A Cup of Murder

by Cam Larson

  "I’m walking and I have to hurry back to Roasted Love before I get caught in a downpour," I said. "I have to check on my dog, too. I left him outside."

  I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. Daniel’s hand grabbed my arm sending a jolt through me.

  "What? You are a reporter and you walk everywhere?" he said smiling at me.

  The twinkle in his eye caused a slight pink in my cheeks. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I blushed, but thought it must have been back in high school or earlier. The laugh that escaped my lips couldn’t be helped.

  "Come on, Laila Rook, Reporter, I’ll give you a ride back. What kind of dog do you have?"

  I didn’t want to answer that, so ignored his question and braced myself for the rain that had begun. The paramedic opened the passenger side of his Rav and I hopped in just as the sky opened up. By the time Daniel plopped in the driver’s seat his dark hair glistened with drops of rain. The rain pummeled harder and we agreed that we got to shelter just in time. When we passed Mary Lynne’s Beads and Bangles she was standing in the window of her shop watching the storm. It was as if she expected me to pass her shop while riding in a Rav with a man I didn’t know. She recognized me right away in the blinding rain and lifted her tapered hand in a greeting. She seemed so sure of her proclamation, but I didn’t have a clear view.

  I wanted to ask Daniel a million questions about the murder of Michael Simms but in no time at all we had arrived at the back door of Roasted Love. I scanned the area for Thor who was nowhere in sight. He must have found shelter someplace, I thought. I was sure the neighborhood was familiar enough for him to do that.

  "Come on in for a latte or espresso and get dry," I said.

  He had jumped from his side and raced to my door to open it. We were both drenched and he looked like a wet rag waiting to be wrung out. My own appearance was nothing to brag about. I dashed ahead of him and got inside and grabbed a couple of large dish towels. He followed me and I was relieved he refrained from any comments or further questions about Thor. I wondered what he would think knowing I had Michael’s dog.

  "Looks like you got a little wet," said Jacob. "I told you Roasted Love could make a watercress sandwich for you if you would just tell me what the secret ingredients are that take you to Sam’s to eat."

  He swept his eyes over Daniel and I quickly introduced him. I didn’t tell him he was the paramedic and the one who carried Michael Simms out of Sunrise the day of his murder. But when Jacob responded to the introduction no doubt was left that he knew that.

  "You're the paramedic who helped out across the street, aren’t you?" said Jacob.

  "Yes, I was on call that day," said Daniel.

  I recalled that specific morning when I arrived at Roasted Love and found Jacob in an almost fetal position in the corner of the kitchen. Wondering how he had seen Daniel was a mystery unless he had first witnessed the commotion and then collapsed. It was time to change the subject.

  "Come on in, Daniel," I said. "What can I get for you?"

  He ordered a cappuccino with extra cinnamon on top. I went to the espresso machine and started his order. Lily came up behind me.

  "Where did you find such a good-looking customer?" she said. "I saw you bring him through the back way."

  Inwardly, I groaned. There was nothing to explain but I still felt it necessary to do so.

  "He was nice enough to give me a lift from Sam’s Sandwiches. I thought at least I could get him a warm drink as a 'thank you'.

  "I see now why you like Sam’s for lunch on occasion," she said. "I always knew it wasn’t the watercress sandwiches."

  She looked over her shoulder and laughed. I watched as she set the cappuccino in front of Daniel. Our eyes met and I hoped that wasn’t a wink from him directed at me. Turning back to my work, I resolved to hold the reddish tint from creeping up my neckline. Roasted Love was busy enough since some customers ordered seconds while waiting out the rain. My attention was drawn elsewhere and Jacob was busy bringing out more scones. He glanced my way but I couldn’t read his thoughts.

  "Do you need anything else, Laila?" he said. "I still have some fruit turnovers ready."

  One thing about my boss: he wasn’t afraid to work like the rest of us. I had always felt it gave more character to the atmosphere when he was easily recognized by everyone who came in. He believed all of us should be visible which gave the correct impressions of family and friendliness that he wanted. Jacob did not excuse himself from this responsibility. In the case of recent happenings, it also reassured customers of Jacob Weaver’s innocence.

  I had almost forgotten Daniel Jenkins until I passed his table and realized he was still there. The rain was letting up and some of the customers were leaving. He smiled at me and obviously he was taking his time drinking his once-hot cappuccino.

  "I guess I’d better leave before I have to spend more money," he said to me. "I’ll see you around."

  He stood and reached for his wallet. He pulled a few bills and left them on the table but not before he leaned over and whispered, "Michael was poisoned with belladonna found in his coffee cup. The cup left next to his had coffee in it but was left untouched. No fingerprints, no DNA."

  He silently placed his finger on his lips. I got the meaning.

  Chapter Eight

  The truth of how Michael Simms died clinched it was poison. Belladonna was not a familiar term to me and I wondered where Jen Perry would have gotten any kind of chemical that translated to poison. If she left Sunrise around ten that night then Michael must have come back later. He was found in his own coffee house the next morning, slumped in his chair where he customarily took his breaks. He must have had a meeting with someone. And they must have both used the back door, unnoticed. Of all the possible suspects on the police list, none seemed likely to have met him late at night unless it was his Barista. If someone else, then that person must have known him or there wouldn’t have been two cups of coffee served.

  The mystery person was still out there. Jacob Weaver would never had gone inside Sunrise and sat down for a meeting with Michael Simms. Knowing his personality, he would have accosted him in daylight and not cared who saw him. It wasn’t like Jacob to sneak around and kill someone in the dead of night.

  I still wanted to get to New York City and meet face to face with James Simms. Maybe he would have a better idea who had a grudge against Michael. The next day was Sunday. Roasted Love stayed open early morning through five on Sundays and I would ask Lily to have her son, Eddie come in to help out. He liked working there and he didn’t mind the extra money either. Jacob rarely took a day away from the coffee house and Janie worked all day on Sunday with Monday off.

  Next, I had to think about the right person to leave Thor with while I went to New York City to meet the Senator. My new responsibility was something I enjoyed so far. I recalled how someone once told me that I should think twice about wanting a dog because they were like a child who never grew up. I was beginning to see it was true. And like most parents, I took Thor’s care seriously.

  Once home that evening, I debated whether or not to call Jacob and ask him to take the dog. The fact I fed Thor a muffin or two on occasion wasn’t lost on Jacob but I knew he had no idea I adopted the dog as my own. I dialed my boss and he picked up right away.

  "Do you mind if I come over for a few minutes?" I asked him.

  "No, come on over. I’m not doing anything in particular except putting my feet up."

  With Thor by my side, the dog willingly jumped into the back seat of my car. One thing about this Doberman, he loved to ride in the car. He trotted beside me when I walked up the sidewalk to Jacob’s house and rang the bell. I crossed my fingers.

  "What are you doing with that monster of a dog?" asked Jacob. "That is Michael’s dog, isn’t it?"

  "He’s mine now."

  A low growl came from Thor. It bordered on a snarl. I commanded him to be quiet, and thanks to Michael’s training, he did so immediately. Jaco
b swung the door open for both of us.

  "Laila, I’ve never known anyone to be the bleeding heart you are."

  I tried to look nonchalant and shrugged my shoulders in answer. "He needed a home and I couldn’t just leave him to make his way alone. Jen Perry sure didn’t want him and I have never seen Michael’s wife anywhere around. He would have just roamed the streets and eventually he would have been hit by a car or something like that."

  ‘Something like that’ meant he would end up in a shelter and may face the possibility of someone getting him who wouldn’t hit it off with Thor, or worse yet, maybe put to death at a pound. I couldn’t let any possibilities happen that would endanger the animal I was now strongly attached to.

  "I have to go into the city tomorrow and wondered if you would look after Thor for me."

  I wish I had a video camera to record Jacob's reaction. He glanced at the large dog and back at me. Thor got the point and growled low again.

  "All you have to do is feed him and he will be your friend for life," I said.

  "What makes you think I want any living thing that once belonged to Michael Simms to be my friend for life?"

  "Just allow him to follow you to your kitchen while I get a small sack of dog food from my car." I came prepared. There was no alternative except for my boss to take charge of Thor.

  Apparently, Thor sniffed food odors and followed the massive figure that went to the kitchen. I held in a chuckle when I realized both large frames somehow matched one another. When I got back inside and handed Jacob the dog food, Thor was happily on his stomach, front legs sprawled out as he happily gnawed a piece of ham that hung from a large bone. I told Jacob thanks and left. Thor didn’t look up.

  Temporarily free from my obligations, I left West River around nine a.m. and set my GPS for the condo address. While driving I formulated my approach to James Simms. I decided politicians were ready to answer questions and get their faces out there no matter if it was Sunday or any other day of the week. I relied on him being home when I got there. Did politicians socialize or go to church? They were silly questions that invaded my mind and I quickly brushed them away. The belief I would find him home and ready to talk with me was at the top of my mind. It helped me prepare my opening words, not that I had any concrete idea of what those words would be.

  When I arrived, I got out, smoothed my outfit, handed my keys to the valet and then walked with confidence to the front door of 50 West. Impressed with the friendly doorman, I didn’t think it appropriate to confirm the Simms’ condo number with him. I couldn’t give the impression I didn’t know where I was going. As it turned out, I didn't have to since a concierge sprang from nowhere to greet me. My expression diverted from the fascinating mosaic floor tile to his voice. He asked my destination and directed me to the elevators. Satisfied I was safely inside he wished me a good day and left to greet the next visitor. I commanded my heart to stop beating so fast.

  I couldn't believe that James Simms earned enough money to afford this level of luxury from work in the political field alone. He obviously lived off private money. Again, the contrast between James and his brother hit me. Michael had never given the impression he was wealthy but he must have enjoyed a huge part of the family wealth like his brother did. I rang the chime at number nine and waited until a uniformed maid answered the door. She ushered me into an expansive alcove on the right to wait for Senator Simms. Book shelves were lined with leather-bound books that had to do with politics and law as far as I could tell. Black leather was the predominant upholstery choice in furniture. I chose to stand.

  "Welcome to my home," a voice said behind me. "Emma tells me you are a reporter from the West River Daily News." His tone was deep and rich and when I turned my head at his voice, the resemblance to Michael proved startling. The difference was his face was creased in friendliness rather than arrogance. "Come into the living room and I will introduce you to my wife, Sarah."

  For the first time since planning this charade, it dawned on me I had no credentials to show if asked. Apparently, none were needed. I relaxed at the welcome and entered a large curved room. Its walls were mainly glass and the wallpaper was a view of the New York Harbor and Manhattan skyline. The condo was on the end affording the curvature and spectacular view. I had a feeling I was invited into this area for a reason. James Simms seemed to enjoy flaunting his wealth and success. This interview should be easy enough, not that I made interviewing a habit.

  Sarah Simms reached to shake hands with me as she stood up. She was striking. It is the only description that came to my mind at first glance. Tall, slim and fit, my five foot six stature seemed dwarfed compared to hers. She stood a couple of inches above me. I want to say her hair was blond but that would not do it justice. It was more like sand on a beach that never saw shade and where sunlight highlighted in the right places. Her cut was short and perfectly outlined a somewhat chiseled oval face. Both Sarah and James were friendly, putting me at ease right away.

  "Would you like refreshment?" asked Sarah. "We were just getting ready to have a glass of raspberry tea, or would you like a glass of wine?"

  I told her tea was fine. There was no way a glass of wine was in my cards. I had to stay focused and make this a professional call, not a social one. I expected the maid who answered the door to be summoned to bring the drinks. Instead, Sarah walked toward the kitchen and suggested a tour if I wanted to follow her. I definitely wanted to see more and was very curious about the kitchen. She appeared to be at home in the domestic environment as she opened the expansive stainless steel refrigerator door and then placed three tall etched iced tea glasses on the counter. While the ice clinked, I gaped at the pristine kitchen which opened into a casual dining area.

  "It is all very beautiful," I said. "Your view is stunning." I said.

  She smiled and picked up the tray with three glasses of raspberry tea and we returned to the living room. So far I had not noted even a hint of a dust particle. If I knew anything at all about reporters I knew they spent a short time on chit-chat before getting into the meat of the subject.

  "I hope I am not taking too much of your Sunday," I said. "I have a few questions I want to ask about your brother, Michael." I observed the Senator’s face.

  "Of course. I expected that once I knew you came from the West River Daily News. I will answer anything I can."

  "What kind of person was he? I mean I want to know more about his personality," I said.

  The Senator leaned back. "Michael had a good heart when we were growing up. He always went for the underdog and wasn’t afraid to work for their causes. As a young teen he could play poker as well as any expert that made a living that way." James smiled. "He used to make sure he won and then took his winnings and gave the money to someone he thought needed it most. Usually, it went to someone who was trying to raise a family on minimum wage, but on occasion he simply handed bills to the homeless. He told us it was appalling that in America working families still went hungry."

  "I am very surprised at that," I said. "The rumors I have heard from reliable people tell a very different story."

  "I am telling you what he was once like. In later years, he became very cynical. Poor people were forgotten and he seemed no longer to care about them."

  "He told us he was tired of trying to get people to move upward in their jobs and earn enough for their families to live on without hand-outs," said Sarah. "We were surprised but I agreed with him. If people want to have families then they should first be sure they can afford them."

  James gave her a quick look and then turned to me. "Sarah and I don’t see eye to eye on that idea but I was very surprised to see Michael change so much. He used to be right in there with me on my campaigns until we started arguing more and more. Then he pulled away and we had little in common after that."

  "What caused him to change so drastically?" I asked.

  "It is a mystery to me," said the Senator. "In fact, we barely spoke to each other and before his untimely d
eath we hadn’t spoken for the past few years."

  "I regret that now," said James. "I should have made more of an effort to see him."

  "Did Michael have enemies?"

  "Without a doubt he had enemies. He became arrogant and ruthless when he dealt with other people. It was almost as if he baited them so they wouldn’t like him. It is beyond me how he managed success with that coffee house of his. He had a vendetta when it came to any competition. He was bent on running others out of business in hopes he came out on top, I suppose. When he hurt someone or when anyone crossed him he lashed out and was unapologetic. He just didn’t care."

  I could relate to some of those statements. We talked for a few minutes longer but no new information was learned on my part. I thanked them for their time and stood to leave, expressing my condolences.

  "I hope I have helped with your article. I don’t want you to put Michael in a totally bad light. He had his good side and that’s what I try to recall most."

  In the foyer I noticed a framed photo of Michael and James. The silver frame with what I was sure was onyx stones on all sides, showed them in their youth. James had his arm around his brother’s shoulder.

  "You both look very happy in this photograph."

  James shifted and looked at the picture. "That was definitely in our better times. Loyalty meant something to Michael then."

  The Michael Simms mystery took on a different aspect in my mind, and it was at that moment that I knew I was cut out to be a full-fledged detective in this case.

  James led me to believe the changes in Michael happened somewhat suddenly. Could it be related to his murder?