“I’ll send you the schedule.” He gave her a frank look. “You can’t let O’Shannahan get under your skin like he does, or we’ll lose.”
“What about Brown with you?”
“Same thing goes for me.”
Turning back to her computer, she effectively dismissed him. “Don’t go all weeble wobbly on her.”
He laughed and pushed himself to his feet. Leaning close, he said, “This is why I can’t seem to move on.” Then he walked away.
She watched him over her shoulder, her fingers sliding the mouse back and forth. No way could Devan be the serial killer either. Damn, her list just kept shrinking.
* * *
Marco completed his jog and lifted weights, then showered. After eating a late breakfast, he picked up his cell phone and punched in a text to Abe. He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask for favors, but he needed to be cleared for duty again. The connection Peyton had made between Junior Walker’s death and the bum on BART worried him. If someone from their precinct was the Janitor, Peyton was in the direct line of fire. And as long as he was here, he couldn’t do anything about it.
Genius takes patience, Angel’D, came Abe’s response.
Marco shook his head. Does that mean you’re performing Junior Walker’s autopsy?
I was going to, but a text from you commands my instant attention. I’d be happy to issue you a set of scrubs if you’d like to spectate.
I’ll pass, he typed back. Just let me know the results.
Done and done, came the reply.
Just as he set the phone down again, it rang. He lifted it and looked at the display. Vinnie’s name flashed across the screen. Thumbing it on, he lifted it to his ear. “Hey.”
“Hey, little brother, you got time for lunch?”
Marco glanced up at the clock on his stove. 11:25. “Yeah. Where do you want to meet?”
“Somewhere close to the precinct, right?”
“That’s okay. We can meet near your office.”
“Bring your partner. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Marco sighed. “It’ll probably just be me.”
“Okay. Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
“You want me to pick you up?”
“No, just name a place and a time, and I’ll be there.”
“How about Freshii on Bush at 12:30? It’s a veggie place.”
“I’ll be there.”
Marco drove over to the restaurant early. Sitting idle had never been his thing. He wandered around the streets toward Battery, window shopping. Peyton’s birthday was coming soon and he always struggled to find something for her that was both personal and yet not too intimate. She would scold him for getting her anything at all, but this year she turned thirty. He figured it was an occasion that ought to be marked with something special.
He found himself in front of a jewelry store. The shiny objects caught his eye, but she would shoot him if he bought her something from here, although she did wear earrings. Earrings wouldn’t be too personal, would they?
He found a couple of pairs that he thought would look good with her wild mane of curls, but he just wasn’t sure. He wished there was another woman he could consult about this. One of his sisters-in-law would likely help him, but he didn’t need it being reported back to his brothers, or worse, his mother.
Maybe Maria would help, but that also held its own problems. Maria would feel obligated to lecture him about Peyton’s lack of concern for her appearance. He usually ignored the silly squabbling they did, but if he asked for help, he’d be inviting it.
Glancing up, he caught the eye of a woman behind the counter. She was in her mid-thirties, dressed professionally in a silk shirt and a skirt. Bracelets and rings covered her wrists and fingers. She motioned him inside with a broad smile.
What the hell, he thought. Here was a woman who didn’t know a damn thing about him and wouldn’t report it to anyone else.
He pulled open the door and walked inside, but he immediately regretted it. Something about looking at jewelry for Peyton made him feel ten kinds of ass. The woman met him in the center of the store.
“How are you today?”
“Fine,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Looking for anything specific?”
“Uh.” He glanced at the displays. The variety of engagement rings shocked him. Was that the only time a man ever entered a jewelry store? “I’m looking for a birthday present.”
“Okay. Do you have anything specific in mind?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
She continued to beam at him. He always thought it was strange how people could feign such happiness toward a complete stranger, but he guessed when you saw other people as dollar signs, you could summon up some sort of warmth.
“I need something personal, but not intimate.” As he said it, he realized it sounded stupid.
“Personal, but not intimate? Can I assume this is for a friend then, not a lover?”
He nodded. “It’s her thirtieth birthday and she’s gonna give me hell for getting anything.”
“Got it. What’s her personality like?”
Marco frowned. Good lord, how did he answer that?
She took pity on him. “Ultra-feminine or not so much.”
“The second,” he said.
“Does she wear a lot of jewelry or just a few important pieces?”
“A few pieces and mostly when she goes out for a night.”
“Got it. I have a few ideas.”
He followed her to a display that was thankfully free of engagement rings. She showed him a selection of earrings and necklaces, and when he finally selected something, she boxed it up without making too much fuss. He couldn’t have been more grateful.
Glancing at the time on his cell phone, he paid for his purchase and wandered down the street to the restaurant. Vinnie had already arrived and got them a table. Marco took a seat across from him and settled the bag beside him.
Vinnie frowned. “You went shopping?”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“At a jewelry store?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t really want to talk about it and wished he’d taken the time to stash the bag in the Charger before he came to the restaurant.
“Something you want to tell me?”
Marco sighed. Sometimes it was a pain in the ass to have older brothers. “It’s Peyton’s birthday in a week.”
“You got her jewelry?”
“Yeah.” He looked around the restaurant. “You order yet?”
“No. Jewelry for Peyton?”
“It’s just a necklace. She’s turning thirty.”
Vinnie gave him a strange nod. “So I haven’t talked to you in a while. How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Where’s your gun?”
“What?”
“Your gun?”
“I don’t have it.”
Vinnie leaned back in the booth. “Why?”
A waitress approached and handed them menus. She gave Marco a wink. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” he said, opening the menu.
She took Vinnie’s drink order and left. Marco made a production out of looking at the dishes, anything to avoid Vinnie’s question.
“You gonna tell me what the hell is going on or do I have to sic Mom on you?”
He looked up over the top of the menu. “I haven’t been here in a while. What’s good?”
“Marco,” Vinnie warned.
Marco closed the menu and settled it on the table. “I’ve been suspended.”
“Again?”
He shrugged.
“Why?”
Well, that was a conversation that would take all of lunch. But it would also distract Vinnie from his purchase at the jewelry store. “It’s just routine.”
“Suspension is routine? I guess it’s becoming routine for you.” He leaned an elbow on the t
able. “What gives?”
“A perp died and…”
“And?”
“They’re just checking my gun to make sure it wasn’t involved.”
Vinnie frowned.
The waitress returned and settled their drinks on the table. “What can I get you?”
Marco gave her a tense smile. “I’ll have the baja burrito.”
“Great choice. And for you?” She turned to Vinnie.
He glanced at the menu, then back at Marco. “Uh, I’ll have the harvest wrap.”
She gathered the menus and left.
Vinnie lifted his iced tea and took a sip. “Back up a little, okay? Why the hell would they check your gun?”
“I threatened to kill him. He was Maria’s boyfriend and he was beating the shit out of her, then he went after Peyton…”
“And he’s dead?” Vinnie’s face had lost color.
Marco glanced around the restaurant. No one was paying any attention to them. “I didn’t kill him,” he said, lowering his voice.
“What do you mean he went after Peyton?”
“He attacked her, twice.”
“Physically?”
Marco frowned. “How else?”
“Did he hurt her?”
“The first time. The second time, she leveled him.” He couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice.
“And they don’t suspect her of killing him?”
Marco sighed. In the last eight years, Peyton had never once fired her gun, well, except at a tire to keep Jake from running. “No. Besides, she had an alibi…or three.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I was home alone.”
Vinnie’s brow arched. “Alone?”
Marco rolled his eyes. “Yes, alone.”
Vinnie took another sip. “You need to quit this job, little brother. It scares me how close you’ve come a few times now.”
“How close I’ve come?”
“To biting it. And then you keep getting suspended. Something’s out of balance.”
Marco felt anger rise inside of him. “Nothing’s out of balance.”
“How do you figure? When have you had this much trouble before?”
He hesitated. Vinnie had a point. When had everything started going wrong?
“You’ve been a cop for what? Nine years now? And you’ve never once been suspended.” Vinnie shook his head. “Weren’t you one of the youngest cops made detective?”
“Yeah.” Marco studied the ice in his glass, not really hearing his brother. Everything started going wrong when the serial killer made his first kill. Wayne Kimbro, the bum on BART.
“Did you ever draw your gun on anyone before this?”
“A few times.” Actually, Kimbro’s murder wasn’t when he and Peyton had been pulled onto the case. They hadn’t been brought on until…Alcatraz. The Janitor had killed two people before Alcatraz, but on Alcatraz, he’d put the gun in the priest’s hands and the priest had shot at Peyton. He’d turned Peyton into a target.
“Marco, I’m just going to say it. Being a cop is like playing Russian roulette. Sometime your number is going to come up. I think these close calls are a warning.”
Was the Janitor playing them? Yanking them around like puppets? If there was a connection between Wayne Kimbro and Junior Walker, it had to be Peyton. She was the common denominator, the only thing he could think of that linked them.
“You’ve got to quit before something unthinkable happens. You’ve got to give this up.”
Alcatraz wasn’t the last time he’d targeted Peyton. He’d used the threat of shooting her to control Jake at Pier 39.
A sick feeling settled into Marco’s gut. Were all these deaths, all of these executions some sick way to gain Peyton’s approval? But then why target her? Why risk her if he was trying to impress her?
Because she wasn’t responding the way he wanted. She wasn’t grateful for his offerings, she was hunting him, trying to capture him. The serial killer thought they were of a like mind – two people striving to protect the wounded, the innocent, the weak, so he targeted child molesters, but Peyton betrayed him by also wanting to protect the child molesters.
“Marco!”
Marco blinked and glanced up at his brother.
“What are you thinking?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t want to scare his family, but he needed someone to run his theory past, someone who wouldn’t panic and demand he quit. If he was right, if the serial killer was doing this for Peyton, Peyton was in danger and here he was, suspended again.
He forced himself to calm down. She was working on the Meilin Fan case. She’d be occupied with that all day. And the Janitor hadn’t struck in a month, not since they almost caught him at Pier 39. Maybe he’d left, maybe he wasn’t even in San Francisco. Maybe he’d decided to find someone else more worthy of receiving his offerings. Maybe it was all over and they would never hear from him again.
“Sorry. I wasn’t listening.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“I was just wondering if I should have gotten Peyton something different for her birthday,” he said. “Like a soup kitchen…”
“Or a homeless shelter,” answered Vinnie with a laugh.
Marco forced a tense smile, but Vinnie’s comment struck a little too close for comfort.
CHAPTER 3
“All I’m saying is you look like a bag lady,” came Maria’s voice through the walls of the kitchen.
Pickles cocked his head and glanced toward the doorway. Jake settled his food dish in his spot and scratched his ear. “You know better than to listen,” he told the dog, then went to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.
“How the hell do you figure that?” shouted Peyton in return.
“No one wears a shirt tied around their waist unless they have to, so their clothes won’t be stolen from their shopping cart, Brooks.”
“Fine.” The bedroom door slammed, followed by the sound of a hair dryer.
Jake sipped his coffee and read his newspaper, leaning against the counter. Hm, the house across the street was up for rent. It had three bedrooms. Interesting.
Pickles crunched his kibble in the background. A moment later, the pounding bass of some rap artist vibrated through the walls. A door slammed open and Jake could hear banging on the bathroom door.
“Do you want to short out the electricity again?” came Peyton’s voice.
The hair dryer shut off and the bathroom door flew open, slamming into the wall. “I didn’t short it out the last time. It was Jake’s stupid Giants’ game.”
It wasn’t Jake’s stupid Giants’ game, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to defend himself.
“It wasn’t his stupid Giants’ game, it was your damn hair dryer. Why does it have to run five hours every day?”
“Because some people around here don’t go out in public looking like a bag lady! And it was Jake’s Giants’ game. Why does he have to listen to the radio when he’s watching it on the television?”
“I don’t know, but that doesn’t take up as much electricity as your straight iron, your curling iron, and your clothes iron all combined.”
“Well, sorry if I don’t want to come out of my bathroom looking all wrinkled from my head to my toes! And brown, Brooks, really, no straight woman wears brown!”
“Well, that’s good to know! At least lesbian women will know how to avoid you!”
More door slamming followed by the hair dryer kicking back on. Jake sipped coffee and turned the page. His phone began to vibrate on the counter, so he blindly reached for it and thumbed it on.
“Hello?”
“Ryder?”
“Adonis, how are you this lovely San Francisco morning?”
The hair dryer suddenly stopped, followed by banging in the hallway. “That did it. You blew the circuit again, Maria! My clock radio just went off!”
“I didn’t blow the damn circuit! Your wiring in this place is jack!”
“Yeah, well, why don’t you try plucking those eyebrows before you go! Pretty soon you won’t be able to see a damn thing!”
Peyton appeared, stomping across the living room toward the front door, muttering under her breath. A moment later Maria followed her and they both left the house, shouting at each other.
“Jake?”
“Yeah, still here.”
“Is everything all right?”
He gave a bark of laughter. “It’s a fool’s paradise I inhabit, Adonis, a freakin’ fool’s paradise.”
“Are they fighting?”
“Is it fighting if it happens every morning?”
“Are you drunk?”
“On life, my friend, I’m drunk on life. You have no idea what you’re missing out on over here.”
“I can guess.”
Peyton came back in. “How is it practical for me to wear pumps to work? I’m a cop. I have to chase down perps, Maria.”
“When was the last time you chased a perp? When was the last time you chased a man for that matter?”
Jake turned a page on his newspaper and sipped his coffee, not even looking up. The front door slammed shut and they stomped across the room, disappearing into the hallway.
Marco’s voice came across the line. “Look, Ryder, I need to talk to you about something.”
Jake held the phone away from his face, studying the number on the screen. Yep, Adonis. “You need to talk to me?”
“Yeah, do you have time today?”
“Okay.” He drew the word out. “Anything in particular you want to discuss?”
“I’ll tell you later. Look, don’t tell Peyton we’re meeting.”
“She’s gonna be pissed at me if she finds out.”
Marco sighed. “Don’t tell her right now, okay? It’s important.”
Jake straightened. “Okay. Let’s meet around noon for lunch.”
“Fine.”
“Where?”
“There’s a Mexican restaurant about a block from the precinct. I’ll meet you there.”
“Got it.”
The line went dead.
“Talk to you soon, buddy,” Jake said into the phone, then slipped it in his pocket.
Peyton appeared on the other side of the counter. “Are you ready?”
Murder in the Presidio (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 6) Page 3