Murder in Chinatown (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “I’m dying to hear what you found in the safe deposit box.”

  Gabby broke a corner off the cookie and placed it in her mouth. It melted against her tongue. “It was a scrapbook chronicling the life of your aunt until her death.”

  “Really? What was the reason Grandma kept it in a safe deposit box?’

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “It chronicled my aunt’s entire life?”

  Gabby nodded. “Even articles about her death. Your grandmother even had your cousin’s birth announcement, but that’s part of the reason I’m here. Pages are missing just after the birth announcement up until the articles about the murder.”

  “What do you mean missing?” asked Janet, setting down her drink.

  “I mean torn out.”

  “So there’s nothing left of my cousin?”

  “Just the birth announcement.” Gabby broke off another piece of cookie. “There is an obituary for a 17 year old boy named Grant Sanderson. He lived on the same street as your aunt and committed suicide about a month after the murders. Is that name familiar to you at all?”

  Janet thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not at all.”

  Gabby placed the cookie in her mouth and chewed a moment in silence. Lifting the napkin, she wiped her lips. “Janet, we pulled the file Buck Reiter had on your aunt’s murder investigation. I searched through the entire thing. We have clothes from your cousin Lily and mention of her finding the bodies, but not a single picture of her. Do you have any that I could see?”

  Janet frowned. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of her.”

  “Did your grandmother keep any photo albums?”

  “I haven’t come across any, but I haven’t begun to clean out the attic yet. Maybe we should look up there?”

  “I’m game.”

  Janet rose to her feet. “Let’s do it now before it gets any hotter.”

  She led Gabby back through the bungalow and toward the bedrooms. A hanging cord marked the entrance to the attic and Janet pulled on it, releasing a trapdoor in the ceiling. As the door opened, a set of stairs folded down into the hallway.

  Janet climbed up first, reaching over her head to tug on a lamp. Gabby followed and found herself in a stifling hot crawlspace filled with boxes and old, cast-off furniture. Dust tickled her nose and a cobweb caught in her short, dark hair. She brushed it away and pulled at the neck of her t-shirt, surprised at how hot it was in the tight space.

  “I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay up here,” said Janet, swiping her hand before her face to clear the cobwebs. “It’s like a furnace.”

  “Let’s split up and look at the boxes.” Gabby motioned to the one beside her. “Thankfully your grandmother labeled everything.”

  They fanned out to either end of the attic and began their search. In a few places, Gabby found boxes stacked on other boxes, but nothing seemed to be overly heavy. She shifted them away, wiping off the layer of dust that sometimes obscured the labeling. She found old clothes, winter bedding, and a number of boxes filled with books, but no photo albums.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead and a drop ran down between her breasts. Pulling the t-shirt away from her damp skin, she tried to ignore the discomfort and pressed deeper into the low ceiling of the attic.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t take the heat any more, Janet called out to her. “I think I’ve found something.”

  She picked her way among the boxes and furnishings to the other woman’s side. Janet had pulled open a cedar-lined hope chest. A number of photo albums lay nestled inside, their spines pointing upward.

  “My cousin was about five years older than I am. Grandma had these labeled by years, so if I calculate back correctly, this has to be the year Lily was born.” She placed her finger on the red leather spine. Lifting it out, she passed it to Gabby. “Let’s take a few out to the porch to look at them.”

  “Good idea.”

  Janet piled a few on top of the first, then grabbed a couple herself. Together they made their way back down the attic stairs and through the house to the back porch. Gabby settled the books on the table and reached for her lemonade, downing the remainder.

  Janet used a napkin to blot the sweat from her face, then poured them each another glass. Finally they settled down and Gabby reached for the first photo album, flipping open the front cover. Family pictures filled the pages. Gabby recognized Carol and David. An older couple had to be the Messettes.

  “Is this your grandmother and grandfather?” she asked Janet.

  Janet smiled at the album. “It sure is.” She reached for another album and opened the front cover. “Hm. What the hell?”

  Gabby glanced up.

  Janet was frowning at the book.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Janet shifted the book to face Gabby. The first picture was of Carol and David and standing in front of them was a little girl, except for where the little girl’s face should have been was an empty hole.

  “Her face is cut out?”

  “Yeah, but why?” asked Janet. She turned the book back to her and began flipping pages. “Her face is cut out in every single picture.”

  Gabby flipped into the middle of her book. A little girl holding a kitten dominated the frame, but like in Janet’s books, her face had been cut out, leaving behind a ragged hole.

  “Who would do something like this?”

  Gabby’s eyes rose to Janet. “I don’t know, but it makes me even more certain we need to see what this Lily Witan looks like.”

  * * *

  Marco picked Peyton up at her house late the next morning. Beyond a grunt of greeting, he didn’t say much as they got in the car and headed toward the precinct. Peyton let him have his silence. After eight years together, she knew when things were better left alone. The tense conversation in the hospital waiting room unnerved her and she wasn’t anxious to bring it up again.

  Since Alcatraz, things had been difficult between them. He’d never been one to expose his feelings readily, but he was even more closed off now and she didn’t know how to deal with it.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as he started the ignition.

  “Not as sore as yesterday, but getting dressed is a bitch.”

  “When does Maria get out?” He pulled onto the street.

  “This evening. I promised I’d help her get her things out of Junior’s house.”

  He didn’t respond.

  She glanced over at him. “Will you come with us?”

  “Yeah.” He reached for a pair of sunglasses on the dashboard and slipped them on. It was as near to a dismissal as Peyton had ever gotten from him.

  She blew out a frustrated breath and turned to the window. Sunlight was seeping into the City, casting everything in a warm glow. She braced her chin on her hand and watched the cars go by. She wanted to tell him about the visit from her mother, but she didn’t want to open herself up for criticism from him. He’d had plenty to criticize about her lately and it scared her a little. If there was ever anyone she wanted in her corner, it was Marco D’Angelo, but he seemed so disillusioned with her lately.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out, thumbing it on. A text message from the captain appeared on the screen. Meilin Fan going back to work. Bad idea. Talk to her.

  Peyton sighed.

  Marco glanced over, his eyes hidden behind the mirrored glasses. “What?”

  “Meilin’s going back to work. Captain wants us to talk her out of it.”

  “Why?”

  “I told Defino about our conversation with the employees the other day and she agrees with me.”

  “Agrees with you about what?”

  “Meilin has a thing for men. She likes the attention they give her.”

  “Okay?”

  “We both think she may have been involved in a love triangle. If so, the guy who killed Matt Jensen might just go after Meilin too.”

  Marco pulled the Charge
r into a left turn lane, flipping on his signal. “Chinatown it is, then.”

  The restaurant was closed when they arrived, but Leah met them at the door and let them in. Peyton smiled at the girl and gave a nod to her aunt who was folding napkins at one of the tables.

  “How are you, Leah?”

  “Good.” She gave Peyton a critical look. “How are you, Inspector?”

  “A little bruised up, but I’m fine.”

  “Going after a perp?”

  Peyton smiled at her youthful enthusiasm. “Something like. Is Meilin here?”

  Leah nodded toward the kitchen. “Do not know how we managed two days without her.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “See for yourself.”

  Peyton and Marco crossed the restaurant and pushed open the door to the kitchen. The entire room was in motion, people running here and there, Meilin standing in the middle, barking commands in Chinese.

  She turned and saw them, her eyes passing over Peyton and coming to rest on Marco. “Inspectors?” she said, her demeanor changing immediately.

  Peyton and Marco shared a look.

  “Tell me you have a suspect in custody,” she said, meeting them near the door.

  “Not yet.”

  She gave Peyton a critical stare. “What happened to you? You look horrible, Inspector Brooks.”

  “I fell.”

  Meilin frowned at that, then let it go. Glancing over her shoulder, she shouted something at an older man and pointed to a pot bubbling on the stove. He hurried over to take care of it. Facing them again, Meilin clasped her hands at her waist and gave them a smile. “What can I do for you? As you can see, we’re very busy.”

  “Our captain told us you plan to work tonight?”

  “Right. I have a business to run.”

  “Did Officer Holmes inform you that you might be in danger?”

  “He made a comment about it, but I wasn’t sure why he thought that.”

  Many of the employees were obviously listening to the conversation, but Peyton didn’t want them knowing much about the case. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

  “I’m very busy, Inspector Brooks,” Meilin repeated. “Can’t this wait?”

  “I’m afraid it can’t.”

  Meilin’s shoulders dropped in frustration. “Fine. I’ll meet you in the restaurant in a moment. I just have to finish up something in here.” With a flip of her long ponytail, she hurried over to the stove, grabbing the spoon from the older man.

  Peyton and Marco retreated into the restaurant.

  “I’m gonna take a look around the bathrooms,” he said, pointing toward the silk screen.

  Peyton nodded, then she wandered over to one of the lotus paintings and studied it again. As strange as it seemed, there was something melancholy about the single white flower on a velvet black background, as if it were the last flower in the world, soon to wither and blow away as dust. She so lost herself contemplating it that she was startled when Meilin threw open the restaurant door and shouted at both Leah and Lin in Chinese.

  The two women scurried to do as she commanded, disappearing into the kitchen without a word. Peyton shifted to face her as Marco appeared from behind the screen.

  Meilin wiped her hands on her apron as she came up beside Peyton, staring at the painting herself. “You like my lotuses, Inspector Brooks?”

  “There’s something about them that always captures my attention.”

  “Do you know the Greek myth about the lotus?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “During Odysseus’s journey home from the Trojan War, he landed on the island of the Lotus Eaters. It is said that those who ate of the lotus forgot all that was important to them and sought only to lie about the beach, eating lotus petals for the rest of their lives.”

  Peyton felt a strange shiver race up her spine.

  Meilin’s eyes shifted and fixed on her. “We all have things in our pasts that we want to forget. What is yours, Inspector Brooks?”

  Peyton narrowed her eyes. “The death of my father.”

  Meilin gave her an accommodating smile, then she glanced over her shoulder at Marco. “And you, Inspector D’Angelo? What would you forget?”

  Peyton’s attention shifted to him.

  He met her gaze. “Nothing.”

  Meilin inclined her head.

  “What would you forget, Meilin?” asked Peyton pointedly.

  “The death of Matt.”

  Somehow the words sounded contrived. “Were you having an affair?”

  Meilin opened her mouth in surprise. “An affair? No, Inspector Brooks, I was completely and devoutly faithful to Matt.”

  “It’s not a good idea to hide anything from us, Meilin. If you were having an affair, it may explain the reason for Matt’s death, and if so, you may be in danger.”

  Meilin faced her, her expression hardening. “I was not having an affair, Inspector Brooks.”

  Peyton sighed. “It’d be better if you didn’t work tonight.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Then I suggest you keep our number close. If there are any problems at all, you should call us immediately.”

  “That will be my first priority. Now, if you don’t mind, I have an entire menu to prepare. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.” Without waiting for a response, she started back toward the kitchen, giving Marco one last look as she went.

  They waited until she disappeared, then Marco went to the door and pulled it open. Peyton followed him onto the street, surprised when he started toward the car without a backward glance. Meilin’s words about forgetting past events weighed heavily on her and she stopped at the entrance of the restaurant.

  “I lied.”

  Marco turned to face her, slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes. “What?”

  “I lied to her in there.”

  He glanced at a passing tourist, then moved closer to her. “What are you talking about?”

  “The memory I’d forget – I said I would forget my father’s death, but I lied.”

  “Peyton, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

  “Alcatraz. I’d forget Alcatraz.”

  He went still and his head lifted. She wished he wasn’t wearing his glasses so she could see his eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t.”

  “It changed everything between us. Since it happened, you’ve been so distant, so unapproachable. Tell me how to fix it.”

  “There’s nothing to fix, Peyton.”

  “There is.” She grabbed his arm. “I can’t stand the distance, I can’t stand that this is always between us.”

  “It’s between us because you keep it there, Brooks.”

  “What?”

  He drew a deep breath and exhaled. “You are the one putting up barriers between us. You’re the one who can’t let it go.” He reached up and took off the glasses, his blue eyes tormented. “What is it you see when you look at me, Brooks? Do you see a killer now?”

  Peyton felt her heart begin to pound and her mouth went dry. “What? God, no.”

  “Then why can’t you let it go?”

  Peyton’s eyes filled with tears. “It isn’t me, Marco. No matter what you say, I’m not the one pushing you away. It’s you. You’re keeping me at arm’s length and it scares me. I don’t know what I did or how to fix it. Please, just tell me what you want.”

  He searched her face, then he reached up and gently touched her wounded cheek with his palm. “Maybe we just need to give it time, okay? Maybe we just need to leave it alone.”

  A tear spilled over and raced down her cheek. He wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “Come on, partner,” he said, giving her a weary smile. “We’ve got a murder to solve and this isn’t getting it done.”

  She nodded and let him pull away, but inside it felt like a knot had formed directly in the middle of her.

  * * *

  “Hey, Jake,” said Stan Neumann, the precinct�
�s tech god, leaning on the partition separating Jake’s desk from the rest of the officers. “This just came in for you.” He handed over a full-paged envelope.

  “Thanks.” Jake tore it open and pulled out the single sheet of paper. It was the report on the fingerprints taken from the doorjamb and window frame in Meilin’s flat. “Hm.” He covered his chin with his hand as he studied it.

  “Anything interesting?”

  He glanced up at Stan. “Just that there were three sets of prints. One was the victims, one Meilin’s, but the third doesn’t register in the system.”

  “Think it belongs to the murderer?”

  “Could be. Wonder why it’s not in the system?”

  “Well, that would mean he or she doesn’t have a driver’s license or any other form of legal ID, ‘cause they take fingerprints for all of those.”

  “Right. Hm.”

  Stan shifted weight. “Hey, I couldn’t go to the hospital yesterday to see Maria. How’s she doing?”

  “She’s better. They’re releasing her today.”

  “What about Peyton? How is she? I heard she got hurt too and I haven’t seen her yet to find out if she’s okay.”

  Jake glanced up from the report. “Huh?”

  “Peyton? How is she?”

  “Oh, she’s not speaking to me right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story.”

  “Was she hurt bad?”

  “She’s banged up pretty good, but nothing’s broken.”

  “That’s good.” He curled his arms around his stomach. “Must have been something to see her pull her gun, huh?”

  Jake fought a smile. “Yeah, must have been something.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, you and Peyton went on a date, did ya?”

  “Yeah, a while back. We went for pizza.”

  “Why haven’t you asked her out again?”

  “I don’t know. She started seeing the D.A., then they broke it off. Seemed like she wanted a break.”

  Jake found Stan’s infatuation with Peyton fascinating. There weren’t two more divergent people in the universe – Stan, mild-mannered and awkward, and Peyton…well, so Peyton. “She doesn’t scare you a little?”