Page 58 of Charmed Forces

“Good catch. Let’s check it out,” I said, already walking forwards. Lily jogged a few steps to match my pace. “You know, the police station is only a couple miles that way. And this street is regularly used to avoid all the traffic on the main roads.”

“Why not just get coffee locally? Why not brew it at the safe house and drug it there? It seems so much extra effort to drive here to pick it up, then drive it over there. And it’s a heck of an opportunity to wait for if the perp who drugged the coffee was already someone else in the house.”

“Perhaps they offered it as a treat? A proper artisan coffee? The job of defending the safe house would be boring and I doubt there were many, if any, treats to break up the day. Plus, the person who picked it up would have time to administer the drugs without being caught.”

“That’s just nasty,” said Lily, a look of disgust crossing her face. “I can’t imagine giving someone something to consume knowing that I’ve just done something to it and I work in a bar that has a regular influx of assholes.”

“Remind me to never get on your wrong side before you deliver my drinks.”

“You have a lifetime pass on account of being my bestie.”

“Thanks. You know, I don’t think the drug was administered correctly because let’s say it was just intended for Daniel and Detective Wayne... and they woke up. Maybe the other officer was on a sleep rotation and not expected to be a problem. That still leaves the two witnesses. Wouldn’t someone want them incapacitated too?”

“Perhaps they wanted the witnesses to suffer, knowing they were going to die and no one could help them.”

I grimaced. “That’s pretty dark.”

“Perhaps they were discounted as a threat. Police officers carry guns. Witnesses don’t. They wouldn’t be able to fight back regardless.”

“That’s a possibility,” I agreed.

Lily continued, on a roll now. “Maybe they only needed two cups because Frank Desmond or Wayne were in on it. Incapacitate the other two while they carry out the murders, then frame one or both of them?”

“I thought of that but I couldn’t find any obvious trail that suggested either of the other two deceased detectives could have been in on it.”

“I don’t suppose one survivor getting murdered in the hospital and then someone trying to kill you was a big ol’ clue?” asked Lily.

“They didn’t try to kill me. I suppose Detective Wayne isn’t entirely in the clear yet,” I decided. “His wife was nice butsomeonewas cleaning house.”

We stopped in front of the coffee shop, peering at the logo. The stylized squiggles certainly looked very close to what I remembered.

“You can go in if you like,” said the man hanging the sign. He had a few tools stuck in his jeans pockets but his apron had the same logo as the shop. “We’re open and I won’t drop this thing on your heads. I promise.”

“Have you been open very long?” I asked.

“Since seven AM,” he replied.

“No, I meant, are you new in town? You look like you’re only just putting up the sign.”

“We are. My wife and I recently finished renovating this place and we’ve been open a month. It was always my dream to run my own business and my wife is a huge coffee connoisseur so we combined our two desires to create The Daily Roast.”

“It sure smells good!” said Lily.

“We have artisan coffees from around the world. That’s what sets us apart from the other franchises all over town. Plus, we serve light breakfasts, lunch and snacks.”

“Do many police officers’ hang out here or come by?” I asked.

The man rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, pointing the drill away from his face. “Can’t say we get a lot ofuniformedofficers but I know the police station isn’t too far away. Why do you ask?”

“My brother’s friend got a coffee from here yesterday and they said it was really good. They’re both police officers. I can’t remember which one of his buddies it was. Maybe you’ll remember?”

“I don’t do much serving right now. Mostly, I’m the regular handyman when I’m not working in the kitchen. My wife has a good memory for faces though. She’s behind the counter,” he said, pointing the drill toward the open door. As we began to step forwards, he added, “I’d appreciate it if they told their buddies. We have loyalty cards inside. Buy nine, get one free. Make sure you pick one up and get it stamped.”

“Thanks,” we called back as we went inside.

“I hope Tanner wasn’t talking your ears off,” said the black-haired woman behind the counter, currently placing custard tarts in a glass display case. She laughed as she glanced at him.

“Only to brag about the coffees,” I said. “He says you get them from around the world.”

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