Caffeine & Killers (Roasted Love Cozy 3)

Okay, I had to gain his trust and I had to think fast. I took a deep breath.

"John sent me," I said. Sorry, John.

This time, the man looked me squarely in the eye. "John Collins?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah." This guy had just given me John's last name!

But he wasn't any happier. "You tell John to quit using me. I know how to take care of people like him. I’m not the only one down here who knows about him. He oughta be looking over his shoulder every minute of his life."

He was pretty mad and starting to scare me. I stepped back. Thor remained planted where he was, but he was on full alert and I heard him growl.

The man backed away, still facing us. I tugged at the leash and commanded the Doberman to follow me. We walked away, but not casually. I could feel the man's beady little stare drilling holes into my back and I kept right on going.

I'd never been so happy to be locked inside my car. Thor sat up in the back seat and kept a close watch on the dealer. I glanced in my side mirror and saw the man walking a little unsteadily in the opposite direction.

I started the car and drove away, dodging the potholes as much as I could. On the next corner, just before I passed the grocery store, was a man with something black hanging out of his mouth. There were black stains all around his lips, too. I figured it for another kind of drug until I saw from the wrapper in his hand that it was black licorice candy.

I took a deep breath, happy to be leaving this place. But I knew this wouldn’t be my last visit to the underworld of the homeless and the drug dealers. West River, New York held two worlds, one of which I'd never had a clue about.

But I did now.

Chapter Six

Once back into the familiar part of West River, I glanced at my watch. I decided to take Thor home and grab a quick lunch. After that, I wanted to have a talk with Police Chief Donald Hayes.

The chief and I had a good relationship. Not that West River was a crime-ridden city, but there had been a couple of times before that I'd sat across from him due to something sinister happening in town.

It seemed to me that the death of my friend John was no different.

Arriving at the precinct house, I greeted Susan in the outer office. "Is the chief in today?" I asked her.

"He’s here, yes, but someone is with him right now. Can you wait?"

"Sure. No problem." I sat down in one of the chairs against the wall, and looked at how worn the rest of them were. Well, countless pe

ople had sat in them before me. My mind wandered a little while I waited, and I wondered what kinds of reasons all those other people had had for sitting here.

I could hear soft voices from down the hall. Sometimes a door opened and closed. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, the chief’s door opened and he walked into the reception area with a man in dark slacks, a blue shirt and a windbreaker.

"You have some good ideas on how to clean up the drug problem down in that part of town," said the man in the windbreaker. He was a tall and slim with dark brown hair. He looked pretty fit and I would have guessed he was about forty years old. He glanced at me as he walked past. "I'll stay on top of it."

"Good," said the Chief Hayes. "We don’t want any more deaths from overdoses."

I turned around to look as the man headed towards the front door – and that's when I saw that the back of his windbreaker said DEA. I'd seen enough TV shows to know that that stood for Drug Enforcement Agency. The ones who took down the big-time drug dealers. And there was one right here in little ol' West River.

Mr. Windbreaker left the building, and then the chief noticed me. "Hello, Laila. What brings you down this way?"

"If you've got a few minutes, I’d like to talk with you." He nodded and gestured for me to come into his office. "I won’t take up too much of your time. I want to ask you about the homeless man who was found dead recently."

The chief sat down behind his desk, and I took the visitor's chair on the other side of it. "Yes, it's too bad people end up that way," he said. "But once somebody starts down that road, it's very hard to find an off ramp." He folded his hands on top of the desk and looked up at me. "Now. What did you want to ask about the homeless man?"

I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts. "I'm not sure if you know this, but Jacob allowed him to sleep outside the coffee house. Outside of Roasted Love.

The chief frowned. "Sleep outside the coffee house?"

"I mean – John would get there late at night and curl up in a dry spot at the front of the building. He'd leave early in the morning whenever the cop on patrol told him to move along. Never caused any trouble."

"Did you know this man at all?"