Murder in Chinatown (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  Peyton playfully snatched back her hand and gave Maria a wounded look. “Don’t do that. Who else would I get to live on my couch?”

  Maria burst into laughter and Peyton felt surprisingly grateful for the sound.

  * * *

  Jake paced the hall outside the courtroom. God, he hated this. He felt a compelling need to be here, but every minute in that room was like opening a fresh wound with a dull knife. He lived with Zoë’s loss every day, he would never get over it, but sometimes he went long hours without thinking about it, without it being a constant source of pain. This trial brought it front and foremost in his mind.

  He turned to pace back the other way and came to a stop. Abe Jefferson was walking down the hall with that long, loose-limbed gait of his. For some reason seeing him brought a sense of relief.

  “What are you doing here?” He took in Abe’s charcoal suit and polished black shoes. His wild dread-locks were free of bangles and pulled back in a ponytail. Jake had never seen him in such understated clothes before.

  Abe came to a stop. He held a file in one hand, but he extended the other to clasp Jake’s in a firm grip. “I’m testifying today.” He gave Jake a once-over. “How you holding up?”

  “This is hell.”

  “I’ll bet, but D.A. Delicious is very good at his job.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” He gave Abe a critical look. “You look so normal.”

  Abe placed a long fingered hand against his chest. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He looked down at himself. “Although truth be told, this just hides the very gloriousness I’m famous for.”

  “You’re a regular peacock that way.”

  “Ooh.” He pursed his lips in a kiss. “Aren’t you the flatterer?”

  Jake shook his head with a wry smile.

  The courtroom door opened and Devan poked his head out. “Good, you’re here,” he said to Abe.

  “That’s right, wherever I am it is good.”

  Jake chuckled at Devan’s bewildered look.

  “Are you ready?” The D.A. pushed open the door.

  “Like a prima ballerina at the opening of Swan Lake.”

  Devan straightened. “Dial it back a little.”

  Abe gave him an arch look as he flounced into the courtroom.

  Devan rolled his eyes at Jake, but Jake just shrugged and moved toward the courtroom himself.

  Everyone was already in place and Abe had taken a seat in the front row where Jake usually sat. Claire had her back to the room and didn’t even look over as he entered. She wore a black pantsuit today, her profile brittle as glass. Jake sat down beside Abe as Devan walked past the bar and stopped at his table, standing at attention for the judge to recognize him. The judge was a salty-haired man of Japanese descent. Yesterday he’d conducted court with a firm, but unobtrusive hand.

  “Are you ready to call your first witness for today, Mr. Adams?” he asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor. I’d like to call Abraham Jefferson, from the county of San Francisco’s medical examiner’s office.”

  The judge nodded.

  Abe rose and gave Jake a wink as he made his way to the witness stand, carrying his file. He raised his right hand as the clerk swore him in and then took a seat, setting the file on the witness stand before him.

  “State your name for the record, please,” said Devan.

  “Dr. Abraham Jefferson, M.E.”

  “Thank you. And how long have you been a medical examiner for the county of San Francisco?”

  “The past 14 years.”

  “And is it true you handle most of the cases for the homicide division of the San Francisco Police Department?”

  “Correct.” Abe sat with his hands folded in his lap, looking every bit the experienced professional.

  The door at the back of the courtroom opened and Peyton stepped through, hurrying to her seat next to Jake. She reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him a supportive smile. Jake held on to her fingers, immeasurably grateful that she was there again for him.

  On the witness stand, Abe gave her a nod of his chin, but nothing else.

  “Did you perform an autopsy on Zoë Ryder in March of last year?”

  “I did.”

  “And what were your findings, Dr. Jefferson?”

  Abe opened the file and glanced over it. “Zoë Ryder died of massive blood loss due to hemorrhaging.”

  Jake tightened his grip.

  “And what caused the hemorrhaging?”

  “The toxicology screening indicated that she had ingested massive amounts of warfarin, an anticoagulant used to prevent thrombosis and thromboembolisms.”

  “Can you state that in layman’s terms, Dr. Jefferson?”

  “She consumed a drug that is used to thin-blood in stroke victims.”

  “And just to be clear, when given to a healthy person, it can cause internal bleeding?”

  “When given in the amounts she ingested, it would cause fatal internal bleeding.”

  The defense attorney shifted in his seat, but he didn’t object.

  “Did you also perform an autopsy on a fetus, Dr. Jefferson?”

  “I did.”

  “And did you determine the cause of death?”

  “The fetus was born prematurely during a spontaneous miscarriage, prior to fetal viability.”

  “Again, Dr. Jefferson, in layman’s terms?”

  “The child was not developed enough to survive on its own.”

  “Is there any indication that the child could have been brought to term?”

  “Objection,” said the defense lawyer. “Calls for speculation on the part of the witness.”

  The judge held out a hand to Devan.

  “Dr. Jefferson is a medical expert, therefore he can testify that there were no obvious abnormalities in the fetus that would have caused miscarriage prior to the mother’s medical distress. I am trying to draw a connection between the mother’s death and the child’s, Your Honor.”

  “Over-ruled. You may answer, Dr. Jefferson.”

  Abe gave him a nod. “I saw no abnormalities in the fetus that would have prevented it from being carried to term. The loss of blood in the mother created a situation of spontaneous abortion where the fetus was expelled prematurely.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Jefferson,” said Devan. He picked up a sheaf of papers from his table. “I’d like to enter the toxicology report into evidence along with the documentation of Dr. Jefferson’s autopsy.”

  The judge indicated that he could. He handed the sheaf to the clerk and returned to his table. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  “Your witness, Mr. Renshaw.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  Jake swallowed hard. His stomach felt like it was in knots. Peyton squeezed his fingers in comfort.

  “Dr. Jefferson, you testified that Zoë Ryder consumed massive amounts of warfarin, which led to her unfortunate death, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Just to be clear, she ingested it, correct?”

  “Correct.” Abe shifted in his chair. “The term ingested means to absorb into one’s body, Mr. Renshaw. It does not delineate the mode of that absorption.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Jefferson.”

  “Meaning she would have ingested it whether it was placed in her food against her will or not.”

  “Your Honor?” Renshaw held out his hands to the judge.

  Jake could see Devan’s smile.

  “Just answer the questions, Dr. Jefferson,” admonished the judge mildly.

  “Of course, Your Honor,” said Abe.

  “Is warfarin a common drug? Meaning is it given to many people?”

  “It is a commonly used anticoagulant, yes.”

  “Which would be easily accessible by the general public?”

  “It would be easily accessible by a licensed nurse married to a doctor.”

  Renshaw gave the judge an aggravated look.

  “Dr. Jefferson, just answer the questions,” he sa
id again.

  “Sorry, Your Honor.” Abe’s eyes gleamed mischievously.

  “To reiterate, anyone would be able to obtain it.”

  “No.”

  Renshaw motioned as if he wanted Abe to elaborate.

  Abe made a production out of folding his long-fingered hands and resting them on the witness stand.

  Jake glanced over at the jury. They were listening intently.

  Renshaw looked down at his notes. “It wouldn’t be impossible for the average person to get a prescription for warfarin even if they weren’t in the medical profession, correct?”

  Jake understood why he was hammering this home. If he could plant just one seed of doubt in the jury’s mind, they would have to turn Claire Harper free. He shifted anxiously. Peyton gave him a pointed look, mouthing it’s okay.

  “It would be very difficult for the average person to get a prescription for warfarin, Mr. Renshaw. It is a dangerous drug and its distribution is closely monitored by the state of California and the Federal Drug Administration.”

  Renshaw’s shoulders slumped. Claire lowered her head.

  Studying his notes for a moment, Renshaw looked back at Abe. “Dr. Jefferson, when you performed the autopsy on the fetus, you discovered an anomaly in the blood work, correct?”

  For the first time, Abe looked uncomfortable. “I determined the fetus was type B negative.”

  “And Zoë Ryder’s blood type?”

  “O negative.”

  “Dr. Singh, the emergency room physician, felt Zoë needed a transfusion, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “And according to his records, Zoë Ryder’s husband, Jacob, offered to donate blood.”

  “Correct.”

  “And his blood type?”

  “O positive.”

  “Is it possible for the two people with O blood to have a child with B?”

  “No.”

  “So what did that mean?”

  Abe blew out air, shifting his position. “Jacob Ryder could not have been the father of Zoë Ryder’s child.”

  Jake felt his stomach drop. The jury muttered amongst themselves and he saw a number of them begin scribbling in their notebooks.

  Renshaw turned to the judge, a faint smile on his lips. “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  The judge nodded and looked at Devan. “Redirect?”

  Devan slumped back in his chair. “No, Your Honor.”

  “Then the witness is dismissed.”

  Abe rose and picking up his file, he climbed off the witness stand. As he walked past Jake and Peyton, he gave them a sad, commiserate look. Jake tried to nod in return, but he felt like he would shatter if he moved.

  * * *

  Marco typed Food Battles into the search engine and pulled up as many references as he could. He clicked on the first one and read an article about Meilin’s victory on the show. Her winning dish had been Peking duck in plum sauce.

  He clicked on a video and waited for it to load, swiveling in his chair. His eyes came to rest on Peyton’s empty desk. Defino had given her permission to accompany Jake to Claire Harper’s trial. He knew Peyton worried that all of the testimony about his dead wife would bring back horrible memories for Jake, but he didn’t think the guy needed a babysitter. Sometimes his partner’s Christ complex annoyed the hell out of him. He needed her here, working this case, not sitting in a courtroom holding Jake Ryder’s freakin’ hand.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he swiveled to face his computer and clicked on the play button. The video showed Meilin and another person running around a kitchen, throwing ingredients into a pot. For the life of him, Marco couldn’t understand what was so damn interesting about this that you’d sit in front of your television watching it. He hit pause and closed the window. That didn’t do him a damn bit of good.

  “What are you doing, Marco baby?” asked Maria as she came out of the break-room.

  “Trying to work a case while my partner is playing nursemaid.” He swiveled to look at her.

  Maria leaned against the side of his desk. “I think you need a break.”

  He sighed. “You’re probably right.” He nodded at the monitor. “You ever watch these stupid reality shows, Maria?”

  “Yeah, I’ll admit it’s a guilty pleasure of mine.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s nice to see ordinary people doing ordinary things on television. People like to see themselves in others. Reality T.V. gives you that.”

  “I guess.” Actually that made sense.

  “Or maybe it’s because we love to see other people make an ass out of themselves.”

  Now that he bought.

  “How’s the arm?”

  “Better. Doctor says I might be able to take off the brace for a few hours starting next week.”

  “Good. You getting any sleep in that circus Peyton runs?” He couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of his voice.

  Maria took a seat on the corner of his desk. “Here’s the thing, sweetie…”

  Marco frowned at her. Her voice had taken on a serious tone.

  “I get that she frustrates you. She frustrates all of us, but I don’t think you’re being honest with yourself.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Since Alcatraz, you haven’t been yourself. You growl and snap at everyone, but with her, you’re shutting her out.”

  “Why is everyone saying that? I’m fine.”

  Maria drew a deep breath. He could see her mentally shifting tactics. “So was I, even as I was letting Junior beat the shit out of me every day. I kept telling myself I was fine, but I wasn’t. Peyton saw that.”

  “This is so not the same thing, Maria. I really am fine.”

  She let out her breath in obvious annoyance. “You can keep lying to yourself and shoving everyone away from you. I’m sure you think you can do just fine without the rest of us, but ask yourself this. Do you really want to do without her?” She gave him a pointed look, then she rose and walked away.

  Marco frowned after her. Why the hell did everyone keep telling him he was acting strangely? He wasn’t acting any different with them than he’d always done. They were the ones who wouldn’t let Alcatraz go and it was driving him crazy.

  The ringing of his cell phone made him jump. He grabbed it, muttering a curse, and thumbed it on.

  “Yeah?”

  “Inspector D’Angelo?” said a male voice.

  Marco realized he was shouting and modulated his tone. “Yes, this is Inspector D’Angelo.”

  “This is Detective Ehrenthal of the New York City Cold Case Division.”

  “Yes, Detective.”

  “You called me about a woman named Meilin Fan?”

  “Right.”

  “This is so strange. You’re the second person to call me in as many days.”

  “Really? Who else called you?”

  “A Detective Gabriela Acosta from the Miami Cold Case Squad.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “She’s investigating the twenty year old double homicide and when she went to pull the file, she found out we had it.”

  “I see.”

  “Yeah, so you wanted to know why we interviewed Meilin Fan here in New York?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Can I ask you why?”

  “Ms. Fan’s boyfriend, Matt Jensen, was shot dead here a few days ago. We’re investigating his murder. When I searched Ms. Fan’s background, your inquiry came up.”

  “I see. Interesting.”

  “Why did you interview her?”

  “I received an anonymous tip that Meilin Fan was really a woman named Lily Witan, whose parents were killed in a home invasion robbery in Miami. The caller saw her on Food Battles and thought she recognized her.”

  “Was it the same woman?”

  “Not as far as I could tell. Meilin Fan came to the country from China on a student visa twenty years ago. Lily Witan was adopted by Carol and David Witan almo
st forty years ago.”

  “When you asked Meilin about it, did she recognize the Witan name?”

  “She said she didn’t. We didn’t dig into it much beyond the interview. Didn’t seem any reason to since Lily Witan wasn’t a suspect in her parents’ murders anyway.”

  Marco rubbed a hand across his chin. “Did you do the interview with Meilin yourself, Detective Ehrenthal?”

  “I did.”

  “You said Meilin entered the country only 20 years ago from China.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ve heard her speak Chinese, quite fluently as a matter of fact.”

  “I would expect that to be true.”

  “But I’ve also heard her speak English.”

  The line went quiet.

  “Detective Ehrenthal?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Meilin Fan doesn’t speak English with any noticeable accent.”

  “Come to think of it, I remember wondering about that myself.” He could hear the detective sigh. “You know, Lily Witan’s adoption records are sealed, but a simple court order would take care of that, Inspector D’Angelo.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s probably the next step.”

  “You might give Detective Acosta a call when you get a chance. I’ll just bet she’d be interested to hear what you’ve got there.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you, Detective Ehrenthal.”

  “My pleasure. Hey, would you just give me a call if anything shakes out?”

  “Will do.”

  “Good luck, Inspector D’Angelo.”

  “Appreciate it,” said Marco and hung up.

  CHAPTER 9

  Billy gave a whistle as they came up the walk of the Sanderson’s house. Plantation style, it rose two stories high with a veranda running across both the main floor and the second story. White columns supported the roof and the double doors were a rich walnut embedded with stained glass panels.

  Gabby knocked on the door. “This is going to be hard. When Buck Reiter came out here, Sanderson’s parents were reluctant to talk to him.”

  “I’ll talk to them. Parents just love me.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Well, we both know you do now. Just a little bit.”

  She shook her head, looking away, but she couldn’t help it. Damned if Billy Lucott didn’t make her smile. “I’ll do the talking. You just sit and try not to pee on the furniture.”