A Cup of Murder Read online

  Thoughts of how to save Roasted Love flooded over me but none in particular hit like I hoped. The idea of calling Jacob and telling him I wanted to meet with him away from the coffee house entered my mind. I rethought that inspiration. My day did not need to be extended any further. Instead, I decided to face my boss directly the first thing in the morning. I hoped he had managed to control his mood by that time.

  The two birds now perched close together. I was satisfied they had come to terms with whatever put them at odds earlier. The sky turned to night and dozens of glittering stars appeared that soothed my being. It'd be nice if you could actually see the millions that were up there, but such is life in the city. Once back inside, though, the events of the day seeped back in. The restlessness I felt covered me again. It was going to be a long of fitful sleep and tossing and turning.

  After the attack dog Thor had threatened me and his master taunted me, it goes without saying that my sleep was taunted with dreams of a huge black creature lunging at me and again and again. In the middle of each nightmare, I awoke in time to escape the large sharp teeth. In one such dream, a laughing man stood in the background watching as if his choice lion was in the arena and sure to win over the weak prey set before him.

  I finally got out of bed around four in the morning and sat at my kitchen table. I decided I may as well start getting my plan to save Roasted Love in action, or at least get a plan down on paper. The coffee pot cycle ended and I stumbled to get a cup from the cabinet. Settling at the table again I noted the paper was still as blank as my mind. I laid my head on the shiny oak surface and fell asleep.

  If I knew what caused my unrest the night before, I’m not sure it would have made any difference.

  Chapter Three

  Jerking awake when my head rolled to the edge of the hard table top I noted six a.m. on the wall clock. Once showered and renewed, I made up my mind that this day was a blank palate to paint a new outlook for Roasted Love. The sunshine flowed through my windows and I knew today was a good day to walk to work. The only requirements for me this day was to take a positive look at my job and do it to the best of my ability. All errands could wait to be taken care of until later in the week.

  I decided that some early morning exercise would lift my spirits, and despite yesterday's run-in, I was going to walk to work. Neighbors on the tree-lined street were moving toward their own day. A couple of them were outside retrieving newspapers or getting into their cars. I knew at least two of them would be in Roasted Love for their favorite lattes before heading on to work.

  “It’s going to be a beautiful day,” I said to no one in particular.

  Talking to myself so much was probably not a good idea. It could be one of those habits that one day people would look at me and point to the lady babbling to herself. I decided I didn’t really care what people thought down the road. Nothing was going to spoil my day today.

  It didn’t take long to discover that the day was not going to be so beautiful after all. I was a block from the Piazza when I heard sirens. When I turned the corner to Roasted Love, the street was dotted with police cars and an ambulance. The revolving lights interrupted the beams of sunshine. I saw two officers roping off the street with yellow tape that extended to the Sunrise. Dread overtook all optimism I felt earlier and I wondered what had happened.

  My eye caught sight of a muscular young man was helping load a gurney onto an ambulance. His thick black hair was short and between the sun rays and flashing lights it looked like lightning strikes hitting it. My eyes shifted to the form that was covered on the stretcher. A shock of blond hair could be seen from under the edge of the unzipped covering. I froze.

  The handsome paramedic glanced in my direction with a half smile as he hurriedly finished zipping the bag. I bumped into the door of Roasted Love and quickly grabbed the rail to steady myself before walking inside. A few customers sat in front of now frothless lattes and cappuccinos and stared out the window. Partially eaten French toast and blueberry muffins were arranged on Roasted Love’s signature plates. Janie, the server behind the counter cast large luminous eyes in my direction and motioned toward the kitchen behind her. Without a word, I kept going toward the kitchen.

  Jacob sat in the corner near the time clock wringing his hands and muttering incoherently. I heard words like ‘I can’t go back to prison again’ or similar but I got the meaning of what he was saying. Not ready to talk to him, I ignored Jacob, getting a sicker feeling in my stomach by the minute. I punched the time clock, shoved my stuff in my locker and continued past Jacob as if he was not there. He didn’t look up at me, but kept moaning which told me he didn’t know I passed by him.

  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 motio
ned 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.”