A Cup of Murder (Roasted Love Cozy 1)

I had no idea who most of them were, but since Daniel knew them better than I did I knew he was probably right. It was sad to think that Michael Simms had ended a life friendless. Of course, that was no one’s fault except his own doing. Sympathy from me was hard to come by for the man who made lives miserable for everyone around him.

On the other side of the aisle sat Jen Perry. She dabbed at her eyes and sat next to a man and woman I didn’t know who did the same. So Michael had three true mourners that I could see. While craning my neck to find the Senator up front, my clutch purse slid to the floor. Bending to pick it up from the soft carpet my head bumped the chair in front of me. I whispered an apology to the lady who sat there. She turned with a light scowl on her face as if to scold a child for bad behavior on a solemn occasion.

Daniel hid a wide grin behind his hand. "Don’t tell me you are here playing detective still," he whispered in my ear.

I nodded a yes. This was no place to discuss my actions. Even whispers could carry across the room that had grown silent as the Minister stood to speak. His prayers were lifted in a pleading voice. Everyone bowed their heads in prayer. Then the Minister asked if anyone wanted to speak a word about the deceased.

A slight shuffling could be heard as most fidgeted with whatever they could find. At last Senator James Simms stood and came forward.

"Michael was my brother. In his youth he was one of the most generous people I’ve ever known," said the Senator.

He went on to laud his brother’s generosity to the less fortunate. Noting reactions among the crowd I didn’t miss how some looked with surprise at each other. Obviously, only a few had seen this side of Michael. I watched James as he spoke.

"Though we had not spoken for several years, I regret that very much. But I will hold on to the good memories for many years to come. Our boyhoods were ones of close brothers. I am sure he has found peace again."

Daniel looked at me and raised his eyebrows. It was as much as James had to come up with and he returned to sit down next to Sarah who sat next to his father. I didn’t know the Analyst but who else could it be? A brief silence ensued until someone I did not know went to the podium.

"That’s John Andrews’ brother, Thomas," said Daniel. His voice was once again a whisper. "You remember. James’ campaign manager and good friend?"

I remembered.

Thomas Andrews gazed into the mourners faces. I wondered how he fit into the Simms’ lives.

"Michael was a very good friend with my brother, John. In the past when we were all much younger I begged to tag along with the two older boys. Sometimes they let me come along but most of the time they didn’t want a little kid along with them. My brother died of an extreme asthma attack several years ago. I remember how hard it hit Michael. They were very close, almost like brothers."

Thomas wiped his brow and then dabbed at his nose with a white handkerchief. Even from where I sat I could tell he still grieved.

"I wonder if he is sad about his brother’s death or Michael’s," I said to Daniel, under my breath.

Daniel peered at the man speaking. "Maybe both," he said.

"As I said, when John died, Michael took it very hard. It was a sudden death and the tragedy took its toll on Michael," said Thomas. "He changed after that. I personally have only good memories of Michael. I used to watch him play poker. He could beat anyone who came against him. He was expert at the game in his early teens. And what did he do with his winnings? All of it went to the poor. That’s why he played. That gives you an idea of the real Michael."

His muscular hand touched the coffin and he returned to his seat.

The service ended and while the family remained to say their last good-byes the rest of us walked out of the mortuary. Daniel and I stood apart from the others.

"That must have been what made Michael so bitter," I said. "His childhood friend dying so suddenly must have done it."

"It could have been the cause of his bitterness," said Daniel.

He didn’t sound convincing to me. Who knew why the man changed so drastically? My eyes were on individuals in the group now heading for their cars.

"Should we go to the cemetery?" asked Daniel.

"Why not?" I said. "We may as well see it to the end."

"Come on then," said Daniel, "you can ride with me and we’ll get your car when it’s over."

My day wouldn’t be over once Michael went to his final resting place. Roasted Love would have to hold its own most of the day. Jacob Weaver, my boss, still sat behind bars. He was next on my list to see before I went back to work. The police must have something on him or he would be out by now.

For some reason, thoughts of Janie came to my mind from nowhere. I couldn’t figure out why her personality seemed to change since the cops came to get Jacob. Then I had a sudden remembrance of the figure of the man I glimpsed at the edge of my yard. I shuddered. Is it related in any way?

Chapter Fourteen

At the jail, I hardly recognized Jacob. Shoulders curved inward and lines dug deeper into his face. The person who came into the visitor’s room was a broken man.

"How’s it going, Jacob?"