Caffeine & Killers (A Roasted Love Cozy Mystery Book 3) (12 page)

"Jacob – you're right. He's not like John,
who I think was just down on his luck. Billy is – well, crazy. He
talks to people who aren't there. And he flipped off a group of
customers as they walked up to our door."

That last one got him to look up at me. "Okay.
That's it. I’m going to have to get the cops on this. I can't let
somebody run off the customers and destroy our business."

"Yeah. I understand." I knew Jacob was
right. I stood by and waited while he dialed the precinct house.

While he waited for someone to answer, he called
to me over his shoulder. "Laila – as bad as I sound, please
don’t hand out any more food to him. Okay?"

I nodded. "Okay."

This was difficult. I didn't want to sweep
homelessness under the rug and ignore it like so many tried to do,
but at the same time – when it came to Billy’s threats and
possible genuine mental illness, there was just no other answer. We
all depended on income from Roasted Love, Jacob most of all.

Then I began to wonder why that scruffy dealer
Ricky Thomas had sent me to find Licorice Billy. Crazy old Billy
wasn't any help at all when it came to the mystery of John’s death,
but there was a small nagging thought at the back of my brain.

Had Billy killed John over the sleeping spot in
front of Roasted Love?
I hoped not, but stranger things had
happened, I was sure. I wished Daniel was on board with me. It would
be sure help to talk this over with him and figure it out.

I looked out the window as the cop on the beat
arrived. He pulled Billy up from the sidewalk and made him stand
there. The exchange was not pleasant, but Licorice Billy finally
shuffled off down the street and the cop got in his car and left.

I grabbed a broom from the kitchen and went out to
sweep the whole front sidewalk. Working away with the broom, I kept
my eyes on the homeless man until I saw him turn the corner.
Satisfied, I went back inside and got back to work.

Yet, I still couldn't figure out why Ricky Thomas
had suggested I meet up with Licorice Billy. They both knew something
about John's death, but I couldn't imagine what it was.

# # #

I was off at mid-afternoon, and I got right in my
car and drove straight down to Skid Row. I was just passing the
grocery store with the bars on it when I saw Billy and Ricky standing
right next to each other.

I swung into the parking lot and pulled into a
space. The right front wheel of my car came to rest in a hole in the
cracked and broken asphalt. I stuffed my small purse under the front
seat and put my cell phone in my jeans pocket.

Both men looked in my direction as I approached.
Licorice Billy looked as if he was ready to make a run for it. Ricky
reached for his friend's dirty sleeve and spoke to him in a low tone,
and then both of them stood waiting for me.

"Hey, Billy. I didn’t get to ask you all of
my questions this morning," I said. I pretended not to remember
how he'd gotten belligerent with me earlier today. "Can I ask
you a couple more?"

I could see his disgust for me in his eyes –
although maybe it wasn't just me and he simply didn't like people in
general. I tried not to push him, but just waited quietly.

"Whaddya want to know?" he finally said.

"I want to know if
you
know who could
have caused John Collin’s death. We both know he wasn’t into
drugs."

Ricky and Licorice Billy looked at each other.
Ricky spoke first. "I told you before. John Collins isn't dead."
He looked at Billy. "Tell her."

Billy’s look was one of complete surprise. "I
don't know what you're talking about," he said to me. "John
Collins is alive. I saw him just a few minutes ago, right here where
we're standing now."

Billy looked over his shoulder. We three were the
only ones here. Ricky had a smirk on his face, now that Billy had
backed him up.

Okay, I thought. Two – or in this case, three –
can play this game.

I turned to Licorice Billy. "Now – John
Collins was the man whose place you claimed for your own outside
Roasted Love. Correct?"

Both men looked at each other, and then burst into
hoarse laughter. "That John was no John Collins, Miss Uptown,"
said Ricky.

They both turned abruptly and walked away from me,
shaking their heads. I heard them laughing, even when Billy wiped his
hand across his blackened mouth.

"Wait!" I cried. "I need to know
what you're talking about. Who's – who's John Collins?"

Licorice Billy just waved his thick hand over his
shoulder without looking back. Both men parted ways at the corner.
Ricky continued across the broken street at a leisurely pace, until
something caught his eye. Then he raised his head and practically
started running towards a side alley, where he vanished.

I looked to see what caused him to panic. An
ordinary-looking car pulled to the curb and stopped – and who
should get out but the now-familiar DEA man. He started in Ricky's
direction, but the scruffy dealer had had too much of a head start
and was already gone.

I knew I should turn and take refuge in my car
before the officer recognized me – but I was too late. He strode
quickly in my direction and I had no choice but to stay where I was.

"Don’t tell me you do your grocery shopping
down here." His tone was sarcastic.

"Don't tell me you don't wear your badge down
here." I wasn't sure where I'd gotten the nerve to say that. At
least my voice was brave, even though the rest of me was beginning to
shake.

"I don't think you understand how it works,
ma'am." His eyes were hard and glaring, and his words held a
warning. "I told you I didn't want to see you down here again."

I wanted to tell him my thoughts on freedom in
America, but decided it was smarter to just keep quiet. I walked back
to my car, reminding myself not to come down here again.

At least, not without Thor.

Chapter Sixteen

I was still baffled by the way Licorice Billy and
Ricky Thomas had laughed at me when I mentioned the name "John
Collins." At Roasted Love, I found myself distracted when Lily
gave me a couple of orders.

"I asked for a latte, Laila, not a
cappuccino," said Lily. "What’s wrong with you today? You
seem to be in another world."

"I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little
distracted."

I quickly corrected my mistake and tried to focus
on work. Every once in a while my eyes scanned the coffee house,
hoping to catch a glimpse of Linda Henson and Ronald Larch. Neither
one of them came in, but Daniel did. He had a small boutique shopping
bag in his hand. Our eyes met and long strides brought him to the
counter across from me.

"Laila, I brought you something I think
you’ll like," he said. If his smile spread wider there would
be nothing left of his handsome face. "I’ll grab a table. When
you can, come on over."

"Now you've got me wondering," I said,
and grinned back at him. There was one sure thing about Daniel: He
knew how to lift my spirits.

But I wasn’t sure if I should say anything about
Homeless John not being John Collins. If I did, I'd have to tell him
how I'd found out.

I had quite a dilemma going on.

When I joined Daniel at the table, most of the
customers had gone. There were only a couple of stragglers left. I
knew that things would stay quiet for an hour or so before the next
rush at around noon.

I sat across from Daniel while he sipped a latte
and munched on a cheese scone. I wrapped my hands around a cup of
espresso.

"I’m glad you could get a little break,
Laila." His dark eyes shone in anticipation. "I picked up
something for you this morning. I thought of you right away when I
saw it."

He pushed the small bag toward me. I opened it,
only to see a gift-wrapped box. "It’s not my birthday," I
said. "What’s the occasion?"

"Does there have to be an occasion?" he
said.

A movement outside caught my eye. I glanced past
Daniel and saw Licorice Billy sauntering along the sidewalk. I
sighed, and hoped he didn’t plan on sitting outside Roasted Love
again.

As I watched, he bent over the trash can and I saw
him pushing dirty cups and papers around. He pulled out a torn
wrapper that held half a bagel.

I knew I should open my gift and thank Daniel for
it. Instead, I said, "I found out something today."

"Really? What?"

"I found out that John’s last name wasn’t
Collins."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I
realized that Daniel’s happy mood had vanished. "Why are you
spending all of your waking hours on this case? Even when I'm with
you physically, you're never with me mentally. Just like right now."
His dark eyes changed to a deeper black, and his face flushed red.

I tried to find the right words. "I’m
sorry, Daniel. I just – I want so much to find out what really
happened to John. I owe him that much. He can’t speak for himself
now."

"No, he can’t." Daniel’s voice was
pitched lower and his tone was even. "But I’m here, and he's
gone forever. What about us?"

I just looked at him, feeling pulled in two
directions at once. He was right – yes – but did I have to choose
between Daniel and solving a mystery?

He waited for my answer. I looked down, and
noticed that his knuckles were white where he gripped the mug.

"I’m starting to think you only stick with
me for information I can get for you." Hurt and anger mixed in
his dark eyes.

I looked up at that. "Oh, no, no, no way,"
I said. "You are very important to me, Daniel. I don’t want to
lose you. And I’m not just 'using' you when I ask for help. No
way."

I reached for his hand, even as he still held onto
the mug. "It’s just that I liked John, and now he can’t tell
anybody what happened to him. I feel kind of – kind of responsible,
I guess, since I was just about his only friend." I sighed, and
tried to smile. "I hope you understand."

I expected him to soften and maybe smile at me.
But instead, Daniel abruptly stood up. He opened his mouth as if to
say something, but then decided not to.

Then he turned around and walked out of Roasted
Love. The bell on the door jangled like crazy as he left.

Lily raised her eyebrows at him, and then looked
at me. I ignored her and slowly opened the gift Daniel had left for
me. Tears burned my eyes when I saw that it was a white ceramic
coffee mug with a handle in the shape of a heart.

I got up and told Jacob that I needed some fresh
air, and then slipped out for a short walk in the quiet alley. There
were only four customers in the shop and I knew Lily could easily
handle them.

While I paced, I let the tears flow. I couldn’t
lose Daniel, but that was the road I was on if I kept up with my
self-appointed mission to solve Homeless John's murder.

The battle raged through me again. I told myself
that I had to think of Daniel and make him a priority. Men needed
attention and you couldn't neglect them. I could still work on John’s
case. Just not as much. Probably. Okay.

I lifted the edge of my apron and wiped the tears
off my face. When I went back in, I finished the repairs by dabbing a
light layer of powder around my eyes. Changing aprons, I returned to
help Lily. I was grateful that she didn’t mention what she'd
witnessed earlier.

# # #

After work, I made plans to mend the growing rift
between Daniel and me. I knew I'd have to make a huge effort to get
back on track with him. I got home and took care of Thor first,
making sure he got a good run, and then I headed for the small
specialty bakery at the edge of my neighborhood.

I knew they made one of Daniel’s favorite foods
– something he called a "Cornish pasty." Personally, I
didn’t much care for it. A pasty was thick dough wrapped around a
dense mixture of potatoes, ground beef, and pork. The heavy cream and
butter inside always proved a little much for me, too, but tonight I
was determined to eat every bite with him.

I purchased two large pasties, even though one by
itself was enough for an entire meal. I threw in a couple of Waldorf
salads in hopes they would offset some of the heaviness of the rich
pasties.

I rang the outside bell to Daniel's brownstone
apartment. He buzzed open the door so I could enter the building.
When I got to his personal door, it was sitting partly open – much
to my relief. At least he wasn’t going to keep me out.

Walking inside, I set the bags of food on his
kitchen table. "Daniel, I feel terrible about the way things
were left between us this morning. I really am sorry I upset you."

A slow grin edged onto his face, and it widened
when he got a whiff of the food. Without a word, he opened the bags
and arranged everything on plates.

Once we sat down to eat, he finally spoke. "Laila
– I understand the drive you have when it comes to your pursuit of
justice. My concern is your safety. I know you came to be friends
with John. It's got to be hard to find out one day that someone you
considered a friend has been murdered. I get that, too."

His teeth sank into the golden-brown crust of the
pasty, and he reached for a napkin to catch the butter that dripped
from his mouth.

He watched me cut a piece with a knife, and I
heard the familiar chuckle. "You're the only person I know who
eats pasties with a fork." Then he cocked his head. "Come
to think of it, I didn’t know you liked them."

I smiled sweetly at him, hoping that at any moment
it would dawn on him why I was eating the loaded pastry that I'd
never liked before. I hoped he understood it was a part of my peace
offering.

Eventually we finished our dinner, and Daniel told
me he had something to show me. I followed him back to the living
room and he handed me a folder. On top of it was a small box.