Murder in the Tenderloin (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 2)

by M. L. Hamilton

  A drab, grey hallway extended down both sides as they exited. A picture of a rose across from the elevator attempted to shed some pleasantness in the dreary place, but it was too generic to force back the oppression. A bit further down was a window which looked out over the grey rooftops with exhaust vents scattered throughout a bed of gravel. The window had chicken wire embedded in the glass, adding to the penitentiary atmosphere.

  “This way,” said Marco, motioning to a curving desk at the end of the hall. A few nurses in scrubs bustled back and forth behind the counter.

  Peyton shifted the envelope to her left hand and reached into her belt for her badge. Marco did the same, laying it on the counter. A woman with round Asian features and a blue shirt with bright, colorful parrots on it glanced at Marco’s badge, then smiled up at him, showing white, even teeth. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, hanging far down her back.

  “Hello, Officers, I’ll bet you’re here for our Jane Doe in 415B. I was just on my way to take vitals.”

  Marco smiled in return. “There were two…um…women brought here last night. We were told they were on the same floor. One we know is named Olivia Walker.”

  “Yes, she’s in 420A, but she’s been spending a lot of time with the Jane Doe in 415B.”

  “Obviously, you haven’t ID’d the younger girl?” asked Peyton.

  The nurse shook her head. “Won’t talk at all. Completely catatonic. Just stares at the door and rubs a crucifix she had on her. When we tried to take it off, she started crying, so we let her keep it. That’s the only reaction we’ve gotten.”

  “Does she respond to Olivia?”

  “No, Olivia keeps talking to her, but the Jane Doe never answers.”

  “Have any doctors seen her?” asked Marco.

  “A couple.” She lifted a chart that she’d been looking at when they arrived. “Neurologist, psychologist, you name it. They all say the same – catatonia due to extreme shock. She’ll come out of it eventually, but for now, she’s not speaking. It would help if we could ID her and get her parents here.”

  “We’re working on that,” said Peyton. “Can we see her?”

  The nurse picked up the chart. “Follow me,” she said and crossed around the end of the counter, sidestepping another nurse who was entering. She led them to the back of the counter and into a hallway. A number of rooms branched off on either side and Peyton could see patients sitting up in beds, televisions blaring. A few visitors sat in hard blue upholstered chairs beneath the televisions, sitting with that tense, rigid posture of family members who would rather be any other place in the world.

  The nurse brought them to the door of room 415. The first bed was empty. Venus sat in the chair in front of the windows. The curtains had been pulled back, but the room was still dark from the rain outside. She looked up when they entered. Peyton stopped, stunned by how young she looked without the makeup, her hair damp and straight, laying about her shoulders. She wore a patterned hospital gown with blue socks on her feet.

  Athena lay in the bed, her face turned toward the door, but her expression slack. Her eyes didn’t even move as the nurse entered, but when she saw Marco, she closed her eyes and let out a whimper. Both Peyton and the nurse looked back at him where he loomed in the doorway. He hesitated, marking Athena’s reaction.

  “I’ll wait out here,” he said.

  “There’s coffee in the waiting room at the end of the hall,” offered the nurse. “Better than the cafeteria.”

  Marco gave her a smile and nodded, then disappeared.

  Peyton glanced back at Athena. She looked small and frail, lying beneath the white sheets, her black hair spread out on the pillows, dark circles under her eyes. Seeing her without makeup only brought home how very young she was, her features still round and full like a child’s. Her natural coloring was dark, not as dark as Peyton’s, but by the cast of her features, the largeness of her eyes, and the straightness of her hair, Peyton guessed she was Hispanic, probably Mexican. In her bandaged right hand, she clutched something. Peyton assumed it was the crucifix the nurse had mentioned.

  As the nurse bustled about, checking her vitals, Peyton moved forward, settling the envelope on the bed and turning her attention to Venus.

  “How are you this morning?”

  Venus turned her right ear toward Peyton. “Can’t hear out of my left ear, but it’s stopped bleeding, so that’s good, I guess.” She reached out and curled her hand around Athena’s, but Athena didn’t seem to notice. “She still won’t talk. Doctors say it’s shock or something.”

  “I know, Nurse…” Peyton realized she didn’t know the nurse’s name. She glanced around the room. “Nurse…”

  “Maelee,” offered the nurse, messing with Athena’s IV.

  “Nurse Maelee said the doctors believe it should get better with time.”

  Venus digested this, then slumped back in the chair, crossing her arms. The IV tubing in her own arm pulled taut across her chest and she adjusted it, causing the bag to swing above her head. The motion drew Peyton’s eyes to her arms. The edge of a tattoo was just visible beneath the sleeve of the hospital gown.

  “As soon as they figure out she’s a hooker with no insurance, they gonna throw her back on the street.”

  “I don’t think so. We need her to stay put for now,” soothed Peyton. She reached for the envelope. “I was hoping you might help me.” She opened the clasps and pulled out the blurry photos. “Do you recognize this?”

  She passed one across to Venus. Venus took it, then looked up at Peyton with a frown. “What the hell is this? This ain’t no photo of nothing.”

  Peyton sighed. “It’s not good, but it’s of a tattoo. Do you recognize it?”

  Venus gave her a frank look, then tossed the photo onto the bed. “Ain’t no one can recognize that. What you do? Get a junkie looking for a fix to take it?” She made her hands shake uncontrollably, then laughed. “Cop comes in here, asking, ‘Do you recognize this blurry ass, black splotch?’”

  Peyton couldn’t help but smile. She had a point. “Okay, let’s try something else. Want to tell me what you were doing in an alley last night with a dead gang banger and another one inside an abandoned building?”

  Nurse Maelee looked up with an alarmed expression. Oh, it gets better, thought Peyton.

  “What you think we was doing, sweetie pie? We wasn’t singing Christmas carols.”

  This confused Peyton a bit. “Wait. You were turning tricks in an alley?”

  Venus gave a sharp nod of the head. “Johns don’t always got a bed handy. You’d turn bright red to know where I been turning tricks in this city.”

  Peyton didn’t blush, but Nurse Maelee did. She busied herself with the blood pressure cuff. Even as she tightened it on Athena’s arm, the girl didn’t seem to notice. Peyton shifted her attention back to Venus. Something didn’t sit right with this story.

  “So, let’s see if I’ve got this right. You and Athena went to the alley behind the abandoned building to meet up with a John. You always go in pairs?”

  Peyton could see the hard mask flow over Venus’ face. She wasn’t going to give up any information willingly. “Safer that way.”

  “What was El Griego doing there?”

  “What you think? You ain’t stupid.”

  Peyton’s gaze met the nurse’s, then slid away. She didn’t want to get tough with Venus, especially in front of the nurse, but she was losing her temper. “Look, O-li-via,” she said, deliberately drawing out her name. “Don’t bust my chops, okay? I need to know what happened or I’m gonna have to take you both into the precinct, which means Athena here goes into stir. Now I don’t think you want that, do you?”

  Venus shook her head.

  “Good, so just answer the questions and drop the attitude. I got two dead bodies in the morgue and a captain who wants this put to bed but quick.”

  “Two?” said Venus, her brow furrowing. “What you mean two?”

  Peyton motioned to t
he photo with her chin. “The tat was on a second man we found in the building. He was lying in the stairwell.”

  Venus considered that for a moment in obvious bewilderment, then glanced at Athena. “You don’t know who it was?”

  “No, we haven’t even figured out who El Griego is yet. You gave us Alberto, but that’s all we’ve got so far. So tell me, Olivia, why did El Griego come after you in that alley if you were just turning tricks? What’d you do to piss him off so bad?”

  Venus looked back at the photo. “He wanted money, said he couldn’t wait. Him and Athena got into it and he started chasing us. He knocked us both down, then started choking her. I went after him, but he grabbed my wrists. Next thing I know, everything goes white, this roar’s in my head, and I’m sitting there blinkin’ back black spots. Then I feel something hot running down my neck and see it’s blood. That’s when I realize Athena got him.”

  “She and El Griego fight a lot?”

  “No, that’s what’s strange. She never stands up to anyone, just takes it. But in that alley, she was really tough. Saved my life.”

  Peyton pulled out her notebook and flipped open the cover. She made a few entries, while Nurse Maelee finished checking Athena’s vitals, then she moved back as the nurse squeezed around the bed.

  “I’ll be down the hall if you need me,” she told Peyton.

  Peyton nodded, then returned her attention to Venus. “Anyone else work with El Griego?”

  “Yeah, whole bunch a people.”

  “I don’t mean other hookers. I mean pimps.”

  Venus gave her an amused look. “You think pimpin’s all he did? That’s real freakin’ cute.”

  “What else was he into? Drugs?”

  “He was a gang banger, what you think they were into? Pimpin’s just for quick cash.”

  “Did you know the rest of the bangers?”

  Venus leaned forward and curled her fingers around Athena’s arm. “You try not to know them. You pretend you don’t see things, hear things, and maybe you stay alive. Maybe they don’t know you exist.”

  Peyton closed the notebook. “Olivia, there are ways out of this life. There are people who can help you break this cycle.”

  Venus’ expression never changed, never softened. “You think I haven’t heard that one too. You think I haven’t been given little slips of paper with a picture of Jesus on it and told if I just believed I’d be saved. Ain’t no one gonna save you. Ain’t no one who cares, so you can keep your help. I don’t need it.”

  Beside her, Athena made a strange sobbing noise. Peyton glanced at her and marked that she was staring at the door, her face twisted in terror. Venus’ gaze also shifted to the door and she stood up, releasing Athena.

  Peyton whipped around, reaching for her gun. A young man in a janitor’s uniform was just pushing a bucket on wheels into the room by the handle of a mop. When he saw Peyton, he stopped dead. Peyton had just enough time to register the color of his hair and skin, the whites of his eyes as he made eye contact, and the tattoo on his neck, a jagged black block. Then he pushed the bucket against the wall, water sloshing onto the floor, and bolted.

  Peyton ran after him. “Stop!” she shouted, skidding into the hallway.

  The young man was in a full out run toward the end of the hall where Peyton could see an exit sign. He crashed into a cart and knocked it over, falling on top of it, but he didn’t slow, scrambling back to his feet.

  Peyton drew her gun as Marco suddenly appeared beside her. “We need to stop him!” she said, pointing at his back.

  “What’s going on?” said Nurse Maelee, hurrying over as Marco sprinted after the young man.

  “Your janitor on this floor, what’s his name?” said Peyton.

  “Janitor?”

  “Yes, the young Hispanic man, what’s his name?”

  “Hispanic? What are you talking about? Our janitor is an old, white guy named Bill Johnson.”

  Peyton gripped the gun. “Call security and have them guard that room. Don’t let anyone in unless you clear them yourself.”

  Thankfully, Maelee nodded without question. Peyton reached for her phone as she raced after Marco. Shoving open the door, she drew a deep breath and grabbed the handrail, jogging down the stairs, while trying to dial the precinct. She could hear other running feet below her, but couldn’t decide if it was one or two pairs of feet.

  The phone rang and Maria eventually picked up. Before she could identify the precinct, Peyton interrupted her. “Sanchez, listen to me. I need two uniforms dispatched to the hospital immediately. Tell them they are to guard room 415A and let no one enter unless cleared by the hospital staff.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Sanchez, look, I’m in pursuit right now and don’t have time for this.” She grabbed the rail and swung around to the top of the next staircase. She was breathing hard now and gasping for enough air to shout into the phone. “Just get the uniforms to the hospital, will you?”

  When Maria didn’t immediately answer, Peyton hung up and shoved the phone in her pocket. She swung around another landing and raced down a darker set of stairs, but a glowing exit sign at the bottom beckoned her. She hit the door and it flung open onto a busy street. The sudden blaze of sunlight off the rainwater in the street forced her to squint and she braced her gun with her free hand, frantically searching for either Marco or the suspect. A number of people shied away from her, hurrying in the opposite direction.

  Marco appeared around the corner of the building, holstering his gun. He was breathing hard and shaking his head. “Lost him.”

  Peyton nodded, easing her own gun under her coat. “Did you get a look at him?”

  “Just in passing. Thought I caught a tattoo on his neck like our dead bangers, though.”

  “So did I.” She reached for the hospital door and pulled it open. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know, but I think our ladies are more than just common hookers, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, so we better get back up there. I called for backup, but Maria wasn’t in a listening mood. You wanna give it a try?”

  “You want uniforms to guard both ladies?”

  “Athena at least. I’m thinking we take Venus with us and see if we can’t get her to open up about what’s going on.”

  Marco motioned for her to precede him up the stairs. “Are you saying our hooker’s not telling you everything she knows?”

  “Now why would I say that? I’m not gonna make disparaging comments about the oldest profession in the world. Shit, if we didn’t have sex and drugs, what the hell would the economy run on?”

  “You forget greed.”

  “Don’t think I did.” Peyton paused on a landing and forced full breaths into her lungs. Her thighs were burning from the rapid climb.

  Marco kept climbing. “Come on, Brooks. Don’t make me tell Holmes you couldn’t haul your ass up the stairs.”

  Peyton pulled herself up the next step. “You tell Holmes a damn thing again and I’ll shoot you, I swear I will. Besides, my legs are half as long as yours. It takes me twice as many steps.”

  They finally reached the top and Nurse Maelee was waiting for them, a worried look on her face. “Did you find him?”

  Peyton shook her head, closing her eyes and breathing hard.

  “I called the head of security.”

  Marco moved toward room 415 and Peyton followed, still fighting for air.

  “We’ll get some uniforms here as fast as we can, but make sure no one gets past these guys.” Peyton squeezed past Marco and the two guards, turning into the room. Athena was curled up in a fetal position, staring at them without speaking, but the spot Venus had occupied was empty.

  “Where’s the other one?” demanded Peyton, turning on Nurse Maelee.

  “She wanted to go back to her room,” said the nurse, giving Peyton a confused look. “You said no one gets in. You didn’t say anything about getting out.”

  “Where’s her room?” Peyton dem
anded.

  Maelee hurried out the door and turned to the left, going down the opposite end of the hall. Peyton and Marco were on her heels. The three of them crowded into the room, then came to a halt. Venus’ IV pole was shoved up against the bed, the tubing dangling nearly to the ground. Peyton reached for it, sliding it through her fingers until she came to the catheter, lifting it for both of them to see.

  “She took out her own IV.”

  Maelee went to the rolling closet and pulled open the door. She reached in and picked up a crumpled hospital gown. “Her clothes are missing.”

  Marco stepped back into the hallway and Peyton followed him, letting the tubing drop. They walked a few steps down the hall and came to another door, labeled EXIT. Peyton knew it did no good to look inside, but she pushed it open anyway. The stairway beyond was empty.

  She let the door fall closed, then turned to face her partner. “What the hell is going on?”

  * * *

  Magdalena clutched her backpack as she edged to the door. A sign in the window said Detention. She didn’t ever remember seeing this room before, but she closed her hand on the doorknob and pushed it open, peering inside.

  A teacher’s desk dominated the front of the room and in front of it were student desks lined up in three even rows. Magdalena let out her held breath and pushed the door open a bit more, stepping inside. Okay, this wasn’t so bad. It looked like any other classroom at school. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it hadn’t been this.

  The teacher, a balding man with a heavy belly, leaned back in his chair and gave her a look over the top of his glasses. “Yes?”

  She pulled the pink slip out of the top of her backpack and held it out to him. He leaned forward and snatched it from her hand.

  “Take a seat and get your homework out.”

  Magdalena stared at him, shocked by the hostility in his voice, then she remembered, she was in detention. She was being punished for doing something wrong. Of course he would be hostile toward her; he assumed she was like all the other students who got detentions – punks who didn’t care about their education.