Murder in Chinatown (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  She settled her keys and wallet on the sofa table, then took off her gun and hung it on the peg by the door, careful not to disturb them. Maybe if she was lucky, she could slip past them and get to her bedroom without them even knowing it.

  “And here she is telling her son to remember her, to know that she loves him. She places the American flag in his small hands and blindfolds him. He begins to wave it as she goes behind the screen.”

  The music soared as Peyton bent, pulling off the black pumps she’d worn with her pantsuit.

  “Here she takes the dagger and places it against her throat.”

  Peyton looked up, frowning.

  The orchestra rose to a violent crescendo, then suddenly died away.

  “She slashes her throat and collapses. Pinkerton enters and rushes to her, only to discover that he’s too late.”

  “Too late,” breathed Maria.

  Peyton picked up the pumps, stepping around the couch, but in the absence of the music, Abe heard her and lifted his head. Gone was the suit of today in the courtroom, replaced by a flowing paisley print in silk with striped pants of navy and pale blue.

  “Hey, sweetie, when did you get home?”

  “Just in time for Madame Butterfly to commit suicide,” she said wryly.

  Jake opened his eyes and lifted his head. “It was beautiful,” he said, taking a sip of his pink drink.

  “How many have you had?”

  Jake shrugged. “After today, I felt like I deserved it.”

  “I guess.”

  “Let me get you one,” said Abe, bounding to his feet and hurrying into the kitchen.

  “What is it?”

  “A Cherry Blossom. Svedka Cherry Vodka, Nigori Sake, cranberry juice, peach puree and 8 oz. of pure bliss.”

  Maria looked up at her, holding her own drink in her hand. She patted the couch where Abe had been. “Sit down. You look tired.”

  Peyton sank down and settled the pumps next to her on the floor. Rubbing Pickles’ belly, she got a lazy wag in return. “Did you give my dog Cherry Blossoms too?”

  Abe laughed. “Of course not. He’s just mellow from the opera.”

  Maria rolled her head on the couch. “It was beautiful, Brooks. You should have been here.”

  “You shouldn’t be combining alcohol with your pain medication, Maria.”

  “You shouldn’t be combining a white blouse with a black pantsuit, but I didn’t complain.” She took a sip of her drink. “Besides, I haven’t had any pain medication in two days.”

  Abe appeared at Peyton’s side and held out a martini glass. She didn’t remember ever having martini glasses before Abe came into her life. Floating on the top of the frothy pink stuff was a flower.

  “Can I have mine without the foliage?”

  “Not when you drink with me, you can’t.”

  “How are you going to drive home?”

  Abe nudged her aside and slid into the space where she was. “I stopped drinking over an hour ago.”

  She made room for him, lifting Pickles into her lap.

  “Take a sip,” Abe urged.

  “You’re the worst pusher I’ve ever seen,” she said, lifting it to her mouth. The sweet flow of cherry and peach raced over her taste buds. Oh, a drink like this was very, very dangerous to someone who liked sweets the way she did.

  “So why didn’t my Angel come back with you?”

  Peyton shrugged, not wanting to talk about Marco. She felt Jake and Maria’s eyes on her, but she busied herself with taking another sip.

  Abe toyed with a loose curl. “You okay, little soul sista?”

  “I’m fine.” She leaned back on the couch and put her feet on the coffee table, making a better lap for Pickles. “I’m just tired.”

  “You sure?” asked Maria. “You got that look like you get when something’s bothering you.”

  Peyton frowned at that. She didn’t think she and Maria were close enough for Maria to know when she had a look. “The case took a frustrating turn and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “The case, huh?” She didn’t sound convinced.

  Peyton glared at her. “Yeah, the case.” She felt Jake’s stare. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just weird to see you without Adonis.”

  “We aren’t joined at the hip.”

  Abe put a long fingered hand on her head and pulled it back to rest on his shoulder. “Shh, little bits, just drink your drink and don’t worry about anything right now.”

  She wanted to bristle and argue with them, but it was hard when the rumble of Abe’s voice beneath her ear was so damn soothing.

  “So back to the opera, I like to believe that when Cio-Cio San or Butterfly commits suicide, Pinkerton suddenly realizes that he’s loved her all along and now he will lead an empty, lonely life. Like a cruel child, he tore her wings off, but he doesn’t understand that destroying such fragile beauty will ultimately doom the destroyer.”

  And for some irrational reason, Peyton felt the sudden urge to cry.

  CHAPTER 10

  Gabby passed the warrant over to the woman behind the counter. She was Caucasian, round and short with brown hair that winged back from her face. She glanced over it, then handed it back, picking up a phone and punching in a few numbers. Adjusting her glasses, she stared at Gabby over the top of them as if she were just another nuisance added to an already long day.

  “Laurie, I have a Detective Acosta out here with a warrant for Lily Witan’s adoption record.” She picked up a soda can and took a sip. “Mmm hmm.”

  Gabby looked around the lobby with its bright yellow chairs and tables covered with pamphlets about adoption. A bookshelf against a wall held picture books for children and a puzzle table lay in front of it with miniature yellow chairs.

  “All right.” The woman hung up the phone. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Thank you,” said Gabby with a brief nod.

  She walked over to a pamphlet and picked it up. Inside were a list of common questions prospective parents might have about foreign adoptions. The price range drew Gabby’s eye. Lord, what people were willing to pay to have a child of their own, a child to raise and nurture and pray that it would grow up to be so much more than they ever were. It always amazed her that the biological urge was so powerful that people were willing to raise other people’s children as their own.

  “Detective Acosta?”

  Gabby turned to see a slight Asian woman with remarkable dark eyes. “Yes, and you are?”

  “Laurie Wu, I’m director of this center.”

  “Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Wu.”

  “Laurie, please.”

  Holding out the warrant, Gabby waited while she glanced over it.

  “Come with me,” she said, handing it back.

  Gabby followed her to a door behind the reception counter. It led to a bank of cubicles with people working the phones or interviewing prospective parents. Laurie Wu motioned for Gabby to follow her to a glass fronted office that overlooked the entire cubicle area.

  “Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  Gabby settled into the chair before Laurie’s desk, placing the warrant on her lap. “No, I’m fine.”

  The other woman went around the desk and sank into her seat. Gabby could see palm trees swaying in the breeze outside her window. “Thank you for coming down.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “When we spoke on the phone, you indicated that you wanted to see the records for Lily Witan’s adoption.”

  “Right.”

  She lifted a file and passed it over to Gabby. “Here’s the sealed file.”

  Gabby opened it and perused the forms lying inside. They all seemed pretty standard, and to Gabby’s surprise, written in English. “I guess I expected them to be in Chinese.”

  “American parents, American English.”

  Gabby’s attention zeroed in on one thing in particular. “It says her birth name was Fan Girl?”

&n
bsp; “Yes. It’s not what you think. Her family’s name was Fan, but they didn’t choose a first name for her.”

  “Fan? Like Meilin Fan?”

  Laurie shrugged. “Maybe. You mean the reality show star?”

  “Yes. Looks like Lily Witan and Meilin Fan are the same person.” She tapped a finger against the file. “If Lily Witan and Meilin Fan are the same person, how did Meilin enter the country with this identity nearly twenty years after Lily Witan?”

  “I couldn’t tell you and it likely wouldn’t do us any good to contact the Chinese government. They’re very secretive about these things and American adoptions of Chinese babies have become controversial lately. Especially with the unfortunate things happening with Russian adoptions. However, I could call my contact at the embassy, but I can’t promise I’ll find out anything.”

  “Would you do that, please?”

  “Of course.” She reached for her phone and started dialing.

  Gabby sat for a moment, listening to Laurie speaking in Chinese. None of this made a damn bit of sense. Why would Lily Witan change her identity and how could she be reality star Meilin Fan? Her thoughts caught on reality star and she dug out her phone, thumbing it on. She pressed Janet Messette’s phone number and listened to the ring until she picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “Janet, it’s Gabby Acosta.”

  “Yes, Detective Acosta. Have you found anything?”

  “I might have, but I have a few questions for you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you ever meet your cousin Lily?”

  “Not even once. Dad was an outcast as she was growing up and as soon as my aunt and uncle died, she disappeared.”

  “Have you ever seen pictures of her?”

  “Not that I can remember.”

  “When I first talked with you at the precinct, you mentioned that the first time your grandmother wanted you to open the music box was in her nursing home, right?”

  “Right.”

  Laurie’s voice rose and she gave Gabby a frustrated shake of her head.

  Gabby offered her an understanding smile. “If I remember right, you said you were watching television when she asked for the music box, right?”

  “Right.”

  “That she suddenly became agitated?”

  “Right.”

  “At a reality show?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you remember which reality show, Janet?”

  The line went silent.

  Laurie covered the mouthpiece on her phone. “I’m not getting anywhere.”

  Gabby nodded. “Janet?”

  “Yes, I do remember, come to think of it.”

  “What was it?”

  “Food Battles, Detective Acosta. We were watching Food Battles.”

  “Do you remember who won that season?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. The name struck me. They kept talking about it throughout the whole season. Something about Maya Fan’s Fans.”

  “Could that have been Meilin?”

  “Yes, Meilin, right.”

  “What happens when a contestant wins Food Battles? Do you know? What do they get?”

  “They get half-a-mil to open a restaurant in a city of their choice.”

  Gabby’s grip tightened on the phone. “Do you know where this Meilin chose to open her restaurant?”

  “Ah, some place in California, I think.” She was quiet for a moment. “San Francisco, that’s it. She opened the restaurant in San Francisco.”

  * * *

  Jake rubbed his temple as he made his way to his desk. Peyton was always warning him about drinking Abe’s crazy concoctions, but for some reason the warning always fell on deaf ears…Jake’s deaf ears in particular.

  He came to an abrupt halt. Chuck Wilson, the retired crime scene investigator, was lounging in his chair. He wore a red-checked flannel shirt, carpenter jeans, and Doc Martens so old, the toe was cracking.

  “You look like shit. Tie one on last night?” he said with a dry laugh.

  Jake set his evidence case on the floor and took a seat on the edge of his desk. “Hand me that water,” he said, motioning to the half-empty plastic bottle on the other side of his blotter.

  Chuck scooped it up and passed it over. Jake eyed him as he unscrewed the top and took a sip. Fishing three aspirins out of his pocket, he tossed them in the back of his mouth and swallowed.

  “I haven’t see you in a long time.”

  “Yeah, been traveling the coast highway. You ever do that?”

  “Nope.” Jake rested the bottle against his thigh. “All the way?”

  “Border to border. Beautiful country.”

  “I’ll bet. What’d you travel it in?”

  “RV. The wife and I bought it just before she died.”

  “I remember.”

  Chuck Wilson was part of the old guard, tough-assed cops who took no shit and played it straight off the cuff. He had thinning grey hair, but that was about his only allowance to his age. He still looked powerful, his shoulders massive and straining the seams on his flannel shirt.

  “So why you tying one on?”

  “My wife’s murder trial.” Jake didn’t feel like elaborating.

  “Shit. That’s a nightmare.”

  “Pretty much.”

  He gave Jake a once-over. “You handling it okay?”

  “Don’t have much choice.”

  “How’s it going? The trial, I mean.”

  “It wasn’t going well until Peyton testified yesterday. She was brilliant.”

  Chuck smiled. “She’s a sharp little bit, that one. Reminds me of my wife.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it for Jake.

  A picture of an older African American woman smiled back at him. She was thin, but her eyes were captivating – dark and mysterious, they promised a world of secrets. A mass of black spirals created a cloud around her head.

  “What was her name?”

  “Opal.”

  “How long were you married?”

  Chuck sighed and stared at her. “We got married when we turned 19, but we’d been dating for years before that. In fact, I knew her from the time she was 9.”

  “No kids.”

  Chuck shook his head. “Wish we had, but she couldn’t. Just about killed her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Chuck shut his wallet. “Life gives you what it does, then you take that and make something out of it.”

  Jake sighed. “Sounds like good advice to me.”

  “Better than drinking yourself into an early grave.” He nodded his head toward the front of the precinct. “What happened to Maria? She wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Stopped to flirt with her, did you?”

  “Yeah, you should always stop to flirt with a pretty girl, but then I saw the sling. What happened?”

  Jake shrugged. It wasn’t his place to talk about it.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “How’d you guess that?”

  “I used to be a homicide cop, kid. Crime scene investigator. It was sort of my job. ‘Sides, you think I didn’t see my share of screwed up shit when I was on the force?”

  “I’ll bet you did.”

  Chuck looked down, shaking his head. “The stuff you see. You keep trying to get it out of your head, but you never do.”

  Jake played with the cap on his bottle, feeling a little uneasy by this train of conversation. “So, you planning to take the RV anywhere else?”

  Chuck met his gaze, then reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll just point her east and keep driving ‘til she or I break down.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Yeah.” He drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled, putting the glasses over his eyes. “Problem is you try to escape it, and it just follows you. No matter where you go, humanity is there stinkin’ up the joint.” He pushed himself to his feet and rested a gnarled hand on Jake’s
shoulder. “Guess I’m not helping you none, now am I?” He laughed and patted Jake’s shoulder. “Tell that sharp little cop I’m proud of her, will you? And be extra nice to Maria, huh?”

  “Sure.”

  Jake watched Chuck amble away toward the front of the precinct. Humanity is there stinkin’ up the joint. Rubbing his throbbing forehead, Jake puzzled over that one. What a dark, dismal view of the human race. Was that what he would become if he stayed in this job for too long – jaded and bitter and disillusioned, certain that there was no redeeming qualities left?

  He frowned and replayed Chuck’s words in his mind. He didn’t want them to strike a chord, but they did and if he thought he was depressed before…well, hell.

  * * *

  Peyton put a heaping tablespoon of sugar in her coffee and took a sip. At least it was drinkable now, she thought, grimacing at the bitter aftertaste.

  Cho came around the corner of the break-room and gave her a smile as he went for his own mug and filled it. “Late night?”

  “Why?”

  He nodded at the aspirin bottle beside her.

  “Abe came over and made some sweet drink that went down way too easy.”

  Cho laughed.

  Leaning on the counter, Peyton watched him go to the refrigerator and pour milk into his mug. “We were listening to Madame Butterfly.”

  Cho looked up, then blindly reached for a spoon and stirred his coffee. “Maria too?”

  “Yep.”

  He set the spoon down and came toward her, taking a sip. “What’d she think?”

  “She liked it. She found the story tragic, but romantic.”

  “Good. I wasn’t sure that was a good choice, but…”

  Peyton smiled at him, reaching out to brush a bit of lint off his shoulder. “It was a very good choice. All of it,” she said significantly.

  He smiled back at her.

  “So how’s the Clean-up Crew case?”

  “Nothing for a month. It makes me nervous. He was offing them left and right, then he just stops. Why?”