Read Online Caffeine & Killers (A Roasted Love Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Cam Larson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cam Larson
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him. I had to put on a brave
face and bluff my way through this. There was no other option for me.
Before I had a chance to find an impossibly
plausible answer, Carpenter snarled at me again. "If you're
trying to find evidence of my stance on the homeless, and on drug
dealers, there's nothing here that I haven't said publicly."
When I remained silent, his angry eyes narrowed
even further. "Who are you working for? What are you trying to
do? Ruin me?"
"No. I have no intentions of ruining you,"
I said at last. "Everyone has a right to their opinions. It’s
just that the homeless are people, too – people who have had a run
of bad luck."
"Your take on the homeless does not explain
why you are rifling through my office!"
"I’m looking into the murder of John, the
homeless man," I said. There was no other answer that came to
mind.
Carpenter sighed heavily. "The police
reported that he died of a heroin overdose, either accidental or as
suicide." He glared at me with cold, cold anger. "So, you
think I killed him? That it was murder?"
Again, I froze. I'd never seen anyone so furiously
angry – especially not anyone so angry at me. It occurred to me
that maybe he had killed John and that if he'd killed once, he could
kill again.
The paperweight was too far away for me to grab it
easily. He remained standing in the doorway with his hands on the
door frame, trapping me inside his office.
We stared each other down for a few moments.
Finally, his face relaxed slightly even though his eyes still blazed.
His facial color began to look a little less red and a little more
normal.
I found that I still had some courage left. "I
don’t know who caused his death," I said, "but John did
not use drugs. I'm sure of it. He may have died from an overdose of
heroin, but he didn't do it to himself."
Carpenter moved further into the room and sat down
in the visitor's chair on the other side of the desk. I wanted to
head for the door, but that was impossible without passing him on the
way. I sat down again in his desk chair.
"Now, let’s discuss this reasonably,"
said Carpenter, apparently deciding to use another angle. "It's
true that I'm against the homeless littering the streets of West
River. It's true that I want to get rid of them. But I do not want to
do it by killing them off one by one. If nothing else, do you know
what that would do to my chances of advancing to any higher political
office?"
I nodded, just like a schoolgirl sent to the
principal's office. I began to realize just how much trouble I was
in, breaking into a locked office building at night. I'd been too
focused on my goal of finding out what really happened to Homeless
John to think clearly.
My only hope now was to talk calmly and logically
and offer some kind of rational explanation. "Councilman, I want
to explain some things that you may not be aware of. It has to do
with the people who have nowhere to go and end up on the streets.
I’ll use John as an example."
He gave me a small wave of his hand, so I went on.
"John was intelligent. He'd attended two years of college. He
spoke coherently on all kinds of subjects. And – did you know he
had a family?"
"I did not know anything about him
personally," said Carpenter.
"But I did. He had a brother. A brother who
did fall into drug use. John spent a lot of time trying to help him.
He told me he saw the poison of drugs on the streets, especially in
our downtown area. He focused on his brother because they'd had a
rough time when they were kids and John felt responsible for Steven.
I saw John as a person who simply fell on hard times and had nowhere
to go."
Carpenter relaxed a little more, and looked at me
as if we'd just met for the first time. "I never thought of them
as leading normal lives at one time. This may determine a different
avenue in taking care of the problem."
"Seriously? There are families – like the
woman with the two children – who are at high risk on the streets.
These people need help,
face and bluff my way through this. There was no other option for me.
Before I had a chance to find an impossibly
plausible answer, Carpenter snarled at me again. "If you're
trying to find evidence of my stance on the homeless, and on drug
dealers, there's nothing here that I haven't said publicly."
When I remained silent, his angry eyes narrowed
even further. "Who are you working for? What are you trying to
do? Ruin me?"
"No. I have no intentions of ruining you,"
I said at last. "Everyone has a right to their opinions. It’s
just that the homeless are people, too – people who have had a run
of bad luck."
"Your take on the homeless does not explain
why you are rifling through my office!"
"I’m looking into the murder of John, the
homeless man," I said. There was no other answer that came to
mind.
Carpenter sighed heavily. "The police
reported that he died of a heroin overdose, either accidental or as
suicide." He glared at me with cold, cold anger. "So, you
think I killed him? That it was murder?"
Again, I froze. I'd never seen anyone so furiously
angry – especially not anyone so angry at me. It occurred to me
that maybe he had killed John and that if he'd killed once, he could
kill again.
The paperweight was too far away for me to grab it
easily. He remained standing in the doorway with his hands on the
door frame, trapping me inside his office.
We stared each other down for a few moments.
Finally, his face relaxed slightly even though his eyes still blazed.
His facial color began to look a little less red and a little more
normal.
I found that I still had some courage left. "I
don’t know who caused his death," I said, "but John did
not use drugs. I'm sure of it. He may have died from an overdose of
heroin, but he didn't do it to himself."
Carpenter moved further into the room and sat down
in the visitor's chair on the other side of the desk. I wanted to
head for the door, but that was impossible without passing him on the
way. I sat down again in his desk chair.
"Now, let’s discuss this reasonably,"
said Carpenter, apparently deciding to use another angle. "It's
true that I'm against the homeless littering the streets of West
River. It's true that I want to get rid of them. But I do not want to
do it by killing them off one by one. If nothing else, do you know
what that would do to my chances of advancing to any higher political
office?"
I nodded, just like a schoolgirl sent to the
principal's office. I began to realize just how much trouble I was
in, breaking into a locked office building at night. I'd been too
focused on my goal of finding out what really happened to Homeless
John to think clearly.
My only hope now was to talk calmly and logically
and offer some kind of rational explanation. "Councilman, I want
to explain some things that you may not be aware of. It has to do
with the people who have nowhere to go and end up on the streets.
I’ll use John as an example."
He gave me a small wave of his hand, so I went on.
"John was intelligent. He'd attended two years of college. He
spoke coherently on all kinds of subjects. And – did you know he
had a family?"
"I did not know anything about him
personally," said Carpenter.
"But I did. He had a brother. A brother who
did fall into drug use. John spent a lot of time trying to help him.
He told me he saw the poison of drugs on the streets, especially in
our downtown area. He focused on his brother because they'd had a
rough time when they were kids and John felt responsible for Steven.
I saw John as a person who simply fell on hard times and had nowhere
to go."
Carpenter relaxed a little more, and looked at me
as if we'd just met for the first time. "I never thought of them
as leading normal lives at one time. This may determine a different
avenue in taking care of the problem."
"Seriously? There are families – like the
woman with the two children – who are at high risk on the streets.
These people need help,
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