Caffeine & Killers (Roasted Love Cozy 3)

He was furiously angry and I recognized it a most likely the source of the gravelly, hissing voice I'd heard on those phone calls. In addition to trying to throw me away like garbage, Collins was the one who'd been stalking me.

But that was the least of my problems now. His iron grasp around my throat cut off my air. I struggled to get away from him, but he was far too strong.

Suddenly his grip on my neck eased up. And to my shock, Collins fell to the ground of the alley like a huge sack of potatoes.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position, scooting backward to get away from him. I looked up to see another person standing over Collins – a person I recognized.

Licorice Billy.

"Where did you come from?" I asked. I struggled to make my voice sound normal, but it was coarse and raspy from being half-strangled.

Billy shrugged. I saw that he clutched what looked like a tire iron in one hand. "I have to go somewhere in the nighttime. I told you the shelter was no place to get a good night’s sleep."

"Are you still sleeping in front of Roasted Love?" I asked. It hit me as ludicrous that we were having this discussion when there was a man who'd just tried to kill me lying unconscious on the ground.

I fumbled in my pocket for my cell phone. Then I remembered it was in my car on the front seat. Slowly, I got to my feet and found that I was shaking all over.

"I’m not littering the front of the coffee shop," Billy said. "I sleep nearby and wait for whatever gets thrown out from your shop. A man has to eat."

For the first time, I noticed that there was no black licorice juice around his mouth. But if I hadn’t known Billy, I still would have been scared of the grotesque look of his face highlighted by the streetlight just above us.

"I have to get to my cell phone. It’s in my car," I said to Billy. I took a step. I tried to walk normally, but in reality I could barely get one foot in front of the other.

Licorice Billy looked toward my car. He shuffled away from me and I watched as he opened the driver’s side, reached in, and pulled out my cell phone. He then ambled back over and handed it to me without a word.

"Ya know," he said, "John Wilkins and I were on the same side. Sure, we had our ups and downs, but we both worked at helping others in the same boat we were in." He scuffed a few rocks with his worn shoes and then looked at the man on the ground.

John Collins began to moan. "Take this guy here," Billy said, nodding his head towards him. "He's got the power to help a lot of people. Instead, he just makes things worse. Ricky and I were pretty sure he killed John." Billy looked over at me. "He killed Ricky, too."

"But – why?" was all I could say. "Why would an officer of the law sink to murder? What in the world would he have to gain?"

Billy looked closely at Collins. "You better call for help. I think he's coming to." Billy held up the tire iron. "You want me to hit him again?"

"No. No," I said quickly. "No, I don't think that'll be necessary." Collins moaned and moved a little, but it was going to be a while before he was any threat.

I did manage to dial 9-1-1, and within a couple of minutes there was a patrol car in the alley with red and blue lights flashing. Licorice Billy slipped away just as they parked.

"You sure got here fast," I said, when the first

officer stepped out of the cruiser. His name tag read Leo Swenson, Officer.

"We were just down the street. Hey – that's – is that John Collins lying there?" He hurried to Collins's side and got a look at the fallen man's face.

He then motioned for the other officer to come over and take my statement. I turned and walked towards the cruiser, and that's when Leo saw my bruised neck and gravel-scraped face and hands. "Wait a minute. I’m calling for an ambulance to get you checked out."

I soon realized that no amount of protest would change his mind. He'd noticed that I still wore my name tag for Roasted Love. "You're Daniel’s Laila, aren’t you?"

I looked up at him, and almost broke down in tears. "Yes," I whispered.

"If I don’t call a paramedic, Daniel will have my head. Just wait right here."

By that time, John Collins was sitting up in handcuffs and seemed to be mostly conscious. I could hear him trying to make excuses as to why he was in the position he was in. "She attacked me for no reason," he mumbled, his voice slurred. "I was back here looking for evidence when she came up behind me."

Even to the cops, who had heard it all, that could only sound lame. A short time later, an ambulance took Collins away with the second officer riding along.

Then a second paramedic squad arrived for me, and the first one to reach me put his arms around me and held me close. "Laila! Just lie still. We'll take care of you. I'll be mad at you later for getting mixed up in this. Okay?"

"Okay, Daniel," I whispered, knowing I was safe at last.