“To see Chippendale dancers?” asked Marco.
Cho looked alarmed. “Wait. I thought we were going clubbing.”
“We are,” said Abe. “The Chippendales is for my date with Angel next week.”
Peyton laughed at the look on Marco’s face.
“I wanna see Chippendales,” complained Maria.
“Really?” asked Cho.
Peyton nudged her in the back and shook her head.
“No,” she answered quickly. “I thought he meant the cartoon.”
She looked at Peyton and Peyton nodded.
Jake returned with his tablet, handing it to Cho. As Cho worked to bring up the video feed, Abe continued pouring his drinks, topping each with a slice of orange.
“So I guess Stan isn’t a suspect anymore?” asked Peyton.
“That would be beyond strange. He helped us break into the computer that the Janitor used to send the letter, so he’d be trying to crack his own crime.”
“That’s happened before,” said Jake. “It’s a great way to throw off the fuzz.”
“The fuzz?” Cho gave Jake an annoyed look. “Anyway, the letter said he was big, played football and lifted weights. That’s not exactly Stan.”
“No, that’s Adonis here,” said Jake. “Didn’t you play football?”
“Yeah, you got me, Ryder. I’m the serial killer.”
Abe made a scoffing sound. “You’re too handsome to be a serial killer, Angel’D, unless it’s a slayer of hearts.” He beamed a pleased smile at Peyton, but she grimaced and shook her head. He gave her a frown and went back to messing with his drinks.
The doorbell rang, sending Pickles into a fit of barking. Marco climbed off the barstool and scooped him up, going to answer it. Peyton leaned on the counter, so she could see who it was. She was more than a little surprised when Devan stepped across the threshold.
He had undone his tie and it hung loose about his neck, his suit jacket tucked over an arm and the tails of his white shirt hanging around his thighs. As he wandered toward the counter, Marco gave Peyton a questioning look. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and shrugged. She had no idea why he was there.
“Hey, everyone.”
“D.A. Delicious,” said Abe, patting the counter. “Come take a seat. You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” Devan slung his jacket over the back of the barstool and sat down.
“What’s going on?” asked Peyton bewildered.
“I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t feel like going home.”
“What about your fiancée?”
“I told her I was working late.”
Peyton and Marco exchanged a look. “Are you hungry? Do you want to have dinner with us?” she asked.
“Yeah, do you mind?”
“No. I’m just a little confused.”
“The rest of the trial went really badly. Elizabeth Brown turned all of my witnesses back on themselves.”
Peyton couldn’t deny she was relieved to hear that. She hated to be the only one to screw up the case.
“She told the judge she’s going to file a request for a dismissal.”
“Can she do that?”
“She can try. I don’t think Judge Tate’s going to allow it, but the jury sure isn’t on my side. I get a feeling for these things.”
Marco was watching the video over Cho and Jake’s shoulders, but he glanced at Peyton again.
Peyton turned away and went back to her stove. Just hearing that made her stomach knot. The idea that Jedediah O’Shannahan was going to get away with this rankled. She hated to lose cases, but this one was personal.
“Do you recognize anyone in the video?” asked Cho.
“No,” said Jake with a heavy sigh. “What’s the point of having a surveillance camera if it isn’t of high enough quality to capture anything?”
“I can’t believe how many men walk around this City with hats on their heads,” said Marco.
“Tell me about it,” said Cho.
“They’re trying to cover their bald spots,” said Maria.
“Sad really. Nothing like a full head of glorious hair on a man,” said Abe. “You’ll never have to worry about being bald, will you, Angel?”
Marco didn’t answer.
“How the hell are we going to catch this guy? He’s wily as all hell,” said Jake.
“Wily?” said Cho.
“Sneaky, cunning.”
“I know what it means, I just have never heard anyone but Elmer Fudd say it.”
“I don’t think Elmer Fudd said wily. That was the coyote,” remarked Devan.
“The coyote didn’t say he was wily. His name was Wily,” answered Jake.
“Besides that, Elmer Fudd didn’t go after the coyote. He went after Bugs Bunny,” said Devan.
“That’s right. The coyote chased the road runner,” said Cho.
Peyton frowned, listening to their ridiculous conversation. A serial killer was loose in the City and Jedediah O’Shannahan was probably going to get away with covering up a murder, but here they were discussing Looney Toons.
Abe brought her a drink and settled it on the counter by her left hand. Peyton looked at it, noting the way it fizzled and sparkled in the glass. “We’re gonna need alcohol,” she said.
Abe clapped his hands with excitement and hurried to the opposite counter where she kept her booze.
CHAPTER 11
Jake took a sip of his coffee and flipped a page on the newspaper. Cho wandered into the kitchen, going straight for the coffee pot. Since he and Marco had been staying here, Jake’s coffee expense had doubled. He was going to have to take a collection or else go back to whatever he could find in the discount grocery store.
“Who’s in the bathroom?” Cho grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Adonis. You better be on your toes though. He doesn’t take long, but once Maria gets in there…”
“Don’t I know it.” He leaned on the counter next to Jake. “But I like the results.”
Jake took another sip of coffee. He wasn’t touching that.
“I actually thought we’d spend more time at my house than here. She always acted like she hated Brooks.”
“Acted is the operative word there.”
“Yeah, but it’s less crowded at my place.”
Jake glanced up at him. “I’ll stay there with you. I like less crowded.”
Cho laughed and pushed away from the counter. “Now that’s definitely not happening, Preacher.” He looked down the hall, then took a seat at the counter. “Still, whenever I tell her let’s stay at my place, she wants to come here.”
“You got dirty socks all over?”
“No.”
“Porn in the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Cockroaches?”
Cho gave him an arch look.
“I’m just trying to help out here. As a general rule those are the things that drive women away.”
“It’s nothing like that. Actually…” He leaned on the counter, lowering his voice. “I think she likes it here.”
Jake wasn’t sure why Cho was treating this as clandestine information. “I see.”
“This house is a wormhole.”
“A wormhole?”
“You get in and you can’t get out again.”
“That’s a black hole, but…” He held up a hand.
“Whatever, but ask yourself, why are you still here?”
“It’s better than living in the Tenderloin.”
“Bull shit.”
Jake narrowed his eyes.
“Why’s D’Angelo still here? When I stay over, he doesn’t have to and I’m here most nights now.”
Another topic Jake was so not touching. He flipped a page on his newspaper.
“It’s like a party all the time.”
“Well…”
“No, it is. Every time the freakin’ bell rings, I have no idea who’s gonna be coming through that door and…” He lowered his voice even more
. “I’m starting to hope it’s that flaming, crazy-ass Medical Examiner.”
Jake laughed. “That’s not a good sign at all.”
“Tell me about it.” Cho leaned back. “How do you get out of a black hole?”
“First of all, I guess you have to decide if you want out.”
Cho chewed on his lower lip. “I’m even starting to think about getting a dog and naming it Relish.”
Jake laughed again. Nate Cho still scared the snot out of him, but he wasn’t half bad after all. He lifted his coffee mug and took another sip, staring down at the newspaper. A familiar name caught his eye and he set the coffee aside, picking up the page.
“Oh shit,” he whispered.
“What?”
Jake hurried around the counter and banged on Peyton’s bedroom door. “Peyton?”
She pulled it open at the same time Marco opened the bathroom door. “What’s wrong?”
“Look at this.” Jake moved past her and placed the paper on the bed. Her open windows allowed enough light into the room for them to see.
Jake pointed at the article.
Peyton leaned over, scanning it as Marco came to the doorway.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Peyton didn’t answer, she was too busy reading. Jake straightened and turned to face him. “Genevieve Lake’s got a new by-line.”
Marco’s face grew deadly. “Another article about Brooks?”
Jake shook his head.
Peyton turned to face him. “She printed part of the Janitor’s first letter to Jake.”
“She what?”
Cho appeared in the doorway beside him. “What did she do?”
“Somehow she got part of the first letter and she printed it. She’s calling it From the Mind of a Serial Killer.”
No one said anything, but Jake felt the tension in the room rise exponentially. When Peyton’s phone suddenly buzzed on her dresser, they all jumped. Peyton scrambled to pick it up, staring at the display.
“It’s Defino,” she said, glancing up at Marco, then she turned the phone so the display was visible to all of them.
Jake could easily read the message.
BROOKS, IN HERE NOW!
* * *
Peyton entered the interrogation room, followed by Devan and Marco. Genevieve looked up, surveying the scene. She was clothed in a stylish blue dress with black pumps, her dark hair in loose curls around her shoulders. Her hands were folded in her lap and her legs were crossed one over the other. She kicked her foot up and down, clearly unconcerned by the entire situation.
“I’m Peyton Brooks.” Peyton took a seat diagonal to her and Devan sat down on her left. Marco leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his chest.
“I know who you are.”
“I thought I’d formally introduce myself, since we’ve never actually met.”
Genevieve didn’t answer, but her eyes lifted to Marco and she gave him a sultry smile. “Hello, Inspector D’Angelo.”
“Hello, Freelance.”
“You’ve cause quite a bit of trouble, Genevieve. Can I call you Genevieve?” asked Peyton.
“Whatever.”
Peyton tilted her head. “Is the whatever for the trouble you’ve caused or for your name?”
“Both.”
“I see.”
Genevieve continued to kick her foot.
“How did you get the Janitor’s letter?”
“He sent it to me.”
“To you specifically?”
“Yes.”
“At your house?”
“No, at the newspaper. You do realize I’m not freelance anymore. They offered me a full position as a reporter because of that article.”
“A few weeks ago the Janitor threatened you and it scared you. Now, you’re okay with this?”
She spoke to Peyton slowly as if she were dense. “He got me a job at the newspaper.”
“So it doesn’t matter to you that the entire City’s in a panic and calling every precinct for information?”
“I have First Amendment Rights, Inspector Brooks, Freedom of Press and all that. Your precinct should’ve been informing the public long before this.” She gave Devan a glance. “Who’s the suit?”
“The District Attorney who’s here to protect your First Amendment Rights.”
“Attorneys make me uncomfortable.”
“Well, as I see it, you’ve got two choices. He can stay in the room with us, or he can go behind our two way mirror – either way he’s going to oversee our conversation. You decide where he does that.”
“I don’t need him here. I know my rights.”
Peyton glanced over at Devan. He shrugged and rose to his feet, turning toward the door. When he was gone, Genevieve nodded at the two-way mirror. “He’s handsome.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Just not my type.” She leaned forward, glancing up at Marco as she spoke. “I like them dangerous, like your partner there.” She braced her chin on her hand. “You ever wonder?”
“Wonder?”
“What it would be like?”
Peyton figured she could probably guess what she meant, but she wasn’t about to entertain her and give her an advantage. “I think we should stick to the topic.”
Genevieve smiled. “Come on. You must have thought about it. Fantasized about it. Every women wants to take a dangerous man to her bed. Be honest, Inspector Brooks, you must have fantasied about a man like him a million times.”
Marco shifted uncomfortably, but Peyton gave Genevieve a slow smile. “Is that what this is about?”
“What?”
“This reckless pursuit of a cold blooded murderer. Do you have fantasies about what it would be like to be with the Janitor?”
Genevieve sat back, licking her lower lip. “Of course not.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She crossed her leg again. “Anyway, calling him a cold blooded murderer is a bit much, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me.”
“Are you going to sit here and tell me you really think he’s doing something wrong?”
“I think he’s a murderer.”
“Who disposes of the worst in our society. Honestly, he’s performing a civic duty.” She narrowed her eyes on Peyton. “Be honest, Inspector. You’re not sad Junior Walker’s dead.”
Peyton drew a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Here’s where you and I differ, Genevieve. You’re still young enough to believe in superheroes. You think he’s Batman, protecting Gotham City, but he’s really just a vigilante, a dangerous, dangerous man.”
“You can try to diminish me by mocking me, but you’re lying to both of us, Inspector Brooks. You’re glad Junior Walker’s dead. You’re glad you don’t have to look over your shoulder for him. Admit it.”
“Emotionally, yes, Genevieve, I’m not sorry he’s dead, but intellectually, I realize how dangerous that is. Vigilante justice has an inherent problem.”
“What problem? Since the cops can’t do their job, he does.”
“And where does it end?”
“What?’
“Where does it end? His brand of justice? He might think he has a line he won’t cross, but maybe that line isn’t the same line as yours or mine.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“Really? Think about it. First it was child molesters. Everyone said the same thing you did. Who cares? He’s doing a social service. Then it was wife beaters. Once again, no great loss, right? I’m not lying. Emotionally, I feel better knowing Junior Walker’s dead, knowing he can’t touch me again, but intellectually…” She tapped a finger against her temple. “I’ve gotta wonder, what’s next? Who’s the next group worthy of his attention?”
“No one misses child molesters and wife beaters, Inspector Brooks.”
Peyton held out a hand in acquiescence. “Granted, but what if the next time, it’s the physically disabled?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
> “Or the mentally challenged?”
She made a scoffing noise.
“Or what about the gays?”
Genevieve looked away and didn’t answer.
“Or,” said Peyton, shifting into her line of sight. “Why not the Jews?”
Genevieve’s mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything.
“It’s a slippery slope and any way I look at this, I don’t see a good outcome. I have eight bodies, eight dead men, in the morgue and God knows how many more in the next few days, and you’re publishing his freakin’ letter in the paper as if it was a Sunday comic!” She slammed her hand down on the table.
Genevieve jumped. “I’m not doing anything wrong. Publishing his letter is not going to make him kill again. He sent it to me, so I could publish it.”
“He’s trying to justify his actions, and you’re helping him. This serial killer possesses a sick and agile mind. Even if you believe you’re in step with him, I can promise you you’re not. He will manipulate you and control you just like he’s doing now. And if he kills another person, that’s on you.”
“How? I’m simply publishing his manifesto. Other journalists have done the same thing – think of Ted Bundy or John Wayne Gacy.”
“Those books were done after a trial, after a conviction, not when the case was still under investigation.”
“Semantics, Inspector Brooks.”
“It’s not semantics, Genevieve. It’s the law and if you continue, I’ll have no choice but to bring you up on charges of obstructing justice.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Why do you think the District Attorney’s here?”
Genevieve stared at Peyton, but Peyton didn’t look away. Finally, her shoulders slumped. “You’re destroying my career.”
“Not at all.”
“Publishing his letters could earn me the Pulitzer.”
“Publishing his letters before he’s caught could cost me my conviction. I’m not playing here. Your career is not worth another life and I won’t sit by and let you jeopardize my case.”
Genevieve hesitated, then narrowed her eyes on Peyton. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“Wow, that’s cliché.”
“I don’t care. You get in my way again and I’ll take you down.”
Genevieve looked up at Marco. “Make me a deal.”
Murder in the Presidio (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 6) Page 15