“Not me! I was fine being a teller, Peyton. I didn’t need to see heads in boxes. This is sick. This job is sick.”
Peyton’s face hardened and she took a step forward, poking him in the chest with her finger. “It’s this job that puts criminals behind bars, that keeps these streets safe, that makes it all right for you to be a teller, Jake. Those pictures I want you to take put animals like this where they belong, those pictures allow us to prevent more heads in boxes, Jake. So you want to sit here and tell me how noble being a teller is, Jake. You want to sit here and tell me how sick my job is. Well, when you go back to counting other people’s money, just remember I’m out here stopping someone from putting your head in a box, bucko!”
Jake became aware of how quiet the street was. All four men were standing, staring at this tiny woman with the wild black curls. As her words sank in, Jake felt a flush of shame rise inside of him.
His fingers tightened on the camera and he deliberately calmed his breathing. He could do this. He could give her the pictures she needed so she could arrest whoever had done this. He could help contribute something to this lop-sided battle against chaos and insanity. He could be a force of justice…if he could just make himself turn around and face the head in the box again.
* * *
Jake printed out the last of the photos and handed them to Captain Defino. She had allowed him to use Bob Anderson’s desk for now and Peyton was surprised by how comfortable he seemed after his initial shock.
Marco had phoned Javier from the Gang Taskforce to view the photos and he was on his way over, while the head was being transported to Abe in the lab. All in all, it had been a successful day, but Peyton felt tired and drained. It was also emotionally exhausting, and she just wanted to go home to her dog.
Devan had been calling for the last few hours, asking her to go to dinner that night. She’d brushed him off the past two nights, so she knew she had to agree to a date or he’d be upset. Still she really just wanted to get a pizza and sit in front of the television.
The captain glanced up at Peyton, then shook her head. “You win this one, Brooks,” she said, rifling through the photos again. Peyton was a little curious about the quality, but she really didn’t want to see a decapitated head. “You’re good, Ryder. Probably the best we’ve had.”
Jake gave a half-smile. “Thanks.”
Defino tapped the photos against her hand. “If you want the job, I’ll give it to you on a probationary basis, but that’s it, probationary. It’ll give us both time to see if you’re cut out for this business. You’ll have to take some classes from the academy on crime scene investigation, but I’m willing to give you a try if you’re interested.”
“I have to become a cop for this?”
“No, it’s not essential. Some of the best crime scene investigators are not cops. I just want you to take some classes so you don’t mess up our evidence.”
“I can do that.”
“I don’t know what the starting salary is, but Payroll can tell you that, but I do know you’ll have medical and dental benefits. You can use Bob Anderson’s desk here and we’ll get you a secure log-in for the computer. What do you say?”
Jake rose to his feet, his gaze shifting to Peyton. She tried not to give anything away, but she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her mouth. “I’ll have to give two weeks’ notice at my other job, but yeah, I’ll take it.”
“I’ll talk to your boss at the bank and see if we can get around the two weeks. We really need you here.” She held out her hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Ryder.”
“Thanks.”
Defino pointed a finger at him. “Thank me after the probation is over.”
“Okay.”
Javier arrived, striding toward them. He was about Jake’s height, but he walked with that alert motion of a street cop. He shook hands first with the captain, then Marco. He squeezed Peyton’s elbow in a friendly gesture as he took her hand.
“Thank you for coming, Javier,” she said, releasing him. “This is Jake Ryder. He’s our new crime scene photographer.”
Javier shook hands with Jake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” said Jake.
Defino held the photos out to him and Javier took them, rapidly flipping through the various shots. “Do you recognize him?” she asked.
He nodded, then went through them again. “That’s El Miedo, Eduardo Jiménez. We’ve been trying to catch this vato for two years.”
“Is he with the Aztecas?” asked Marco.
“Yeah, we think he runs their drug operations…or ran, that is. At least since Luis Garza got pinched.”
Peyton ignored the mention of Garza. “El Miedo, the Fear?”
Javier handed the photos back to the captain. “Yeah, he was a nasty piece of work, this one. We’d get a lead on him, then our informer would disappear.”
“So what happens now that he’s dead?” asked Defino.
“Someone moves into his place. It might have been our John Doe 1, if Athena hadn’t blown his face off, but it won’t take long before there’s a new one.”
“What would he have done to get his head taken off?” asked Jake.
Javier shrugged. “Who knows, but it must have been big. It must have been something to cost the Aztecas a lot.”
“Money?” asked Peyton.
“Money, prestige, territory. All of those are equal to these gangs. You don’t want to make them lose anything or you wind up like that.” He motioned to the photos. “So, you took those, eh?” he said to Jake.
Jake simply nodded.
“You got a steady hand. That’s good. You won’t get rattled easily.”
Jake gave a snort of derision. “I don’t know about that. ‘Bout pissed my pants when I looked in that box.”
Javier laughed and clapped him on the back. “We all feel that way. Hell of a way to go, no?”
“Hell of a way to go, yes.”
Defino handed the photos to Marco. “See these get in the file, then everyone go home. We need to go at this fresh tomorrow now that we have a name. Thanks for the help, Javier.”
“Not a problem. See you all later.” He walked away as Marco took the photos from the captain.
Defino nodded at Jake. “See you tomorrow no later than 8:00AM. Before you leave, give your boss’s name and number to Maria, so I can place a call.”
“I will.”
She turned toward her office.
Marco held the photos out to Peyton. “You wanna put them in the file.”
Peyton took an involuntary step back and looked away. “She told you to put them away.”
Jake frowned. “Why won’t you look at them?”
“She hates seeing dead bodies,” answered Marco.
“She hates dead bodies?” echoed Jake. “Good thing she’s a homicide detective then, innit?”
Marco frowned at him. “You always were a snarky shit, weren’t you?”
“Knock it off,” said Peyton, moving away from them. “You’ve got to drive him home. I’m headed out with Devan.”
“Who?” asked Jake.
“Her boyfriend.”
“Will you feed Pickles and walk him for me?” she called over her shoulder.
“That wasn’t part of the bargain,” said Jake. “Neither was riding with Adonis here.”
“At the rent I’m charging, it is or we could discuss a rent increase, since you’ll be making more money now.”
Jake shifted and looked up at Marco. “I call shotgun.”
“You’ll be the only one in the car, idiot, of course you’ll ride shotgun. I’m not chauffeuring you around, Miss Daisy.”
Peyton smiled as she grabbed her coat off her chair and reached for her phone. At least that was one situation that sorted itself out. Now to tackle the next one.
* * *
“How do you like your beef bolognaise?” said Devan.
Peyton pushed the pasta around her plate and smiled at him. “It’s delicious.” She felt
underdressed for this restaurant and longed for something simple to eat. Why couldn’t they just get a taco or a hamburger? Why did it always have to be gourmet? Although the restaurant was charming with its candle-lit tables, red and white checked table clothes, and Old World china.
“You haven’t touched your wine.”
She set her fork down and rested her arm on the table. “I’m really tired tonight, Devan. I’m sorry I haven’t been very good company.”
“Is it the case?”
She knew she had to tell him about Jake, but she just wasn’t sure how he’d react. Their relationship was so new and fragile. “Partially. We figured out who the headless John Doe was. His name is Eduardo Jiménez. Apparently, he ran the drug operation for the Aztecas at least the last few years.”
“How’d you figure that out?”
“We found his head. Javier identified him from the photos.”
Devan pushed aside his plate and crossed his arms on the table. “Photos Jake Ryder took?”
Peyton sat back, surprised. “How did you know?”
Devan didn’t immediately answer.
“Marco, that rat-bastard. What? Did he call my mother too?”
“I was there when he figured it out. He tried to protect you, but Defino forced it out of him. He didn’t want to tell her, but she gave him a direct order.”
Peyton felt a little mollified, which was immediately followed by guilt. She’d left Marco to go to dinner when she was still angry at him. She wanted to call him and apologize, but she figured that might not look good to Devan.
Devan’s expression was unyielding. “Did you ever plan to share this scheme with me?”
“It wasn’t a scheme. I didn’t even intend to offer him a room in my house until I saw…” She stumbled to a halt when she noticed Devan’s reaction. He fell back against the chair and his eyes were wide.
“What did you say?”
Peyton realized this might be where she lost him. “I offered him the spare room in my house. I’m not using it and I’d planned to rent it out anyway.”
“Why?”
“Why would I rent it?”
He nodded.
“For the extra money.”
“What do you need extra money for?”
Peyton blinked at him. Was he serious? “Living, Devan. I don’t exactly make a lawyer’s salary.”
“And you didn’t think this was something I might want to know? You have a murder suspect living in your house and you don’t tell your boyfriend?”
“He’s not a murder suspect and it’s just temporary, until he gets on his feet again.” She reached for his hand. “Is this really a problem for us, Devan?”
His expression softened as he looked at her. “Peyton, when two people are in a relationship, they share these things, they don’t hide them. If we ever hope to have a future, you’ve got to be more forthcoming with me. I can’t find out these things through your partner.”
“You’re right,” she said, tightening her grip. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’m learning how to share my life, so give me time. Okay?”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “You have me wrapped around your finger, you know that?”
“If it makes you feel any better, Marco’s not talking to me either.”
Devan considered that a moment, then shook his head. “No, no that doesn’t make me feel a damn bit better.” His expression grew serious. “We need to build trust with each other, Peyton, otherwise this doesn’t stand a chance. You can’t keep these major things from me anymore, all right?”
“All right.”
He released her and reached for his napkin, tossing it on his plate. “Let’s get you home. You look like you’re about to fall asleep right here.” He motioned to the waiter for the check.
“Will you stay the night?”
He gave her a regretful look. “It’s a little awkward right now. Let me get used to the idea of Ryder being there, okay?”
“You’re right.” She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, then settled it beside her plate. “I understand.” Actually, she was relieved. She really just wanted to go to sleep when she got home.
He reached for his wallet and opened it, pulling out his credit card. He didn’t even look at the bill as the waiter placed it on the table, he simply stuffed the card inside and held it out for the man to take. Peyton had never in her life paid without checking the exact balance.
“Maybe next time you’ll stay with me,” he offered.
Peyton flashed him a smile. “Now see. Here’s why having a roommate is such a good idea. I now have someone to watch Pickles for me.”
“Damn, why didn’t I think of that? It makes opening your house to a past suspect sound completely sane.”
“All right. I’ve taken enough ribbing for one day, thank you very much. I get the message from all of you, loud and clear. Don’t bring home any more felons.”
His eyes went wide in mock amazement. “Who’da thunk it was such a good motto to live by.”
And they both laughed.
* * *
At 8:00AM sharp, Peyton deposited Jake at Payroll and left him to wend his way through the confusing bureaucracy of the police business. She found Marco getting himself a cup of coffee in the break-room. Leaning against the counter by him, she watched him pour a dash of milk into the coffee, turning it a pale brown. He never touched the sugar, something she just couldn’t understand.
He watched her from the corner of his eyes as he stirred.
Peyton picked a piece of lint off his grey ribbed sweater. It pulled tight across his chest and shoulders, defining his muscles, allowing him easy access to his gun and allowing every woman to fanaticize about undressing him.
“I owe you an apology,” she began.
He quirked one brow. He wore his hair loose today.
Peyton tucked one of her curls behind her own ear. She hadn’t yet put it up in her regular ponytail. “How long are you going to ignore me?”
He set the spoon down, then turned to face her, leaning his hip against the counter. “I’m waiting for your apology.”
“I just gave you one.”
“No,” he said, lifting the mug and taking a sip. “An apology begins with I’m sorry and ends with a declaration of what the offender did that was wrong.”
She rolled her eyes. “All right. I’m sorry I thought you’d betrayed me and tattled to Defino. Devan told me she gave you a direct order. However, I wish you had told me that you already knew about Jake before I walked in here yesterday.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, holding his mug against his elbow. “Are you freakin’ kidding me, Brooks? That’s a crap ass apology. You don’t end it with how I’m actually responsible for you treating me like shit.”
She smiled, knowing she had him. “We good.”
He uncrossed his arms and used his free hand to capture hers. Her hand disappeared inside his larger one and she could feel the callouses along his palm. “We’re good. We’re always good. You know that.”
She tightened her grip. “I do.”
“Brooks! D’Angelo! My office, now.”
Peyton glanced over her shoulder to see Captain Defino leaning in from the doorway. Then she disappeared. “I don’t even cringe anymore when I hear that.”
Marco released her. “Probably because you hear it so often.”
“Probably,” she said, leading him from the break-room.
Maria swiveled in her chair as they headed for Defino’s office, but Peyton didn’t feel like baiting her today. Maria wasn’t one to let an opportunity go however and she gave Peyton a once over.
“I have a hairdresser who could do something with that rat’s nest you call hair.”
Peyton wished she were a better person and could let these things go, but she couldn’t. “And I know a plastic surgeon who could do something about those…” She motioned to her own bust-line. “Must give you a terrible back-ache, and really, big boobs are so las
t year. I myself prefer a woman who is understated, but I’ve always tried to ignore that little flaw in you, Maria.”
Maria’s mouth worked into a word that Peyton suspected began with a B, but she restrained it. “Marco doesn’t mind my assets,” she said, arching her back to put them on display for him.
Marco gave her his lazy smile. “Don’t mind one little bit,” he purred.
Peyton punched him in the gut with her elbow, then reached for the handle on Defino’s door. “Don’t mind one little bit,” she mimicked as she entered the captain’s office.
“Don’t mind what?” said Defino, squinting up at them.
“Big boobs.”
Defino knew better than to ask further. She motioned to the chairs before her desk. “Sit.”
Peyton slid into the first one, forcing Marco to go around her. He sat down, then gave her a scowl. Peyton batted her eyelashes at him. Yep, they were back on even-footing again.
“What’s up, Captain?” she said, focusing her attention on Defino.
“What do you know about the Reverend Jedediah O’Shannahan?”
Peyton hadn’t expected this. “Isn’t he that Evangelical preacher who has a Sunday Prayer Meeting on Channel 2?”
“He’s also in syndication and has a meeting house on Judah in the Sunset,” she added.
“Okay? So does this somehow relate to us?” asked Peyton.
Defino slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Here’s his address. Our preacher does pretty well for himself. Currently, he lives in one of the Painted Ladies on Nob Hill.”
“Nothing like doing God’s work,” said Peyton, turning the paper so she could see the address.
“Why do we need his address?” asked Marco.
“Yesterday he called in to the station to file a complaint against his neighbor.”
“We’re homicide,” said Peyton.
Defino gave Peyton an annoyed squint. “Really, Brooks?” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “He thinks his neighbor is trying to kill him.”
“And when he does, then we’ll investigate,” Peyton offered brightly.
Defino fought her smile. “Not this time. I got a call from the mayor.”
Murder in the Tenderloin (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 2) Page 10