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SNOW MERCY ALASKA COZY MYSTERY #11 WENDY MEADOWS LIKE COZY MYSTERIES? Join Wendy’s newsletter to stay up-to-date with new releases. As a subscriber, you’ll get BLACKVINE MANOR, the complete series, for FREE! Join Wendy’s newsletter here. wendymeadows.com/cozy CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Thanks for Reading About the Author Read more by Wendy 1 A manda nudged Sarah with her elbow on the snowy sidewalk. “Is this kid for real?” she asked in a voice that almost sounded comical. “I'm not sure,” Sarah replied, staring at a very short person wearing a black ski mask over his face and what appeared to be a rusted hunting knife in his right hand. “I said give me all of your money!” Manford Sappers demanded in a nervous tone that he hoped sounded fierce and intimidating. Sure, he felt lower than an earth worm holding up two beautiful women in a snow storm, but he was desperate—and hungry. In fact, he was starving. “I don't want to hurt you!” Sarah stared at Manford with curious eyes, realizing it wasn’t a child at all. It was an adult man, just very, very short. Was the man a little person? The poor little guy was shaking all over—and it wasn't the cold or the snow making him shake. “I never thought I would get mugged standing outside of O'Mally's department store,” she said in a calm voice and slowly folded her arms over a light pink coat that Conrad had bought her a few days back. Manford quickly licked his lips, glanced to the right, saw only a snowy parking lot bare of cars, glanced to his left, saw the same thing, and then focused back on Sarah and Amanda. The woman wearing the pink coat sure was pretty, but Manford saw the woman had a hardened toughness in her eyes, kind of like a cop, which spooked him. The woman wearing the white coat was pretty, too, but had the eyes of a person who wasn't going to give over her purse without a fight. “Come on, ladies,” Manford growled—a growl that sounded more like a plea, “hand over your money.” Amanda fought back a grin. The little man was very pitiful standing in the snow, shivering from top to bottom, terrified even as he attempted to mug two innocent women. “How about we go inside and buy you a proper coat?” she asked and nodded at the raggedy coat Manford wore. Manford dropped his eyes, studied the black coat he had bought at a thrift store, counted the holes in the coat, and then sighed. “Your pants aren't much better than your coat, I'm afraid,” Sarah pointed out. “And those tennis shoes on your feet look like they’re about to fall apart. You’re freezing!” “Please...give me your money, huh?” Manford begged. “I'm cold, hungry...I ain't even got socks. My feet feel like ice. So...enough with the pity-party talk...hand over the cash!” Sarah glanced at Amanda. Amanda shrugged her shoulders and then slowly adjusted her warm blue snow hat down over her ears. “Wind is picking up,” she said and tossed a thumb at the glass door leading into O'Mally's. “Temperature is dropping, too. I think I'll go inside to the snack bar and get a hot coffee.” “Yeah, that's a good idea,” Sarah agreed. “But first, maybe I should give this poor fella my wallet.” Sarah moved to pull out her wallet and then dropped it. “Oops!” She slowly bent down and pointed at it. “Nice and easy, okay, fella? Just going to get it.” “Yeah...easy...” Manford warned Sarah. “No...no funny stuff.” “No funny stuff,” Sarah assured Manford, watching his scared eyes following her hands like a hungry bear following a raw steak. It was clear to Sarah that the poor man was starving, which is why she hated to pull her gun on him. But what choice did she have? “Hey...what is this?” Manford cried in shock as Sarah grabbed her wallet and then also yanked a gun out from the holster hidden at her ankle. “You said no funny stuff!” “Drop the knife,” Sarah said in an easy voice and nodded at the hunting knife Manford was holding in his right hand. Manford shook his head. “Trust me to pick the exact wrong women to try to hold up,” he said in a miserable voice and then threw the hunting knife down into the snow. “You're a cop, right?” he asked Sarah. “Yeah, sure you are...seen eyes like yours in big cities.” “I'm a retired cop,” Sarah told Manford. She slowly lowered her gun. “What's your name?” “What's that to you?” Manford asked. “You gonna get me arrested? Call your cop friends? Cops don't care about names unless they’re arresting you...until then, I'm just another thug.” Amanda grinned. “An attempted thug, maybe? Sounds like you've been arrested before, though.” “A few times,” Manford nodded his head, trying to sound tough and hide the rumbling of his stomach. “I've been in the slammer before...all petty stuff, though...shoplifting, mostly.” “Looks like you're working your way up the ladder,” Sarah told Manford in a serious voice. “Armed robbery and attempted assault is pretty serious. Could get you a couple of felony charges. Also…cops don't take well to a man pulling a knife on two women...no matter their size difference.” “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Manford replied in a miserable voice and quickly wiped snow off his ski mask. “What I did was stupid. But hey,” he added, “at least I'll get something to eat in the jug. So...let's quit talking. Haul me in already, huh? Call your cop friends. The sooner I get something to eat, the better.” “This isn't Mayberry,” Sarah told Manford. “Aunt Bee isn't bringing you a fried chicken supper.” “Right now, I'd settle for bread and water,” Manford said and held out his hands. “Slap the cuffs on and haul me away, hot stuff.” “Did he just call you hot stuff?” Amanda asked and then giggled to herself. “From a scared rat to a brave flirt. Oh, my...what a morning.” Manford shrugged his shoulders. Now that it was clear that he was going to jail, the desperate fear of his situation slipped off his shoulders and drifted off into the wind. Sure, going back to jail was scary, but not half as scary as forcing yourself to commit acts that put you among the lowest of the low. “Might as well compliment a pretty lady before the bars are slammed shut in my face. Might be the last pretty face my eyes see in a long time.” He grinned up at Sarah, shivering as he folded his arms together. “Hey, what about me?” Amanda asked. “I'm not exactly a dog.” “You're a pretty face, too,” Manford promised Amanda, “but the cop...wow, she's really hot stuff.” He said this in a stagey whisper, clearly intending for Sarah to overhear. Amanda rolled her eyes. “I guess we better call Conrad to come haul Romeo to the...jug,” she told Sarah. Sarah stared at Manford. “I don't think I'll bother my husband this morning,” she said. “Husband?” Manford gulped. “Detective Conrad Spencer is my husband.” Sarah nodded her head as a powerful gust of icy wind grabbed at the white ski cap on her head. “My name is Detective Sarah Garland...Sarah Spencer.” “Boy, did I pick the wrong dames,” Manford said in a miserable voice. “Of all the places...who knew?” “Just what are you doing in Snow Falls, Alaska?” Sarah asked. “Hunting,” Manford replied in a sarcastic voice and kicked the hunting knife lying in the snow. “Or running,” Sarah added. “What's your name?” “Elmer Fudd.” “Oh, just throw some cuffs on this guy and call Conrad,” Amanda begged. “I want a hot coffee to warm my legs up for all the shopping we're going to do, love.” “You're just mad because I think the cop is prettier than you,” Manford snapped at Amanda. “Am not.” “Are too,” Manford insisted and stuck his tongue out at Amanda. “I'll tie your tongue in a knot, you bloody little…” Amanda charged at Manford. Manford nearly jumped out of his skin, stumbled backward, tripped, and landed on his butt. Sarah gently touched Amanda's arm to hold her back. “Why don't you go inside and order three coffees and...” she looked down at Manford, studied his hungry eyes, and nodded her head, “as many cheeseburgers as you can.” Amanda locked her gaze on Manford. She had to admit the little guy was in need of some serious help. Even if he had a mouth on him, and an attitude to boot. “Okay, love. And after we feed him, we'll buy the guy some proper winter clothing. I know they carry big and tall sizes…maybe they also carry short and mouthy! What do you say, short stuff?” “Cheeseburgers...winter clothing?” Manford asked. “What are you talking about? Aren't you taking me to the jug?” “Nope,” Sarah smiled and then, to Manford's shock, put her gun away. “Seems to me that once we get some food in your belly and get you warmed up, we'll be able to get you to talk some.” Manford couldn't believe his ears. Was Sarah for real? He wasn't sure. “Hey,” he protested and ripped off his ski mask, revealing messy brown hair falling over a handsome face that couldn't have been older than twenty-five years, “I don't need no charity. Manford Sappers makes it on his own.” “State-funded jail food isn't making it on your own,” Sarah pointed out. “Neither is stealing money from two women. Making it on your own means working hard, staying honest, paying your bills, and buying things with money you've earned.” “Yeah, yeah, I've heard that line before, sister,” Manford complained. “Easy for you to say. You're beautiful and...normal. You don't look like a circus freak the world laughs at.” Manford crawled to his feet and then kicked snow over toward the hunting knife. “Stupid knife…never should have tried that dumb thing.” Sarah touched Amanda's arm. “Go inside and order us some coffee,” she whispered through the wind. Amanda nodded her head and hurried inside. “Mr. Sappers—” “Call me Manford,” he said in a grumpy voice. “I ain't no mister. I'm just a...low-life thug who can't even rob two women without getting busted. My old lady must be laughing in her grave right now.” Sarah slowly placed her hands behind her back, studied the snow, the bare parking lot, and then turned her attention to the front of O'Mally's. “It's very warm inside...and nice.” “Yeah, I bet it is,” Manford nodded his head. “Why don't I just waltz inside and go on a shopping spree?” “We could go inside and get some coffee and food?” Manford stared at Sarah. “Ain't you a cop?” he demanded as snow slapped at his wind-burned cheeks. “Cops ain't supposed to be nice to us criminals, remember? It’s you against us, hot stuff. That's the rules.” “I'm a retired cop,” Sarah calmly reminded Manford. “Ain't no such thing,” Manford said, lowered his head against a blast of icy wind, and sighed. “I knew Alaska was cold, but I didn’t think it would be this cold...at least it’ll be warm in jail.” “Why are you in Alaska?” Sarah asked Manford, keeping her voice calm.