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

by M. L. Hamilton

  Marco leaned on the edge of their joined desks, his arms folded across his chest, his blue sweater straining against the muscles of his upper body. “Where have you been?” he asked, frowning at her.

  Dropping the manila envelope on the desk, she arranged the coat on the back of her chair and smoothed out the shoulders. “Lunch, why?”

  “Two hours?”

  “I had some errands to run.”

  He gave her a skeptical look, but she turned away from him, holding out her hand to the other cop. “Peyton Brooks,” she offered.

  “Javier Vargas.” His grip was firm, but he didn’t seem intent on crushing her fingers.

  “Javier is with the Gang Taskforce, Brooks. He might have something for us.”

  Peyton fixed her hands in her back pockets. “Great. We aren’t making much progress ourselves.”

  “I heard. Vice locate your witness yet?”

  “Nope. We think she’s gone underground, afraid to show herself.”

  “She’ll have to come out eventually.”

  “Exactly. So what do you have for us?”

  “I went to see the bodies at the M.E.’s office. Captain Defino called and said you had some tattoos you needed identifying.” He pointed at the envelope. “She told us your photographer has lost it or something.”

  “You could say that. He quit on us yesterday. I guess you don’t want to see his pictures if you saw the bodies, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You recognized either of them?”

  “Wasn’t much left to recognize. You still haven’t found the head?”

  “Nope.”

  Javier nodded.

  Peyton slapped Marco in the stomach with the back of her hand. “Get him a chair, will you?” She pulled out her own chair and sank into it as Marco hooked his and swung it around. Javier settled into it, but Marco went back to leaning on the desks.

  “So you were telling us about the tattoos?”

  “Yeah, Marco said you saw the same tattoo on both of them, and on the building where one of the bodies was found?”

  “Graffiti next to the entrance. Looked like a bunch of crooked black lines.”

  “They’re not lines. They’re letters.”

  Peyton lifted her chin.

  “ŁĦȺ.”

  “ŁĦȺ?” Peyton glanced at Marco in question, but he simply shrugged.

  “Stands for Los Hermanos Aztecas, local gang ‘round the Tenderloin. Mostly go by Aztecas.”

  “I’ve heard of them,” said Peyton, tapping her fingers on the envelope. “I took a workshop by one of your guys about two years ago. I thought the Aztecas were small, mostly petty theft, home invasion. These guys were dealing in drugs and prostitutes. Pretty sophisticated gang activity, isn’t it?”

  Javier scratched at his wrist and gave one short nod. “They were small, but lately, they’ve been branching out.”

  “How?” asked Marco.

  “Some gangsters are infiltrating from Mexico. These Mexican gangsters aren’t your local hoods and drop-outs, these gangsters are businessmen and know how to run things.”

  Peyton closed her eyes. Defino was right. This was way out of their control.

  “There’s something more,” said Javier.

  Peyton opened her eyes again. He was staring at her.

  “Something that directly affects you.”

  Her? What the hell did she have to do with Mexican gangsters? Suddenly she went still inside and her hands curled around the arms of her chair. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he was going to tell her.

  “Luis Garza used to be a member of the Aztecas.”

  Luis Garza? The man who killed her father. Gunned him down in a routine traffic stop because he was carting drugs and her father had become suspicious. Ben had died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, leaving Peyton with no time to say goodbye.

  “Brooks?” said Marco.

  Peyton blinked. “So he was a member,” she commented, turning to her desk and pretending she was looking for something. She grabbed a pen and tapped it on the envelope.

  “He was pretty high up in the operation. We’re pretty sure he handled the drug deals for the whole of the City.”

  Peyton swiveled in her chair and studied him. “He was making the deliveries himself when he shot my father.”

  “That was something special. We don’t think he did much of that. He was a general.”

  “General?” said Marco in an incredulous tone.

  “A lot of the larger gangs structure leadership with military rankings. Aztecas have been moving in that direction for the last couple of years. I suspect the two dead gangsters were also high ranking. I’d really like to get them identified because someone is going to be moving in to take their places.”

  Marco glanced at Peyton, but she didn’t know what he expected her to say. She couldn’t seem to corral her thoughts at the moment. “The M.E. thinks one of them killed the other and beheaded him, but if they were both Aztecas, why would that happen?”

  Javier shrugged, watching Peyton from the corners of his eyes. “Who knows? They get into a territorial dispute, one is moving in on the other, trying to elevate himself. The beheading is a message, intimidation. I’ll bet there were other gang members there when it happened. We really need to figure out who they are. I’d be able to give you better information then.”

  Peyton realized she was holding the pen in a death grip. She forced her fingers to relax and released it. “Our witness, one of the hookers, called him El Griego. Does that help?”

  “The Greek?” Javier shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell, but I’ll ask around. The Aztecas are evolving rapidly and we can’t seem to keep up.”

  “She said his real name was Alberto something.”

  Javier reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a notebook, much like Peyton’s. She liked him more for it. He motioned to the pen she’d been holding. “Do you mind?”

  Peyton handed it to him and he wrote something down. “I’ll get back to you on this,” he said, handing her the pen. He pushed himself to his feet and replaced the notebook. “Thanks for filling me in.” He shook hands with Marco first.

  Peyton rose and accepted his hand in turn. “We’ll keep you updated from here too.”

  He covered her hand with his free one. “I’m sorry about the news,” he said.

  She forced a smile. “It’s okay. I guess I’ll never get away from that bastard.”

  He patted her hand, then released her. “Nice to meet both of you.”

  “Same,” said Marco.

  Peyton nodded at him and he walked away. Avoiding eye contact with her partner, Peyton sat back down and grabbed her mouse, clicking on the address program Dispatch used when they received a call. She typed in her password and waited.

  “You okay?”

  “I will be if we don’t talk about it.”

  “Okay,” he answered, holding out his hands. “But you know if you want to…”

  She stopped and glanced up at him. He looked genuinely concerned. “I know, Marco.” She half-rose and kissed his cheek. “I know.”

  * * *

  Jake tossed the frozen dinner in the microwave and punched in the minutes, then he bent over and pulled open the tiny refrigerator, taking a beer out of the door. He popped the tab and swilled back a huge mouthful. Once he had been able to buy imported beer. Zoë liked her fancy coffees, he liked imported beer. His friend, Sam, had joked that he couldn’t be from Nebraska and not drink domestic.

  He walked the two steps to the couch and picked up the remote off the arm, clicking it on. A Giants game filled the wide-screen. It was one of the few luxuries he’d allowed himself to take from the flat on Potrero Hill. He took another drink of his beer and sighed. The sound of a baseball game almost made him feel like things were returning to normal. Almost.

  The third baseman took his stance at the plate, the bat waving in the air behind him, and the Cubs’ pitcher threw a fast ball right d
own the pike. Jake caught his breath as the third baseman swung and connected. The ball rose in the air and angled deep into the outfield. The right fielder ran back, back, tracking it. The camera caught a slice of the bay in the background, the white of kayaks bobbing in the water. A knock sounded at the door as the right fielder jumped for the ball. The ball bounced off the top of the wall and splashed into the bay. The crowd erupted in cheers.

  “Yes!”

  Jake set his beer on the microwave table and backed toward the door, watching the third baseman round the bases. He didn’t bother to look through the peephole as he unlocked it and pulled it open.

  The entire dugout emptied as the Giants spilled out to welcome their third baseman into home plate. Jake turned away from the television, still gripping the doorknob, and looked at his visitor. Peyton flashed him a smile.

  Jake’s expression fell and he simply stared at her unblinking as she strolled into his apartment without invitation. She circled around the one room studio and peered into the microwave to see what he was eating. Jake shook himself and shut the door, feeling anger rise inside of him. This was going too far.

  “Now wait just one damn minute!” he said. “This is harassment and I’m going to report you.”

  “And how exactly will that go, Jake? What exactly are you going to say? She came to my apartment and offered me a job.” The look she gave him plainly said she thought he was insane. When you put it that way, it really didn’t sound reasonable.

  She tilted her head and inspected his miniature refrigerator, then the hotplate sitting on the only counter by the sink. The kitchen, if you could call it that, had shelves for plates and glasses rather than cabinets.

  “I’ll be damned. You’re right, Jake. If this is what you can get off a teller’s salary, you certainly don’t need me.”

  “Why are you doing this to me, Mighty Mouse? I already told you I’m not interested. I’m working my way back into finance and soon I’ll be able to afford something better.”

  “Really? ‘Cause the winos I stepped over to get up here seemed to think differently. You’re two blocks from the Tenderloin, Jake.” She looked around the studio, then held out her arms. “But of course, the frat boy refrigerator and bohemian hotplate really add to the ambience.”

  Jake pointed at the door. “Get out, Inspector Brooks. I’ve lost my patience with this and I don’t have to take it. Get out!”

  “Just let me make one last proposal.” She walked over and pushed up a section of peeling wallpaper, then dusted her hands on her jeans. “Look, I have a house on 19th Avenue. It’s a two bedroom with a real kitchen and a man sized refrigerator. I’ve been thinking about taking on a roommate.”

  Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What?”

  “I’d rent you a room for what you’re paying here. What are you paying here?”

  “Are you insane?”

  “It makes sense. If you won’t take the job, at least take the room. That would go a long way toward assuaging my guilt.”

  “Assuaging your guilt?”

  “I used that right, didn’t I? Assuaging? It means lessening, right?”

  Jake stared at her in disbelief. “You are certifiable. Why me, Mighty Mouse, why me? I just want you to leave me alone. At least tell me why you’re picking on me.”

  She tilted her head and gave him a frown. “Flair for the dramatic, honestly.” Then she tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, her leather jacket gaping open. He could see the handle of her gun in the holster under her arm. “Look, Jake, you were one of the good ones. We don’t see many of those in this job. You loved your wife. We see even less of that. Usually I feel good about taking someone apart, tearing up their life, but with you, I don’t. I feel terrible.”

  “You told me that at Zoë’s funeral and I accepted your apology. That’s enough, Peyton.”

  Peyton studied the hot plate and the twin bed shoved into a corner of the room. He didn’t even have enough space for a nightstand, so he’d rigged a shelf there too. “It’s not enough. Then this thing came up with our photographer and I had a brainstorm. It’s the perfect job for you, Jake. When you turned me down, I looked up your current address. When I saw where you were living, I just couldn’t let it go. You’d be better off in Nebraska.”

  It occurred to Jake that she was right if only so he could get away from her. He was distracted by cheering on the television and he squinted to see what was happening. The left fielder had hit a double. The Giants were up by two, and in that moment, he knew he didn’t want to go back to Nebraska. This was where he belonged, in the City where he and Zoë had made their life together.

  Peyton suddenly stamped her foot, drawing his attention. He frowned at her as she held up a hand, then rubbed the bottom of her boot along his worn, hard-wood floor.

  “It’s okay, just a cockroach.” She gave him an uncomfortable smile. “He did go after my gun, but I think he planned to use it on the rat in the corner.”

  Jake involuntarily leaned forward, peering at the corner where she pointed, but he didn’t see anything. He glared at her. “Really?”

  “I have a nice place, Jake. Hot water, flushing toilets, and you don’t have to go down to the gas station on the corner to use one.”

  Jake didn’t have to go to a gas station, but he didn’t tell her that he had to straddle his toilet in order to get a shower in the morning. “Think what you’re saying. I was a murder suspect for you not six months before. How is Adonis or your captain going to react to you having a suspect living in your house?”

  “First of all, I told you I was thinking of taking a roommate. It’s none of Marco’s business what I do outside of work, and the same goes for my captain.”

  “And you don’t think this is all ridiculous, Peyton?”

  “This is ridiculous. What the hell, Jake. This is a dive. I’m gonna get called out here next time to identify your rotting corpse. Or what’s left of it after the cockroaches finish.”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t want your charity. I don’t want your job and I especially don’t want your room. I’m doing just fine on my own. Now, please, Peyton, leave. Just leave me alone. I don’t want you feeling responsible for me, I don’t even want you thinking of me. Just forget I exist.”

  She looked so disappointed, he felt a bit guilty for being so harsh, but she had to understand, she had to stop this. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out another damn business card. “If you change your mind about either…” She came forward and laid it on the cinderblock he was using as a coffee table. “…call me.”

  He shook his head and took a step back, opening the door.

  The microwave dinged as she crossed the room and stood looking up at him. “I have a bat you can use to fight off the rat when he tries to take your dinner from you.”

  “Goodbye, Mighty Mouse,” he said, fighting a smile.

  “Goodbye, Jake.” She stepped out the door.

  He didn’t wait to see her walk down the hall before he shut it at her back and then leaned against it. The big screen TV was awash in bright green and tan, but all around it was dingy grey. Oh, well, sometimes you had to go down in order to go back up. Right?

  * * *

  Peyton saw Devan approaching across the precinct. She rose to her feet and gave him a quick hug, feeling Marco’s speculative look. Devan kissed the top of her head. “Missed you last night,” he said.

  “Same here,” she answered. “Can I get you some coffee?” She wanted to get him away from all the prying eyes.

  “Maybe later. I’m actually here on official business.” He released her and nodded at Marco. “D’Angelo.”

  “D.A.” Marco flashed Peyton a smirk.

  Captain Defino left her office and crossed over to them. Her short stylish bob looked a little disheveled and her pants suit could have used a pass with an iron. “I got a call from your boss this morning, Adams.”

  “That’s why I’m here. He doesn’t want to drag thi
s out any more than necessary, considering the circumstances. He wants to arraign the girl as soon as possible. He sent me down here to get a statement from her.”

  “She’s catatonic. She can’t give you a statement,” said Peyton.

  “I know, but he wants me to check it out myself.”

  Defino shifted weight, squinting up at them. She always squinted because she refused to wear glasses. She thought glasses made her weak. Peyton thought going around without seeing put one in a position of weakness, but who was she to say anything.

  “Okay, Brooks, head down to the hospital and question the girl.”

  “We were going to meet with a sketch artist and Abe. Abe thinks he’ll be able to recreate enough of El Griego’s facial structure, so that we can check around the streets and see if anyone knows him, or maybe Javier from the Gang Taskforce will recognize him.”

  “Marco can do that. You go with Adams.”

  Marco let out an exasperated sigh. “Why don’t I go with Adams?”

  “Because you’re male. Our hooker is terrified of males,” answered Defino.

  “Fine,” said Marco, slumping in his seat.

  “What’s wrong with you?” the captain asked.

  “Abe’s gonna flirt with him,” offered Peyton.

  Defino gave Marco an arch look. “So, enjoy it while it lasts. Someday you won’t remember the last time someone flirted with you.”

  “Captain, this is Abe,” he said reasonably. “One day he had the entire Coroner’s lab do a flash mob to You’re the One that I Want.”

  Peyton burst into laughter. That was a classic.

  Defino seemed to be fighting a smile. “See if the Gang Taskforce guy, Javier, will meet you there. Abe’ll be on his best behavior if someone he doesn’t know is around.”

  Marco’s expression was unconvinced, but he reached for his phone. “Fine. But if he does something in skywriting, I get a week off.”