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

by M. L. Hamilton

  “What makes you say that?” said Marco, giving her a slow smile.

  She eyed him some more. “Cop. You walk like one and you’re too pretty to be a john.” She glanced toward the building where a couple of other whores were milling. “Look, I don’t want no trouble with you.” She turned on a spiked heel and came up short as Peyton lifted her badge into her face.

  “Where’s Venus?”

  The whore screwed up her face. “Venus? What you talking about? I don’t know no Venus.”

  “This is her corner.”

  The whore looked over her shoulder at Marco. Marco leaned against a street lamp, but his relaxed pose didn’t hide the fact that he was ready to move in a moment. A few of the girls lounging against the building started to sidle away. Peyton marked them from the corner of her eyes, then turned her attention back to the red-head in front of her.

  “Let me ask again. Where’s Venus?” she said.

  The whore snorted a laugh, then shifted weight on her five-inch heels. “Look, I ain’t doing nothing wrong. You ain’t got nothing on me.”

  “I don’t know about that. I thought I heard you solicit my partner a moment ago.”

  The whore drew on her cigarette, her hand shaking. “That’s a damn lie and you know it,” she said with a forced laugh. “I told him to just keep on walking. I made him as a cop the moment I saw him.”

  Peyton looked beyond her at Marco. “Did she? I thought I heard her ask you if you were gay.”

  “That’s what I heard,” said Marco. He crossed his arms over his chest, his jacket gaping and showing the butt of his gun. “I don’t see any witnesses around to say otherwise.”

  The whore threw her cigarette down and ground it with the toe of her shoe. “Look, I don’t need no trouble. I got a kid waiting for me to come home.”

  “A kid? I’ll bet CPS would just love to know that. Here you are, soliciting cops and you got a kid at home. Hate to see him or her wind up in the foster system.”

  Marco made a tsking noise. “I heard it’s a bitch getting them back out again.”

  The whore looked between the two of them, then down the street. Peyton took a step to the right, blocking the center of the sidewalk. Cars honked their horns as they sped past. Closing her eyes briefly, the whore held up her hands.

  “Okay, look, what do you want?”

  “Where’s Venus?”

  She scratched at her fishnet stockings. “I wasn’t doing no harm taking her corner. She ain’t been working it for a while. Word is she’s done. She ain’t coming back. With El Griego gone, I thought, what’s the harm? Venus, she done good for herself on this corner, you know, and I got a kid to feed.”

  “Where is she?” said Peyton sharply. She was getting sick of this whole thing, and more than a little worried about Venus.

  “Word is she fell off the wagon. She’s floppin’ in some warehouse on 16th, smoking crack.”

  Peyton’s eyes lifted to Marco. He moved around the whore and they started walking toward their car. As they went, Marco reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone.

  “Calling for backup?” she asked.

  “Nope, calling Vice. Someone needs to find out if there is a kid. You call for backup.”

  “Done,” said Peyton, reaching for her phone.

  * * *

  Magdalena followed El Griego when he left the house. Gradually she’d been gaining freedom and now had at least most of the day to herself. He made her work nights, but she didn’t need much sleep. He always slept in until noon, so she timed herself to wake up when he did.

  He jogged down the stairs of the flat and turned left. Magdalena let him get a full block ahead of her before she started. Everyone else in the house was still asleep, she suspected through artificial means.

  He kept going until he came to the bus stop. He paced at the bus stop a bit, glaring at the people waiting on the benches. They sidled away, trying not to make eye contact with him. Usually he walked wherever he went, which made following him easy, but if he got on the bus, she wasn’t sure what to do.

  Biting her lip, she considered her options. She could go up to him and ask him to let her go wherever he was going. He’d likely get pissed about that. She could tell him she wanted to take the bus downtown and hoped he was going the same place. Or she could try to sneak on when he wasn’t looking. There were a lot of people waiting for this particular bus. He might not notice.

  She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up and tucked her hair inside, deciding the third option was best, but reaching into her pocket, she realized she didn’t have bus fare. She would have to pickpocket someone and hope to get lucky.

  She knew theft was a sin, but stealing change had to be a lesser sin and she’d already done that a couple of times to get something to eat. After prostitution, any other sins would only add a rosary or two to her salvation, if she could be saved still.

  When the bus pulled up, she wedged her way into the crowd. People coming off the bus mixed with people getting on. Magdalena found herself behind a huge man who must weigh 250 lbs. His pockets gaped at the sides as if inviting her to check. With a grimace, she thrust her hand inside and found some loose change and a bill. She grabbed for the bill, pulling it out. Glancing down she saw it was a five.

  When it was her turn to board the bus, she shoved the entire five into the hand of the driver. “I don’t have a pass.”

  He started to protest, but she covered his hand with her own. “Please, my mother is sick and I need to go to the hospital to see her.”

  He nodded her back and pocketed the money himself.

  Muni drivers were only supposed to take passes, but Magdalena had found that she could usually persuade them to accept cash whenever she needed a ride. There was no way El Griego would allow her to have a pass.

  She kept her head down as she moved to a seat. Her heart pounded frantically as she spotted him, sitting two rows down. If he saw her, what would she say? She’d tell him she was going to window shop on Market. What else could she do?

  He was looking out the window, ignoring the rest of the riders, so she sank into a seat three back from him on the same side. He fidgeted in his chair. He was always fidgeting, picking at his clothes or adjusting himself. And he was always and forever stroking the butt of that gun. Magdalena wished just once that she could have it in her hands. She’d show him what the barrel looked like up close.

  She exhaled and clutched her crucifix. Murder was a worse sin than prostitution. Unless it was okay to murder another sinner? She wished she’d had the foresight to ask Reverend James if that was a way to ‘turn aside’ sin. It was certainly a way to purge it from the world.

  They rode down to North Beach and he got off. Magdalena didn’t move. He brought her to North Beach before, made her stand the corner with Venus. He walked down the street to the corner where Venus usually was. The gangster from the day at the restaurant was there. Something passed between their hands, then they started talking. Magdalena thought it was money, but she wasn’t sure.

  When the bus pulled away from the curb, Magdalena faced forward. She might as well ride it back to where she’d gotten on. She wanted to find something to use in her battle against him, but she didn’t want to risk getting caught. She’d just have to wait until another opportunity presented itself.

  CHAPTER 13

  Marco hit the sirens and they sped toward the warehouse on 16th. It was the only logical lead they had. Peyton hung on to the door and seat as he took the turns, bouncing the Charger over Market Street. The streets were dark, even though it had just passed 8:30PM, but among the warehouses there weren’t many street lights.

  They didn’t bother with parking on Florida this time, but pulled right up in front of the warehouse. Two other police cars were lined up on the sidewalk, their front bumpers pressed against the chain link fence.

  Peyton and Marco jumped out and found Holmes striding toward them. “We got a warrant to go inside?” he asked.

  “The
judge won’t hear our petition until tomorrow.”

  “You tell him the situation?”

  “About five minutes ago,” said Peyton, moving toward the fence. There were no lights on in the warehouse and a chain and padlock held the warped rolling door closed at the bottom. The door was rolled up a couple of feet, enough for someone to squeeze under it. Peyton didn’t remember it being open when they were there the day before. She turned to Marco. “Do you remember the door being rolled up like that?”

  Marco shook his head. “I don’t remember the chain either.”

  Holmes studied it. “The lock must have melted and they had to break it to get inside during the fire.”

  Bartlet paced nervously. “Why won’t the judge give you the warrant?”

  “Don’t know,” said Peyton, trying to listen for any sounds. She pointed at the other black and white. “Where did they go?”

  “Sent them around back,” said Holmes.

  Peyton curled her fingers through the links. “You hear someone scream inside there?” she asked the others.

  The streets were silent, except for the sound of wheels on damp asphalt.

  “I heard a scream,” said Marco.

  Holmes began walking back toward his car. “I think I heard one too.”

  Bartlet stopped pacing. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Peyton ignored him, waiting anxiously as Holmes brought back the bolt cutters from the trunk of his car. He began cutting away the links on the fence as Marco pulled it back.

  Bartlet moved to Peyton’s shoulder. “I didn’t hear any screams. Did you really hear something?”

  Peyton gave him a glare. “You did hear a scream. You heard the same scream we did.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “I don’t lie well, Brooks.”

  She went toe to toe with him. “Listen, Bartlet. Someone took a shot at me today, so when I say we heard a scream, we heard a scream. If anyone asks you, you tell them you were searching the street, or in the car, or whatever, but you remember this, the rest of us heard a scream.”

  He didn’t answer and Peyton didn’t really care. Internal Affairs likely wouldn’t question them and if they did, they would take the word of three seasoned officers over a green one any day.

  They cleared a big enough part of the fence to wedge themselves through and then Holmes cut the bolt on the rolling door. Marco and Holmes pulled it up, despite the protests of the abused rollers, and the three of them stared inside at the darkness.

  Bartlet appeared beside them, taking a flashlight from his belt. Peyton was glad he’d finally decided where his loyalty lay. He flicked it on and Holmes did the same, but the two flashlights did little to illuminate the interior.

  “Turn on your headlights,” suggested Marco.

  Bartlet turned his flashlight over to Peyton and jogged back to the cars. A moment later the headlights blazed into the interior of the warehouse. They saw what looked like a moving van, but it was melted down to the metal frame. A few half-burnt tires lay around the floor and scorch marks climbed right up to the ceiling. The track lighting had melted and the bulbs burst, so there was no chance of getting more light, as if the electricity was still working.

  Peyton moved into the warehouse, followed by Marco and Holmes. Their flashlights roved over the burnt out truck, but there was nothing except melted, twisted parts to see. Angling around the back of it, Peyton saw an office. The glass windows fronting the office had blasted out in the fire, but the metal frames of the windows still stood.

  “Marco!” Peyton called and jogged to the melted, sagging door. She shoved it open, noting that the black ash around the threshold had scuff marks through it. Shining the flashlight over the interior, she saw a half burnt desk, a twisted metal chair, and then the strange pattern of fishnet stockings.

  She drew her gun and edged into the room, circling around the desk. The flashlight climbed over the legs and upward to a swath of tangled blond hair. Placing the flashlight on the desk, she kept her gun ready, kneeling down in front of Venus.

  She reached out with her left hand and pushed the hair from Venus’ face. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing rapidly.

  Marco appeared in the doorway of the office.

  “Get an ambulance!” Peyton said and he disappeared again.

  * * *

  “Thank you,” said Peyton, lowering the phone. Marco and Jake looked up. They were gathered around Jake’s desk, while he processed the pictures from the shooting at Abe’s lab. It was going on 11:00PM and Peyton just wanted to go home and see her dog.

  “Well?” asked Marco.

  “She wasn’t smoking crack. She took a handful of sleeping pills. They pumped her stomach and she came around, but we can’t question her tonight. She did tell them that she tried to commit suicide.”

  “Why there? Why at the warehouse?”

  Peyton shook her head. “I guess it’ll have to wait until we can question her tomorrow.”

  “Is she under guard?”

  “Yep. They already told me that they won’t keep her at the hospital. I got them to agree to move her to the psych hospital where Athena is.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Peyton rubbed the back of her neck and sank down into the chair by Marco. “How much longer, Jake?”

  “A few more minutes.” He didn’t look at her. He’d been especially quiet since he’d taken the pictures at Abe’s lab.

  Right now, she didn’t care what was wrong with him. She just wanted to go home and sleep. What a bitch of a day!

  “Peyton!”

  She closed her eyes and ducked her head. It was about to get longer. Devan had been calling her steadily for the last few hours, but she’d let all the calls go to voice mail. Well, now she was going to have to face him. She knew she was wrong, she knew she had promised him to tell him what was going on, but everything had been happening so fast.

  Pushing herself to her feet, she turned around. He was waiting by her desk, out of earshot from the others. Unless he started yelling. By the look on his face, she suspected everyone in the squad room would soon know their issues.

  She approached him, tucking her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. If she admitted she was wrong first, maybe they could avoid a fight. “Look, I know I promised not to dodge your calls again, but it’s been a hell of a day and I was so busy.”

  “A hell of a day! Are you shitting me? Someone takes shots at you and that’s what I get, a hell of a day!”

  “Devan, I’m sorry…”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry? What are you sorry for?”

  “That I didn’t take your calls. I just didn’t have time.”

  He crossed his arms. She noticed that he’d taken off his suit jacket. “You think this is what I’m mad about, that you didn’t answer my calls.”

  She shrugged. “What else?”

  He shook his head in bewilderment and looked away. “Are you kidding? Do you know how I heard you’d been shot at?”

  She paused. She wasn’t sure.

  “Someone in my office asked me if you were okay. I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about.”

  “I’m sorry, Devan.”

  “For what, Peyton?”

  “For not having someone tell you.”

  He held up a hand and let it fall against his thigh. “Did you call anyone after it happened?”

  “What?”

  “Who was the first person you called after the shooting, Peyton?”

  “Marco.” She didn’t know where he was going with this.

  “Who did you call?”

  “Marco.”

  “Not me, not your boyfriend. You called Marco.”

  She frowned at him. “He’s my partner, Devan. I called for backup.”

  “And the second call?”

  “What?”

  “Who got your second call?”

  Peyton realized where he was going, but he was wrong. He didn’t understand the way things worked on this side of the law
. “I called Jake.”

  “You called your roommate?”

  “He’s the crime scene photographer, Devan.”

  “And did you throw in Abe for good measure?”

  She looked down. “Abe was already there.”

  He didn’t answer and his silence was in some ways worse than his anger.

  “Look, Devan. This had nothing to do with my personal life. I didn’t call any of those people because they are more important to me than you are. I called them because it was business and I needed them there.”

  He stared at her so hard, she wanted to look away. “I can’t do this, Peyton. I can’t do this anymore. The thought of you being shot made me sick inside. I thought I was having a heart attack, and then to know I didn’t even merit a call, in all the hours after it happened. I just can’t accept that.”

  “What are you saying, Devan?”

  He drew a deep breath, then let it out. “I’m saying I don’t think this is going to work. Let’s face it, Peyton. When push comes to shove, I am last on your list of important people.”

  “That’s absolutely not true,” she said. “You’ve got to give me time, Devan. You can’t just expect everything to work perfectly right off the bat. Relationships have to be built, worked at, nurtured.”

  “And just how is that going to happen here, Peyton? A relationship is a two way street, both parties have to contribute to it, but you go about your life and you squeeze me in whenever you have time.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Really? I asked you to move in with me and you never answered. It suddenly occurred to me why. It would mean meeting me in the middle, giving up some of your independence and autonomy. You just don’t want to do that.” He gave her a grim smile. “The very things that I find most attractive about you are the very things forcing me away. I’m sorry, but this is too serious for me. I know you think I’m moving too fast, but that’s the way I feel about you. I just can’t accept half-measures, Peyton. Either you plunge into the deep end with me or we go our separate ways, but that’s the way it has to be.”

  Peyton stared at him. She couldn’t believe he was asking this of her. “I’m not sure I fully understand you. I know you want me to move in, but the rest of it? What are you asking me to do? Give up my job and my house? Give up my friends?”