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

by M. L. Hamilton

  He paused as she took a seat on the barstool at the counter. “Can’t sleep?”

  She shook her head. “We go to San Quentin tomorrow to question the man who killed my father.”

  “I know. Adonis told me.”

  “How come you can’t sleep?”

  He paused in searching the cabinets and rested his hands flat on the counter. “I’m good during the day when I’m busy, but at night, the memories just come flooding back. I miss her most at night.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Yeah, you do.” He exhaled and then crossed his arms on the counter, leaning on it. “How long has your father been gone?”

  “Going on seven years.”

  “My parents died when I was in college. My mother died of cancer, then my father two years later.”

  “Of what?”

  “Heart attack.”

  “I think I remember that from the case. I’m sorry, Jake.”

  “I didn’t know about your dad. I’m sorry too.”

  “He was a good man, my dad, a good cop. I always wanted to be like him. It drove my mom crazy.”

  Jake smiled. He had a nice smile and he didn’t smile very often. “Where’s your mom now?”

  “Here. She works in a tourist trap of a store. She’s living with my aunt, but lately she’s been talking about moving in with her boyfriend.” Peyton made a face.

  Jake laughed. “Not a fan.”

  “It’s the other way around. Let’s say he doesn’t think certain bloods should mix.”

  “Oh, so he’s a racist.”

  Peyton laughed too. “Your words, not mine.”

  “Your mother doesn’t see that.”

  “She’s lonely. She truly loved my father. This guy is just a body beside her at night.”

  “Gotcha.” He leaned back and began searching the cabinet again.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Tea. It’s good to help you get back to sleep.”

  “Can’t put sugar in tea, so I won’t have it in my house.”

  Jake gave her a wry look. “You can put sugar in it. I think the Brits do it all the time. Haven’t you ever heard of iced tea?”

  “Heard of it, can live without.” She climbed off the stool and crossed around the counter. Pulling open the lower cabinet next to him, she grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and two shot glasses. “This is the stuff to help you sleep.”

  “I don’t think that’s a very healthy practice. I think that sleep aid leads to problems.”

  She poured two shots and slid one over to him. “Two shots is medicinal. More than two is a problem.”

  He picked his up and stared at her skeptically over the top. “You sure about this?”

  “Definitely. Bottoms up.” She tossed hers back.

  Jake did the same, then pounded on the counter with his fist, screwing his eyes shut tight. “Dear God,” he panted.

  She smiled and poured the second shot. “Gets easier.”

  “The hell you say.” But he picked it up and they tossed it back together.

  Peyton spun the shot glass around on the counter. “I’m usually so detached when I question someone.”

  “I know,” he said, blinking back the watering in his eyes. “I’ve been there.”

  She pushed him lightly in the shoulder. “Why can’t I do this? Why can’t I just call all of that experience to the foreground and question Luis Garza the same way? If I’m a professional, I should be able to do it.”

  Jake shook his head. “This is different. This is too close. Let Adonis do it. You might miss something important if you try. Just this once let someone else take care of you, Mighty Mouse. You don’t always have to be so kick-ass hard.”

  She studied him a moment, then screwed the top back on the Jack Daniels bottle. “You know, you’re pretty wise for a teller.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a teller. No one ever tried to deposit a head at the bank.”

  Peyton replaced the bottle and carried the shot glasses to the sink. “I don’t know. You ever wonder what’s in those safe deposit boxes.” When she turned around, he was giving her a disturbed look. So, he had wondered. “I’m just betting there are all sorts of souvenirs in those. Can you imagine what you might find?”

  “Now I can. Thanks for helping me get back to sleep.”

  She patted his shoulder as she headed back to her room. “My pleasure, Mr. Ryder. Sweet dreams.”

  * * *

  Magdalena sat on the bed in the back of the flat, huddled in the corner, reading the small Bible she’d shoplifted from the store the other day. She was hoping they’d all forget she was there in whatever drug-induced hell they inhabited. Outside the room she could hear the thump of the bass and people shrieking.

  She didn’t really understand these parties, but they told her it was necessary and she needed to shut up and cooperate. It hadn’t taken more than once for Magdalena to understand what they meant by cooperate. Pushing her tongue into the gap where her tooth used to be was all the reminder she needed. At least she’d lost one that wasn’t easily visible and she didn’t really need it to eat, but what became crystal clear from that experience was you didn’t cry, you didn’t struggle, and you didn’t hope to be treated like a human being. You especially didn’t try to get away. Felix’s cousin had given her that lesson with the barrel end of his gun pressed to her temple. You didn’t try to get away.

  The door opened and Magdalena quickly shoved the Bible between the wall and the bed, letting her hair fall forward to obscure her face. Looking up through the lank, tangled strands, she could see it was a blond woman that had been living here long before she and Felix arrived.

  They didn’t talk to each other. The blond woman was usually stoned out of her mind, but Magdalena knew Felix’s cousin sent her out to “entertain” men. She now knew what that entertainment entailed and she’d watched the woman hand over her earnings every morning for the past three weeks. Felix’s cousin kept threatening to send Magdalena out too, but since she tried to escape, he brought the johns here instead. She shuddered and hugged her knees to her chest.

  “Hiding, huh?” said the blond.

  Magdalena didn’t answer.

  The blond came to the bed and climbed on it, leaning back against the wall next to Magdalena. She pulled a cigarette box from beneath her bra strap and opened it. She offered one to Magdalena, but she shook her head no. The blond shrugged and took out a cigarette, digging a small lighter from the box as well. She lit it, then replaced the lighter in the box and the box in her bra as she took a few deep draws on the filter.

  “Best to not start. We got enough bad habits as it is.”

  Magdalena still didn’t answer.

  She shifted on the bed and studied her in the half-gloom. “What you hide under the bed?”

  Magdalena felt her heart sink. She didn’t want to give up the Bible, even though she knew she’d gotten it through an act of sin itself, but she also knew that nothing belonged to her anymore. They let her keep her crucifix because Felix’s cousin said some guys liked that. It almost made her take it off just to keep the memory of it from being defiled.

  She fished the Bible out and held it up. The blond didn’t snatch it from her as she expected her to. “Wow, I ain’t seen one a’them for years. You reading it?”

  Magdalena nodded.

  “Wow,” she said again, drawing on the cigarette. “You best keep it hid good. I’ll show you where I hide my stuff.”

  Magdalena hugged the Bible against her chest.

  “I hear you singing sometimes. Them church songs you sing?”

  “Yes.”

  The blond nudged her with her shoulder. “See, you can talk.” She held out her hand. “My name’s Venus.”

  Magdalena took the hand and clasped it, then released her, but she didn’t give her her name. She didn’t want her to know her real name and she wasn’t going to use the name Felix’s cousin had given her.

  “You don’
t belong here, do you?”

  Magdalena rested her chin on her knees. “I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

  “Guess you won’t tell me where you from, right?”

  Magdalena shook her head no.

  “You came out with that kid, that shit-faced Felix, right?”

  Magdalena nodded. “He said it would be better out here. It would be easy to earn money. I was so stupid. I didn’t know what he meant.”

  The blond gave her a skeptical look.

  Magdalena capitulated. “I pretended I didn’t know what he meant. I just wanted to get away.”

  “Why? Daddy touch you? Beat you?”

  Magdalena reared back. “No, he never laid a hand on us.”

  “Then what you running from, baby doll? What could be so bad that you had to get away?”

  Magdalena watched the end of the cigarette, the ash growing long and threatening to fall. “At the time it seemed bad, but compared to here…” Her voice trailed off.

  Venus shifted and grabbed a soda can off the nightstand. She flicked the ashes into it. “Yeah, it always looks better somewhere else, but it never is. So tell me what made you leave?”

  “My sister, Esperanza, was sick and in the hospital. Mama and Papa moved us all over the state, so they could get her help. They were going to send us someplace else again, my tía and tío’s house, but I couldn’t stand the thought of moving schools again. Four times in one year.”

  Venus drew on the cigarette. “What your sister have?” She blew out smoke, but Magdalena didn’t flinch away. She was grateful to have someone talk to her.

  “Leukemia.”

  “Man, that’s rough.”

  “My mama was always at the hospital. I had to take care of my brothers, clean the house and cook. I hardly had time for homework and I was so behind already because of all the moves. Felix said it would be real easy out here.”

  “Felix is a douche. I bet you’d like to go back, huh?”

  “The minute we got here I wanted to go back. I kept asking Felix to use the phone, so I could call my parents, but he wouldn’t let me. That’s why I tried to run away. I just want to talk to my parents again.”

  Venus leaned back and reached into the pocket of her shorts. She pulled out one of those prepaid cell phones. “Look, they gave me this so I can contact johns. El Griego monitors who I call so I have to be careful, but you can use it. Call home. Tell them where you are.”

  Magdalena stared at the phone. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “Not if you make it quick. Just tell them where you are and get off.”

  Despite herself, Magdalena reached for the phone. “Quick and off.”

  “Yep.”

  She dialed Mama’s cell phone number. It was the only one they had, so the hospital could get ahold of her if Esperanza needed her. It rang three times, then Mama picked up. Her voice echoed in the phone.

  “Lena? Is that you, mi’ja? Lena?”

  Magdalena gripped the phone in both hands and simply listened to her mother’s voice. She couldn’t remember how to speak herself. It was so good to hear her mother, to know that she was just a short phone call away.

  “Lena? Mi’ja? Please answer me.”

  Magdalena opened her mouth to tell her mother where she was, but then she remembered, everything, every single experience since coming to San Francisco. She was tainted goods now. Not the sweet, innocent girl she’d been just a few short weeks ago. Everything she’d done came flooding back and she gripped the phone tighter.

  Then before she could stop herself, she hung up.

  “Why’d you do that?” asked Venus, accepting the phone as she handed it to her.

  “I can’t go back. Too many things have happened. I’m not the same girl. I couldn’t pretend to be something I’m not, it would be a lie and a sin. I can’t bear to think of what my parents would think of me now. I just can’t.”

  Venus put her arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. “I got you. I understand,” she said.

  CHAPTER 10

  San Quentin sat on a point overlooking the San Francisco bay. The water came right up to the rocks upon which the prison was built. It was a massive tan structure that housed some of the most notorious criminals in American history. Black Bart and Charles Manson both walked those halls.

  Peyton, Marco and Captain Defino were processed through and taken to the high security area where they would be allowed to interview Luis Garza. While the guards went to get Garza, they waited in a room much like their own interrogation room with a one way glass covering the wall.

  Javier arrived, shaking hands with all of them. He’d asked to be present, so he could find out what Garza knew about the Aztecas. As usual, he gripped Peyton’s elbow as he shook her hand.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. On the ride over here, she’d almost asked Marco to stop the Charger twice so she could throw up, but she’d rolled down the window and let the feeling pass.

  “You aren’t going to question him, are you?”

  Was she? She’d been going over and over this in her mind all night. She was better at interrogation. She could be either cold-blooded or sensitive depending on what the situation needed, but this was different. This was Luis Garza.

  Marco gave her a pointed look when she didn’t immediately answer. She drew a deep breath and exhaled.

  “I need to do this, Marco. I need to face him or he will own me for the rest of my life.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Javier.

  “Neither do I,” said Marco.

  She looked at her captain. Katherine Defino met her gaze and gave her a slight nod. She understood.

  “Let’s give it a try. If it goes badly, then we can regroup,” Defino said.

  Before Peyton could second-guess her decision, the guards arrived, leading a man with both arm and leg shackles into the interrogation room. They forced him into a seat and chained him to the floor, then they moved into the waiting area. Peyton wouldn’t allow herself to look at Garza. She picked up the file and gripped it tightly, then turned to face the prison guards.

  “He’s all yours. If he tries anything, we’ll be here.”

  Peyton nodded and moved toward the door before she could chicken out.

  Marco stopped her in the hallway. “You don’t have to do this, Brooks. I can handle it. I promise.”

  She forced a smile for him. “I know. I need to do this. I need to look into his eyes and walk away from it. I have to conquer this.”

  “Okay,” he said. He motioned to the door and Peyton stepped in front of him and into the room. It was a cinderblock room with no windows, save the one way glass, a metal table very similar to theirs and two metal chairs. The floor was grey linoleum, probably over cinderblock reinforced with rebar. Lounging in the chair was the man who haunted her sleep.

  She stared at Luis Garza – El Guerrero they called him on the streets, the warrior. The last time she’d seen him had been at the trial when they’d sentenced him to two consecutive life sentences for killing a cop, her father.

  He was short, not much taller than she was, his face covered in deep acne scars. His nose had been broken a number of times and never set right. It looked like a formless mash of brown flesh in the middle of his face. His hair was thick and black, lying lank on his shoulders. He eyed her from watery brown eyes, his hands with their silver handcuffs folded on the thighs of his orange jumpsuit.

  Peyton didn’t know what to feel. She’d never been this close to him before or met his gaze – his empty, soul-less gaze. It was like looking in the eyes of the crocodile at the Academy of Sciences, dead, empty, a beast designed to kill and nothing more.

  Marco curled his hand around her shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the feel of his familiar touch grounded her, forced her to remember why she was here. She sucked in a quivering breath and moved toward the table, pulling out the chair and settling into it. Placing the fil
e on the table in front of her, she flattened her palm on it and looked up at him.

  “Hello, Luis,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

  His gaze roved over her and lifted to take in Marco, standing at her back. “What you want, little jefe? You come to ask El Guerrero about something?”

  Peyton clenched her jaw, then forced it to relax. Oh, there was a lot she wanted to ask him, but it didn’t pertain to her case. “I want to know about El Griego.”

  His face twisted up as if he smelled something rank. “El Griego?” He gave a derisive laugh. “We call him El Gusano. You know what el gusano means, jefe?”

  “The worm,” she supplied.

  “That’s right. El Griego is a worm. He ain’t worth your time.”

  Peyton opened the file and pulled out a picture, passing it over to Luis. It was the grainy one Bob Anderson had taken. “El Griego is dead.”

  Luis lifted his chin to look at it, but he didn’t lean forward. “Yeah, that’s dead, all right. So what you asking me about, eh?”

  “What was he into? Drugs, prostitution?”

  “Yeah, both.”

  “What sort of drugs?”

  Luis pursed his lips, thinking. “What’s in it for me? Why I wanna help you, jefe?”

  “Because we’re askin’ real nice right now,” said Peyton, letting the implied threat settle on him.

  His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer so he could get a good look at her. “I remember you now. Your papa was the cabrón I off’d. Got me stuck in here.”

  Peyton rose to her feet before she knew what she was doing. She leaned on the table. “Listen, you sick mother…”

  “Brooks,” came Marco’s warning.

  Peyton drew a deep breath and exhaled. “You’re gonna tell me what El Griego was into and you’re not gonna say another God damned word.”

  He folded his arms on his chest, the chains clanking. “Or what? What you gonna do, cochina? You can’t touch me. You can’t do a damn thing to me.” He smiled and gold crowns glittered on his front teeth. “Don’t worry, little jefe. Your papa, he didn’t feel nothing. I popped him right between the eyes.” He made a shooting motion with his thumb and index finger.