at Amanda. “Lunch is on me.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Amanda said brightly and hustled toward the registers with her armful of sweaters. Sarah followed, wondering who Mr. Hopski really was, and what had brought him to this small town in rural Alaska from big city Los Angeles. Her detective’s mind was curious and turning over every clue as she watched her best friend’s purchases being wrapped in tissue paper then placed in a shopping bag. They needed lunch, but they also needed information.
Spring into Murder (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 5) Page 1