A Cup of Murder (3 page)

I pulled Janie aside. “Did you get here before
or after Jacob?”

“Before,” she replied. “Jacob arrived a bit
after I did.”

Neither of us spoke again. I tried to start my day
in the usual manner but thoughts and images flew through my mind. I
recalled how upset Jacob was when I left him the night before but I
pushed all connotations from my head. It was way too early to start
thinking about implicating him in any way. He surely wouldn’t put
himself in a position as serious as bodily harm to someone, even
someone he intensely disliked.

I recalled the incident of the night before when
Michael Simms and his dog threatened me. Wondering if the owner of
Sunrise had returned to his shop or walked in a different direction,
I mentally kicked myself for not noticing. I had no idea whether that
would tell me anything or not, or if it mattered anyway.

“Laila,” said Janie. She wiped her hands on
the cloth and her hands twitched. “Some of the customers are
blaming Jacob. Three of them were in here when he flew off the handle
yesterday about Mr. Simms.”

“You weren’t here at the time, were you?” I
asked.

Everyone knew how much I abhorred gossip.

“No, but they were here and heard Jacob make
threatening remarks about Mr. Simms. I’m just telling you that
rumors are starting.”

My heart lodged very close to my throat. Jacob,
innocent or not was already condemned and I knew it was only a matter
of time before word would spread quickly up and down the Piazza. I
knew I should talk with Jacob but I wasn’t ready for that yet. I
figured I was still more than a little angry with him for lashing out
at me the evening before. His stupid mistakes of flying off the
handle more than once in front of patrons did not help his innocence.

From behind the counter I watched as the
paramedic’s face swerved around to a clearer view from my vantage
point. Distress lined his face.

“That’s odd,” I said. Janie’s look was one
of questioning, but I ignored her.

It was odd that this paramedic looked so
distressed when surely he was used to all kinds of accidents.

“Nothing, Janie, I didn’t mean anything by
that.”

The paramedic’s face looked familiar to me and I
remembered he was an occasionally customer here. The ambulance
remained where it was and two more cops gathered at the back of it.
By this time, the small early morning crowd on the Piazza had grown
to the point where the cops had to hold them back. Most were curious
onlookers along with familiar shop owners who watched the activity
with great interest. Several in the crowd who could pull their eyes
away from the scene glanced toward the Roasted Love coffee house. My
attention was brought back to conversations in the shop.

“I think the man is dead,” commented one
customer who had been there since I came in. “The ambulance isn’t
going anywhere.

Her companion nodded his head in agreement. All
eyes remained glued to the window. The whirring of coffee machines
stood silent. I moved toward the stool behind the counter and sat
down before my legs buckled under me. From where I sat, the
whimpering that came from the kitchen could be heard droning on. The
doors of Roasted Love swung open and more customers came into the
shop. No one wanted to leave the area and they chose tables where
they could continue to watch. A few stood when all chairs were taken.

Determined no one was getting a free seat, I
motioned to Janie to start waiting on them while I readied myself at
the machines. Some looked up in surprise when Janie asked what they
wanted. They hurriedly gave their orders for expressos and frappes.
At least I had something constructive to do. The ambulance sitting
there didn’t help my nerves. There was no reason to hurry to a
hospital by now. Finally it began to move slowly away from the crowds
and picked up speed at the end of the street. It's sirens and lights
never coming to life. The next person to see Michael Simms would be
the coroner.

“Did you see the body bag?” said one customer
to all who cared to listen. “That’s the first time I’ve ever
seen something like that.”

Her voice was on the verge of elation and
excitement at the sight she witnessed. Voices ripped through the
coffee house and everyone had an opinion. I turned to hand the latest
order to Janie when I spotted Jen Perry across the street. She
gestured toward Roasted Love while talking with a cop. Things were
too busy for me to approach Jacob Weaver, though by now I was ready
to talk seriously with him. I had a lot of questions to ask him.
Jen’s insinuation that I observed wouldn’t be a helpful factor.

The second server, Lily arrived for her shift.
“I’m sorry I’m a little late but I had to park a couple of
blocks from here. What’s going on around here?”

“It appears that Michael Simms is dead,” I
said. “The cops have been all over the area and the ambulance left
a few minutes ago.”

We made eye contact and the shock on her face told
me I had to get her back to reality. I put her in charge of the
machines so I could slip back to speak with Jacob. He still cowered
in the corner. He looked beaten and subdued. I pulled up two folded
chairs and told him to sit down. While he repositioned himself, I
took a tray of fresh sticky buns and cheese scones to the front and
returned to him. He stared at the floor. Sweat dotted his head and
face. Fingers twisted uncontrollably, opening and closing in
succession.

“Do you know what happened to Michael Simms?”
I asked him point-blank.

“I don’t know who hurt him, but I know there
are plenty of witnesses to say I held a grudge against him.”

I didn’t see any better way to let him know the
facts other than to just come out and say it. “He’s more than
hurt,” I said. “He’s dead.” His face turned ashen. His
sapphire blue eyes indicated panic and his massive frame sank.

“I had nothing to do with any of this,” he
said. “I know everyone will think I killed him, but I didn’t do
that. I did not know he was hurt until I heard people talking.”

His voice was vehement. I knew I had to ask
questions the police were sure to ask soon enough.

“When did you leave here last night?”

He told me he calmed himself down after I left and
sat in the small office off the kitchen to go over the books. He
reminded me it was the end of the month and so that seemed plausible.
It was true that about this time he always went over the books and
checked all transactions a second time. When I asked him if Sunrise
was still open when he left, he told me only the street lights
outside were on. He was sure the business had closed for the night
but hadn’t paid attention. He left around ten to go home.

“I was late getting to bed but that was because
I watched television for a while and fell asleep in my chair,” he
explained. “I over-slept this morning and came in just a few
minutes after Janie opened up.”

Jacob lived alone three blocks from his coffee
shop. He had been married until his prison stint when his wife told
him it was over between them for good. When I asked him what landed
him in jail for three years, he told the story of a man who stalked
his wife and started harassing her. It was scaring her. Jacob
searched for him and beat him up. He was charged with premeditated
assault. The victim stayed in the hospital for several weeks. The
violent side of Jacob scared his wife and she decided she wanted a
new life. If he dated anyone after prison I was not aware of it. He
had a few buddies that socialized regularly and, generally speaking,
he made friends easily.

“Were you alone last night or did a friend or
two come over?” I asked him.

He muttered he had been alone the whole time. I
didn’t think the police were going to simply let any gaps in his
whereabouts go unchecked, but hopefully they intended to question a
lot of people. But facts were facts. Jacob displayed anger and
resentment of Michael Simms more than once in front of our customers.
That was especially true in the last few days as we lost more of them
to Sunrise. I had known him for the past four years and couldn’t
fathom his anger leading to murder. More than once he vowed privately
to me that he would never go to prison again. I could only imagine
how bad it must have been for him.

For that matter, I felt sure Michael Simms had
plenty of enemies of his own. Who wouldn’t have enemies with an
arrogant attitude like the one that even other shop vendors felt the
brunt of. It must have taken something big to instill an attitude so
firmly rooted in him. On the other hand, he had been a sort of
enigma. He must have had charisma when it came to pleasing customers
or they wouldn’t have flocked to his coffee house so easily. If he
had been rude to them, even Jen would have lost her power to hold
them there. Things weren’t looking so good for Jacob Weaver but the
police had not approached him yet. That may or may not be a good
sign. I remembered how Jen gestured our way while talking with the
policeman. Her sandy hair had flipped for emphasis and that gesture
wasn’t lost on the young cop. My body felt weak and I didn’t
trust my legs to stand strong. For now I remained sitting next to
Jacob.

“It will all be a nightmare,” he said. “I
shouldn’t have complained about that man in front of anyone. Laila,
as much as I hated him, the thought of prison time alone would never
let me kill him nor even think of assaulting him. I am one former
inmate who learned his lesson. I just wanted to tell him off.”

Anger does strange things, I thought to myself,
but I believed Jacob at that moment. If he expected all judgment to
result in his innocence in West River, he had a hard road ahead of
him. He needed a neighborhood witness or someone who could vouch that
he was at home after leaving here. He needed someone who saw him
actually leave Roasted Love and walk straight home. I berated myself
for not calling him last night to come over when I thought about
doing so.

By late morning the excitement had calmed down and
the only reminder of the earlier chaos was the existing yellow tape
around Sunrise. The gaudy signs still flickered in the sunlight but
the doors were closed to customers and the only people in the coffee
house across the street were detectives combing through for any signs
of who committed murder in the Sunrise coffee house on the Piazza.

Two elderly ladies sat at a table in Roasted Love
sipping lattes. They spoke in low voices and their eyes skirted from
inside Roasted Love to outside Sunrise. Jacob finally emerged from
the back and began wiping down the counter and keeping himself busy
with duties Janie and Lila usually were expected to do. His face was
still pale but he seemed to have a little more life in him.

Jacob Weaver would need all the confidence he
could muster when the police got to him.

Chapter Four

As for me, I hoped against hope my boss had not
murdered his enemy from across the street. I grabbed a plain black
coffee and headed for the back door. I needed fresh air and the alley
behind the line of shops was a good place for a walk. After striding
behind the businesses several times, I was just about to open the
rear door to Roasted Love and get back to work when Jen Perry came
around the corner.

“Laila, they told me you were out here walking,”
she said.

The light wind whipped strands of shining hair
across her face. She didn’t bother pushing them away. Her curves
accentuated by charcoal slacks and a sky-blue silk blouse caused envy
to make its way up inside me. I hoped my mannerisms didn’t betray
the look in my deep blue eyes where expressions sometimes were easily
hidden.

“What did you want?” I struggled to say
nicely.

Her puffy red eyes failed to encourage my
sympathy. This was the third time I had spoken to Jen face to face
since Sunrise had opened. The two previous exchanges were sterile
greetings when we were too close to one another to ignore the other.
I noticed a certain panic in her red-rimmed eyes.

“I’ve already heard rumors that Jacob is to
blame for Michael’s death.”

“I think I saw you pointing over this way when
you talked with the cop earlier. Did you make sure that message
reached the cop’s ear?”

“He merely asked me if Michael had any known
enemies. I pointed out that Jacob Weaver didn’t get along with
him,” said Jen. “That’s all I said.”

“I might add,” I said, “that Michael Simms
did not get along with more shop owners than Jacob.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I know that, but
Michael hated Jacob most of all.” She swallowed hard. “That
officer thinks of me as a suspect. They think he may have been
poisoned.”

I stared at her but didn’t respond. I wondered
where this petite woman had been at the time of her boss’s death
and whether or not she had put something foreign in his coffee. In
spite of the news, a little surge of hope arose when I thought at
least Jacob wasn’t going to be the only suspect in this case. I
rallied back to the situation at hand and asked her why they thought
she might have something to do with it. Suddenly she didn’t look so
suave after all. In halting tones she explained why the cops were
looking at her.

“Michael and I had argued a lot recently. Then,
I saw how he let Thor chase after you. I could tell from Michael’s
demeanor that he was being hateful toward you. I had a close
relationship with Michael and was probably the only person who could
put him in his place and get by with it. I asked him what the meeting
with you was all about.”

She took a deep breath. “Without warning he
lashed out at me as if I meant nothing to him. We ended up having a
huge argument. It was just about closing time but he told me to stay
open another two hours.”

“Why would he ask you to stay open past the
usual hours?” I asked. Now curiosity replaced envy. I had yet to
figure out why she was confiding in me.