Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  * * *

  Marco removed the card from his desk that Harlan Osborn had given him at his fundraiser a few weeks ago. He stared at the number, then reached for his phone and dialed. It rang just twice before the mayor himself was on the line.

  “Hello?”

  “Mayor Osborn, this is Captain Marco D’Angelo. We met at your fundraiser a few weeks ago.”

  “Of course, Captain D’Angelo, I remember you. I’m so delighted you called me. How is one of San Francisco’s finest this bright June day?”

  “I’m good, Mayor. How are you, sir?”

  “Excellent. So what can I do for you, Captain?”

  Marco tapped a pen on the pad of paper he had sitting on his blotter. If he opened up this avenue and Osborn turned out to have been Murphy’s murderer or ordered his murder, what would that do to their case? Would a defense attorney call Marco’s involvement with the mayor into question? He didn’t know, but he truly did think a task force wasn’t a bad idea and he needed someway to get into Osborn’s inner circle.

  “I’m calling you about the task force you suggested, Mayor. I was wondering if we could meet to discuss it.”

  “The task force, Captain?”

  “The one to better communication between the neighborhoods and the police.”

  “Oh, yes, yes, that task force. I’m particularly excited about starting something.”

  “Well, my precinct is currently investigating the Jamaad Jones’ murder in Hunters Point, sir, and Mrs. Jones, Jamaad’s mother, came to see me. She wants to be part of helping the police communicate with the citizens.”

  “I heard about that murder, Captain. Terrible thing. The boy was very young, wasn’t he?”

  “Seventeen, sir.”

  “So young, too young. That makes me so very sad.” Marco heard him shuffling something. “Okay, let me look at my calendar. When were you thinking of meeting with me?”

  “Well, to be honest, sir, soon. We want to plan a barbecue in the neighborhood, pass out information, hopefully get enough of a presence out there that someone might come forward with information about the young man’s murder.”

  “I see. Okay, then we’d best meet in the next couple of days. How about Friday at noon? We can meet at Original Joe’s on Union Street. It’s one of my favorite steakhouses.”

  Marco resisted telling him he was a vegetarian again. He needed to get this meeting on the books. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

  “In the meantime, Captain, start planning your barbecue in Hunters Point for this weekend. Call the Smokestack on 3rd Street and tell them I authorized you to order enough food for…what do you think? Two hundred people? I’ve worked with them before and they’ll bill me for it. I have a little put aside for this task force, Captain, so let’s hit the ground running. You can bring me the proposed menu and costs to our meeting on Friday.”

  Marco scribbled a few notes on the pad of paper resting on his blotter. He couldn’t believe the mayor was moving this fast, but he wasn’t going to question it. This played right into his plans perfectly.

  “I don’t know what to say, Mayor. I’m stunned and delighted.”

  The mayor made a scoffing sound. “No worries, Captain D’Angelo. Like I said, I’ve been looking for the right man to spearhead this project and now that I’ve found him, I don’t want to delay. I’m looking forward to a long working relationship with you, young man. I’ll see you for lunch on Friday.”

  “I’ll be there, Mayor, and again, thank you.”

  “Thank you, Captain. See you soon. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, sir,” Marco said and disconnected the call. He stared at his notes for a moment, then picked up the receiver again and called Lee.

  “Yes, Captain?” came the man’s cheerful voice.

  “Can you get Stan Neumann and both of you come in here for a moment? I have something I need the two of you to work on.”

  “Be right there.”

  Marco sat back in his chair. Okay, so he’d accomplished something at least, but he hoped that getting into bed (figuratively of course) with the mayor wasn’t a decision that would come back to haunt him someday.

  * * *

  In the break-room, Marco poured himself another cup of coffee and reached for his crutches. He was getting annoyed with the crutches, but Dr. Chamberlain still didn’t want him putting weight on his leg. He had an appointment tomorrow to get a bone scan and see if the graft was taking hold.

  “Sexiest one-legged man in the universe,” came a sultry feminine voice.

  Marco glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Hey, there, sweetheart, come to slum with us small town cops.”

  She crossed the room and rose on tiptoes, bringing her mouth to his. “Nope, I came to get my man and take him to dinner.” She kissed him. “Abe’s meeting us at the Fly Bar on Divisadero. He wants pizza.”

  Marco sighed. “I thought we could have a nice private dinner, just the two of us, and Pickles.”

  She kissed him again, lingering this time. “What if I promised you a nice private dessert at home?”

  “Wearing that little number you bought yesterday?” he asked, waggling his brows at her.

  She moved closer still, fitting her petite body along the length of his. “Wearing whatever you want.”

  He started to lower his head again, but a voice drew them apart.

  “Geez, you two get back together and it’s like live-action porn,” said Jake, actually shoving between them and grabbing the coffee pot. “Get a room, will ya?”

  Peyton stopped him from pouring coffee. “We’re going to dinner at the Fly Bar on Divisadero, so don’t bother getting a refill. We’re leaving now.”

  “We’re?”

  “You, me, Marco and Abe, just the four of us. I leave for Mexico tomorrow.”

  Jake gave her a curious look. “You wouldn’t rather spend the night doing inappropriate things with Adonis here?” He pointed at Marco over his shoulder. Marco rolled his eyes.

  Peyton gave Marco a sultry look. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll do inappropriate things with him later.”

  “Gross,” said Jake, making a face.

  She grabbed his arm, tugging him away from the counter. “Come on, we’re leaving now.”

  Jake tugged back. “Peyton, I’m tired. I’m just gonna go home and get some rest.”

  She put her hands on her hips. Marco fought a smile, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate it, but even on Jake, she only came to his shoulders. Her expression was fierce and Jake was a goner. There was no refusing her when she got that look.

  “You’re coming to dinner with us and that’s final. No more sulking around your house, watching football.”

  “Baseball,” Jake corrected.

  “Everyday,” she finished. “We’re going to the Fly Bar.”

  “Really unfortunate name for a restaurant,” he grumbled.

  Peyton grabbed his hand and marched him out. “You can ride with us in the Charger, then Marco can pick you up and bring you to work tomorrow.”

  “Hold on a freakin’ minute,” said Marco, crutching after them. “What’s Marco doing?”

  She turned and gave him the same look she’d been giving Jake. “You can pick him up for work tomorrow, so he can leave the Daisy here in the parking lot.”

  “Marco’s taking you to the airport, then going to a doctor’s appointment, and finally he has physical therapy,” he said, giving her his firmest stare.

  “Marco’s also talking like Bob Dole in the third person,” muttered Jake.

  She quirked one brow at him. “Jake might want to drink tonight, so he needs someone to drive him. He can go with Marco to the airport, the doctor, and physical therapy.”

  “No, he can’t,” said Jake.

  “Now who’s talking in third person?” Marco sneered at him.

  “I don’t want to go to all those places. I’m not even sure I want to go to the Fly Bar tonight. Besides, I can’t leave the Daisy here. Someone might steal her.”
<
br />   The Daisy was Jake’s 1982 Dodge Omni, painted purple with two huge daisies embellishing each door. Jake loved his car, but no one else wanted to be seen in it, outside of the gay pride parade as a float.

  “No one’s going to steal her,” said Peyton and Marco together. They’d both said the same thing many times before.

  “I’ll just drive over and meet you there, like Abe,” he finally capitulated.

  Peyton poked a finger in his face. “You’d better come.”

  “Say it in Spanish, muchacha,” he quipped, walking away from them.

  “Mejor venir,” she said.

  Jake’s steps faltered, but he kept walking.

  Marco smiled at her. God, he loved her so.

  They drove over to the Fly Bar and parked. As they were crutching down the street, they met up with Abe and Jake. Abe wore red leather pants, red dress shoes, and a silk shirt with…Marco blinked and looked closer…steaks all over it.

  “Um, steaks?” he asked, motioning at Abe’s getup.

  “I know you’re a vegetarian, Angel’D, but I’m wearing this ironically. It’s to prove a point.”

  “And the point?”

  “That I can pull off a steak shirt.”

  Everyone laughed.

  He flashed a leg, twisting this way and that. “What do you think of these adorable shoes? Patent leather monk-strap dress shoes with silver buckles.”

  “They’re stylin’,” said Peyton.

  Abe gave her a satisfied smile.

  They walked to the restaurant and took a seat. The Fly Bar was located on the corner of Divisadero and Fulton – a two-story tan building with an apartment over the top of it. The interior was dark, one entire wall of original brick, with ceiling fans and pendant lighting over the bar. Candles on the tables provided task lighting. Along one wall was a green leather banquette with tables spaced at regular intervals before it, and in the back was a raised platform with a pool table. Glowing stars hung over the pool table, bathing everything in a soft glow. Modern art from local artists lined the walls.

  Since it was early, they took seats at a round table in front of the windows. Marco and Peyton instinctively positioned themselves with their backs to the brick wall with an unobstructed view of the street beyond the floor to ceiling windows. Abe and Jake sat across from them.

  A young waitress approached with jet black hair hanging nearly to her waist. “Welcome to the Fly Bar,” she said, passing out menus. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  Abe studied the menu. “Oh, shoot, it’s just beer and wine.”

  “We have a full bar at the Sutter location,” offered the waitress. Her eyes shifted to the others.

  “I’ll try the Ace Pear Cider,” said Peyton.

  “Same,” said Jake.

  She gave Marco a smile.

  “Just water,” he said, setting the crutches behind him.

  Abe continued to study the menu, his fingers pressed to his bottom lip. “Do I want the Sake or the Sangria? Am I feeling Japanese or Spanish? Oh, I can’t decide.”

  “He’ll have the Old River Cabernet and we’ll have an x-large whatever you’ve got that’s vegetarian pizza,” said Marco.

  “Shroom pie?” she asked.

  “That works for me,” said Marco, closing the menu and handing it back to her. He felt everyone staring at him. “What?”

  “That was so forceful, Angel, I just need a minute to cool off.” Abe fanned himself.

  “Look,” Marco said, pointing at Jake and Abe, “I get one night of dessert before Peyton’s gone, so we’re eating and getting out of here.”

  “Dessert?” asked Jake, frowning.

  “You remembered I like Cabernet,” said Abe. “It’s the only…”

  “Wine worth drinking,” Marco finished, then glanced over at Peyton.

  She was giving him an amused look.

  “What do you mean it’s the only night of dessert?” pressed Jake.

  “Sex,” said Abe and Peyton together.

  “He means sex,” finished Peyton.

  Jake grabbed a napkin out of the holder on the table and twisted it. “At least he gets it,” he grumbled, refusing to meet their looks.

  Abe patted him on the back. “I know you’re going through a dry spell, Jakey.”

  “Dry spell? It’s a freakin’ drought.”

  “Is that what’s wrong with you?” demanded Peyton. “Why you keep brushing us off?”

  “I’m not brushing you off. I did barbecue at your house on Saturday.”

  “But you missed Sunday dinner at Mama D’s.”

  Jake nodded, twisting the napkin some more. “I know. Was she really upset?”

  Marco shrugged.

  Peyton nudged him with her elbow, then nodded her head at Jake.

  “Uh, yeah, sure.”

  Abe and Peyton rolled their eyes.

  The waitress returned with their drinks, passing them out. Marco tried to be content with his water, but times like this he really missed a cold, icy glass of beer. He could almost taste it. He turned his attention to the artwork instead.

  “Jake, I know it’s hard.”

  “You don’t know. Now that you and Adonis are back to pawing all over each other, you can’t understand what it feels like for me, Mighty Mouse. Zoë’s been gone a long time and to be frank with you, I have needs, Peyton.”

  “Don’t need to hear this,” said Marco, staring hard at the artwork.

  They ignored him.

  “Everyone has needs, Jakey. We get that,” said Abe. “I have needs too.”

  “Really don’t need to hear this,” mumbled Marco, closing his eyes.

  Peyton curled her hand around his forearm where it rested on the table. He knew she did it to quiet him, but he didn’t care. Sharing this small intimacy with her was nice and he hated the thought that she was leaving again the next day.

  “I know you have needs, Jake,” said Peyton, “but you can’t just go slumming for a one-night stand. That isn’t you, now is it?”

  “No,” he said reluctantly and took a sip of beer. “I guess you’re right.”

  “You’ll meet someone. You’ve just got to give it time, but I know you’ll meet someone.”

  “How? How am I going to meet someone? I work at a precinct where the penis ratio just keeps going up and the only woman working there now thinks men are icky.”

  Marco frowned at him.

  “Did she say that, Jakey? Did Tag say men were icky?” asked Abe.

  “No, but it’s implied every time she hits me with her happy fingers.” Tag had a tattoo on her hand that read happy if she held all her fingers out.

  Peyton stifled a laugh. “You’re right. You need to get out in the real world. What about a dating site?”

  “No,” the men all said.

  “Why not? Lots of people meet on dating sites.”

  Marco pointed at doofy Jake. “Ryder, Peyton, really? This fool is a prime target for catfishing.”

  “Mmhmm,” said Abe, drinking his wine.

  “Hey!” protested Jake. When Marco raised an eyebrow at him, he relented. “They’re right. I’d either get catfished or I’d make contact with someone underage without knowing it and get my fool self arrested.”

  “Word,” said Abe, shaking his head. He pointed at the wine glass. “You know just what I like, Angel, don’t you?”

  Marco gave him a closed-mouth smile and nod.

  “Okay, so not on-line dating,” remarked Peyton, curling her hand around her chin. “Maybe you’re gonna have to do it the old fashioned way.”

  “Have my parents arrange a marriage?” asked Jake, his voice dripping sarcasm.

  “No, barhopping.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes on her. “And who would I go barhopping with? Cho’s getting married. Holmes is skeevy…”

  They all shuddered at that.

  “Besides the women he dates have bigger muscles, more tattoos and a lot more leather than he does. They also ride Harleys. Not really my scene
.”

  “No,” said Peyton, thoughtfully.

  Marco found himself distracted by that thought too. Hm, made sense why Holmes and Tag actually got along. He’d been wondering about that, knowing what a colossal tool Holmes could be.

  “Bartlet and the new kid Price are more interested in sorority girls than I should be at my age, and Simons is married.” He jabbed a thumb in Abe’s direction. “Every time we go bar hopping, I do get my share of offers.”

  “He does,” said Abe, holding his wineglass to the candle and peering at the flame through the liquid.

  “But I just don’t swing that way.”

  Peyton nodded.

  “So, unless you want me to take Adonis here out to some bars while you’re in Mexico…”

  “No!” she said quickly.

  Marco gave her a speculative look.

  She glared at him, then glared at Jake.

  “Then I don’t know what you want me to do.” He waved her off. “Don’t glare at me now. I’m not taking him to a bar to pick up chicks. I don’t need to be reminded of my physical imperfections.”

  Peyton covered his hand with her own. “You don’t have physical imperfections, Jake. Not at all. You’re a ten in my book.”

  Jake gave her a disbelieving look. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, sweets, even I didn’t buy that,” said Abe. “I mean, I love me some Jakey, but next to this…” He held out a hand to Marco. “…Jakey’s at best a five. No offense, brother.”

  “None taken,” said Jake with a heavy sigh.

  Peyton thought for a moment. “What about Stan?”

  “What?” they all asked.

  “What about going to some of Stan’s superhero comic book thingies? I love Stan, he’s the sweetest thing, but next to Stan, Jake, you are a ten.”

  Jake considered it for a moment. “Yeah, and some of the girls who go to those things are pretty hot.”

  “Well, there’s more to women than physical looks, Jake…” Peyton began.

  Marco laid his hand on her arm now, stopping her. If Jake Ryder wanted meaningless sex, he should be able to make that decision for himself. Peyton was always so damn protective of her little rehabilitation project and it annoyed Marco. He didn’t know why Jake meant so much to her. Not that he was threatened by her feelings for Jake, he promised himself.