Caffeine & Killers (Roasted Love Cozy 3)

A shock ran through me.

John?

Linda?

A Valentine's Day gift?

Trying to think, I turned the envelope over. And there on the front was a sticky note with Jacob's familiar messy handwriting on it: Found Near Dumpster, it said.

So – Jacob must have found this stuff outside in the alley, and kept it until he could try to find the owners.

But how many other loving couples could there be around here with the names John and Linda – with the one named John found dead in an alley?

# # #

The minutes had never passed so slowly. All I could think about was getting back outside to see if there was anything else out there next to the dumpster. Jacob might have noticed something as large as this envelope, sure, but there might well be something else.

I had to know for sure.

Finally, the customers were gone. Lily and Eddie helped me clean up and then they left. I clocked out and locked the front door behind me.

The sun had gone down. There was still some activity on the Piazza, but most of it consisted of the other shopkeepers closing up.

My car looked very forlorn and lonely, sitting by itself in the little parking lot.

Chapter Twenty Eight

As I walked into the alley and headed towards the dumpster, my mind jumped into high gear. Maybe, there was a good chance that I'd find more things belonging to Homeless John out there. The trash had been picked up twice since his death, but they didn’t always get everything and plenty of small stuff always fell out into the alley.

The container itself was pretty deep, though I could still look into it if I stood on tiptoe. I held the envelope under my elbow and bent down to search the ground outside of the dumpster first. The streetlight in the alley lit up the area fairly well, though I was sure that to anyone who happened to pass by it looked like I was right in the middle of dumpster diving.

But to my disappointment, there was nothing else of significance on the ground. I flipped open the dumpster lid and stood on tiptoe. There were shadows inside and I couldn't see much.

I went back to my car and retrieved a small flashlight from the glove compartment. I felt the pepper spray next to it and grabbed them both. Slipping the pepper spray into my pocket, I hiked back into the alley.

Once more, I stretched tall so I could peer inside the bin and aimed my flashlight into it. The only way to see to the bottom was if I moved tonight’s trash bags out of the way – but that was impossible. I didn’t want to climb inside the thing only to find I couldn’t get back out.

I sighed, and stood there for a moment in the shadow of the dumpster trying to decide what to do next.

Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind. Strong arms lifted me up, as if to add me to the trash inside. I found myself hanging over the edge with my head hanging into the awful darkness and stench of the dumpster.

Quickly, I clutched the arm of my attacker and pulled myself up with sheer force – and came face to face with John Collins, the DEA agent.

He yanked his arm back and forth as if to shake me from his grip. The pepper spray was useless at this point. I couldn’t release my grip on his arm and dig for my ammunition at the same time – but I realized I wasn't getting out of this situation alive unless I could reach that spray.

I dropped the flashlight and let it fall clanging into the bin. With everything I had within me, I managed to keep my grip on the man with one hand and use the other to dig in my pocket for the pepper spray. It all happened within an instant, but I managed to spray a huge shot of it right in his face.

More than once.

He let go and stumbled away from me. That gave me a chance to grab the edge of the bin, get my balance, and push myself away.

I dropped down hard to the ground. While Collins rubbed his eyes and staggered and swore, I raced down the alley faster than I'd ever run in my life. I could only hope that one of the other merchants was out behind his store.

Then my heart froze again when I heard running footsteps close in on me.

My cries for help were strangled when I fell hard to the ground. Rocks and gravel cut into my face and hands and my pepper spray container rolled away.

John Collins’ strong hands pinned me down. "Stupid girl," he hissed between gritted teeth. "If it hadn’t been for you, no one would have cared about a homeless junkie dying. Now you're going to pay for your interference."