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"I found out that John’s last name wasn’t Collins."
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized that Daniel’s happy mood had vanished. "Why are you spending all of your waking hours on this case? Even when I'm with you physically, you're never with me mentally. Just like right now." His dark eyes changed to a deeper black, and his face flushed red.
I tried to find the right words. "I’m sorry, Daniel. I just – I want so much to find out what really happened to John. I owe him that much. He can’t speak for himself now."
"No, he can’t." Daniel’s voice was pitched lower and his tone was even. "But I’m here, and he's gone forever. What about us?"
I just looked at him, feeling pulled in two directions at once. He was right – yes – but did I have to choose between Daniel and solving a mystery?
He waited for my answer. I looked down, and noticed that his knuckles were white where he gripped the mug.
"I’m starting to think you only stick with me for information I can get for you." Hurt and anger mixed in his dark eyes.
I looked up at that. "Oh, no, no, no way," I said. "You are very important to me, Daniel. I don’t want to lose you. And I’m not just 'using' you when I ask for help. No way."
I reached for his hand, even as he still held onto the mug. "It’s just that I liked John, and now he can’t tell anybody what happened to him. I feel kind of – kind of responsible, I guess, since I was just about his only friend." I sighed, and tried to smile. "I hope you understand."
I expected him to soften and maybe smile at me. But instead, Daniel abruptly stood up. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then decided not to.
Then he turned around and walked out of Roasted Love. The bell on the door jangled like crazy as he left.
Lily raised her eyebrows at him, and then looked at me. I ignored her and slowly opened the gift Daniel had left for me. Tears burned my eyes when I saw that it was a white ceramic coffee mug with a handle in the shape of a heart.
I got up and told Jacob that I needed some fresh air, and then slipped out for a short walk in the quiet alley. There were only four customers in the shop and I knew Lily could easily handle them.
While I paced, I let the tears flow. I couldn’t lose Daniel, but that was the road I was on if I kept up with my self-appointed mission to solve Homeless John's murder.
The battle raged through me again. I told myself that I had to think of Daniel and make him a priority. Men needed attention and you couldn't neglect them. I could still work on John’s case. Just not as much. Probably. Okay.
I lifted the edge
of my apron and wiped the tears off my face. When I went back in, I finished the repairs by dabbing a light layer of powder around my eyes. Changing aprons, I returned to help Lily. I was grateful that she didn’t mention what she'd witnessed earlier.
# # #
After work, I made plans to mend the growing rift between Daniel and me. I knew I'd have to make a huge effort to get back on track with him. I got home and took care of Thor first, making sure he got a good run, and then I headed for the small specialty bakery at the edge of my neighborhood.
I knew they made one of Daniel’s favorite foods – something he called a "Cornish pasty." Personally, I didn’t much care for it. A pasty was thick dough wrapped around a dense mixture of potatoes, ground beef, and pork. The heavy cream and butter inside always proved a little much for me, too, but tonight I was determined to eat every bite with him.
I purchased two large pasties, even though one by itself was enough for an entire meal. I threw in a couple of Waldorf salads in hopes they would offset some of the heaviness of the rich pasties.
I rang the outside bell to Daniel's brownstone apartment. He buzzed open the door so I could enter the building. When I got to his personal door, it was sitting partly open – much to my relief. At least he wasn’t going to keep me out.
Walking inside, I set the bags of food on his kitchen table. "Daniel, I feel terrible about the way things were left between us this morning. I really am sorry I upset you."
A slow grin edged onto his face, and it widened when he got a whiff of the food. Without a word, he opened the bags and arranged everything on plates.
Once we sat down to eat, he finally spoke. "Laila – I understand the drive you have when it comes to your pursuit of justice. My concern is your safety. I know you came to be friends with John. It's got to be hard to find out one day that someone you considered a friend has been murdered. I get that, too."
His teeth sank into the golden-brown crust of the pasty, and he reached for a napkin to catch the butter that dripped from his mouth.
He watched me cut a piece with a knife, and I heard the familiar chuckle. "You're the only person I know who eats pasties with a fork." Then he cocked his head. "Come to think of it, I didn’t know you liked them."
I smiled sweetly at him, hoping that at any moment it would dawn on him why I was eating the loaded pastry that I'd never liked before. I hoped he understood it was a part of my peace offering.
Eventually we finished our dinner, and Daniel told me he had something to show me. I followed him back to the living room and he handed me a folder. On top of it was a small box.
"You can have the folder if you promise to take this pepper spray with you on your little investigative treks."
