Murder on Treasure Island (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 7)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Fine,” said Peyton, “we’ll play it that way.” She started to rise, but Helen reached out and caught her arm.

  “Wait. You said you’d help me, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll help me get in a rehab facility?”

  “Right.”

  She looked down at the table, but her hand remained on Peyton’s arm. “What do you want to know?”

  Peyton reached over and patted her hand. “How did your dad die, Helen?”

  She shook her head, staring at things that Peyton could only imagine. “He was dead when we came home. He was just laying in his bed, not breathing. He was already cold.”

  “But you didn’t call an ambulance?”

  “Benny said not to. He said the government would just make us pay for a funeral. He said the government just wanted our money, that it wasn’t anyone’s business what we did with my dad.”

  “So you buried him yourselves?”

  Helen gave a shudder. “Benny said it was the right thing to do. He said we shouldn’t let the government make us pay for something just because they wanted the money for it.”

  “Did you know it’s illegal to dispose of a body yourself?”

  “Yeah, but Benny said…”

  “Yeah, I got that. Do you think Benny might have had another motivation?”

  Helen made eye contact with her. “What motivation?”

  “Did he tell you that you should keep using your father’s retirement funds and his medical marijuana card?”

  “He said it was mine by rights. He said the government would just take it if we reported Dad had died.”

  Peyton blew out air. What a freakin’ pathetic mess! Poor Lawrence Lowell. Of course they’d have to wait for the Coroner’s report, but Peyton didn’t think his daughter was guilty of anything but stupidity.

  Patting her hand, Peyton pushed herself to her feet. “I’m just gonna talk to Deputy Sims about our deal. Thank you for talking to me, Helen.”

  She gave Peyton a lost look. “I felt horrible about what we did after we did it, but Benny said it was the only thing we could do.”

  Of course he did, thought Peyton.

  * * *

  Jake scanned over the letters he’d received from the Janitor, looking for any clue, any hint of his identity. Flipping a page on the file, he scanned over the report from the van where Peyton had been held hostage. The blood on the bolt had matched the last victim, Trevor Campion, so that gave them less than nothing. Still, something niggled at Jake’s awareness, something bothered him whenever he read the collection of the Janitor’s words again. He felt like he should know who he was, he felt like he should be able to piece this puzzle together.

  “Here.”

  Jake looked up, blinking away his distraction. Peyton stood before him with a German shepherd by her side. The dog was skinny, the bones in his hips showing, and he smelled horrible.

  “What’s this?”

  “A dog.” She held the leash out to him.

  “A dog?” He took the leash in a state of bewilderment.

  “I want Pickles back.”

  Jake opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Stay,” she told the dog, then turned on her heel and walked to her desk.

  Jake looked down into the dog’s brown eyes. The dog looked back at him.

  “Stay,” he told the dog, then set the leash down and stepped around him, following Peyton across the precinct.

  The dog stayed where he was told.

  Peyton had just taken a seat at her desk when Jake came up beside her. Tag was also sitting at her desk, watching him.

  Jake gave Tag a nod, then rounded on Peyton. “Peyton, hi!”

  She glanced up at him with a questioning look. “Hi?”

  He pointed back toward his desk. “Do you think we can talk about the dog?”

  “That’s Larry Junior.”

  Jake frowned. “Larry Junior?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good to know. My question, though, was more along the lines of what the hell?”

  She braced her chin with her hand. “Larry Junior’s pet parent is dead, so they were going to take him to the pound. I intervened and agreed to foster him until he’s released for adoption, at which time, I can decide if I want to make the arrangement permanent or not. Since you and I seem to be at an impasse about my dog, I thought I’d get you one of your own.”

  Jake stared at her for a moment, trying to digest what she was saying, then he glanced over his shoulder. Adonis was leaning against his partition, a half-smile on his face.

  Turning back, Jake held up a hand. “Let me get this straight. You went on a call and found a stray dog, so it seemed perfectly logical to you that you should adopt him?”

  “No, it seemed perfectly logical to me that you should adopt him.”

  “And this doesn’t seem like madness to you?”

  “Not at all.”

  Jake glanced at Marco again, but he merely shrugged.

  Peyton swiveled in her chair. “Now, if you’d rather, I can let Larry Junior go to the shelter and be locked in a cage for the next month, only to be put up for an adoption that may never happen, resulting in his untimely demise. Is that what you want, Jake?”

  Is that what he wanted? Of all the manipulative, underhanded things...

  “Well, Jake?”

  “You do realize that if you start adopting stray dogs the way you adopt stray people, you’re going to need your own state.”

  Peyton straightened. “So, is that your answer? You want me to send him to the pound?”

  Jake glanced back at his desk. Larry Junior was looking at him over his shoulder, his ears folded flat against his head, his tail tucked around his body. Damn it all! “No, don’t take him to the pound,” he said with a sigh.

  Peyton smiled.

  He pointed at her. “Don’t be smug! Pickles stays with me for one more night, while you get Larry Junior a bath.”

  “Deal,” she said, beaming.

  * * *

  Marco set the small, plastic bag that held Peyton’s locket on the counter and studied the dog snoring away on his kitchen floor. He had a bow in his hair from the groomer’s and he smelled like...well, he smelled better than he had, but he still smelled like dog.

  He glanced toward the bedroom door. He didn’t know what he was going to do with this need Peyton had to adopt anything that didn’t have a home. Her house was already overrun with people who weren’t on the mortgage and now she was introducing new critters to his tiny apartment.

  He smiled, thinking about Jake’s reaction. The poor idiot knew he was beat before he even opened the conversation. God, Marco loved her. No one else possessed that ability to wind people around her fingers the way she did.

  He stepped over the dog and walked to the bedroom door. She’d asked him to teach her about football, since her recent knowledge of baseball had come in handy, but he was really looking forward to a quiet evening just the two of them.

  Pushing open the bedroom door, he stepped inside. “What about pizza for din…”

  He stopped. She had just come out of the bathroom, wearing his 49ers jersey with her damp hair lying about her shoulders. Something about seeing her in his jersey got him all hot and bothered every single time.

  “What?” she asked, looking up at him with those dark, exotic eyes of hers.

  “Nothing,” he said, closing the distance between them and sliding an arm around her waist.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed as he buried his face between her shoulder and her throat. “I thought we were watching the football game.”

  He tightened his hold. “It’ll wait,” he said, breathing in the lilac scent of her shampoo.

  She didn’t protest, melting in his arms as he trailed his lips from her throat up to her ear.

  A sudden pounding at the door startled both of them. She pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.

  “Forget it. They’ll go away,
” he said, his gaze fixed on her lips.

  “Open up, little brother!” came the voice, thundering through the apartment.

  That set the dog off.

  Vinnie. Shit!

  “It’s your brother.”

  Marco exhaled in frustration. “He’ll go away.”

  “Marco!” came a second shout and more banging.

  The dog flew into another round of frantic barking.

  “It’s two of your brothers,” said Peyton, pushing him away.

  “I don’t want to see them.”

  “Well, you don’t have any choice. Go open the door.”

  He rolled his head on his shoulders and started for the living room. Peyton didn’t follow. “You coming?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll wait in here.”

  “Why?”

  The banging started again.

  “I don’t want them to know about us like this. We should make a formal announcement, not have them see me coming out of your bedroom.”

  Marco felt his annoyance rise. “Peyton…”

  “Please. Not like this. You don’t even know how they’re going to react.”

  “They love you.”

  “It’s just too weird.”

  “Listen. We’re always together. They’re not going to know anything’s different unless we tell them.”

  “Not like this, Marco. It’s too embarrassing. What if they guess what we were about to do?”

  “How are they going to guess that?”

  “I don’t know. Just please.”

  “I don’t like sneaking around, Peyton.”

  “I know that.”

  “Apparently not,” he grumbled, moving through the bedroom door and shutting it at his back. The dog was dancing around the front door, barking like a lunatic. “Go lay down!” Marco shouted at him.

  He immediately stopped and slunk back to the kitchen, his tail between his legs. Marco felt guilty about yelling at him, but his freakin’ brothers were still banging on the door. Yanking it open, he glared at them.

  “Really?”

  All three of them stood on his threshold. They burst into laughter and began pushing their way into the apartment without asking permission. Bernardo deposited a six pack of beer in his hands as he went past.

  “Come in,” said Marco, shaking his head and shutting the door behind them.

  “Why isn’t the game on?” asked Vinnie, picking up the remote and turning on the television. “And what took you so damn long to answer?”

  Marco carried the six pack over to the couch and let them each pull a beer off the plastic ring.

  “Where’d you get the dog?” asked Franco, pointing at him with the can.

  Marco took the rest of the beer into the kitchen and placed it in the refrigerator, stopping to pet the dog as he move back into the living room. “Peyton’s fostering him, but she didn’t want him around Pickles until she’s sure he doesn’t have any diseases and isn’t aggressive with other dogs.”

  “She adopted him?” asked Bernardo.

  “Not yet. His owner’s dead, so the pound has to have proof of that before he can be adopted.”

  “Nice dog.” Bernardo threw himself down on the couch and put his feet on the coffee table.

  “We ordered a pizza,” said Vinnie, taking a seat in Marco’s recliner. Whenever Vinnie came over, he claimed that spot as his own.

  Marco stared at them. He loved his brothers, but right now, he wanted to spend time with Peyton. “Did we have plans or something?”

  “No,” said Bernardo, taking a sip of his beer. “Grab a beer and sit down. We want to talk to you.” He patted the spot at the end of the couch.

  Marco went on alert. His brothers never wanted to talk to him. What the hell was going on?

  “What’s this about?”

  “Get a beer and sit down. The pizza will be here in a little bit,” said Vinnie. The announcers were calling the starting lineups at the game. Vinnie lifted the remote and turned it down.

  “I don’t want a beer. I want to know why you’re here.”

  Franco shifted on the couch and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a bundle of papers and tossing them on the coffee table. “I printed out part of the catalog from San Francisco State.”

  “Yeah?”

  Bernardo and Franco looked at Vinnie.

  Vinnie leaned forward and settled his beer on the coffee table. “We want you to quit the force and go back to school.”

  Marco sat down on the end of the couch. He didn’t even know how to answer that.

  “After what happened to Peyton, the family feels…”

  “The family? What the hell are we, the Mafia?” Marco hesitated. “Mom put you up to this.”

  “No,” said Vinnie firmly. “Actually, this is the three of us.”

  “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

  “Well, you’re going to, so shut the hell up and listen for a change.”

  Marco glanced at the television.

  “After Peyton was attacked, we met and we all agreed that you’ve got to change jobs. It’s too dangerous. If this last thing wasn’t enough, what the hell will be? Do you need to get shot? Does she?”

  Marco looked back at him. “That’s low, Vinnie.”

  “It’s the truth,” said Franco. “Look, I know you were never really interested in school, but there’s a lot of stuff you could study.”

  “You’ve always liked that art crap,” said Bernardo. “Why don’t you study that?”

  “And just how do you expect me to support myself while I study art crap?” said Marco sharply. He couldn’t believe how angry their interference made him. Using Peyton’s safety against him played right into his fears.

  “We talked about that,” said Bernardo, then he looked at Vinnie again.

  Vinnie nodded. “We’re all prepared to help you until you get through school.”

  Marco laughed bitterly. “Oh, so now I’m supposed to be a charity case for my family, is that it?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Damn it, Marco, we’re trying to save your life!” said Bernardo angrily.

  Marco looked down. He and Vinnie talked about personal things, but Marco had never shared intimate details with his other two brothers. For them to be this worried meant something. Their meddling pissed him off, but it also touched him.

  Vinnie pushed himself to his feet and angled around behind the couch, placing his hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Let me get you a beer and we’ll hash it out, okay?”

  Marco nodded and slumped down on the couch, staring at the television. The teams had lined up for kick-off. From the corner of his eye, he saw Vinnie open the refrigerator and take out the beer, then he hesitated. Reaching out he picked up something off the counter.

  Marco looked over at him. Peyton’s locket. He’d forgotten it on the counter.

  Vinnie shifted it in his hand, then used his thumb to open the catch. He stared at the picture inside, then closed it and settled it back on the counter. Marco watched him, curious if Vinnie would put it all together. When they were growing up, Vinnie had always figured out the schemes of his younger brothers. Marco had thought he’d make a pretty good detective himself.

  Looking at the kitchen sink, he reached out and picked up the soap resting in a dish on the counter. Peyton’s flowery, lilac soap. She’d left bars of it all over the apartment. Vinnie lifted it to his nose and sniffed, then he looked over his shoulder at Marco. Marco knew it smelled just like her.

  Marco didn’t give anything away, but honestly, he didn’t care if Vinnie figured things out. He wasn’t joking with Peyton when he told her he hated sneaking around.

  Vinnie’s eyes lifted to the closed bedroom door. Marco never closed his bedroom door. The only bathroom in the apartment was through the bedroom. Setting the soap on the dish, he stepped over the dog, carrying the beer into the living room. He deposited it in Marco’s hands and kept moving. Marco followed him with his eyes, but he didn’t try
to stop him.

  Vinnie went to the bedroom door and knocked lightly, then he reached for the doorknob, opening it. He peered inside, then gave Marco a frown over his shoulder. “So why does my brother have a cute little dish like you sitting all alone in his bedroom?” he said.

  Franco and Bernardo turned and looked at him.

  “Actually, it was my idea,” came Peyton’s voice. “We’re trying to keep him from being moved out of the precinct.”

  “I see. That doesn’t explain why you’re sitting in here right now, though, sweetheart.”

  “I didn’t want you to find out about us like this. I thought we should make a more formal announcement.”

  Vinnie laughed. “Get over here!” he said, holding out his arms.

  Peyton appeared a moment later, stepping into his bear hug.

  “Mama’s going to be so damn happy. She’s been praying on her rosaries for this to happen for the last five years.”

  Bernardo reached over and punched Marco in the shoulder, then rose with Franco and went to hug her as well.

  “Welcome to the family,” said Franco, kissing her cheek.

  Peyton seemed lost in the circle of his huge brothers. Marco popped open the beer and took a sip while they fussed over her. He knew they wouldn’t have a problem with Peyton. For years, they’d all been hinting that he should make a move on her.

  In the midst of all the affection, a knock sounded at the door. The dog started barking, but Marco pointed to the kitchen and he lay down again. As Vinnie went to answer it, Bernardo hurried into the kitchen and got her a beer, while Franco led her back to the couch.

  She curled up next to Marco, giving him a speculative look as Bernardo held the beer out for her and Vinnie went past, carrying the pizza into the kitchen.

  Marco scowled at her, but she didn’t drop her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I was wrong,” she said softly.

  He shook his head, then wrapped an arm around her. She melted into his side, placing her head on his shoulder.

  He kissed her forehead. “I’ll get used to it,” he said with a sigh.

  * * *

  Marco walked his brothers out to the parking lot. Peyton’s appearance had effectively ended the discussion about his future, for which he was grateful. As they ate the pizza and finished off the rest of the beers in his refrigerator, they taught Peyton about football. At some point, the dog ventured into the living room and climbed up on the couch between her and Bernardo, going to sleep with his head on Peyton’s thigh.