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

by M. L. Hamilton

  He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Go home and get some rest. This desk will be here tomorrow.”

  She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair, sliding it on. “See you tomorrow, Frank.”

  “See you tomorrow, baby girl.”

  She gave him a brief hug, then walked toward the front of the precinct. Maria’s desk was empty and Defino’s office door was open. All day Peyton had dreaded the captain’s reaction when she saw Abe’s autopsy report, but he’d agreed to hold it for a day or so, hoping Ballistics would come back with their report first.

  She walked to the opening and peeked inside. Relief flooded her when she saw Defino’s office was empty. That gave her time to get a hold of someone in Ballistics tomorrow. She hurried to the door and pushed it open, crossing the parking lot to the Corolla.

  Usually she didn’t mind the drive home. She liked the City at dusk as the lights came up on the busy streets, people bustling by on their way to dinner or a show, but tonight she was filled with nervous energy. She wished she’d gotten home in time for a run, but it would be too close to dark by the time she changed and went back out again.

  And for the first time, she wished her house was empty. She didn’t want to go around and around with Maria, and even if Jake tried to give her space, after her crying fit today, he’d be watching her like a worried dog.

  She spotted the Charger a block away from the house. Relief rushed through her and she pulled into the driveway, reaching for the door handle before she’d even put the car in park. Marco was leaning against the passenger door, but he rose to his full height as she climbed from the car.

  She didn’t give him any warning, just launched herself into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. She could smell the faint sandalwood scent of his aftershave and feel the rough texture of the sweater he wore. Slowly his arms encircled her and she felt his hand in her hair, smoothing it down. Fighting the latest onslaught of tears, she clung to him, not wanting to speak and spoil the moment.

  “Peyton, you know I didn’t kill Junior Walker, don’t you?”

  She gritted her teeth, willing herself not to give in to her erratic moods, but whenever he called her by her first name, it always produced an emotional response in her.

  “Peyton?” The plaintive quality of his voice rumbling beneath her ear forced her to ease back in his arms.

  “I know.” And she did. He could never kill anyone in cold blood, not Marco. Not ever.

  “Jake said you broke down at Abe’s lab.”

  “I know.” She drew a deep breath, feeling the tightness in her chest ease. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, Marco. I’m an emotional mess right now.”

  He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Maybe it’s because your partner’s about to be arrested for murder, or the fact that you have an abusive receptionist living on your couch who thinks you need to pluck your eyebrows…”

  She laughed and took his hand. “Or an ex-murder suspect living in my spare room, sharing my private hell with the world.”

  “When I told you not to trust anyone, you know I didn’t mean me, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Peyton, I’m getting really worried about this Janitor case.”

  “So am I.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I think he might be targeting you in particular.”

  “Me?” She gave him a bewildered look. “Why would he be targeting me?”

  “I think he might have been doing the killings to impress you, but when you entered the case as an investigator, it infuriated him.”

  Peyton caught her breath. “What?”

  “He made you a target on Alcatraz, then he used you to control the situation at Pier 39, threatening Jake that he’d shoot you if Jake didn’t back me off. And now, I’m afraid he’s eliminated me by getting me suspended.”

  Peyton realized she was breathing rapidly. She glanced around the street. “You know that sounds paranoid, right?”

  “Does it?”

  Her eyes snapped to his face. “We don’t know that he’s connected to Junior Walker’s death.”

  Marco’s look was unwavering. “Either I killed him or the Janitor did, and we both know I didn’t do it.”

  Peyton shook her head vehemently. “You can’t know that. A man like Junior Walker is bound to have pissed off a lot of people.”

  “He was shot the exact way Wayne Kimbro was.”

  “Execution style? A lot of people get shot that way or it wouldn’t be a style, now would it?”

  “With a .40 caliber bullet, Brooks?”

  Peyton swallowed hard. “Very common bullet, Marco. Most law enforcement uses it.”

  Marco reached out and curled his fingers around her upper arms, pulling her close to him. “Junior Walker was murdered after he accosted you on this very street.”

  Peyton realized she was trembling.

  “I’m not trying to scare you, but you’ve got to watch everything you do, everywhere you go. He’s sidelined me, Peyton. He’s knocked me out of the game. I can’t be there every minute, every second, like I was before.”

  She placed her hands on his chest. “And I can’t live in fear, Marco. I have to do my job. I have to catch this sonuvabitch.”

  “I know. I know,” he repeated. “Just…” He sighed. “Just don’t trust anyone, okay?”

  CHAPTER 4

  Peyton glanced around the precinct, marking where everyone was, then she hurried down the hall to the closet Stan Neumann, the tech guru, had made into his office. He had the desk turned so it blocked most of the door, but the whirl of fans always announced his presence in this inner sanctum.

  Peyton leaned on the desk, peering around the corner. She could see the shelf that ran along the back wall, housing his collectibles in pristine boxes that had never been opened. He had a magazine crate filled with comic books, and a row of loose toys sitting on every surface. Two desktop computers were arranged on the front desk, and a laptop hummed next to a large laser printer on a table beneath the shelf on the back wall. Everything was where it always was, except Stan.

  “Hey, Peyton.”

  She jumped and whirled around, placing her hand over her heart. Marco’s warning the previous night hadn’t left her mind for a moment.

  Stan stopped walking. “Did I scare you?” He held a cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of cake in the other.

  She pasted a smile on her face. “A little.”

  He held up the cake. “Maria brought in coffee cake. Do you want some? I could go get another piece.”

  She’d already had two pieces at home before she left, which earned her a comment that she was going to have an ass like a blue whale, which, when she thought of it, didn’t make much sense because she wasn’t sure blue whales had asses, but…she was getting distracted.

  “No, I’m good.”

  “How about coffee?”

  Jake had ruined her for precinct tar. “I’m good there too.”

  She watched him squeeze past his desk into his office, balancing his breakfast in his hands. “Come in.”

  She hesitated. She hated going into Stan’s tight little hole filled with toys and paraphernalia she didn’t understand, but she was about to ask him for a huge favor. She pushed past the end of his desk and waited while he pulled up a stool for her to sit on. It placed her about a head shorter than him, but she ignored it, perching on the rotating thing and clasping her hands in her lap.

  He settled his coffee and cake on his desk, then sat down, swiveling to face her. Their knees almost touched. “It’s always good to see you in my cave.” He gave the room a fond look behind his thick glasses.

  She nodded, forcing another awkward smile. “Stan, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Ask me anything.”

  She took a deep breath, preparing herself, but he leaned forward suddenly, forcing her to back up.

  “It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

&
nbsp; “What?”

  “Your birthday. I saw it on the birthday calendar Maria keeps in the break-room.”

  She deliberately relaxed. “Yeah. I’m turning thirty, but don’t you dare tell Holmes.”

  He laughed. “Do you have big plans?”

  Did she have big plans? She hadn’t even remembered her birthday was coming up. Abe would likely plan something, but she hadn’t talked to him about it. “Uh, no. It’s been so busy lately here at work.”

  “You should plan something. You only turn thirty once. I turned thirty-four last April.”

  “I remember.” They’d had a cake in the break-room. White cake with a raspberry filling. Sad that she could remember events by what sort of cake they had. Maybe she would have a blue whale’s ass after all if she didn’t start watching what she ate. “Look, Stan. Can you pull up a Ballistics report?”

  He appeared crestfallen. She realized she should have phrased it a little differently. Stan always seemed disappointed when she questioned his ability with the computer. “I can, but I’m not really supposed to do that. Is this about Marco?”

  She gave him a tense smile. She could usually get Stan to do anything for her, but she didn’t feel like flirting today. “Yes. They haven’t reported back and I just wanted to see if we could speed things along.”

  “Did you call over there?”

  “I’m not really supposed to do that either. That’s Defino’s area, but…”

  He considered her a moment behind his bottle-glass spectacles. Leaning close again, he dropped his voice like a conspirator. “They probably won’t even know I took a look.”

  She let out her breath in relief as he swiveled back toward his computer. Then his fingers began flying over the keyboard and swirling the mouse around on its pad. She took the moment to view things from his angle. It was actually pretty ingenious the way he positioned his desk across the opening. It gave him a clear view into the precinct and also kept him hidden from anyone casually passing by. Even though the office was small, he could slide his desk chair to every part of it, accessing everything without having to leave his seat.

  He paused and braced his chin with his hand. “Hm,” he said.

  Peyton held her breath, her heart pounding in her temples. She couldn’t believe Marco capable of murder, but she also couldn’t stand the waiting, the worry, the anxiety of not knowing. “Stan…” Her voice came out more pleading than she intended.

  He shifted and blinked at her owlishly for a moment. “They haven’t tested his gun yet. It looks like they’re backed up right now.”

  Peyton let out her breath, slumping on the stool. “Thank you.”

  “You okay?”

  She panted out a laugh. Was she okay? What a loaded question, that. “Yeah, I’m just wound up over all this stuff with Marco and I need him to get back to work.”

  Stan gave her a sympathetic nod. “I get that. He’s been suspended a lot lately.”

  “Yeah.” She wasn’t going to discuss Marco with him. “Thank you for looking it up for me.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help.”

  She rose to her feet and placed her hand on his shoulder. He glanced at it, then beamed at her. “It means a lot to me that you tried to find out.” She patted him, then moved to the tight opening.

  “Peyton?” he said, jumping to his feet.

  She paused halfway in and halfway out. “Yeah?”

  “If you don’t do anything for your birthday, maybe we could go to dinner. Like the Friday night before?”

  Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Go to dinner with Stan? Why not? Her actual birthday came on a Saturday this year. She could leave that night for whatever Abe would be planning.

  “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

  His smile grew wider. “It’s a date then.”

  Date? Well, shit. “It’s a date,” she repeated, then hurried to slide out past his door.

  * * *

  Abe’s ridiculous Mini Cooper pulled into the parking lot of the M.E.’s office. Marco climbed out of the Charger and waited while he unwound his long legs and rose to his full height. He was only an inch or so shorter than Marco himself, and Marco could never understand why the hell he’d picked a clown car to call his own.

  He paused when he saw Marco waiting for him, then his face burst into a broad smile. Marco envied Abe’s easy-going personality. No matter what was happening, Abe found some way to turn it into something positive.

  “You told me you’d call me as soon as you finished Junior Walker’s autopsy.”

  “And I was going to call you this beautiful August morning. Don’t you love late summer in the City?”

  Marco hadn’t really noticed the weather or much of anything today. “You finished Junior Walker’s autopsy yesterday, but somehow you managed to call Peyton instead of me.”

  Abe came to a halt in front of him. He wore a pale blue silk shirt that would have been stylish if it didn’t have some crazy geometric pattern all over it in hot pink. He actually wore a pair of jeans, but the pale blue dress shoes peeking out of the bottom threw the whole thing over the top.

  And of course, the ends of his dreads were fastened with pale blue and hot pink beads.

  He settled a long fingered hand on Marco’s shoulder. “I figured you probably didn’t want Peyton finding out the results as they hauled you into the precinct in handcuffs. Besides, she’s the on-duty detective right now.”

  “Does Defino have your report?”

  “Not yet, but I can’t hold it much longer. I’ll have to send it today.”

  “You could have called me before Peyton. Jake said she freaked out when you told her.”

  “Yeah, but it gave us time to calm her down.”

  Marco looked out over the parking lot. “She doubts me.”

  Abe dropped his hand. “She’s never doubted you for a moment, but she’s scared for you. We all are.”

  Marco’s eyes snapped back to his face. “What does that mean? Why does everyone keep saying things like that?”

  Abe gave him an easy smile. “I think you’re about perfect in every way, Angel. You’re the total package, but lately, you’ve been like a bear with a burr.” He paused and considered his words a moment. “Bear with a burr. Lord, I am so clever sometimes. You gotta love alliteration, especially when it happens by accident.”

  “Abe!”

  He blinked, then lifted a hand and placed it against Marco’s cheek. “It’s okay, Angel. You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. Probably because you haven’t been getting enough sex.”

  Marco took a step back, letting Abe’s hand fall.

  Abe laughed wickedly.

  “What do you mean I’ve been a…” He drew a deep breath, then released it. “…a bear with a burr.”

  “You’re wound tight as a coil, you snap at people, and you and Peyton have been fighting…a lot. Now I don’t usually get involved in your lover’s quarrels…”

  “Lover’s quarrels!”

  Abe held out his hands. “Easy, tiger. It’s just an expression.” He gave Marco a searching look. “Anyway, you’ve been a bit hard on her lately.”

  Marco looked down. “I think she’s in danger.”

  “What? What do you mean danger?”

  He told Abe what he’d told Jake yesterday. For once, Abe listened without comment, without silliness, without affect.

  “You don’t know that Wayne Kimbro’s death and Junior Walker’s are connected. Kimbro was shot with a 9 mm, not a .40 caliber.”

  “The method of execution was the same. Besides, you made the connection yourself, Abe.”

  Abe nodded. “And I’m rarely wrong.”

  Marco didn’t know about that, but he had to admit Abe was right more times than not.

  “If you really think their deaths are connected, you’ve got to tell Defino what you just told me.”

  “If I go to her now, especially after she gets your autopsy report, she’ll split Peyton and me up.”

 
Abe gave him a frank look. “Better that than she be in danger, Angel.”

  Marco nodded, swallowing hard. “Send Defino the autopsy report. I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

  Abe caught him behind the neck and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. “That’s my Angel,” he said, releasing him, then he spun him around to face the M.E. office. Sliding his arm through Marco’s, he started moving toward the back door. “Come on, I’ll buy you a soda.”

  “I need to get to the precinct.”

  “You’ve got a few minutes. We need to talk about Peyton’s birthday party.”

  “Peyton’s birthday party?”

  “Yep, I was thinking we should get a limo…”

  “A limo?” Marco slipped out of his hold.

  “That’s right. And the Chippendale dancers are in town that weekend.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Abe pouted. “She’d love it.”

  “You’d love it and I’m not going to a male strip-show with either of you.”

  Abe giggled. “You can be so uptight, Angel, you know that?” He reached for the door and pulled it open. “So, give me some other ideas.”

  “How about a nice dinner somewhere?”

  “Lord, she’s going to be thirty, not eighty. Thirty’s big. You gotta do something more than dinner.” He signed in on the clipboard the guard provided. “I remember thirty. It can be a tough one. Not as hard as forty, and lord, I don’t even want to think of fifty.” He glanced at the guard.

  This new guard hardly ever spoke to Marco or Peyton when they signed in.

  “Hey, Brian, wouldn’t you like to take a limo to a Chippendales show for your thirtieth?”

  The guy seemed speechless, giving Marco a surprised look.

  Marco shrugged.

  “Come on, help me out, man,” said Abe.

  “Limo yes, Chippendales no.”

  Marco held out a hand.

  “Fine, no Chippendales. She and I can do that together, but limo, yes.”

  Marco sighed. “Whatever. How about a limo to dinner at Fisherman’s Wharf?”