Snow Toys for You (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 13) by Wendy Meadows

Snow Toys for You (Alaska Cozy Mystery Book 13) by Wendy Meadows

Author:Wendy Meadows [Meadows, Wendy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Majestic Owl Publishing LLC
Published: 2019-12-10T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Five

Bonnie convinced Sarah and Amanda to have one cup of coffee before leaving to investigate José's apartment. Sarah, feeling stuffed and ready for a nap after three cheeseburgers and two plates of tater tots, caved in and decided that one cup of coffee couldn't hurt. She followed Amanda back to Bonnie's house, parked in a driveway that had become covered with snow again, and hurried into a warm kitchen...and ran into a storm. “I'll get the coffee going in a split second and—” Bonnie began to speak as Sarah and Amanda followed her into the kitchen. Her words were cut short when a man wearing a gray hood appeared before her holding a gun.

“Inside...now!” the man hissed and aimed his gun right at Sarah. “That means you, cop!”

Sarah reached behind her back, grabbed Amanda's gloved hand, and carefully entered the kitchen. “Who are you?” Sarah asked just to buy a little time.

“Close the door!” the man ordered Amanda. Amanda drew in a worried breath and slowly closed the back door. “Over there.”

Sarah watched the man wave his gun toward the kitchen table. “Do as he says, Cousin Bonnie,” she warned without telling anyone she detected nervousness in the intruder's voice. Whoever the man was behind the mask, he wasn't a professional killer.

Bonnie shot a sour look at the man but didn't say a word. She walked over to the kitchen table and plopped down like an angry little girl. “Gonna get snow all over my kitchen floor. I just mopped the kitchen floor last night, too,” she grumbled.

Sarah motioned for Amanda to sit down next to Bonnie and then took a seat herself, without disclosing her gun that was hidden in an ankle holster attached to her right ankle. “What do you want?”

The man holding the gun hurried over to the kitchen door and locked it. “This is a warning,” he hissed, desperately trying to sound tough. “Leave town or die.”

Sarah took a few seconds to study the man. The man was fat—really fat. The black sweatshirt he wore over a pair of black jogging pants made him look like an Orca. Sarah could smell his filthy sweat. “Is that all?” she asked in a calm voice. She waited to see what he would do. Whoever the fat man was, Sarah doubted he had the guts to kill three innocent women. No. The fat man was only a messenger—someone who had obviously watched too many mafia movies and decided playing a role might be fun. The man fidgeted as he watched them through his mask. “Is that all?” she said.

And then, without understanding why, she saw the image of the old black man she had become close friends with in Oregon appear in her mind. She saw the old man sitting on his front porch watching the sun set, staring out over his beautiful pumpkin field, humming a sweet hymn. Stay calm, girl, she heard the old man tell her in an easy voice as he worked on a corn cob pipe filled with cherry tobacco.



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