Snowy Misery (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 7)

by Wendy Meadows

  “Nice speech,” Brad told Sarah, “but I know you, Sarah. You'll never be happy anywhere but Los Angeles. Didn’t you say Pete was still holding your old desk for you? Why would you care about that if part of you didn’t still wonder what it would be like to return? Admit it. Los Angeles still calls you,” Brad said. He saw the hesitation in her eyes and very carefully eased forward. “We still have so much to talk about. I don’t have to disturb your life here…so let’s take a trip to Los Angeles instead. One last time, for old time’s sake. We’ll drive down to Los Angeles together and you can ask me every question you’ve ever wanted to.” Brad shifted in his seat, his dark eyes gazing into hers. “Remember our home, Sarah? Remember the white bench I painted for you under the oak tree in the backyard?”

  “I remember,” Sarah replied in a careful tone.

  “Remember how you used to love sitting under the oak tree after a heavy rain?” Brad asked. He forced a smile to his lips. “I used to stand at the bedroom window and watch you read. You were always at your most beautiful, Sarah, reading under that oak tree.”

  The image of the white bench was so vivid in Sarah's mind. Despite her misgivings, she saw the bench under her favorite tree in the backyard filled with bright flower beds. She smelled the soft scent of the Southern California air floating over a cozy Spanish-style home; the scent of the wind landed in her lap and curled up into a very sad heart. “I loved my backyard,” Sarah said speaking in a low voice. “I spent many lovely evenings sitting on the bench you painted for me, Brad.” The hurt was written clearly on her face.

  Brad saw a crack slowly appear in Sarah's defenses and attacked like a hungry lion pouncing on a weak gazelle. “You kept the backyard very beautiful, Sarah,” he said, keeping his smile up. “You also kept our home very beautiful, as well. I can still see you standing in the kitchen baking those cinnamon rolls you loved so much. The entire house would be filled with the smell,” Brad said and tried to grab Sarah's eyes with his. “Whenever I was upstairs shaving and smelled the cinnamon rolls I knew I was in for a treat.”

  Sarah saw a happy woman singing to herself in a cozy kitchen while she danced around, baking homemade cinnamon rolls. “My job was very difficult at times and baking always helped me to relax,” she reminisced, feeling tears struggling to escape her eyes. “I...miss my kitchen, Brad,” she said and quickly looked down at her hands before he could capture her gaze again. “But you destroyed our home.”

  “I'm very sorry, Sarah, It was a mistake to divorce you. I was...angry,” Brad told Sarah allowing his voice to sweeten like a sad puppy’s. “I was also very jealous. You always seemed to love your job more than me. You were always coming and going at all hours. I only saw you when you took a day off, which was rare. I wanted my wife, not a cop.”

  “You knew I was a cop when you married me.”

  “I know,” Brad sighed. He looked at Conrad. Conrad had his hand on his chin and his eyes plainly said that he was not fooled by Brad’s performance. “I thought leaving you and marrying a woman who wasn't a cop would make me happy. I was wrong.” Brad moved his gaze to Amanda. Amanda wasn't buying his lies, either. The woman was staring straight into his deceitful heart with anger filling her wide eyes. “I'm sorry I became angry earlier. When you refused to speak to me alone I felt rejected, like this trip was a waste. You don't even trust me enough to have a simple private conversation.”

  “Why should I trust you, Brad?” Sarah asked, upset. “You destroyed my life. Our life. You took away everything…everything that I was, and forced me to leave my home broken and hurt. I gave up being a cop because I couldn't focus on my job. I started to suffer from insomnia. I...” Sarah felt her cheeks turn red. “I scooped up the broken pieces of my heart and ran away as far as I could, because of you….because you destroyed everything I once loved. I once loved you. But that’s over now.”

  “I'm so sorry, Sarah,” Brad whispered and tried to reach out and touch Sarah's hand. Sarah yanked her hand away. “Please forgive me.”

  “Why should she?” Amanda jumped into the storm. “You weren't even around to dry her tears, you useless git. I was. I've seen how terribly you made this tender woman suffer. I've counted her tears. I've held her in my arms while she's cried. And you have the audacity to show up in our town and say you're sorry?”

  “Amanda—” Sarah tried to say.

  Amanda threw her hand up at Sarah. “You don't care about my best friend, Brad. Your eyes are full of hypocrisy. So why don't you stop with your lies and tell us why you're really here?”

  “I'm here to speak with my wife,” Brad snapped at Amanda in a tone that came out far too harsh.

  “Watch your mouth,” Conrad warned Brad. He lowered his hand and narrowed his eyes. “You're in the presence of ladies, so act like it.”

  Brad looked into Conrad's eyes and backed down. “I'm sorry,” he said and sweetened his voice with the same false tone he used with judges and witnesses he needed to charm. “Please forgive my manners. I'm exhausted from a long trip and upset that my ex-wife refuses to speak to me alone. I'm not an animal, Sarah. Did I ever hurt you while we were married? Did I ever once lay a hand on you?”

  “No,” Sarah admitted, feeling her heart shatter. “Brad, you never hurt me...physically. But you hurt me in other ways. You were very cold toward me in the end. When you did talk to me, you made me feel like a fool. You stopped respecting me, you didn’t respect my job...demanded Pete stop visiting the house...insisted I keep my work out of your life...” Sarah looked up at Brad. “Pete knew you were going to divorce me, but I refused to listen to him. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Pete never cared for me,” Brad said in a sour voice. “Your...friend...never once offered me the respect I deserved as your husband.”

  “You never offered Pete the respect he deserved,” Sarah fired back like an angry torpedo, her heart flaming with misery and pain. “Pete tried to like you, but you never gave him room. Every time Pete came over to the house you vanished into your office.”

  “Forgive me if I didn't want to stand around in the kitchen listening to that cigar-chomping moron tooting his stupid little horn,” Brad told Sarah and folded his arms together. “How that man ever became a cop is beyond me.”

  “Pete is not a moron,” Sarah snapped at Brad. “He’s a fine detective...one of the best, as a matter of fact. Every day he risks his life to serve and protect—”

  “Oh please,” Brad replied in a nauseated voice.

  “Pete helped me catch the Back Alley Killer,” Sarah growled. She hated how Brad was winding her up, but the memories swirled through her like an angry hurricane. It had been a desperate time. “We were going over the evidence late one night in his office. I was really stuck in a corner.” Sarah ran her hands through her hair. “I couldn't figure out how the killer was thinking. The murders seemed random...the evidence was weak...I couldn't see a pattern...no connections anywhere. I was desperate, I needed to talk it through with someone.” Conrad watched Sarah steady her nerves and then looked at Brad. The man was suddenly very tense and would not meet Sarah’s eyes. “Pete was my sounding board in a way you never were, Brad. In a way I wished you could have been.” She closed her eyes in pain for a moment, but jumped back in before her ex-husband could dare interrupt. “Out of nowhere, that night Pete suggested that the Back Alley Killer might be a cop.”

  “Pete never—”

  Sarah held up her hand. “Pete was there for me. Period. I never would have considered that the Back Alley Killer might be a cop without Pete’s help,” she continued. “That was the key to the whole case. I set a trap and the Back Alley Killer took the bait and I managed to trap him. If it wasn't for Pete simply listening that night...more innocent people would have died at the hands of that killer. So don't you dare call Pete a moron. That man saved innocent lives and wouldn't let me even mention his name and give him credit.”

  Brad clasped his hands together. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Sarah, perhaps it would be wise
if we changed the subject.”

  Sarah stared into Brad's eyes. She saw fear again. “Why?” she asked, cooling her emotions and jumping into the mind of a cop. She had her suspicions. “Bad memories? Or just regretting that you weren’t the right man for the job, Brad?”

  Brad started to speak, but spotted a middle-aged woman walking up to the table. He quickly pulled his hands apart and ordered a hot coffee. “Coffee, two sugars and no cream,” he told the waitress in a short tone.

  Marion Dunmore looked down at Sarah. She was covering a shift for her sister who was out with a cold. “Sarah?” she asked, shaking her head at the out-of-towner’s rudeness.

  “Hot cocoa for me, please,” Sarah said. “I'll also have a cheeseburger plate, well done, lots of fries.”

  “The same for me, Marion,” Conrad added and smiled at Marion. “And maybe some extra marshmallows in my hot cocoa, huh?”

  “If you ask real nice and leave a large tip,” Marion teased Conrad and pushed her black hair away from her eyes. “Amanda, baby, what will you have?”

  Amanda looked away from Brad. The man gave her the creeps. “Give me the meatloaf plate, love,” she told Marion, “with lots of gravy on my mashed potatoes. And don't worry, Conrad is leaving the tip.”

  “Oh, this must be my lucky day,” Marion teased Conrad again and patted his shoulder. “Charlie and I can retire now.” Marion focused on Brad. “Special today is meatloaf. We also have—”

  “I'll have the cheeseburger plate,” Brad interrupted and stood up. “Where is your bathroom?” Marion pointed to the back hallway. “Thank you,” Brad said and hurried away.

  Conrad stood up. “I need to wash my hands,” he said and followed Brad toward the bathrooms.

  “Get him,” Amanda whispered. “Make that awful man feel every bit of pain he's caused my sweet girl.”

  Marion looked at Sarah. Sarah was watching Conrad walk off after Brad. “Oh boy,” she said and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Conrad walked into a small bathroom holding a single stall, leaned against a rugged wooden counter, and looked down at the worn, hardwood floor. “Sarah sure is pretty, isn't she?” he asked.

  Brad locked the stall door with shaky hands and backed up against the toilet. “My ex-wife was always a beautiful woman,” he answered Conrad, sure that the man had followed him into the bathroom in order to beat him senseless. And what if Conrad did beat him black and blue? Brad was trapped in a one-horse town in Alaska where law enforcement most likely consisted of a few donuts next to a worn-down coffee pot. No protection could be expected if he dared to assault an innocent someone, never mind a detective.

  “Yeah, Sarah is beautiful,” Conrad said, keeping his eyes on the floor as he ran the tap to let the water run warm. “She's also been hurt,” he added.

  “She seems to be coming along...nicely,” Brad told Conrad, trying to read the man's voice through the stall door.

  “Sarah has managed to move on,” Conrad continued, “because she’s a very strong woman. But she is still a woman. The Mrs. Garland who left Los Angeles was very hurt. Now, I don't know why you're in Snow Falls, but it's clear to me that you didn't come all this way to wine and dine Sarah.” Conrad raised his eyes and looked at the stall door. “Why are you in Snow Falls, Mr. Garland?”

  Brad felt trapped. “My business is personal, Detective Spencer,” he tried to speak in a strong courtroom voice.

  “Sarah is my business,” Conrad informed Brad. “Sarah is a very close friend that I care about.” Conrad looked back down at the floor. The smell of pine cleaner was burning his nose. “Mr. Garland, my ex-wife is dead. She was killed. Sarah helped me solve her murder. I'm very grateful, too.”

  Brad checked the expensive watch on his wrist. The day was growing older. “I'm sorry to hear about your ex-wife,” he lied.

  “No you're not,” Conrad corrected Brad. “You see Mr. Garland, you're a selfish man with whole lot of fake charm to you. You're successful, appear distinguished, carry yourself in a James Bond manner. But underneath all of those layers, I see a self-centered coward who only thinks of himself. Unfortunately, Sarah fell for you.”

  “Detective, if you continue to harass me I will be forced to contact my attorney and—”

  “You can call a thousand attorneys,” Conrad lowered his voice into a deep growl, “but you're going to hear me out first. You're not in Snow Falls because you care about Sarah. You're here because you're a selfish coward. Your motives are purely selfish. If a situation doesn't benefit you then you toss it in the garbage.” Conrad raised his eyes as if he could see the man through the stall’s door. “You're in Snow Falls because you need something from Sarah. I don't know what that something is, but I'm going to find out. I'm going to dig and dig and dig until I find out what you're in Snow Falls for, Mr. Garland. And when I discover the truth, I'm going to expose you for the coward you are. And you can bet I will not let you get whatever you’re after.”

  Angry threads of panic constricted Brad's chest. The last thing he expected to encounter in Alaska was a detective from New York. “If you violate my privacy I will have your badge,” he tried to threaten Conrad.

  “Not before I expose you,” Conrad promised. He turned around, looked at himself in the small mirror, spotted a few gray hairs, and shook his head. “You can make my job easier,” he offered. “Just tell me why you’re here so I don’t have to go digging.”

  Brad listened as Conrad turned on the taps and began washing his hands. His mind felt tangled up. How could he confess his crime to a cop that was obviously in love with his ex-wife? Why, Conrad would shoot him dead on the spot. “Are you finished?” he asked.

  “I've not even grabbed my shovel,” Conrad promised and grabbed a handful of paper towels. “Mr. Garland, I'm usually a pretty laid-back kind of guy. I don't claim to be the type of guy who always has his temper in check, but I do okay. However, if you push me too far, Mr. Garland, I'll react,” Conrad issued the threat without hesitation. “I'll punch you in the face with the fist of the law, are we clear?”

  “You may leave now,” Brad said in a voice that came out shaky.

  “I guess,” Conrad said, “but remember, Mr. Garland. I'm watching you,” he finished and walked out of the bathroom and made his way back to Sarah and Amanda.

  “Did you punch that swine?” Amanda asked Conrad and hit her left palm hand with her right fist. “Oh, please tell you socked him a good one!”

  “Nope,” Conrad said and sat down. “I let Mr. Garland know that I was going to investigate his reasons for being in Snow Falls and expose him for the coward he is,” he explained without disguising his words. “Sarah, please don't slap me in the face for saying this, but I agree with Amanda: you married a swine.”

  Sarah felt the instant desire to defend Brad. After all, she had been married to the man for many years. “Brad...has his moments when he can be...caring and charming,” she struggled to speak. Memories of her marriage flooded her memory. “We shared many wonderful times together...it was only near the end, the last few years of our marriage, that the sweetness began to drain out of his heart.”

  “I can't imagine that man ever being kind and charming, love,” Amanda told Sarah.

  Sarah kept her eyes low. “In the beginning, Brad was...well, he captured my heart. I can't explain why at this moment and I won't attempt to. All I can say is that once upon a time...there was love. At least in my heart.”

  Conrad and Amanda looked at each other. The table grew quiet. Outside, the winds howled and whipped down the street as the heavy snow continued to cover the town. Finally, Marion appeared with the hot drinks. “Here you go, baby,” she said and handed Sarah her hot cocoa.

  “Love your blue dress,” Amanda told Marion, trying to sound like her old self. Why let a slug prevent her from paying a compliment to a friend. “That blue goes very well with your eyes.”

  Marion threw her hand at Amanda. “I have crows’ feet and my hair is nearly gray,” she said and handed Amanda h
er drink. “But that compliment will get you extra gravy on your mashed potatoes.”

  Amanda smiled. “Lots and lots of gravy, love.”

  Marion smiled but stopped when she saw Sarah looking down at her hot cocoa. “Baby, what's wrong? You look like a woman whose heart is sunk with the Titanic.”

  “I'm fine, Marion,” Sarah said without much enthusiasm in her voice. A part of her heart wanted to reach out to Brad and repair her marriage, but another part of her heart knew the truth. Brad had no desire to repair their marriage. The man had come to Snow Falls with a hidden agenda tucked up his sleeve. The man was also very scared. “Cops are always fine.”

  Conrad took his drink from Marion. “How are those burgers coming along?” he asked.

  “I'll go find out,” Marion said and wandered off, worrying about Sarah.

  “Love?” Amanda asked.

  Sarah raised her eyes. “Yes?”

  Amanda gently reached out her hand and pushed Sarah's bangs off her forehead. “I'm sorry.”

  “I know.”

  “No,” Amanda insisted, “I'm really, truly sorry. I know you were hoping for the impossible.”

  Conrad felt a sharp pain strike his heart. It was clear to him that Sarah—deep down—was holding onto the hope that her marriage would somehow be miraculously repaired and her old life would be restored to her. Instead, she had been handed the final nail in the coffin. “I'm sorry, too.”

  “I know,” Sarah said. She looked into Conrad's caring eyes. “I'm sorry about your marriage, too, Conrad. I know you're still dealing with the pain of losing your wife.”

  “Life goes on,” Conrad forced a smile on his face. “I can't let my past destroy my future. I owe it to myself to do two things.”

  “What?” Sarah asked.

  “First, I have to forgive myself, and second, I have to stop blaming myself. If I can't toss those two presents into my hat then there's really no point in waking up because everything I do will be in vain.” Conrad fiddled with his hot cocoa. “I want to be happy again, Sarah. I want to continue living and forget about the wrinkled up pages of the past.”