Caffeine & Killers (A Roasted Love Cozy Mystery Book 3) (2 page)

"The ones who rule the town spend most of
their time around their shiny oak table making up rules," he
went on. "I think Councilman Carpenter gets out in the air just
to harass us."

"You're probably right about that," I
said. He brushed his tangled, falling locks away from his face. Good
humor sparkled in his eyes, despite his otherwise rough appearance.

"Where will you go if the councilman gets his
way and forces you off the street for good?" I asked.

John shrugged his thin shoulders. "I don't
know. I really don't worry about it."

"Well, some of us worry about it. Isn't there
a shelter anywhere in West River? I'm sorry to say that I don't know
what we've got here."

"There is. But they're far and few and to be
honest, they're not that great. Crowded, noisy, you know. It's easier
sometimes to just find a place.."

Then I suddenly had an idea. "Hey – I've
got a friend who would know where to get services for you. He – "

"Oh, you mean that good-looking young
paramedic you've been seeing, don't you?" His dark brown eye –
the only one I could see under that mop of dirty-blond hair –
twinkled as he spoke.

I could feel my face turning red. "Yes.
Daniel Jenkins. I could ask him. Maybe there are other places that
will work. I'm sure he'd know where you could go."

But John only shook his head. "No, thanks.
I’ve survived this long. I’ll make it okay."

All I could do was give him a slight nod. I'd
never known anyone who lived on the street before, and I'd always
wondered how someone like John could end up like this. He was
intelligent and a good person. I wondered where he came from. He'd
just sort of appeared one day, as if from nowhere.

I glanced up as the door opened and two more
customers walked in. "Okay, John. Just wait here. I'll be back
in a minute," I told him.

A young couple, new to me, sat down at a table
near the wide front window. They ordered cheese scones and two
lattes. They were engrossed in their own conversation, so I returned
to John.

His face held a sadness I hadn’t seen there
before. "Are you okay, John?" I asked him.

He hesitated and I could tell he wanted to say
something. "I’m all right," he finally said, "but my
brother worries me."

"Oh, you have a brother?" It was the
first time I'd heard him mention any family. Surely a family member
would take him in! "What's going on with him?"

John looked down, and shook his head. "He got
into drugs several years back. He’s been in and out of rehab more
times than I can count."

"Well, some places can get people back on the
right track. But there's no guarantee," I said. "I’m
sorry to hear this. Do you see him very much?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah, I do get to see him
once in a while. I've never touched drugs myself but I’ve seen
plenty of it on the streets. I know what it can do to people. It’s
almost impossible to get away from the poison. It’s an addiction
that keeps pulling the person back down."

This was the most I'd ever heard John talk about
serious things. I offered him more coffee, but he shook his head and
smiled at me. It seemed there was more he wanted to say, and I didn't
mind. I was a good listener.

John took a breath. "Steven, my brother, went
to prison a bit ago because drugs. He told me he was clean, but when
he got busted, I didn't know what to believe. It blew me away, The
story was that he was dealing and trying to sell to an undercover
cop. He says, of course, that he was framed," he laughed
quietly. "I want to believe him, and the more I think about
it... I just don't know. But the evidence was there and he was
convicted."

He sighed. "I'm still worried about him. You
know, Laila, even in prison a person can get drugs."

I nodded. "I’ve heard that, but I still
find it hard to believe. Is your brother homeless, too?"

"Well, not right now. He’s still in prison.
I – I haven’t exactly been much of an example to my kid brother,
I guess. You might say our childhood wasn’t the best."

All I could do was smile at him in sympathy. He
returned to his cheerful self and stood up. "I’ve kept you
long enough, Laila. I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s hard to pass up a
good cup of hot coffee."

I stood and watched John as he walked out the door
of Roasted Love Coffeehouse and headed back onto the street. The wind
picked up as he left and it whipped his long hair and jacket all
around him. It made me think of a leaf being carried off by the wind.

Chapter Two

After I got off work, I again thought about John.
I realized I had no idea how many homeless lived on the streets of
West River. They were hidden for the most part and I didn’t know
where any of the others were.

During the time I'd lived here, I had seen one or
two like John but only rarely on streets that were familiar to me.
The homeless men that I did see, struck me as being on the move –
transients, as the police called them. Guys who were always traveling
and never stayed long in any one place.

John, though, had recently begun sleeping between
the sidewalk and the building at the front of Roasted Love. He would
settle there after dark and stay until the next day, when he was
gently told to move on by the cop on the beat.

There were very few mornings that he didn’t come
into our coffee shop. Once he drank the coffee that one of us handed
to him, he wasn’t seen for the rest of the day. He always did move
on as he was told to do each morning. I knew he didn't want any
trouble.

This evening, though, when I left Roasted Love,
the Piazza looked as calm and homeless-free as it normally did. I
doubted that many people thought about those who had no home to sleep
in. It was both frightening and depressing.

But as I got in my car and started my drive home,
I realized that I needed to change my mood. There was nothing I could
do about John. I'd offered to help him find a place to stay and he
had refused. He was not a danger to himself or anyone else, so there
was no way to force him to go anywhere if he didn't want to.

My thoughts went back to Daniel Jenkins, the
"good-looking young paramedic" I'd been seeing. Daniel was
expecting me at his Brownstone this evening, but I was running a
little late and he might be getting worried.

I hit speed dial and Daniel answered on the first
ring. "Laila, are you on your way?" he asked. "I sure
hope so!"

I couldn't help grinning at the sound of his
voice. It wasn’t hard to envision that tall muscular man as if he
were in the car with me. I could see his black hair shining in the
light and his eyes, so dark brown they were almost black, bright and
cheerful as he gazed at me.

Then I heard what sounded like plates crashing to
the floor. "Hey! Are you throwing our dinner across the room, or
what?" I asked him, with a laugh.

His own happy laugh lifted my spirits even more.
"No way. That was a lid. I wanted to do a stir-fry dinner and
I'm trying to find the right skillet. You better hurry, though – I
need your touch on the salads as soon as you get here."

"Sure, but I have to take care of Thor first.
It may be a half hour or so."

"Oh, no problems. Just bring your Doberman
with you. I still have some of his dog food here. He and Benji can
have their dinner together."

I couldn't help grinning at the thought of my
huge, fierce-looking dog playing with fluffy little Benji. "I’ll
get Thor out for a run and then head on over. We can walk them both
after we eat."

"Sure thing. See you soon."

We both hung up, and for the rest of the drive the
only thing on my mind was tall, handsome, dark-haired Daniel.

But Thor bounded to the door the instant he heard
me insert the key in the lock, and gave me the kind of sincere
welcome home that only a dog can give you.

After dropping my purse, I took Thor outside and
threw a ball for him for a few minutes. Then I left him outside and
went back inside to change clothes and freshen up.

"Hey, we’re going out for dinner, Thor,"
I told him, when I let him back inside. He sniffed his empty dog dish
and looked at me with accusation. "Don't worry. You're going to
eat with Benji tonight."

When he saw me reach for his leash, Thor forgot
all about food. He leaped in my car and rode happily all the way to
Daniel’s building. Once were inside his apartment, Thor and Benji
ignored us both and took off for some serious dog play.

"Mmm, smells wonderful in here," I said.
And it did. In the kitchen, I saw a cast iron skillet with olive oil
heating in a thin layer across the bottom. Chicken strips rested on a
plate nearby. Sliced onions and green peppers sat ready on a separate
dish. Containers of salt, black pepper and a little ginger were at
hand.

"Of course it smells great. Would you expect
any less?" Daniel tossed a bit of green pepper into the skillet
to see if the oil was hot enough – not quite yet, I saw.

"Of course I wouldn't," I said with a
grin. I opened the refrigerator and starting taking out lettuce,
cucumbers, and tomatoes for the salad, and noticed some jalapeños on
the top shelf. They were sliced on the diagonal into thin pieces.

"Do you want me to use these for the salad?"
I asked him. "I could put them on top."

He shrugged, still poking at the oil in the
skillet. "You’re the salad maker. You have free rein."

While I looked for a knife and the cutting board,
we chatted about our day. Daniel talked about several calls he had,
especially one that had involved a child. "I told the little
girl how proud I was that she called 911," he said. "Her
mother was unresponsive and she knew something was wrong."

"How old is the little girl?"

"She told me she was four. Her mother had
taught her how to dial the number in case of emergency. The mother is
diabetic and had gone into a diabetic coma. One of the local news
crews followed us to the house and shot some video as we brought the
woman out."

"Wow!" I said. "It was a good thing
the little girl knew what to do."

"Oh, yeah. She was a smart kid," Daniel
agreed. He decided the oil in the skillet was hot enough and began
dumping in the chicken and peppers and onions, along with dashes of
the assembled seasonings.

I smiled as I watched him. Daniel loved his job as
an EMT and was well respected by his fellow firefighters, as well as
among law enforcement. He didn't mind being called out at odd hours,
either, though I was very glad that tonight was his night off. Those
were the times when we planned dinners together.

"Let’s catch the news and see if the little
girl made it on tonight," I suggested. I wanted to see if Daniel
was on the video, too. He deserved some recognition for the work he
did. On the other hand, I knew that he wasn't in this line of work
for attention and if he'd seen cameras pointed at him, he would have
dodged them.

We sat down to eat and watched the local news. The
first story did concern the little girl and her bravery. "Oh,
look! There you are!" I watched as he helped lift the gurney
into the ambulance, very excited to see him on TV even if he did have
his back to the cameras. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Aw, just a normal day's work," he said,
but he did give me a quick smile before turning back to his plate of
stir fry. "How about some music? I guess we've seen the best
part of tonight's news."

Just as I started to answer I heard the reporter
mention something about the homeless. "Wait – I want to hear
this," I said as I slowly set down my plate as I listened to the
field reporter on the screen.

"
The homeless man was known in the
community only as 'John.' He was found dead from a suspected drug
overdose. That is all they are releasing at this time.
"

I stared at the screen. The reporter wiped her
hair away form her face. "
This emphasizes what Councilman
Carpenter has been saying for months now: that drug use and the
homeless are issues that must be addressed.
" The switched to
a clip of a man campaigning at a podium with a few important looking
people standing beside him.

Stunned by the news, I could only sit motionless
and try to think. "I can’t believe John is dead," I
finally said. "How is that possible? I just saw him this
morning!"

"Is that the homeless man that you give
coffee to? Are you sure it's the same John?" asked Daniel.

I nodded slowly, still trying to make sense of
what the reporter had said. "What other Homeless John is known
in the community. He's the only one that I know. He and I talked as
usual today, around mid-morning. He told me Councilman Carpenter was
making a big deal about the homeless littering the streets. Those
were the councilman’s words. I heard him call them 'rats' one day
at Roasted Love."

I shook my head, and stared up at Daniel. "I
can’t believe that poor John is dead."

Daniel leaned back and sighed, though his eyes
held sympathy. "Laila, it can be hard to understand just how
tough it really is to break an addiction. This guy was probably using
on a regular basis just to get through his day. Being homeless is a
tough way to go through life."

My jaw tightened. "He didn’t do drugs,"
I said.

Daniel shrugged. "I’m just saying that it
can be hard to tell whether someone is an addict or not. Depending on
where you catch them in their high, they can appear as lucid as you
or me."

I just sat there in silence. Daniel lowered the
volume on the TV and then, almost as an afterthought, switched it
off. The only other sounds in the room were Thor and Benji munching
dog food in the corner of the kitchen.

Finally I looked over at Daniel. "I just feel
sure that John was not an addict. He told me only this morning that
he never used at all – not after he saw what happened to his
brother."