A Cup of Murder by Cam Larson Page B

selling the place," said
Lily.
    Customers were coming in. Once again they chose to
stand and look out the window.
    "Lily, you and Janie start taking orders."
    "Yeah," said Lily. "Those tables
and chairs aren’t bleachers for the arena."
    Patrons found ringside tables and placed orders
while I started my position at the espresso machine. The stress of
the situation was taking a toll on me early in the day.
    "I wish they would just talk about usual
stuff," I said. "They all act like they know everything."
    The subject at hand would feed more gossip. On the
flip side, maybe it would take away from what they thought about
Jacob for a while.
    "How can they talk about anything else?"
said Janie. "Aren’t you the least bit interested in what’s
going to happen over there?"
    "Sure, as long as it’s not turning into
another coffee house," I said.
    Janie laughed. "That would add to the drama.
It would make a good movie."
    "What do you mean?" I asked.
    "It would make a good serial movie on TV. A
second owner to a second coffee house murdered over rivalry?"
    I hoped my look was one of searing. "Does it
bother you that Jacob is in jail for something he didn’t do?"
    This time she looked in disbelief at me and walked
away. Lily chatted with someone very familiar to me. She handed a
menu to Senator James Simms who took the last place with a good view
of Sunrise.
    "Senator," a voice boomed. "Good to
see you in our neck of the woods again."
    A man a few inches shorter than James sat down
across from him. I edged a little closer, but behind the Senator. It
wasn’t beneath me to eavesdrop.
    "So you are selling Michael’s place over
there?" he asked.
    "Michael left it to John’s mother,
Marianne." I made a mental note of the name. "She asked me
to get a realtor on it. Shouldn’t be hard to sell on this street.
I’m surprised these small businesses are doing so well."
    "This area gets busier by the day. In spite
of Michael’s personality, he did bring in customers. It helped all
of us."
    I recognized the speaker as owner of a small
bookstore down the street. So, Sunrise now belonged to a Marianne
Andrews. Just before I turned back to fill another order I felt
James’ eyes on me. He looked surprised and it was then I knew I had
blown my cover. Neither of us spoke and I was once again filling
orders.
    When things settled a little I returned to the
kitchen and started the clean-up, getting ready for the next crowd to
come.
    "Laila," said Lily. "That Senator
wants to see you. I hear he is Michael Simms brother."
    "Maybe he wants you to buy Sunrise,"
said Janie who came up behind her.
    "I sure don’t need a coffee house," I
said.
    My smile told Janie I still had a sense of humor,
or at least I hoped it said that. I took off my apron and approached
James Simms.
    "You wanted to see me?" I asked him.
    "I’m surprised a reporter works in a coffee
house."
    "I’m filling in some since the owner is in
jail," I said.
    "I hear you are the Barista over here and no
reporter at all."
    "O.k. you got me," I said. "I’m
sorry I duped you and your wife."
    There wasn’t much else I could say at that
point. I hoped to get him into a conversation that at least bordered
on friendly. If he accepted my apology, all the better.
    "You aren’t the first impostor in my life.
I want to know why you were so interested in Michael and his
personality traits unless it has something to do with your boss being
held for his murder."
    "It may all be connected," I said. "It’s
just that I’ve heard so many things that don’t add up about
Michael. He seemed to have more than one personality. I think there
are more possibilities of a murderer than Jacob."
    James held his eyes on mine. "They found
evidence against him."
    "It could have been planted against him you
know."
    "Really. How do you figure that?"
    I took a deep breath. "Jacob had no way to
get poison. He didn’t even know what belladonna was. And, for sure,
he would never have gone into Sunrise for any reason,