Murder in Chinatown (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Uniforms go out and calm her down, but by the next morning, they’ve been out there three…four times.”

  “Why’d you go out?” asked Marco.

  “Media gets wind of it and really gets the mom going. Your girlfriend is leading the pack, that Lake chick.”

  “Free-lance?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Her name is Genevieve,” corrected Peyton.

  “Whatever.” Cho rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we get a call to go calm things down.” He focused his attention on Jake. “We text the Preacher here the address and tell him to meet us. Might as well get some pictures of the crime scene, right?”

  Jake lifted his head enough to glare at Cho.

  “We go up to the house to talk to the mother. It’s a walk-up, so we gotta climb hella stairs to get there. She invites us inside, but Preacher, here, he’s messing around in that Gay Pride Float he drives, playing with his camera or something.”

  Peyton gave Jake a sympathetic smile.

  “A truck pulls up on the street and a man is staring up at the house. Preacher sees him and wigs out, thinking it’s the Janitor come to off the baby-boy sex-offender.”

  “I didn’t think that. I just didn’t know who he was.”

  “Right. Anyway, he jumps out of the Daisy and starts running for the house with his camera strapped around his neck. Simons and me, we hear him clear inside the house, shouting for us. This spooks the guy in the truck, so he starts to speed away, but he loses control and slams the truck into a parked car.”

  Peyton and Marco laughed. Bill’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

  “He gets the bumper of his truck hooked to the bumper of the other car and can’t get loose. Simons and me, we come out of the house, but we’re way up on top of those damn stairs. Guy jumps out of the truck and starts running up the street. What does the Preacher do? He starts chasing after him.”

  “No?” exclaimed Peyton.

  “Yep, camera and all, but while the guy is on the other side of the street, Preacher stays on our side. I come tearing down the stairs and cross the street. There’s people all over the freakin’ place, diving out of the way, jumping into the street, and I don’t know if the bastard’s armed or not, plus I got an idiot with a camera chasing after him.”

  “Where was Simons?” asked Peyton, leaning forward in her chair.

  “I was right behind him.”

  “Hell you were,” said Cho, shooting him a look. “Guy turns up Market.”

  “Oh, shit,” said Marco.

  Cho nodded. “I know I gotta catch him before he gets too far up Market, but all a sudden, he just stops running and sits down in the middle of the sidewalk. People just walk around him and he just sits there. I slow down and draw my gun, but he’s done. He holds up his hands and tells me to arrest him. He says he’s spent, can’t run anymore. I get the cuffs on him and look up. There’s the Preacher across Market, snapping pictures like a damn fool and next thing I know, I got Simons here, dropping down next to the guy, blocking the whole friggin’ walkway. Thought he was gonna have a heart attack and die on me.”

  Simons made a swiping motion with his hand.

  “Who was the guy?”

  “Not the Janitor, that’s for damn sure. Apparently getting brought up on statutory rape charges wasn’t enough to cool off the horny kid. He goes and gets the stupid girl pregnant. She finally confesses to her dad and he ties one on, goes over in the middle of the night to the kid’s house and launches a rock through his window.”

  “Why the hell did he go back then?”

  “After he got sober, he felt guilty and went back to see how much damage he’d done. He didn’t expect us to be there.”

  Peyton leaned over and punched Jake’s shoulder. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Jake rubbed the spot and glared at her. “I was thinking I didn’t want him to get away.”

  “And that wasn’t gonna happen as long as you covered the opposite side of the street?” joked Marco.

  They all peeled off into laughter, except Jake. “Freakin’ assed cops,” he muttered under his breath.

  Katherine found herself smiling. She immediately schooled her features and crossed her arms. Oh, she tried not to have favorites, and that was why these last few days had been so hard. She had to make a decision, and she knew what decision she should make, but make it…well, that was nearly impossible. The thought of breaking up one of her best detective teams made her feel physically ill.

  “Brooks, D’Angelo, my office. Now!”

  The laughter broke off immediately and everyone turned to look at her. She didn’t wait to see if they’d obey, she knew they would, so she walked back to her office, keeping her back as straight as possible.

  * * *

  Peyton unfolded herself from her chair as Marco stood up. “Eight years and that command still gets my heart pumping a bit.”

  Marco dropped an arm across her shoulders and directed her toward the captain’s office. “That’s ‘cuz it usually means you’re in trouble.”

  “Why does it have to be me?”

  “It’s always you, Brooks.”

  As they passed Maria’s desk, Peyton was surprised to find it empty…again. Maria hardly ever took a day off and this was three days in a row. She entered Defino’s office before Marco and found the captain already seated at her desk.

  “Sit down,” Defino ordered, motioning at her painfully hard melamine chairs. Her eyes lifted and she squinted at Peyton. “And don’t touch anything!”

  Peyton held up her hands. “Captain, where’s Maria?”

  “Sick.”

  “Three days? She never misses work.”

  “People get sick, Brooks.”

  Peyton took the chair closest to the door and Marco maneuvered his six foot four inch frame into the other one. Defino’s office was dark as always, the blinds pulled down over the window. She sat in her chair, staring at the blotter on her glass topped desk, but she didn’t speak. It made Peyton fidget. A photo of the Golden Gate Bridge occupied the wall behind Defino’s head, so she focused on that to resist the impulse to play with the captain’s clear, crystal stapler.

  She liked the photo. A faint layer of fog obscured just the top part of the bridge, but you could still see the rust-red towers shooting upward. Funny how most San Franciscans had some sort of artifact of the iconic structure somewhere in their personal space. She herself had a brass paperweight on her dresser at home. It didn’t hold down any papers, but she liked the heft of it.

  “We have a case.”

  Peyton’s eyes snapped to Defino’s. “Right? The Clean-up Crew case?”

  “No, I’m taking you off that case. The serial killer hasn’t struck in a month, and it’s Cho and Simons’ case anyway.”

  Peyton slid forward in her chair. “But, Captain, we still have to find him.”

  “We will, but I need you two for something else.”

  “Captain?”

  “Brooks, stop.” She held up a hand and closed her eyes.

  Peyton sank back in her chair as Marco put a hand on her wrist in warning.

  Defino reached for a file on her desk and opened it. “Are you familiar with Meilin Fan?”

  Peyton exchanged a look with her partner. His expression was as blank as her own. “Should we be?”

  “Meilin Fan from Food Battles?” When they still showed no recognition, she held up a hand. “The reality show?”

  “Reality show?”

  “Yes, the cooking competition? Set in New York?”

  Peyton shook her head. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’ve never seen it.”

  “Everyone’s seen it. It’s the most popular cooking show out there.”

  Peyton felt Marco’s eyes on her. Defino looked like she expected them to suddenly remember the show, like they were holding out on her or something.

  “Forget it.” She waved them off. “Anyway, Meilin Fan won the competition last year. Th
e prize is half-a-mil to open a restaurant in a city of your choice. She picked Chinatown. Her restaurant, the Yellow Lotus, is on Stockton, and she lives in the flat directly above it.”

  “Okay?”

  “Last night she returned to the flat after the restaurant closed to find her boyfriend shot in the chest. She called 911 and he was rushed to the hospital. He died this morning, so the case is ours.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “No, and no one heard the gunshot either. Last I heard, Meilin didn’t have an opportunity to check the flat to see if anything was stolen. She’s pretty distraught, so I don’t have a lot to go on, but the boyfriend, Matt Jensen, worked as a produce manager at a local grocery store. They’ve been a couple for about three years, came out from New York together. He was on the show a few times, good looking fella, a few years younger than Meilin.” She passed a slip of paper across the desk to Peyton. “Here’s the address.”

  Peyton glanced at it, then folded it in half. “Captain, about the Clean-up Crew case?”

  “Brooks, I already made my decision.”

  “I just feel like we can’t give up now. He’s still out there and I know he’s going to strike again.”

  Defino’s expression hardened. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but we’re Homicide, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And we investigate homicides still, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And in your hand you have a current homicide, right?”

  Peyton exhaled and nodded. “Right.”

  “Do your job, Brooks, or I’ll find someone who can.”

  Marco reached over and grabbed the paper. “We’re on it, Captain.” He pushed himself to his feet.

  Peyton started to rise as well, but hesitated. “One last thing, Captain.”

  Marco stopped in the doorway, shifting around to give her a panicked look.

  Peyton ignored him, but Defino’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Did Maria say what she had?”

  “I didn’t talk to her. I talked to her boyfriend.”

  Peyton frowned. “Boyfriend? I don’t remember Maria saying anything about a boyfriend.”

  Defino folded her hands on her blotter. “Unlike some people around here, Maria chooses to keep her private life private.”

  Peyton knew the jab was meant for her. Something sure had the captain’s panties in a bunch today.

  Defino let out a heavy sigh. “They’ve been seeing each other for about six months. They just moved in together three weeks ago.”

  “Really? I thought she lived with her mother and sisters in Daly City.”

  “Not anymore. Anything else you’d like to know, Brooks?”

  Actually there was, but she didn’t think Defino would appreciate her asking why she was in such a bad mood. “Not a thing, Captain,” she said.

  “Good. Shut the door on your way out.”

  Peyton backed to the door and followed Marco into the precinct, closing the door behind her.

  “Why do you have to push it?” scolded Marco under his breath.

  “Why do you think she was in such a bad mood?”

  “Because you wouldn’t let it go about the serial killer.”

  “Yeah, but come on, Marco, that’s gotta frustrate you too. This other case is nonsense. A uniform could handle it. We need to stay focused on the Janitor.”

  Marco glanced at Defino’s door, then leaned closer to Peyton. “We do what we’re told, but you’re right. This case is a burner.” He held up the paper. “Still, we have our orders. Let’s get Jake and head out there. The faster we wrap this one up, the quicker we can be back on the other one.”

  “You get Jake. I’ll wait here.”

  Marco gave her a suspicious look.

  “I’m not gonna bother the captain. I just don’t feel like facing Simons and Cho right now. It’s kinda embarrassing to get pulled off the biggest case of our career, don’t you think?”

  Marco shook his head at her, but he turned back toward their desks.

  Peyton waited until he was out of sight, then went over to Maria’s desk and quickly rummaged through the papers on top. Sliding open the pencil drawer, she found an electric bill with a yellow forwarding address attached to it. She looked around for a phone number, but she didn’t find anything. She and Maria had never been close, never exchanged phone numbers or anything, but still, she had no memory of Maria missing three consecutive days before, except when she took a formal vacation. Closing the drawer, she moved to the counter and leaned against it, mulling over why Maria wouldn’t have mentioned a relationship so serious that she’d moved out of her mother’s house.

  A moment later, Marco and Jake appeared.

  “I’ll drive,” said Jake, jogging to catch up to Marco’s longer gait.

  “The hell you will,” said Marco, shoving open the half door.

  “Then I call shotgun.”

  “Not even for a moment, slick,” said Peyton, pushing him in the side. “And if someone starts running away from the scene, you stay put, you hear me? Under no circumstances do you give chase.”

  “Freakin’ assed cops,” Jake muttered.

  CHAPTER 2

  Gabby and Billy were directed to the manager of the Coconut Grove Bank, a severely thin woman with wispy hair. She motioned them into the chairs before her desk and held out her hand for the warrant. Gabby passed it over.

  No nonsense. She liked that. It made her job easier if she didn’t have to make small talk with people.

  The manager passed the warrant back with a snap of her wrist. “Everything seems to be in order. Do you have the key?”

  Gabby held it up.

  Rising in one swift motion, the manager pointed to the far left corner behind the counter manned by the tellers. “This way.”

  Gabby and Billy followed her across the tiled entrance to a locked half-door. The manager pulled out a ring of keys from a zip-line attached to the belt on her slacks and unlocked the door, motioning them behind the counter. Then she walked into a short hallway and stopped before another door with a reinforced glass window in it. She found the key for this one and unlocked it, motioning them into a well-lighted room with rows and rows of metal boxes on three of its sides. The boxes went from the floor to the ceiling. Directly in the center was a tall, stainless steel table and a few padded stools with no backs.

  She held out her hand to Gabby. “Key?”

  Gabby placed it on the woman’s palm, tucking the warrant into her back pocket. Billy was making faces behind the woman’s back, mouthing her crisp commands, but Gabby ignored him, watching the manager walk to a wide, thin box on the wall labeled 87 and insert a key from her ring. She drew the entire box out of the wall and carried it to the table, then inserted the key Gabby gave her into a second lock, but she didn’t lift the lid.

  “Take your time. The warrant indicates you may remove whatever’s in the box for your investigation, but please check with me before you leave.”

  “Done.” Gabby watched her walk out of the room, her stride never breaking. This was a woman who took command. She had to admire that.

  She approached the table and reached for the lid, but Billy placed both of his hands over it, holding it down.

  “What do you think’s in there?”

  “What?” She frowned at him.

  “Before you open it, tell me what you think’s in there.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, just think about it. Maybe it’s a treasure map.”

  “It’s not a treasure map.”

  “Maybe it’s jewels.”

  “It’s not jewels.”

  “Maybe it’s a serum for immortality.”

  Gabby let out her breath in an aggravated sigh and closed her eyes. “What are you, ten?”

  “What if it’s a severed head?”

  That rocked Gabby back on her heels, but she gave the box a critical look. “How could it be a severed head?”

  “Foot?” Billy looked so pleased with h
imself, she had to smile.

  “No.”

  He gave a dramatic nod of his head, biting his lower lip. “Finger.”

  Gabby lifted her hands off the box. It could be a finger. She shot a look around at the other boxes.

  “You know that show where they go out to the storage units and bid on them? Do you know the freaky crap people have found in those things?”

  “You’re messing with me.”

  He held up his hands, feigning innocence. “I’m not. Just think about it. Think about all the strange and random crap people collect. What if it’s a jar filled with kidneys?”

  “Kidneys? Why kidneys?”

  “Organ trafficking.”

  “She was an American Studies professor.”

  “Doesn’t mean she didn’t have something on the side.”

  “Stop it. Besides the box isn’t deep enough to contain a jar of kidneys.” Gabby reached for the lid again. Billy leaned forward, his face alive with excitement as she lifted it. Inside was an album of some kind. She picked it up and set it on the table next to the box.

  Billy groaned. “Pictures? That’s what she keeps in a safe deposit box? What the hell?”

  A big rubber band held the entire thing closed. Gabby smiled to herself as she pulled it off, then she opened the cover. A few pictures of a bright eyed brown haired girl filled the page, and as she turned it, she found newspaper clippings with the name Carol Messette highlighted on them. They were announcements about contest won at an elementary school or spelling bees or honor roll. One had a grainy picture of the same little girl standing with others, holding up a certificate and beaming proudly for the camera.

  Billy pushed away from the table in disgust and began wandering around the room, fingering the front of the boxes. Gabby ignored him and continued to turn pages. As she went, the little girl grew up and her accomplishments were more profound. She found a high school diploma, a certificate stating she was valedictorian, articles from the University of Miami where Carol had participated in some research paper or another, an article with a picture of a grown Carol indicating that she’d graduated Summa Cum Laude.

  “She was something, this Carol Messette or Witan or whatever.”