Murder on Russian Hill (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 3)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “I know how to fight.”

  James stretched out his legs and folded his hands on his belly. “Right.”

  Joshua looked up at him. “I know how to fight.”

  “Then why’d you let that asshole shove you around?”

  He looked away again.

  “Josh?”

  He leaned back. “Mrs. Clark gave us this article the other day.”

  “The health teacher?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with Luke Ames?”

  Joshua chewed on his lower lip. “Forget it.”

  James forced himself to be patient. He’d had plenty of years learning to be patient with his brother. Joshua didn’t talk much, but when he did, you’d better listen. “Tell me.”

  Joshua pushed a pebble with the toe of his converse. “The article was about abused children.”

  James went still. They didn’t often talk about Joshua’s father, but it was always there between them. “Yeah?”

  Joshua chewed his lip again. “About how some percentage, I think it was 30% of abusers were abused themselves as children.”

  James shrugged. “Okay? What does that have to do with you?”

  Joshua stared at James as if he couldn’t believe he was so stupid. “I did some research on my own. The statistics are bad. Adults who were abused as children commit more violent crimes than those that weren’t.”

  James tried to laugh and ease the tension, but it came out strained. “Okay, so there’s some statistic. Who the hell cares? You aren’t your father. You don’t even see him anymore.” Suddenly, he looked hard at Joshua. “Is that why you wouldn’t fight Luke Ames? You’re afraid you’ll become him.”

  Joshua’s gaze was unwavering. His dark eyes pierced into James, looking through him. “No, I didn’t fight Luke Ames because while you were standing there hoping he didn’t make you use that bat…” His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “I was standing there thinking that if I took a swing at him, I wouldn’t stop until his head broke and his brains spilled out.”

  * * *

  Jake lowered the camera. “I think I got everything.”

  Abe pulled on a pair of latex gloves. “You wanna stay while I do the autopsy and take some more.”

  “Not so much. This is bad enough.” He tried not to look directly at the woman, but it was like watching a car wreck, it was hard to look away. “I’ll never understand how people can do something like this.”

  Abe moved to the table and leaned over, looking at the wound where the left side of her face had been. “This one makes a little sense. It was obviously done in the heat of the moment. He lost control and let her have it with whatever was handy.” Abe canted a look up at Jake, his beads tinkling. “Now your other body is a lot more confusing. Why execute a bum?”

  “I thought you wanted me to take pictures of him too.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Why do you have to do an autopsy on her? It’s pretty obvious what killed her.”

  “Have to be thorough. The D.A. wants all t’s dotted and i’s crossed.”

  Jake took a step away from the autopsy table. “She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

  He felt Abe’s gaze on him. “You okay?”

  Jake gave a strange laugh. “I was a loan officer. I didn’t like the job, but I didn’t have to look at dead bodies.”

  “So go back to it.”

  “I can’t now. I don’t like seeing dead people, but I like feeling like I’m doing something.” He held up a hand and let it fall. “It’s just this…this seems so senseless. Two lives are ruined over this – well, more than that. There’s a little girl without a mother or a father now.”

  Abe grabbed the sheet and pulled it over the body. “Look, think of it this way. You’re still doing something. Maybe this isn’t the best outcome, but at least for her, we’re giving her some closure.”

  “Really? Do you believe that?”

  Abe shrugged. “Sure. Why not? Besides, can you see me making loans to people?”

  Jake laughed. “No, that I cannot see.”

  “Come on. Let’s go take pictures of the bum and then I’ll buy you a liquid lunch.”

  “Liquid lunch?”

  Abe gave him a condescending look.

  “Oh no, I’m not going to lunch with you. I remember the last time I drank with you.”

  Abe moved toward the door. “That guy just wanted to dance with you, but you panicked.”

  “Damn straight I panicked,” said Jake, following him. “He made two of me and he wasn’t in the mood to take no for an answer.”

  They walked into the hallway and turned left.

  “I saved you,” said Abe, stepping to the next door over and pressing the button to open it.

  “Yeah, by telling him I was your boyfriend.”

  Abe gave a wicked giggle. “It worked, didn’t it? Besides, think of the sacrifice I had to make.” He gave Jake a serious once-over. “You are so not my type.”

  “But Adonis is?”

  “My Angel is everyone’s type.” He waved his arms and the lights came on.

  The air conditioner rumbled overhead and Jake rubbed his arms against the cold. The body lay on a table similar to the other one with a drape pulled over it.

  “How come you got both of them?”

  “I do most of the work for the precinct. Thank God medical deaths are the bulk of our business and the other M.E.s usually take those. Boring, if you ask me. It’s just carving up fat guys who die from heart attacks.”

  “You’re really compassionate, aren’t you?”

  Abe grabbed the drape and pulled it back. “I’m honest, that’s all.”

  The body was shrunken and grey. Without the many layers of clothes, the vic looked small and frail. Jake couldn’t understand why anyone would want to shoot him in the back of the head. The exit wound sat nearly in the middle of his forehead, the edges blackened, but if he peered closely enough, he could see bone fragment and brain matter in the gaping hole.

  Jake lifted the camera and snapped off a number of pictures. “What kind of gun do you think it was?”

  “By the powder burn on the back of his skull and the size of the entrance hole, I’d say a Colt, maybe Smith & Wesson.”

  “Any other wounds?”

  Abe pulled back the sheet completely. The bum’s chest was sunken, his arms and legs wiry and thin. Jake scanned him quickly. In some ways, this emaciated corpse was worse than the woman. He’d been barely holding onto life and yet someone had felt even that pitiful existence was worth stealing.

  Jake snapped a few more pictures, but as he turned to move around the foot of the table, he hesitated, looking at the man’s ankle. A thin, black snake wrapped above the bone on his ankle and ended at the top of his foot. It was poorly designed, amateurish.

  “Abe, look at this.”

  Abe leaned over and studied it. “Looks like a prison tat.”

  “Do we have a name on him?”

  Abe moved back toward the vic’s head and picked up a clipboard, looking at it. “We found a scrap of paper from Glide Memorial. He stayed there last month. Under name it said Kimbro.”

  Jake reached into his bag and pulled out his computer tablet. He thumbed it on and typed in the public records website for California. Clicking on the criminal record link, he keyed over to Name. “Kimbro must be a last name, right?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Jake typed it in, then pressed enter. A moment later he got a list of all Kimbros in the records. “Anything else on the ticket you found?”

  Abe bent under the table and pulled out a sealed bag. In it were the man’s clothes, the note Jake had found with the words Clean-up Crew on it, and a smudged ticket. Abe turned it and pressed it flat. “It might be a U or a W. I can’t tell.”

  Jake scanned down the list. “W? There’s a Wayne Kimbro.” As he clicked on the name, Abe came around the table and looked over his shoulder. An arrest record scrolled across the
screen and on the right side was a mug shot. Both Jake and Abe glanced at the body. The man on the mug shot was a bit heavier, younger maybe, and clean shaven, but it was obviously their vic.

  “That’s him. What’d they get him for?” asked Abe.

  Jake scanned the arrest records a few times, then frowned, lowering the tablet. “Child molestation,” he said.

  Suddenly, all sympathy he’d been feeling bled away.

  * * *

  Peyton set her hamburger down.

  Marco looked up from his own meal. “Not hungry?”

  She shrugged. “Why doesn’t he have cuts on his hands?”

  Marco picked up a carrot and bit off the end. “Maybe Abe was wrong.”

  “When has Abe ever been wrong?”

  Marco held up a hand in acquiescence. “There’s always a first time. What’s the alternative, Brooks? We have the text messages, so we know she planned to take their daughter out of the country. Motive. We literally have her blood on his hands. Evidence. And we can place him at the crime scene. Suspect. We’ve got all three legs of your daddy’s stool. So one part of it doesn’t fit. I don’t think Devan is going to be worried about that when he takes it to the Grand Jury.”

  Peyton picked a piece of lettuce off the burger and placed it in her mouth. “I know.”

  Marco gave her a strange look.

  “What?”

  “This is definitely bothering you. You just ate something green.”

  Peyton grabbed a fry and threw it at him. He caught it and placed it in his mouth.

  “Brooks?”

  Peyton looked over her shoulder. Maria was standing in the doorway. “Hey, sweetcakes, did you want to share my lunch?”

  Maria glared at her. “I’d rather die of starvation.” She gave Marco a smoldering once over. “However, I’ll share your lunch anytime, Marco baby.”

  “Aw, you just keep playing hard to get and it makes me think we don’t have any future,” purred Peyton.

  Maria ignored the remark. “The girlfriend is here and she wants to see you.”

  “Ravensong’s girlfriend?”

  “No, yours.”

  Maria’s eyes widened as soon as she realized what she’d said, but Peyton smiled wickedly. “You’re the only girlfriend I have, sweetie.”

  “She wants to talk to you. What do I tell her?”

  Peyton pushed herself to her feet. “I’m coming.”

  When Marco started to pick up his lunch, Maria motioned him back down. “She asked to see Brooks alone.”

  He frowned.

  Peyton gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I know it’s hard to believe that a woman wouldn’t want to see you, D’Angelo, but then again, look who she’s got sharing her bed.”

  “I don’t know why you women get all hot and bothered around him.”

  Peyton halted beside Maria and glanced back at him. The two women exchanged a look, then they both laughed.

  “What?”

  “It’s sad, really,” said Peyton to Maria.

  She nodded. “It’s all right, baby, I still think you’re a close 9.”

  Marco frowned as the two of them left the room.

  Peyton found Elena and another young woman standing in the lobby. The other woman was in her late twenties, blond, blue eyed and pretty. She would have made a perfect stereotypical cheerleader at any high school.

  Elena looked tired. She wore no make-up and her eyes were red-rimmed. Her hair was neatly combed back in a bun, but it only emphasized the bleakness of her expression. She wore a pair of jeans and a loose sweater that looked about two sizes too big.

  “Hey, Elena. Maria said you wanted to see me.”

  Elena nodded.

  Peyton stopped on the other side of the counter. “What can I do for you?”

  “Can we talk in private?”

  Peyton reached for the half door and pulled it open. “Sure, come in.” She motioned to the conference room, then followed the two women inside. Elena took the first available seat and the young woman sat down at her side, clasping Elena’s hands with both of her own.

  “This is Joshua’s sister, Jennifer.”

  Peyton reached out her hand and the young woman accepted it. “I’m Inspector Brooks.” Her eyes shifted to Elena. “How can I help you?”

  “Joshua’s lawyer, Drew Steinberg, got bail set and Joshua’s scheduled to be released tonight. Hopefully when the media frenzy has died down.”

  “Good. How did Tiffany take the news?”

  “She’s devastated. She keeps asking for her father.” Elena pressed her hand against her temple as if she fought back tears, but her eyes were dry. Peyton figured she’d probably done a lot of crying over the last day. “Here’s the thing, Inspector Brooks. I need your help.”

  Peyton frowned. “With all due respect, Elena, I’m surprised you asked to see me. I thought our last conversation didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.”

  Elena flattened a hand on the table. “I don’t have anyone else I can go to.”

  Jennifer stirred. “Please listen to her, Inspector Brooks. It’s important for all of us.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Joshua is checking himself into a psych facility as soon as he’s released.”

  Peyton blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected that. “I see.”

  “He’s convinced he’s capable of murder. You convinced him.”

  “I don’t think I convinced him, but even so, I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

  “Talk to him. Tell him to go home where he belongs.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table. She hated it when people asked her to intervene in their lives. “Here’s the thing, Elena. I actually think it’s a good idea. I think he’s smart to make this decision.”

  Elena’s eyes widened and Jennifer looked like she’d been slapped. “How can you say that? How can you believe this is a good thing?”

  “He’s trying to protect you and his daughter. I think it’s for the best and I’d leave it alone if I were you.”

  Elena’s face hardened. “How can you believe he’s capable of something so horrible? As a woman, I expected you to be more open-minded, more sympathetic, but you aren’t considering any other possibility, are you?”

  Peyton leaned forward. “I wish it was different, Elena. I really do, but you’ve got to see where we’re coming from. There just isn’t any other explanation, any other suspect. Everything points to him.” She deliberately left out the lack of cuts on his hand. She really didn’t think it meant anything and even if it did, all other evidence pointed to Ravensong. “He doesn’t even deny it.”

  “Because he can’t remember what happened!” She slammed her fist on the table. Fighting for composure, she held up a hand. “He isn’t a violent man, Inspector Brooks. He’s never hurt anyone in his life.”

  Peyton tried to keep her voice neutral, but it was hard. Why were women so blind, such idiots for love? “His knuckles are raw, Elena. Come on. He obviously struck something. Everybody has a breaking point and he reached his. He’s right to commit himself. He’s doing the sane, responsible thing.”

  Elena didn’t respond. Her jaw clenched. Then she rose to her feet.

  Jennifer rose with her. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to call his lawyer. See if there’s anything he can do.” She glared down at Peyton. “I’m certain you feel you’re doing your job, and I’m certain this seems like an easy win for you, but you are ruining countless lives with your inability to look beyond what is right in front of you. Not everything is exactly as it seems.”

  “And yet, sometimes it is exactly as it seems, Elena. I really am sorry.”

  “That doesn’t help,” she said, tossing her hand up and backing to the door. “That doesn’t help a damn thing.”

  Jennifer moved to go after her, but she stopped and turned back around. Peyton rose to her feet and braced herself for a dressing down. “You don’t know my brother, Inspector Brooks. You d
on’t know anything about him.” She stepped back into the room and faced Peyton. “If he broke as you say, he wouldn’t have hurt Terry.”

  Peyton sighed. What was the point of arguing this madness?

  “I’ve never told anyone this, and I ask that you keep it to yourself.”

  Peyton nodded, feeling a knot form in her stomach. Maybe here would be answers, confessions, secrets revealed. Anything to explain this murder, and moreso, this loyalty. Jennifer was clearly not Ravensong’s biological sister, but that didn’t seem to matter to her.

  “I was there the first time he tried to kill himself.”

  “When he slashed his wrists?”

  “No.” Her eyes were unwavering. This one was strong. No useless tears for her. “I was at the window of the car before he drove it into a tree. Everyone else thought he lost control because he was drugged out of his mind, but I know better. I saw his face, I looked into his eyes. I knew the minute he decided that he had to end it. He didn’t do it for himself. He did it for us, to save us from him.”

  Peyton felt the knot get tighter. One thing they taught in the academy was to not let a perp get under your skin, to keep objectivity. Joshua Ravensong was screwing with her objectivity.

  “I was also there when he held his daughter for the first time and I saw his face then, and I knew he would never do anything to hurt her, no matter how bad it might get.” She pointed at Peyton. “That’s the man my brother is, that is the man who would never hurt his daughter so terribly by taking her mother away from her.” She let her hand fall against her thigh. “So you remember that when you decide you’re sure of his guilt.”

  Peyton followed her out into the lobby. Elena had her phone pressed to her ear. She gave Peyton a withering glare, then closed the phone. Outside the doors, the paparazzi milled about, waiting to pounce on anyone who left the precinct. Jennifer moved to Elena’s side and put her arm around her, and together they pushed open the doors.

  Reporters and photographers descended on them, swooping in like mechanical vultures, snapping away as both women ducked their heads, pushing their way through the throng. Peyton watched them from the safety of Maria’s desk, wondering if she shouldn’t have offered them an escort to their car.