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I don't think that was the "seedy area" that he was talking about right now.
"To answer your question," Daniel went on, "the police will try to locate any family so they can make arrangements for his funeral. Otherwise, he'll be buried in a pauper’s grave at the main cemetery in town."
I was quiet for a moment. From what Daniel was saying, I realized that he experienced more of West River and its inhabitants than I had imagined. My nice quiet life revolved around working as a barista at Roasted Love, playing with my dog Thor, spending time with Daniel, and enjoying normal stuff in a normal life.
It occurred to me that I lived in a cocoon, in much the same way that John had been in a cocoon when he was curled up on the ground in front of the coffee house – but they were cocoons that had separated us almost completely.
I reminded myself that we had at least connected over coffee every morning, and I was grateful that Roasted Love had been the one common element in both our lives that had let us do that.
I bent my head down, very sorry that it was too late now to ever get to know the real John.
"Are you still there?" asked Daniel.
I raised my head. "Sure. I’m still here. I'm just thinking about what you told me. I guess I never really thought about the kind of stuff you see while you're on the job."
He paused. "No reason to tell you the worst of it. I love my work, but it’s not always a story with a happy ending like the little girl who dialed 911 and saved her mother."
We talked a few minutes more, and then ended the call – but my mind went on racing. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to get involved with whoever had forced an overdose on poor John. That should be left to the cops, and from what Daniel had told me, his friend Officer Leo Swenson was on top of things.
No, my goal was to find out exactly who John really was. I decided that I'd start with finding out his last name. The investigation wouldn't be complete until that was known – unless, of course, the cops already knew his last name and just weren't giving it out to the news media.
Yawning, I put Thor out for the last time that night. "Hurry it up, Thor. I’m turning in early tonight." He took his time and explored the backyard as if he'd never been there before. He finally decided to come back in and headed to the throw rug on my living room floor, right next to my favorite chair.
"Okay, Thor. We’ll keep the usual ritual." I flipped the TV on, and sighed.
I was just in time to catch the local news and watch Councilman Carpenter hammering away on his usual issues. He was up for re-election and going full force in his campaign. Once again, he was ranting about the homeless.
While Carpenter insisted that law enforcement wasn't doing enough, a photographer’s lens scanned an area of town I'd never seen before. Several people shuffled into the range of the camera. Across the street were two more who were exchanging money for drugs. At least, that’s what the reporter said.
My heart caught when I saw a woman with two small children walk into the frame. The camera didn’t focus on them, but I watched the three disappear behind a crumbling old building in the background.
I got up and went over to my laptop, and Googled "homeless area West River New York." It gave me several sites that looked promising and I clicked on one. Reading the information, I realized that this old downtown area was just behind the neighborhoods Daniel and I always drove through on our way to see the Broadway shows.
According to Councilman Carpenter, that area was "dangerous and a blight on our city of law-abiding citizens." He seemed to know the powers and limitations of local cops when it came to drug laws. I didn’t personally know much about all that and I made a mental note to ask Daniel what he knew.
Tomorrow was my day off, and I began to put together a plan. I got a map and looked up the GPS coordinates for driving to the blighted area that Calvin Carpenter spoke of.
"Well, Thor," I said, as the Doberman raised his beautiful sleek head and looked at me, "We've got a mission. And you're the one I'm trusting with my life."
Chapter Five
The next morning, as I prepared for my trip to the old downtown area, I wanted to get some information from Daniel. I hit speed dial and there he was.
"Laila! You're up early on your day off," he said.
"Yup. I want to get as much as I can out of my free day. You in a hurry?"
"I've got a few minutes before I have to leave," he said. "I have to be at a meeting for most of today. There's some kind of training we have to go through. Seems like there's always something new we have to learn. Why? Is something up?"
I paused. "Well – you know – the drug users you try to save. Are they mainly heroin users?"
Now it was his t
urn to pause. "No. Not always. Some overdose on pills they find in the trash, or get from a dealer."
"In the trash?"
"Sure. People are careless about throwing away their outdated meds. The stuff ends up in dumpsters, and that’s where the homeless search for food. I just had a case last night where somebody took almost a full bottle of sleeping pills."
