A Cup of Murder (Roasted Love Cozy 1)

With Thor alongside me, I arrived at Roasted Love. His eyes begged me to invite him in. I commanded him to stay and returned with a large bowl of water. I had no idea where his leash was and had failed to purchase one when getting the dog food, so I trusted him to stay close.

Though it was early in the morning, Janie and Jacob were already as busy as we used to be in the days before Sunrise. The patrons were chatting and I noticed conversations centered more on their normal activities rather than the murder of Michael Simms. I picked up on snippets of opinions, but none like the past two days. I silently commended Jacob for his vow to be visible to all. They could see he had not been arrested so that seemed the reassurance they needed. The day continued in a normal manner even though bits of yellow tape continued to hang on across the street. By one o’clock most of the noonday crowd returned to their own activities.

"I’m going out for some lunch today," I told Jacob. "I’ll be back soon before mid-afternoon gets busy."

He nodded and I felt our relationship had returned to normal even after yesterday’s exchange. Neither of us knew appropriate words to mend any of it, but since we had known each other a long time that alone kept us drawn in a partnership. I headed for Sam’s Sandwiches after retrieving my laptop from my car and walked the two blocks down the street. Thor wanted to come along but when I commanded him to stay, he did that and I was thankful Michael had instilled obedience in the dog.

"Hi, Laila," someone called from a shop door.

I turned to see Mary Lynne, owner of Beads and Bangles. Mary Lynne was a woman in her fifties. I knew her as a friendly person who found it hard to leave the mentality of the sixties, indicated by her peasant-styled long skirt and gypsy blouse. Dark black hair was adorned with glittering rhinestones and small red beads that matched a long necklace twined in layers around her neck. I stopped to talk with her for a couple of minutes.

"How are things going on your end of the street?" she asked.

"I think we are getting back to normal. The yellow tape is still around Sunrise so I guess the police are still going through the place."

She smiled and I noted sympathy in her dark eyes. "Jacob Weaver didn’t kill Michael Simms," she said. She turned to go back inside just as a customer entered but not before she waved to me over her shoulder.

It was only when I ordered my favorite at Sam’s, watercress and goat cheese on wheat and tall glass of unsweetened tea, did I remember Mary Lynne thought of herself as some kind of fortune teller. I shook the idea from my head that she would know Jacob was not a murderer. She was simply being a good friend and besides, I didn’t believe in fantasy, the paranormal or psychics. After greeting several people, I started my research. I sat in a corner at a table away from the other customers. Sam wasn’t surprised to see me there with my laptop. I came here often enough whenever I needed a different scene to break my day.

Opening my laptop, I searched the name 'Michael Simms'. There was plenty about his recent demise. I skipped over it all and went to his bio written by a reporter who had known him in the past when both were in college. I looked at that information twice. Michael had been brilliant. That was something I already sensed about him, but had no idea he had gone to Harvard. He finished with a Bachelor’s degree in Business Administration and Management. That was the end of his formal education.

"I wonder how he ever ended up with a coffee house," I said under my breath.

"You know it’s not good to talk to yourself, Laila," said Sam. He stood there with an iced tea pitcher in his hand and a grin on his face that told me he thought his humor was his best asset. I smiled back.

"I know that, but sometimes it helps to make sense of things. You should try it sometime."

He refilled my glass and went on to other customers and I returned to my exploration of Michael Simms. It turned out that his father was big on Wall Street and had retired as an Analyst. In the bio, his father was mentioned, but his brother was described in more detail than Michael himself. James Simms. I read how the Senator became interested in politics from an early age and climbed his way up. His constituents admired him and were loyal to him all the way to the Senate. It stated Senator Simms’ best friend had also been his campaign manager through several elections.

There was nothing immediately said about Michael’s mother until after his brother and father were described. It was mentioned she had a career as an Accountant in a prestigious financial institution and died a decade ago as a result of a car accident while on vacation with friends in the Hamptons.

While considering Michael Simms’ status in a life of wealth and power, I sensed someone watching me. My eyes met those of the paramedic who had been at the crime scene on the Piazza. He was even more handsome up close and he hesitated when I caught his eye.

"Do you want to join me?" I asked.

Usually I wasn’t so forward in inviting someone I only knew from afar to sit at a table in a restaurant with me. Instinct told me he was happy to get the invitation. My motive for inviting him was an ulterior one. I wanted to get some first-hand information about the infamous day at Sunrise.

"Sure," he says. He strides toward me and sits down across from me. I closed the notebook and waited until the server took his order of roast beef with au jus sandwich, my second favorite.

"Just what did happen to cause Michael Simms’ death?"

I wasn’t one to beat around the bush. If he hadn’t smiled I would have controlled my breathing better. As it happened, he drew me in like a magnet. I didn’t even know his name. Perhaps that should come first.

"I’m Laila Rook, by the way," I said.

"I’m Daniel Jenkins, a paramedic as you already seem to know." He leaned back comfortably. Amusement danced in his dark eyes. "The investigation is still open and I can’t give you confidential information."

"I’m a reporter from the local newspaper and aware that the media is allowed to ask and hopefully get information. We have an obligation to keep the public informed."

My brazen statements caused him to laugh out loud and he leaned back even farther. I hoped the chair would topple as my face turned to light pink. I squirmed realizing all eyes were on the table in the corner.

"You are no reporter and we both know that," he said. He spoke only when he caught his breath long enough to do so. "I’ve been in Roasted Love more than a few times and I happen to know you are the Barista there. More importantly, why are you so interested in Michael Simms’ murder investigation?"

"I’ll tell you that if you answer my questions."

There was an impasse that caused a silence between us. The server arrived with a pitcher of tea in one hand and she reached for Daniel’s glass to take it for a refill of coke. I refused more tea and glanced at my watch. I had fifteen minutes before I had to get back to Roasted Love. I broke the standoff.

"I have only a few minutes until I have to get back to work," I said. "I want information because the murder happened across the street from where I work and because it is a known fact that Sunrise was in fierce competition with Roasted Love."