Caffeine & Killers (A Roasted Love Cozy Mystery Book 3) (6 page)

"Yeah. I think Larch is Calvin Carpenter’s
campaign manager," said Daniel. I nodded. "That would
explain his outlook on the homeless issue. Carpenter isn’t timid
about expressing his views to the world, and his manager would
naturally be on his side."

"I agree on that part," I said. "But
what I'm wondering now is how Ronald Larch knew John – at least,
outside of Roasted Love. If he did know him."

"Well, West River isn’t all that big. They
could have crossed paths at any time. But I don't think it was
anything personal. Larch wants any and all homeless types cleared out
of town."

"Yeah. And I guess there won't be any more
news about what exactly happened to John until the autopsy report
comes out."

"That's right. And the toxicology. But Laila,
there's really no doubt that he died of an overdose."

I set down my hot chocolate. "No. He didn't.
I’m sure of it. Don't ask me how I know that. I just do."

Daniel sighed. "Laila, you need to let it go.
Think about it: How well did you really know John?"

I sat up and looked straight at him. "Well, I
saw him most every day – "

"Yes. You saw him on most mornings, on the
days you were working, when he came in for his coffee."

I started to speak, but Daniel went on talking.
"Now, think about how many people come into Roasted Love whom
you only know by sight, or maybe through short conversations. Do you
think you really know them?"

A red flush of anger and embarrassment spread from
my neck to my forehead. I could feel it. "Okay. You're right
about the casual customers. But that's not what John was. He actually
talked about his life to me and to the other people. He told me about
the tough times he and his brother had as kids. And about some crazy
stuff he did in college. Things like that. The other customers don't
talk to me like that."

Daniel fell silent. Arguments between us were
rare, but it looked like tonight would be one of those exceptions. He
had his opinion about what had happened to John and I had mine, and
we were equally stubborn. Neither of us said anything for a moment.

Then he sighed, and reached for my hand. "Laila,
the world of drug addicts is not one to be played around with. Let
the police do their job, okay? You might think that you knew John
well, but let me ask you – do you even know his last name?"

"A drug dealer told me his last name was
Collins." Too late, I realized I'd just told Daniel something I
hadn’t planned on saying.

"What?" I'd never seen him look so
startled. "What are you talking about?" Before I could
answer, he sat up very straight. "Don’t tell me you went down
to the rough side of town trying to play amateur detective!"

When I said nothing, he set his jaw and then got
to his feet. "Keep out of it, Laila, or you'll end up just like
your friend John. I mean it. You have no idea what you're getting
yourself into."

He walked to the patio door and called the dogs
inside. Daniel picked up Benji and then the two of them were gone.
The last vision I had of Daniel was one of someone who was on the
edge of exploding. I'd never seen him so angry.

After the door slammed shut, an awful silence hung
in the air.

Thor walked over to me. He appeared baffled by the
sudden disappearance of both of his friends.

I put my arms around Thor's neck and leaned
against his shoulder for comfort, as a horrible thought raced through
my mind.
What if I lost Daniel over all of this?

My heart sank at the thought. He was my anchor
most of the time. We had a history between us and our relationship
was based on trust and respect. Tonight, I had let that crumble. It
was my fault and I knew I'd have to give Daniel time to cool off.

Looking for the nearest distraction, I reached for
the TV remote control. And wouldn't you know it – the first thing I
saw on the screen was one of Calvin Carpenter’s campaign ads.

He'd chosen his favorite subject for the ad, and
went on and on about the dangers of homelessness and drug abuse in
West River. He sure seemed to have a one-track agenda. He made it
sound as if the city of West River was overrun with people who lived
on the streets and used drugs.

Before I'd met John, I didn’t know anyone who
didn’t have a bed to sleep in at night. Carpenter’s approach sure
did the trick of scaring the people of our town about the homeless.

It was true that I'd felt fear when I'd talked to
that drug dealer downtown. It didn’t take Councilman Calvin
Carpenter to put that feeling inside of me. But it wasn’t as if I
had to live down there. I could choose to go back there for more
information, or choose not to.

I turned the TV off. A decision had to be made.
Either I could keep my relationship with Daniel intact, or risk
losing him if I returned to Skid Row to get the truth about John’s
life.

As the evening stretched on, I waited for Daniel
to call me. I wanted things to be good between us again and I was
sure he did, too.

But no call came.

I lay down in my bed and closed my eyes. Once I
got more information, I'd be able to convince Daniel that I was right
about John’s death. But I knew, even as a tear formed in the corner
of my eye, that there would be no more discussion of John's murder
with Daniel.

Chapter Eight

It was my day to come in early at Roasted Love,
and I got there right when my boss, Jacob, got there. We greeted each
other and got right to work prepping for the morning rush.

I was glad to keep busy, and it looked like we
would be nice and busy today. It was chilly and damp and a light rain
was beginning to fall from the grey skies. Perfect coffee weather.

"You look like you could use a little extra
caffeine yourself," said Jacob, and handed me my favorite
espresso.

I sure needed something strong today, and this
would do the trick. "Thanks. I’m okay. I just stayed up a
little late last night.." I smiled at Jacob, and he winked at
me. Then I realized what he thought I'd said. "Oh, no, no! I
didn't mean – "

"Don't worry about it, Laila," he said,
chuckling. "Just get that French roast going, will you?"

Pretty soon, the first three customers of the day
walked into the coffee house. As the bell on the door jangled, I
glanced back to see Gary Inman, along with two men I didn’t know,
taking their seats at a table for four.

I knew Gary worked in construction and presumed
the other two did as well. All three of them appeared a lot more
awake than I felt.

"Morning, Laila," said Gary.

"Good morning," I said. "I’m
surprised you’re working today, with all this rain."

"Oh, we’re doing inside work on the new
office building going up a block north of here," he said. I took
their orders for French toast and bagels and then returned to the
kitchen to give the orders to Jacob.

In a moment I was back at their tables with two
espressos for the unknown men and a latte for Gary. "This is
Michael and Kevin. Drywall guys."

"Nice to meet you. Let me know if you need
anything."

More patrons came in, and I turned to greet them.
Most worked in shops along the Piazza and they were regulars. I tuned
into the moods of the people around me, and felt a little better. The
other folks made the day a little less cloudy.

Then the bell jingled again and I saw Councilman
Calvin Carpenter and his campaign manager Ronald Larch walk in.

Larch wouldn't look at me, but Carpenter acted as
if we were old friends. My fake smile didn’t reach my eyes.

Lily, my server, arrived, and I took over at the
espresso machine. Eddie clocked in next and he and Jacob stayed busy
turning out bagels, scones and rolls as fast as people ordered them.

"If some of these customers don’t move out,
we won’t have room for the latecomers," said Lily.

"Rainy days seem to hold them in here longer
than usual," I said. "They probably don’t want to face
the downpour any sooner than they have to."

Looking out the window at the grayness of the sky
and the fog, I remembered watching John huddle under the eaves of
Roasted Love in rain. He would wait there until our crowd thinned out
and then slip inside for a little shelter.

Today, of course, no one was out there.

Eventually the Councilman and his manager finished
their morning dose of caffeine and came to the register. Lily was
busy, so I checked them out. Again, Larch acted like I wasn't there.
On their way out, I heard Carpenter voice his appreciation that he
didn’t have to walk around some "homeless heap" any
longer to get in and out of Roasted Love.

The door jingled shut behind them. And then I had
an idea.

This time, it had nothing to do with going back to
the seedy downtown neighborhood. No, this time I wanted to learn more
about Councilman Carpenter.

More than anything, I wanted to find out how he
planned to deal with the issues that he thought plagued the city –
namely, the homeless and the drug

addicts.

My having to come in early to work proved to be a
good thing. It gave me all day long to think about how to approach
the councilman for answers, and by the end of my shift I had things
in place. At 3:00 I clocked out and left for his campaign office.

The sun was out and the air was cool and refreshed
by the rain. I drove with a renewed determination.

# # #

Carpenter’s headquarters were in a rented
one-story building that had once housed a large bookstore. The
building was well-kept and the small narrow yard in front of it had
been mowed recently before the rains. It ran parallel to a sidewalk
that was smooth and flat, unlike the old downtown's cracked and
uneven walks.

The entire front of the building was all windows..
No one could miss the large poster that took up one full glass frame.
"Campaign Headquarters of Councilman Calvin Carpenter" it
proudly proclaimed, to all who passed by.

Through all that glass, I could see several people
who appeared to be running from one desk to another. Calvin
Carpenter’s campaign was in full force with just three weeks
remaining until Election Day.

I walked inside and headed towards a woman sitting
at a desk in the center of the spacious room. Behind her were five
doors that I presumed led to offices, one of which had to belong to
the esteemed candidate.

It was sure a busy place. Aides ran back and
forth, most of them talking on cell phones. There were even a few
old-school landline phones ringing on the desks. Someone ran a copier
in a far corner, and a shredding machine worked non-stop beside it. I
saw long tables on the far right wall where workers collated all
those copies.

"I’m here to see Councilman Carpenter,"
I told the receptionist. My voice held a confidence I didn’t
entirely feel.

"Oh, I’m sorry, dear. He is very busy right
now," she said quickly, and then turned back to her
conversation. She balanced the phone receiver on her shoulder while
writing something down.

I stayed right where I was, and waited. She
frowned at me until I sat down in the chair at the end of her desk,
not far from where she sat. Once she convinced the caller to vote for
Carpenter, she would have to deal with me whether she wanted to or
not.

I looked again at the rush all around me. I was
reminded of the beehives that my grandparents kept in Oregon. The
bees were busy all the time, though you couldn't tell exactly what
they were doing. It always looked like all that work was meaningless
– until you realized they'd been producing delicious raw honey all
along.

Suddenly, the activity stopped and the voices fell
silent. Then the Queen Bee, also known as Councilman Calvin
Carpenter, a rather overweight man in his fifties, opened his office
door and walked out. Everyone seemed to be waiting for some
announcement and when none came, they simply resumed their
activities.

He just stood there and looked around. I noticed
that his hair was mostly grey under the fluorescent lighting.
Finally, he walked over to another desk and handed the woman there
some brochures.

"Councilman Carpenter!" I called, as he
turned to go back to his office. He looked down at me just as I
reached his side.

"Can I help you?" he asked. Then
recognition crossed his face. "Oh, you're that little barista
down at Roasted Love. What can I do for you?"

I tried to give him my nicest smile. "Councilman,
I'm interested in doing some part-time work on your campaign. I have
some afternoons and evenings off during the week, on the days that I
come in for the early shift at the coffee house. Is there anything I
could work on for you?"

He frowned a little as he looked closely at me.
There was no doubt in my mind that he was thinking of the coffee and
shelter I'd offered to John.

Before the councilman responded, I pressed on.
"But first, could I ask you a few questions? I just want to
clarify some of your issues and campaign promises, so I can be sure
I'll be a good fit to work here."

He gave me a professional grin. "Sure, I can
give you a few minutes. We can always use more helpers to get the
message out. Your position at Roasted Love could actually help, since
you get such a good crowd of customers in there." He stood aside
and we entered his office. He closed the door and I sat down in the
chair he offered me.

"I’ve seen your ads often on TV, and in
most of them you mention doing something about the homeless people in
West River," I said. "Do you have a definite plan for
taking care of the problem?"

Again, his eyes scrutinized me. Being a
politician, he smiled broadly and leaned back in his chair. "I
do have ideas on that issue. Vagrants are becoming a bigger problem
all the time, and it's one that will only grow as time goes on."