Murder in the Presidio (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 6)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Ready?”

  “Abe wants you to take pictures of Junior Walker’s autopsy. He’s finishing it this morning and he wants us to come down.”

  “Sure.” Jake finished off his coffee and folded over the paper, dropping it into the basket by the trash can. He gave Peyton a critical assessment. “Your eyebrows look fine, but I agree with her about the brown. That is just so last season.”

  Peyton burst into laughter, slipping her arm through his.

  * * *

  “You need another car,” said Peyton, stepping out of her Corolla. “I’m embarrassed to be seen driving near you.”

  Jake rubbed his hand across the Daisy’s roof. “I like my car. It gets people’s attention.”

  “Of course it does. It’s purple with a daisy painted on the side of it.”

  “It’s very Haight Ashbury.” He reached inside and grabbed his camera case.

  Peyton wryly shook her head. “Nope, it’s all Castro and Polk. Abe’s right. It’s a gay pride float.”

  “It’s paid, is what it is?” he answered coming around the back of it and meeting her.

  “Point taken,” she said, pressing the button to lock her car.

  “Now you, you should take the Charger away from Adonis. Wasn’t it issued to both of you?”

  “I’d be prying the keys out of his cold, dead fingers. Do you know they wanted him to get a new car last year and he refused? The Charger’s eight years old, but he keeps her purring like a kitten.”

  “Yeah, he does.”

  They headed toward the back door of the M.E.’s office. Peyton was able to cross the parking lot now without feeling like she had to duck for cover, but she still scanned every car and every tree looking for a lunatic with a gun.

  “How much longer do you think you can live with Maria?”

  Peyton shrugged, pulling open the door and stepping inside. A guard met them at the podium and Peyton produced her badge. “Until she gets on her feet, saves enough for an apartment of her own, or until she moves in with Nate. That might be the sooner of the two.”

  The guard produced a clipboard and Peyton scrawled her name.

  “The fighting doesn’t get to you?”

  “What fighting?” She watched as Jake signed in below her.

  Jake paused and looked up. “Really? Were you not in the house this morning?”

  “That?” She waved him off. “That was just a friendly squabble.”

  Jake set the pen down and adjusted the camera case on his shoulder. “Friendly squabble? She told you to pluck your eyebrows.”

  Peyton glanced at the guard. He gave her a speculative look. Reaching up, she ran a finger across her brows. Jake had a point. Turning away from the podium, she headed down the hallway.

  “She doesn’t mean half of what she says.”

  Jake stopped her with a hand on her arm. “She means everything she says. She called you a bag lady.”

  Peyton shrugged. “Roommates fight.”

  “When have you and I ever fought?”

  “When you called my mother.”

  “That wasn’t a fight. You threatened to castrate me and I curled up in a ball like an armadillo.”

  Peyton laughed. “You do that a lot.”

  “I live with two women now, Peyton. It’s all I can do. Hey, did you know the house across the street is for rent?”

  “Okay?”

  “It has three bedrooms.”

  “It’s for rent. I own my house.”

  “No you don’t. The bank does.”

  “Forget it. I’m not moving.” She started walking again. “Why do you listen to the radio while you’re watching the game on the television?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Damn straight I am.”

  “Fine. I like the radio announcers better than the television ones, so I like to hear their version of the game, while I watch it on TV.”

  They paused in front of Abe’s lab. They could see him through the window, working over a body on the table, or what was left of a body. Various organs had been removed and placed in containers and the chest cavity was splayed open. Peyton grimaced and looked away, closing her eyes.

  “I’ll go in and tell him to cover everything. Wait here,” Jake said, touching her elbow.

  Peyton nodded, fighting the rise of bile in her throat, grateful that Jake knew her so well. She heard the door swish open and Abe’s voice filled the hallway.

  “Jake Ryder, have camera, will travel!”

  “You wanna throw a drape over him. I’ve got a homicide detective out in the hall, fighting to keep down her breakfast.”

  Abe chuckled. “Sorry, lil’ bits, gives us a minute, love.”

  She waved vaguely over her shoulder and stared at the sterile wall across from his lab. A moment later she heard the door swish open again.

  “All clear,” said Jake.

  She took a deep breath and turned, forcing herself to walk into the lab. It was nearly as bad, knowing what was under the drape, but if she just looked at Abe’s dreads she could get through this.

  “Poor baby,” said Abe with a wicked smile. For some reason, he took perverse pleasure in her weakness. He pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them in the trash, then came around the table and pulled her in against his side, kissing her temple. “Never gonna get over your squeamishness, are you, darling?”

  “Squeamishness? It’s a dead body that you cut open, Abe. You took out the poor fool’s heart.”

  “And lungs and stomach. I’m always curious about a person’s last meal.”

  Peyton closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

  Abe chuckled. “You wanna know what his was?”

  “No!”

  “I do,” said Jake, settling his camera case on the back counter.

  “Ninja boy here liked red meat and lots of it. Probably why he was such a colossal ass to women.”

  “Can we not talk about this?” begged Peyton.

  “Sure. Just thought you might be curious. Isn’t this the ass-wipe who attacked you, sweets?”

  “Doesn’t mean I want to know what his last meal was.”

  “Sorry.”

  Peyton could tell by the mischievous glint in his eye that he was anything but sorry. “I thought you were doing his autopsy yesterday.”

  “Well, your ex-boytoy called and wanted the autopsy reports on Hui Bai and Matthew Jensen, so I was a little busy with the last case you so effectively wrapped up. Still can’t believe that dish Meilin Fan is a murderess. Get it, dish…chef.” He gave a bark of silly laughter.

  Peyton couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, she didn’t exactly like to pull the trigger herself, but people seemed to drop dead around her like flies.” She couldn’t resist looking at the drape. “Can we get back to Junior Walker? I hate being in the same room with a dead guy.”

  Abe went around the table, motioning her to follow him. “Come back here and you won’t be able to see the body when I lift the drape for Jake.”

  She followed him and took a seat on the stool that he indicated. He pulled on a new pair of latex gloves and then picked up the sheet, holding it so she couldn’t see. She could hear the sound of Jake’s camera clicking.

  “Did you get the bullet out of his head?”

  Abe glanced over at her. “So how’s my Angel?”

  Peyton frowned. “What?”

  “What’s your gorgeous partner doing today?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him yet.”

  “Hm. I’ll bet he’s going stir crazy. He’s not one to stay idle for long.”

  Jake glanced up over the drape, making eye contact with Peyton, then he ducked back down and returned to snapping pictures.

  “Okay,” she said, then glanced over at the counter, but that wasn’t a good idea. Junior Walker’s heart sat in a container next to the sink. She quickly looked away. “Did you get the bullet, Abe?”

  “Yeah. Maybe you should give him a call and see how he is
.” He looked at her over his shoulder, his dreads sliding down his back. She marked that he’d tied the ends with gold beads this time.

  “Why do you keep changing the subject?”

  “Because the subject of D’licious is much more fun.”

  Peyton narrowed her eyes. Abe was the worst liar she’d ever seen. “What aren’t you telling me?” She stood up.

  Abe lowered the drape, placing it back over the body. He moved to the counter and picked up an evidence bag, holding it out to her. A bullet lay in the bottom.

  She took it and held it up to the light, shifting it so she could see it from both sides. Lowering it, she felt her heart catch. “You’re sure this came out of Walker’s head?”

  Abe’s expression grew serious. “Yes, Peyton.”

  “It’s a .40 caliber, Abe.”

  “I know what it is.”

  She swallowed hard. “That can’t be right.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything, sweetheart.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “What?” asked Jake. “What does it mean?”

  “You know he wouldn’t do something like this, Peyton,” said Abe, pointing to the body. “Not our Marco.”

  “It’s a .40 caliber, Abe, exactly what his Glock takes.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  She gripped the table, feeling dizzy.

  “Sit down, honey,” said Abe, taking her arm and leading her back to the stool.

  She sat and braced her forehead with her hand.

  “Peyton, you can’t believe he’d do this,” said Jake, coming around the table. “Not Marco.”

  Her fingers tightened on the bag. She didn’t know what to believe. Her mind wouldn’t process the significance of it.

  “Peyton?”

  Abe went to the sink and turned on the water. He came back and handed her a glass.

  She took it, staring at the inside. “Please tell me this didn’t hold somebody’s organs.”

  Abe laughed, but the laugh was strained. “No, no organs.”

  She lifted it to her lips. The coolness of the water chased some of the panic away. “What if this is enough to arrest him?”

  “A .40 caliber bullet? Ballistics has his gun, right?”

  She blinked up at Abe. “Yeah.”

  “Then they’ll clear him.”

  “What if they don’t?”

  “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Peyton, you can’t believe for a second that Marco would do this,” reasoned Jake.

  She braced her forehead with her hand again. Did she? Could she? How? Not Marco, not the man she’d trusted with her life for the last eight years, the man she considered her closest friend, her confidant, her protector. And there it was. Marco, her friend, would never do something like this, but Marco, her protector, had already killed once for her.

  “He told me not to trust anyone,” she whispered, and despite her attempt to fight it, the tears came once more.

  * * *

  Marco watched Jake enter the restaurant. He had the damn camera bag over his shoulder and he searched the restaurant, rising on his tiptoes to see into the back corner. Marco had deliberately chosen a booth in the back of the restaurant because a lot of the precinct ate here and he didn’t really want to be seen, but it was the easiest place to tell Jake where to meet him.

  Jake caught sight of him and wandered through the tables, sliding into the booth and placing the camera case between them. “Hey, Adonis, nice of you to wave me over.”

  “I figured you’d eventually locate me.”

  “Always so damn helpful and charming,” he grumbled, picking up the menu. “Did you order?”

  “No. Where’s Peyton?”

  Jake lowered the menu and gave him a searching look. “She’s at the precinct, finishing up a few corrections Devan wanted her to make on the Meilin Fan report.”

  “Did you tell her you were meeting me?”

  “Should I have?”

  “I asked you not to.”

  “I know.” He searched Marco’s face again. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  Marco frowned. “What?”

  A young man came over to the table with a green apron tied around his waist. “What can I get you?” he asked.

  Jake gave him a smile. “I’ll have the two taco plate.”

  “Beef or chicken?”

  Jake glanced at Marco. “Beef.”

  “And you?”

  Marco wasn’t really hungry, but it was probably bad form to sit in a restaurant and not order something. “I’ll have the taco salad, no meat.”

  “Do you want cheese?”

  Marco shook his head.

  “Anything to drink?”

  “Water’s good.”

  He turned to Jake.

  “I’ll have a root beer.”

  The waiter gathered the menus and left.

  Jake folded his hands on the table and sighed. “Look, I’m not good at the cloak and dagger shit, so I’m just gonna come out with it, okay?”

  “Okay?”

  “Peyton’s really upset. We went to Abe’s lab this morning and he finished the autopsy on Junior Walker.”

  “I asked him to call me when he was done.”

  “Yeah, well, he had a lot to deal with this morning and then Peyton asked him not to call you.”

  “Why?”

  Jake looked down at the table, fussing with his napkin.

  “Ryder, I swear to God…”

  Jake glanced up, catching his eye. “The bullet Abe pulled out of Walker’s head was a .40 caliber, Marco.”

  Marco went still.

  Jake shook his head. “Peyton lost it. She just came apart.”

  Marco blinked, unable to think straight. What the hell?

  “We both tried to talk to her, but she was a mess. I’ve seen her upset, but this was bad, Adonis, real bad.”

  “I told her not to trust anyone.”

  “Yeah, she said that. What the hell did that mean?”

  “That’s why I wanted you to meet me.”

  “If you’re gonna make some big confession, D’Angelo, I don’t think I’m the right person…”

  “Shut up, Ryder.” Marco exhaled in frustration. “I didn’t kill Junior Walker.”

  Jake’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I didn’t think you did, but…”

  “Does Peyton?”

  Jake bit his lower lip.

  Marco just couldn’t believe she’d think that. Not Peyton. “Ryder?”

  “She freaked out when Abe showed her the bullet, Adonis. What do you want me to say? It didn’t help that you told her not to trust anyone. The one person she trusts the most and…well, come on, what would you think?”

  “I wouldn’t. I would never question her on something like that.” The waiter returned with their food and settled it before them. Marco realized he couldn’t eat. Just the thought that Peyton was doubting him made him feel physically ill.

  Jake didn’t immediately reach for his tacos either. “Why did you want to see me?”

  Marco picked up his water and took a drink, clearing his throat. “Yesterday I had a thought. I started wondering if the serial killer is killing to impress Peyton.”

  “What?”

  Marco glanced around the restaurant, then leaned forward. “Peyton thinks that there’s a connection between Junior Walker’s death and Wayne Kimbro, the bum on BART.”

  “They were both shot in the back of the head.”

  “Right. That led us to wonder if the killer’s someone in the precinct.”

  Jake’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit.”

  “Twice now he’s used Peyton as a target.”

  “Wait.” Jake held up a hand. “Why does Peyton have to be the link between Kimbro and Walker?”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “Maria.”

  “The Janitor didn’t kill Walker until after Peyton was attacked by herself.”

  Jake consid
ered that. “But Peyton didn’t even get the case for Wayne Kimbro. Cho and Simons did.”

  “We would have had it if Teresa Ravensong hadn’t died. Don’t you remember? They happened at the same time and we got Ravensong by luck of the draw.”

  “You gambled for it.”

  “Whatever. We would have had it though.”

  “If he’s trying to impress her, why would he make her a target?”

  “Because she’s not impressed. She’s trying to catch him. He didn’t target her until she came on the case, but once she did, he used her twice to control the situation. Maybe he’s confused. He wants to please her, but when she doesn’t seem pleased, he wants to punish her.”

  “What size bullet was used to kill Wayne Kimbro?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Abe will know.” Jake fished his phone out of his pocket. He sent a quick text, then laid it on the table by his plate. “Adonis, if what you’re saying is true, it means Peyton could be in real danger.”

  “And I’m suspended.”

  “If Defino gets Abe’s autopsy report, you might be worse than suspended.”

  Marco closed his eyes briefly. Yep, he might be worse than suspended. He might be arrested. Well, shit.

  * * *

  Peyton glanced around the precinct, but almost everyone had left for the night. She picked up the phone and dialed Ballistics. They were probably closed for the night too, but she had to try. The phone rang a number of times, then transferred to their voice mail.

  She closed her hand into a fist, then hung up. She wasn’t authorized to get the results of Marco’s ballistics report, but she’d hoped to call in a favor from one of the officers on duty. She’d wanted to call all day, but honestly, she’d been afraid. Afraid she’d get in trouble with Defino and afraid to find out the results.

  Hours had passed since her crying spell in Abe’s lab, and she’d come to the conclusion that Marco just couldn’t be responsible for Junior Walker’s death, but still a part of her feared that she might be wrong.

  “Why are you still here, baby girl?” came Smith’s voice.

  She turned the chair and glanced up at him. “Just finishing up the changes to Meilin Fan’s report. Devan wants everything in his in-box tomorrow.”

  “You look tired.”

  She lifted a hand and tried to smooth down her wild ponytail. She wasn’t surprised she looked tired. She felt exhausted, mentally and physically both. “I’m so used to having a partner to carry half the load.”