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

by Cam Larson

  "Well – " I took a deep breath and braced myself. "Do you think you could get the autopsy report on Ricky Thomas for me?"

  He just stared at me in disbelief. I was afraid he was going to kick me out of his apartment, but he just shook his head instead. "I don't know why I'm doing this," he said. "Maybe your curiosity's getting to me, too." He sighed with a wry smile. "I'll get the reports for you."

  I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. Tightly. "Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."

  "Just no more Skid Row visits, Laila," he said.

  "Oh, I'm sure I'll be too busy for that," I said, and hugged him tightly again.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The next day, I made up my mind to get to know the DEA agent named John Collins. I felt sure we could find common ground. From what Daniel told me, Agent Collins took his job very seriously when it came to cleaning up the drug problems in West River’s downtown area.

  When I headed for Skid Row, I had no idea whether I'd find Agent Collins there or not. With Thor in the backseat, I slowly maneuvered around the trash and broken glass to find a clean spot to park along the street.

  I decided that the best plan for right now was for Thor and I to both stay in the car. The block was vacant except for a dented old Buick and a couple of men leaning against the brick wall of the pawn shop.

  No one looked familiar to me. I stayed in my car and thought about what to do next.

  Suddenly, an unmarked cruiser rounded the corner ahead of me and came straight towards my car. I recognized Agent John Collins driving it, with another officer sitting in the front seat beside him. John's eyes bored into me as they drove by, and it was clear that he'd recognized me.

  I had to think fast. Go or stay? The latter took more nerve, but I also felt that now that I was here, I should make it worth my while. A few minutes later, the cruiser appeared again from behind me. This time John stopped the car and both officers got out and walked toward me.

  "What are you doing down in this neighborhood?" asked the second officer. His voice was friendly, but probing.

  "I hoped to talk with Agent Collins," I said. "I was waiting for you to finish your patrol around here."

  John Collins stepped closer to my open window. "Talk away," he said. "I'm John Collins. This is Mike Stanton. What do you want to know?" His eyes clouded to the point it was hard to read his dark facial expression. I could see that all he really wanted was for me to get out of his territory.

  "I know you're busy trying to clean up the problems down here," I began, "but I wanted to ask you if you've ever arrested Ricky Thomas."

  Instead of answering, he turned to his partner. "Mike, do you remember arresting anyone by the name of Ricky Thomas?" Mike just shook his head.

  John looked at me again, and stared in cold silence. I squirmed a little and waited. "That answers your question," John finally said. "He was never arrested."

  I was sure that was highly unlikely in general, but probably true of Agent Collins. A known drug dealer had certainly been arrested at least one time in his life, and probably a lot more. Mentally, I excused John Collins and his partner. They couldn’t divulge police information to just anyone.

  The second officer’s voice brought me back when he said, "Did you know that the Ricky Thomas you're asking about was found dead the other night?" His voice was very different from John’s. It was as if he and I were simply talking as friends.

  "Yes. I saw that in the newspaper."

  "How did you know him?" asked Stanton.

  I began to feel even more uneasy. His voice, though still friendly, was beginning to sound like an interrogation. Maybe they were down here investigating Ricky’s death, I thought.

  I explained as briefly as possible how I'd come to know Ricky Thomas. "I've always thought that John Wilkins’s death was not an accident. I wanted to find someone down here who knew him. Ricky was the first one I found."

  I had a lot more questions – I especially wanted to ask about the cause of Ricky’s death – but now was not the time. I could see that both of them had just about had it with me.

  Michael Stanton raised his eyebrows. "How did you know John Wilkins?"

  When I finished explaining things to Stanton, I happened to noticed the familiar woman and two small children in the distance.

  Stanton followed my gaze. "Yeah, it’s bad enough that there are people selling drugs down here, but it's worse when I see somebody with kids wandering around," he said. His eyes held what looked like genuine sympathy.

  Collins spoke up. "Time to move on," he said. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or to his partner. Or maybe both of us.

  Then Collins turned to me. "You don’t need to be down here. It's already been determined that John Wilkins died of a self-inflicted drug overdose. Case closed."

  He stared hard at me for a second. "If you continue to come down here, the really dangerous drug users will think you have something they want. Your appearance and your car are way out of place here. I strongly suggest you stay in your own neighborhood."

  With that, Collins and Stanton got back into their own car. They waited for me to drive off before they pulled out onto the broken pavement again and turned the other way. In a moment they were gone.

  I wondered about John Collins’ surly attitude, but decided I could excuse it. He had a hard job to do. In his eyes, I was just a complication that made his job more difficult.

  As I drove away from Skid Row, I watched for any signs of Licorice Billy. He wasn’t there and neither was the man I'd talked to the last time I was here. The whole place looked to be deserted. I figured I had Agents Collins and Stanton to thank for that.

  Then I started thinking things through. The fact that Ricky Thomas had supposedly died in just the same way as Homeless John didn't add up for me.

  I drove straight to the precinct house.

  # # #

  "Hello, Laila. You're getting to be a pretty frequent customer. What can I do for you today?"

  Chief Hayes's desk was piled a little higher than I'd previously seen it. I planned to make my visit short, so Thor waited in the car.

  "How many homeless are found dead in West River each year?" I asked the chief.

  He shook his head. "Most times, the answer is zero. Maybe one, at the most. Other homeless people have died over the years, of course, but they were in a hospital or a shelter when it happened."

  Chief Hayes settled back in his chair. "I have to tell you, though, that we've never had two of them discovered dead within days each other. And for the same reason. This may surprise you, but generally dealers are very careful when self-administering."

  "Then – how do you explain how the two of them died?"

  "Laila, it’s entirely possible that someone down there injected heroin into both of those homeless men. I have information that I can't disclose to you, except to say John had only the one needle mark on his body, while Ricky Thomas was an obvious user on a daily basis."

  My eyes widened at that news. "Don’t get your hopes up, Laila," the chief cautioned. "There's no concrete evidence yet. It's just a theory. The people down there are in a constant state of survival. If a drug deal goes bad, it could set someone off enough to harm a rival – or even get him out of the way permanently." He paused, looking at me before continuing his thought.

  "And, while you seem to strongly think that John was clean, it could also mean that he finally cracked. Perhaps even with the goal of dying. If not, the two similar deaths could indicate that there's a stronger than usual batch of heroin going around. Even an experienced user could overdose. And certainly a new user."

  "Did Ricky Thomas have many enemies down there?" I asked.

  "None that surfaced, but dealing isn't exactly a friendly business. I’m sure he upset some people at one time or another. They're not exactly pals out there on the streets, and it only takes one time to push some people over the edge."

  He looked up at me. "I can also tell you, Laila, that wit
h his being the second case within just a few days, we are investigating both deaths in more detail."

  I gave him a slow grin. This conversation was all I needed. Even the Chief of Police was hinting at the premise that John had not died of a self-inflicted overdose of heroin.

  When I left the precinct house, my mind was still working overtime. My thoughts went to another piece of this puzzle: Licorice Billy.

  I knew that Billy and John had definitely argued and did not get along. And I knew that Ricky and John had been seen together in front of the broken-down grocery store, too.

  I had some updating to do on my cork board.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  It was good to wake up to a day off. I really needed the headspace to figure some things out. The more I thought about the people on the streets down in Skid Row, the more I couldn’t see any of them committing murder. Stealing maybe, but not murder. If any heroin was available, I wondered if a street person would waste it injecting somebody else.

  I grabbed Thor’s leash and we headed for the dog park down the street. He was overdue for a run and I needed thinking time.

  Thinking about my conversations with Chief Hayes, I wondered what it was that he couldn’t tell me. I knew there was no way I'd get it out of him.

  I let Thor off his leash inside the gate of the dog park. Right away my cell phone rang, and without even glancing at it, I answered it happily, hoping it was Daniel.

  But it wasn't.

  "I know where you live. I know where you are right now. Back off – or else!"

  The phone went dead.

  I just stood very still for a moment with the phone in my hand, feeling something like shock. The voice had been very deep and sounded like gravel scraping against pavement. It was a voice I didn't recognize... maybe disguised.

  For the first time, I was afraid.

  I looked around the park. An older couple sat watching their cocker spaniel play with another dog. A young couple ran with their two beagles, and Thor joined them.

  Then a sudden motion in the trees on the other side of the park caught my eye. I saw tree limbs sway wildly and then stop. Someone was leaving the area in a hurry.

  With shaking hands, I quickly called Daniel. His message line switched to a dispatcher and I was told Daniel was on a call. When the dispatcher asked if I had an emergency, I answered no. It would take a lot of explaining and time to tell her why I thought someone moving in the bushes near a public park was a threat to me.

  But I stayed in the park for another ten minutes anyway, to give Thor time enough to run. Then I called him to me and we walked back towards home.

  I had a weird feeling that someone was following. I turned to glance back, but the street was empty except for the mailman making his deliveries. I hurried Thor along and breathed a sigh of relief when I reached my home and got inside.

  I locked my front door and then called Chief Hayes.

  "The voice was disguised, I’m sure," I told him. "It was deep and gravelly."

  "All right. Laila. I'll send someone out there right away to talk to you. Try to remember any other details, if you can."

  I thanked him and hung up. While I waited for the cop to arrive, I searched my mind for any details I may have subconsciously picked up from the movement I'd seen in the trees.

  When the officer arrived, I described the whole incident with the threatening phone call and the person I believed was hiding in the bushes – and then told him that the person must have been tall.

  "Why do you say that?" he asked.

  "Well, the leaves that moved on the trees were on some fairly high branches. If I had been walking under them, my head wouldn’t touch them. I’m five foot six. I think whoever it was had to be taller. But I couldn't get a good look because of all the brush and bushes between me and him. I was also facing the sun, which made it that much harder to see any details."

  The officer finished taking my report. "If you remember anything else, let the us know. In the meantime, keep your doors locked and be aware of your surroundings."

  "I will. Thank you." I closed the door, knowing that little would come from the report unless I had something more substantial for the department to go on.

  A few minutes later, my phone rang again. I panicked. The cop just left. This guy must still be watching me and calling to taunt me.

  But as I looked at the phone, I let out a big sigh. It was Daniel. Man, was I happy to see his number show up on the caller I.D.

  "Hey Daniel, am I glad to hear your voice!" I gave him the short recap on what had happened. I could hear the concern in his voice.

  "I’m glad you called it in to the police, Laila," he said. "Anything else happen since then?"

  "Nope. Not until you called. I thought it was gonna be mister creepy-gravel-voice again," I smiled through the phone, still relieved.

  "Good. I’ll come by and pick you up for dinner tonight."

  I was very relieved to know that he was on his way over. An evening out with him would go a long way towards getting my mind off the stalker.

  # # #

  Daniel picked me up in the early evening and we went to the Bistro, the same place where Anna Masters and I had enjoyed a meal together. The crowd there lifted my spirits. Most patrons looked to be in their twenties and thirties. Daniel and I didn’t talk about who the caller was or who may have been watching me at the dog park. Daniel had a way of turning subjects to the positive and I was grateful for that.

  After dinner, we took a stroll down the sidewalk. People walked in and out of the restaurants, or walked along to do some window shopping. It was a pleasant evening and I felt secure with Daniel at my side. With him there, I felt nothing could harm me.

  When we got back to my apartment, Daniel made coffee and I relaxed on the couch. I rested my feet on the low table in front of it. Daniel smiled when he brought two cups of steaming coffee into the living room.

  "Good. You look relaxed," he said. He placed the hot mugs on the table and leaned over and kissed me. Then he sat down and just waited calmly. I knew he would not ask me about my unpleasant experience at the dog park until I was ready.

  For a few minutes, I savored the sweet coffee and the atmosphere of peace. "Okay, so you want me to recap the whole thing? Maybe you can help me figure more out," I finally said.

  "Go ahead. Take your time."

  I took a deep breath and told him the scary little story. "Daniel, do you have any thoughts on who it could be?" I asked him. "I hate thinking someone is following me all the time."

  "Let’s start by eliminating people that you feel can be taken off the list," said Daniel.

  I tried to think. "Now, even though street people might not have much of anything else, a lot of them do have cell phones. But would they have come all the way to my neighborhood just to watch me take their call?"

  "I doubt it. You're probably right about that."

  "And I think we can eliminate any close friends of mine, too. That's a no-brainer."

  "I should hope so," Daniel smiled at me.

  "Okay. Next would be people like Ronald Larch or Linda Henson," I said. "I know Larch despises the homeless population, but I really can't see him trying to actually kill them off."

  "Yes. But what do you make of Linda Henson? Has she contacted you since your bizarre meeting with her at the mall?"

  I shook my head. "I seriously doubt there was any truth that Larch planted drugs in Steven Wilkins’ apartment. It just doesn’t make sense. I know he never liked John Wilkins, but framing his brother wouldn’t serve any purpose that I can see. I think Linda was just angry with Larch for more personal reasons."

  Daniel nodded. "I’m glad you see it that way. He wouldn’t have anything to gain by breaking into Steven’s apartment to plant drugs there. Besides, that's kind of a dirty job and I don't think Larch would do that kind of work. You know?"

  I thought of the impeccable clothes Larch always wore. "I don’t think he would venture down to Skid Row, either.
I get the feeling that going to a rough, dirty place like that would be – would be beneath him."

  "Yeah. I think you're right about that."

  We sat in silence and finished our coffee. I stood up and reached for Daniel’s cup. "I’ll do the refills," I said. "You sit here and come up with a good suspect."

  He laughed. "I'll do my best."

  When I returned, he waited until I'd put down the coffee. Then he reached up and took my hand, drawing me down to him. My heart skipped a beat when he kissed me again. Then he sat back on the couch as I sat down beside him.

  "Let me run this by you," he said. "I may have an idea of someone else it could be."

  I sat up straight. "Who? Tell me!"

  He shrugged, a little self-consciously. "It’s just an idea. I don’t have any proof, of course."

  "Daniel, nobody's got any proof of anything right now. So – what's your idea?"

  "Well... what if it was someone was hired to do all this dirty work?"

  I blinked. "Hired?"

  "Yes."

  "Like – who? And by who?"

  "I don't know. But it is a possibility. We’ve gone through everyone else we can think of. Maybe for political reasons. It's just a wild idea. Maybe the cop on the beat got tired of shooing John away and decided to fix it permanently. There are bad cops. Though I have to admit, I don’t know of any cop in this precinct who turned bad in the past."

  My mind was racing. "I suppose. Can we be certain to rule out a homeless person?"

  "Well, no. Nobody be ruled out for sure. I was just throwing something else out there. Until this phone call you got, I was sure there was nothing out of the ordinary. But, unless it's a real nut, you must have done something to get someone worried. An honestly, I think the Councilman is the only one you've mentioned that you've out right accused."

  "Yeah. I understand. But, as you mentioned at the time, he has too much to lose." I looked at Daniel.