Caffeine & Killers (Roasted Love Cozy 3)

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.