Caffeine & Killers (A Roasted Love Cozy Mystery Book 3) Read Free Page B

death requires an autopsy."
    He turned and glanced at me, even as we struggled
with Thor. "Okay, Laila. I’m doing this for you. I hope you
remember that." His teasing smile told me we were all right
again.
    We ended the night after our walk and Thor and I
headed back home.

Chapter Three
    When I parked my car in the little lot beside
Roasted Love the next morning, I glanced at the front sidewalk. No
cocoon-like figure sat there today. My heart dropped as the reality
that I would never see John again began to sink in. He wasn’t a
member of my family, of course, but he'd become part of our life here
at Roasted Love in West River.
    And now he was gone.
    But I had work to do. Several customers were
already at the tables, sipping their morning lattes and espressos.
Lily, the other waitress, was taking bagels and Danish from the glass
case. She greeted me as she headed for the tables with the plates. I
clocked in, washed my hands, and right away took a tray of scones
from my boss, Jacob Weaver.
    I figured it would be good to keep busy when I had
something as serious as the death of a friend on my mind. A death
that might be murder.
    I headed out towards the counter display with the
scones. "Say, Laila, that’s too bad about what happened to
John," said a voice from the other side of the counter.
    I turned to see a regular customer sitting there,
and tried to smile a little. His name was Walter Schubert. He was an
older man, retired and a widower, and always gave John at least a
dollar when he saw him. "I didn’t have any idea he was on
drugs," Walter said. "Did you?"
    "No. Because he wasn’t." I started
placing the scones inside the display case. "John told me
yesterday that he was completely against that kind of stuff. He'd
seen what drugs did to his brother. I know he wasn’t using."
    "Laila, this might surprise you – " I
braced myself for more talk about how there was no way to recognize
an addict just by looking at them – "but I agree with you."
    I closed up the display case and turned to look at
Walter. "You do?"
    "Yes. I do. I might be retired now, but I
spent a lot of years as a psychiatrist. I think I would know when
someone presents as an addict and when they don’t.
    I couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Walter."
    "I’ll miss him," he went on. "He
was a regular here, too. I tried to help him get back on his feet
some time ago, but he insisted that he didn't want any help."
Walter stirred the coffee in front of him.
    "Well, I'm just sorry he's gone. I'll miss
him, too," I said.
    With that, Walter nodded to me and then took his
coffee to a table by the window, where he joined a lady about his
age.
    I was brewing up several pots of coffee at once,
getting ready for the rest of the morning rush, when the bell
attached to the front door of Roasted Love jingled loudly.
    I looked up to see Daniel walking in. I felt
better just looking at him. He took his usual spot toward the back of
the room – and then I noticed that he had a folder tucked under his
arm.
    But I had to wait until I had a free minute to
talk to him. In the meantime, Lily fixed a cappuccino with a mound of
foam on top. I saw her place a cherry on the peak, and knew it was
for Daniel. He was the only customer I knew who ordered a cherry on
top of his cappuccino.
    "Is that the autopsy report?" I said
quickly, as soon as I got to Daniel's table.
    "No. It's not ready yet," he said,
keeping his voice down. "These are just some notes I got from
the cop doing the investigation. He let me jot down a few things for
you, but made me promise not to say a word. You can’t tell anyone
what I’ve got. Not even Jacob."
    I nodded. Jacob Weaver was both my boss and a
friend, but I also knew how to keep things from him when I had to.
Daniel took a sip of his cappuccino, wiped a touch of foam from his
upper lip, and then opened the folder. He always saved the cherry for
last.
    I saw a sheet of paper with his own scribbled
notes on it. "As you can see, they don’t