Murder on Potrero Hill (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 1)

by Hamilton, M. L.

  Marco nodded.

  Teresa leaned forward. “I thought she had a blood clot or something. I can’t remember what it’s called, but her husband said she died from some genetic defect.”

  Marco’s brows lifted. “That’s what he told you?”

  “Yeah, I went by the house to take him some food, sandwiches and stuff that we made up for him.”

  “How did he seem to you?”

  “Devastated. He was sleeping on the couch. Wouldn’t even go into their room. I felt so bad for him.” She fingered a ridge in the metal table. “Why are you here? What does the police have to do with this?”

  Marco ignored her question. “Did you ever see Zoë with her husband?”

  “Yeah, he came in here sometimes. Once he sent her a dozen roses – their anniversary or something.”

  “Did she ever talk about him?”

  “All the time. They were always going on these little day trips up and down the coast. You know, Half Moon Bay, Santa Cruz. They liked to have lunch at some little dive in Pescadero and he really liked walking along Miramar Beach. He has all these pictures he took of her out there.”

  “Did she ever say anything about their marriage? Complain about fights or anything?”

  Teresa sat back. “What’s this about? Why are you asking these questions? He loved her. He was always good to her. I mean he let her work here and he never complained about it.” She watched a couple of people leave the store. “We make minimum wage. Who chooses to work for that? But he never said anything about it.”

  “Did they fight, Teresa?”

  “Of course they did. What couple doesn’t?”

  “What did they fight about? Did she tell you?”

  “Stupid crap. She was all into environmental stuff and she’d get angry if he didn’t recycle. She was pretty upset when he stopped visiting her dad. He’s in a home, you know? Had a stroke or something.”

  “Jake stopped visiting her dad?”

  “Yeah. He went regularly for the first few months. All three of them took turns – Zoë, her mom, and Jake, but Jake stopped going.”

  “Why?”

  “I guess he didn’t see the point. Dr. Harper is a vegetable or something. You know, comatose? Zoë wouldn’t give up on him. She went all the time. Read to him. It really upset her.”

  Marco shifted in his chair, trying to stretch out his long legs. “Did you know Zoë was pregnant?”

  The look on Teresa’s face told him everything. “No, pregnant?” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, God, poor Jake.”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No, but…” Her eyes drifted away.

  Marco waited.

  Finally she looked back at him. “Pregnant? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  Teresa picked at the metal ridge again. “It’s just that…well…”

  Marco leaned on the table. “You can tell me, Teresa. I’m trying to help Zoë.”

  Teresa flatted her palm. “Why? You still haven’t told me why you’re here. What happened to Zoë?”

  “Was Zoë taking any medications that you’re aware of?”

  “Zoë? Are you kidding me? She hardly took aspirin. I told you she was something of an environmentalist, a health nut.”

  “Zoë had a very dangerous drug in her system. It caused her death. We can’t find any record of her taking anything either. That’s why I’m here. I need to find out how she got the drug or…” He drew a breath and exhaled. “Or who gave it to her.”

  “Gave it to her? You mean deliberately?”

  Marco nodded.

  Teresa leaned forward. “You don’t think…” She glanced at the departing customers and lowered her voice. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”

  Marco didn’t answer.

  Teresa covered her mouth again. Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t really think that do you?”

  “Did she say anything? Tell you anything that you thought strange at the time. You started to tell me something earlier, but stopped. What was that?”

  She didn’t answer and a tear escaped, rolling down her cheek.

  Marco leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “Please, Teresa, anything you can remember will help. I know you want to help Zoë, so please tell me anything you know.”

  Teresa swiped at the tear with her free hand. “She just seemed so sad lately, so on edge.”

  “Go on.”

  “She would snap for no reason and once I found her crying in the back. She was sitting on the floor, crying.”

  “Did she tell you what it was about?”

  “She said she couldn’t tell me. When I kept asking, she said she was sad about her father. I left it alone. I didn’t want to push too much.”

  “Okay. How long had she been acting like that?”

  Teresa shook her head and another tear escaped. “I don’t know…maybe two…three months.”

  Three months? The amount of time she’d been pregnant. “Did she mention any other men? Did anyone come to visit her?”

  A frown drew a line between Teresa’s brows. “Men? No, what men?”

  Marco shook his head and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Thank you, Teresa.” He pushed the card closer to her. “If you think of anything else, will you call me?”

  She ran both of her index fingers under her eyes. “Yes.” She reached for the card. “You don’t really think he would hurt her, do you?”

  “Who?”

  “Jake. He couldn’t have done this, could he? He was her husband. How could her husband do something like this?”

  Marco sighed. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He nodded at the card. “If he comes in here, you give me a call, okay?”

  She swallowed hard, then curled the card in her fist. “Yeah, I’ll call.”

  Marco pushed himself to his feet. “Thank you for talking with me, Teresa.”

  She gave him a sad smile and he walked away.

  * * *

  Peyton put her cell phone on the desk and looked up. Marco was just going into the break room. She pushed away from the desk and followed him. He was pouring coffee into a mug, his back facing her.

  “I thought you went to a coffee house.”

  He turned, lifting the mug to his lips. “I’m a cop, Brooks. I’m not paying $7 for a cup of coffee when I can get diesel fuel here.”

  She smiled and leaned against the table. “Find out anything?”

  “Not much.” He moved to the table and took a seat. “I met her friend Teresa. Talked to her for a little bit.” He placed the mug on the table and stretched out his legs. “How the hell did no one know she was pregnant?”

  “Her mother knew.”

  He looked up. “You talked to her?”

  “Yep. Interesting conversation. She kept demanding to know why I was calling. I finally had to tell her there were some concerns about Zoë’s death.”

  “And?”

  “She immediately jumped to Ryder.”

  “That’s what everyone does.” He leaned forward and pushed a hand through his loose hair. “I like gun murders better. At least then I know what I’m looking for. What are we looking for here?”

  “Teresa give you anything else?”

  “The way she tells it, Ryder was a great guy. Bought Zoë flowers, took her to the beach.” He shrugged and lifted the mug, taking another sip.

  “Did she say if they ever fought? If Zoë mentioned anything?”

  “She said it was normal stuff.” He narrowed his eyes. “She did say she caught Zoë crying in the back room one time. Said she wouldn’t tell her what was wrong. When Teresa pressed, she just said she was sad about her father’s condition.”

  “When was this?”

  Marco lifted the mug toward Peyton as if making a point. “About three months ago.”

  “When she found out she was pregnant?”

  “Yep.”

  Peyton sighed. “Okay, so Claire said Zoë told her about the pregnancy, b
ut she told no one else, not even her girlfriend?”

  Marco shrugged.

  “Did you ask Teresa about other men?”

  “Yeah, she got snippy with me and said what other men. Did you ask Claire?”

  “I asked her if there was a reason Jake wouldn’t have known about the pregnancy. She couldn’t think of one. She was more concerned about keeping him away from the house. Wanted me to put a patrol in front of her place. Told her that wasn’t in the budget and I didn’t think she had much to worry about. Still, I think I better run it past the captain.”

  “What about other girlfriends? People she hung out with? Did Claire give you any names?”

  “I asked, but she said Zoë wasn’t close to many people. She had her family and that seemed enough. From the moment she met Jake, she didn’t seem to need any other contact. Claire obviously didn’t approve of this, but Zoë led her own life.”

  “Here’s what bugs me. Zoë was obviously keeping secrets from her husband, yet she didn’t complain about him to the only girlfriend we’ve found. You’re a woman, Brooks.” When Peyton gave him a narrow-eyed stare, he flashed her a stunning smile. “In theory.”

  She punched him in the shoulder.

  “Wouldn’t you tell your only girlfriend you were having marital problems? Wouldn’t you tell her you were pregnant?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not the right person to ask. You and Abe are my closest friends. I don’t have any girlfriends I talk to on a regular basis.”

  He sipped his coffee. “Something isn’t clicking for me.”

  Peyton swung her leg beneath the table. “Me either, but we’re running out of time. Claire was pretty insistent she wanted Zoë’s body released. I think I bought us some time, but once the shock wears off about her actual cause of death, she’ll want to continue with her plans. And believe me, she isn’t gonna be happy about us waiting to bring Ryder in. She’ll want him arrested with or without evidence.”

  Marco settled the mug on the table and nodded. “Who’s on stakeout tonight?”

  Peyton pulled out her notebook and flipped it open. “Holmes and some rookie named Bartlet.”

  He tapped her knee. “What’s say we pick up some Chinese takeout and relieve those two for a few hours? See if Ryder makes a move, then we can pick him up and question him.”

  “Bring him in?”

  “No, if he comes out of the house, we can cite probable cause, cuff him and put him in the back of the patrol car. That might scare him enough to get him to spill.”

  “What probable cause would we have? We have less than no evidence, no solid motive, nothing.”

  “We can say he was headed to Claire’s and we wanted to protect her.”

  “That’s pretty weak sauce, D’Angelo.”

  “What else do we have?”

  She raised her brows, but didn’t answer. She wished she knew what direction to go next. She wished something would land in their laps, guiding them, but… “I’ll have to pass,” she answered. “I have a date tonight.”

  Marco leaned back. “A date? With who?”

  “Devan Adams.”

  “The Assistant D.A.?”

  She gave him a nod. Devan Adams was tall, dark and handsome, everything she liked in a man. He looked a lot like a young Denzel Washington, and he was smart. Not only did she like looking at him, she liked listening to what he had to say. Plus he had money. Marco had one thing right – they couldn’t afford many luxuries on their salaries and Devan always took her to the best restaurants. In a city like San Francisco, that was saying a lot.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “About a week,” she answered with a smile.

  “I thought you said no man can handle you, Brooks.”

  “Well, I’m willing to let him try.”

  Marco made a face. “Ewww.”

  “Have fun on your stakeout.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Call me if you get anything.” She hopped off the table and turned around.

  “Like I’m gonna interrupt your hot date,” he said, smacking her on the ass.

  She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Call anyway. I wanna know.”

  “Go have fun, Brooks,” he said as she reached the door. “Forget about this place for awhile.”

  She looked back at him from the door. “Night, Marco baby.”

  “Night, Brooks.”

  * * *

  A knock at the door woke Jake from a deep sleep. He sat up, letting the blanket pool around his waist and looked around the room. The shadows were long, coming in from the window. The knock sounded again and he looked over his shoulder at the door.

  With a yawn he climbed off the couch and went to the door, but before his hand touched the knob, he hesitated and looked into the peep hole. Not that he could do anything if it was the police. He just wanted to prepare himself.

  Sam’s distorted forehead was the first thing he saw and he unlocked the door, pulling it open. “Did you get my text?”

  Sam nodded, then gave him a critical stare. “You look like shit.”

  Jake moved back to let him in, scratching at his mussed hair. Sam wasn’t carrying anything. “You didn’t get my briefcase?”

  “I wasn’t able to get anything. Two police officers came in and went through your desk. Took all your personal belongings.”

  “The briefcase too?”

  “I didn’t see them take a briefcase. Was it in the desk?”

  “No, I told you it was in the credenza under the window.”

  Sam gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Jake. The police cordoned off that area and Andrews is patrolling it like it was his particular mission. I don’t think I’ll be able to get it tomorrow either. Maybe once this blows off.”

  Jake shook his head. “I need my briefcase, Sam. You’ve got to find a way to get it.”

  “How, Jake? There are cameras all over that branch. How do you think I’m gonna get it without getting fired? Besides, what’s so important about a briefcase? Seems like you’ve got bigger problems.”

  “My tablet was in there and Zoë’s…” He stopped and looked at Sam closely, registering the last thing Sam said. “You don’t believe I would hurt Zoë, do you?”

  Sam gave him a wounded look. “Why the hell would I be here if I believed that? Shit, Jake, do you know what I risked when I argued with Andrews over you?”

  Jake scratched at his stubble. “I’m sorry. This whole thing is making me paranoid.”

  “I know. You need to get out of here. Grab some shoes. You’re coming back to my house. I already ordered a pizza. We’ll drink beer and watch the Giants game.”

  All Jake could think about was getting Zoë’s journal. He wondered if he should just call the police and demand it. They had no right to hold it. They hadn’t charged him with anything.

  “Come on, Jake. Let’s get out of here.”

  Jake walked to the couch and sank into it. “No, I need to figure out my next move. I need to call Claire and see if I can borrow money. They blocked my accounts and my bus pass.”

  Sam put his hand on his shoulder. “You can’t think without food. Besides, you need to get a new perspective. Come on. I’m parked illegally downstairs. Grab a jacket and let’s go.”

  Jake looked up at him. He did have a point. He couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. Pushing himself off the couch again, he returned to the entryway, grabbed a pair of sneakers from beside the door, and shoved them on, then grabbed a jacket out of the small closet next to the kitchen.

  When they stepped into the hall, Jake motioned Sam toward the stairs as he locked the door. “I don’t want to see any neighbors.”

  Sam jogged down to the lower level and across the entrance hall. Jake followed. When he got outside, the few pink clouds floated overhead and the air had grown crisp. Sam pressed the remote and unlocked his Civic, crossing around the front of it and climbing inside. Jake grabbed the passenger door, but hesitated. A Crown Victoria was parked a
cross the street.

  The officer in the driver’s seat was the one who had come to the flat the other day, the big man who bordered on pretty. The second officer wasn’t the woman, but a young man. He looked like he wasn’t older than a high school student.

  As Jake stared at them, the good looking officer gave him a short nod. Jake yanked open the Civic’s door and slumped into the seat. He braced his hands on his thighs and stared at the dashboard.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just go.”

  “Put on your seatbelt, dude,” said Sam, starting the car.

  Jake reached for the seatbelt as Sam pulled away from the curb. Looking into the rearview mirror on his side of the car, Jake watched the Crown Victoria make a U-turn in the middle of the road and pull up behind them. Swallowing hard, Jake gripped the armrest.

  The entire ride to Sam’s apartment passed in silence as Jake kept the police car in his sight. When Sam pulled beneath the building into the garage, Jake didn’t get out for a moment. He watched the Crown Victoria pass by, then the garage door closed.

  “Jake?” Sam poked his head back into the car.

  Jake reached for the handle and shoved the car door open, climbing out. He followed Sam into the building and watched as Sam pushed the button on the elevator. He turned and looked toward the glass doors leading to the street, but he could only see the rapid traffic passing by in a multi-colored blur.

  The elevator opened and Jake stepped inside behind his friend. Leaning against the back wall, he closed his eyes. His legs felt weak and he had a strange flutter in his stomach. He really needed to eat something.

  When the elevator opened, he trailed behind Sam as they went down the hall, then waited while Sam fished out two sets of keys, juggling them as he unlocked the door. Jake’s gaze focused on the keys clasped in Sam’s other hand. He could see the distinct box shaped ones to the bank – one for the outer door, leading to the ATM machines, and one for the inner door, leading into the branch itself. If he just had his keys, he could retrieve his briefcase on his own. He didn’t give a damn who saw him now. He didn’t think breaking into a bank was nearly as bad as being accused of murdering your own wife.

  Sam turned to look at him. “You okay?”