Once James was inside, Phil closed the door and moved to the control panel, staring out at the band. They had returned to packing up the equipment. Pointing at Joshua, Phil looked over his shoulder at James.
“Who’s that?”
“My brother, Josh.”
Phil gave him a puzzled look. “Brother?”
“Step-brother.”
“How old is he?”
“Sixteen.”
“He ever play with you?”
James shrugged. “One time. He was thirteen and Evan talked me into letting him sing a song for us. We were just playing a girl’s birthday party.”
“How’d it go?”
“Okay, I guess, but he’s just a kid.”
Phil studied Joshua for a moment. “He’s gorgeous.”
James frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “What?”
“Look at him. He’s absolutely gorgeous. I’ll bet girls piss their pants when he’s around.”
“He’s sixteen.”
“He’s your ticket.”
“What?”
“Can he sing? He’s got a great talking voice.”
“You only heard him say a few words.”
“I know a voice when I hear one. Can he sing?”
“I guess.”
“Doesn’t matter. Look at him. He could shriek like a banshee and girls would piss themselves.”
James shifted weight again. “Look, Phil, this is making me uncomfortable. He’s my kid brother.”
“He’s also exactly what you need, James. Trust me. He is your ticket to stardom.” Phil turned around and placed a hand on James’ shoulder. “Let’s try something, okay? Tonight, you bring him out. Let him sing a few songs. Does he know your music?”
He wrote most of it, thought James, but he didn’t say that. “Yeah.”
“Okay, let him sing a few songs with you and let’s see how the crowd reacts. Don’t bring him out until the middle of the show, so we can get a good gauge of the audience’s reaction, but I’m pretty sure I know what they’re going to do.”
“I don’t know. Our mother isn’t going to like it.”
“Is she here?”
“No, she’s home, but the only way she would let him come with me is I promised to look after him.”
“I’m not seeing the problem. He’ll be where you can keep an eye on him and he’ll be occupied. Better him singing on stage, than picking up some chick backstage, right?” He looked out at Joshua again. “I’m telling you that kid is your answer. He’s the thing that will make you big.”
James looked closely at Joshua for the first time. All he saw was a timid, scrawny sixteen year old who would be eaten alive in the music business. He knew Mary would have a fit if she found out. She wanted Joshua to pursue classical piano, not rock-n-roll. Still, if Phil was right and this was their only chance, James had to take it.
“Okay, we’ll do it your way,” he said reluctantly.
Phil smiled. If James had been more experienced, he would have recognized the smile for what it was.
* * *
Marco parked the Charger in front of a massive white house, whose front porch was supported by Greek columns. Ivy climbed up the front of the house and spread across the façade, softening the lines. A black, wrought iron fence separated it from its neighbors. This was not the house Peyton expected from a rock star.
“This is so…so normal.”
Marco laughed. “What did you expect? Neon lights and a shag rug leading to the entrance.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
Marco opened his door. “Come on. I’ll bet you find your shag on the inside.”
Peyton climbed out after him and they made their way to the gate. Marco unhooked it and they went up the walk. The front yard was covered in juniper with a large redwood dominating the center of it. Cedar tanbark spread beneath the plants, giving of a rich, earthy scent, but even here they could smell the salt from the ocean.
Ringing the doorbell, Peyton glanced around the porch. A pink bike with streamers on the handlebars lay propped against the house. A bistro set was arranged next to it, a potted lily resting in the center of the table. Definitely not a bachelor’s pad.
The door opened and a huge black dog barreled out. He careened into Peyton first, knocking her back into Marco, but the moment he saw the man, he launched himself at him and rose up on his hind legs, putting his paws on Marco’s shoulders and kissing him smack on the lips.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. Wolf, no!” came Elena’s voice and she scrambled out onto the porch, grabbing the dog’s collar and trying to pull him off.
Peyton laughed and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Good lord, what is he?”
“Part Mastiff, part Lab, or so I’m told. A regular beast, but he’s just a big lover.” She tugged ineffectively.
Marco eased him down, but continued stroking his wiggling body.
“I’m so sorry, Inspector D’Angelo.”
“No problem. I love dogs.”
Once she realized Marco had the animal under control, she straightened. “Thank you for coming out.” She motioned inside the house.
Peyton led the way, but the dog brushed past her, zipping around the entrance hall, his tail whipping back and forth excitedly. A little girl stood in the arched opening.
Peyton hesitated, watching as the dog pressed tight against her side. The girl was about ten with dark hair and the largest, most stunning eyes Peyton had ever seen. Tiffany Ravensong had taken the best of both her parents and already showed signs that she would be a heart-breaker someday.
Elena went to her and placed her arm across the girl’s shoulders. “Inspector Brooks, D’Angelo, I’d like you to meet Tiffany, Joshua’s daughter.”
Peyton held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Peyton and this is my partner, Marco.”
Marco held up a hand in greeting.
The girl shook Peyton’s fingers, then released her, wrapping her arms around Elena’s waist. Elena hugged her briefly, then motioned into the other room.
“Please come in.”
They followed her into a huge great room. The entire back wall was comprised of windows, which offered a panoramic view of the ocean. A fireplace occupied the left wall and centered on the windows was a large red leather couch. An armchair sat to the right of the couch, and Joshua’s sister Jennifer was occupying it. She rose at their entrance, but she didn’t come toward them.
“Hello, Inspector Brooks, D’Angelo.”
“Hello, Jennifer,” said Peyton, then she took in the view. “My God, that’s impressive.”
“Yes,” said Elena. “Please take a seat.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” asked Jennifer as they made their way to the couch.
“Nothing for me.”
“Or me,” echoed Marco.
“Elena?”
“I’d love a cup of tea.”
Jennifer nodded and moved toward a door behind them. Tiffany took a seat on the end of the couch and Elena sank into the chair beside her. Peyton sat in the middle of the couch closest to Tiffany with Marco beside her. The moment Marco sat down, the dog came over and climbed into his lap.
Elena started to go after him, but Marco waved her off. “I really don’t mind,” he said, trying to balance the huge animal.
“He’s Joshua’s baby. I think that’s why he’s behaving so badly.” Elena shot a glance at Tiffany.
Peyton did as well. The little girl was staring at her clasped hands. Scratching the dog’s ears, Peyton smiled at Tiffany. “I have a dog.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, thumbing it on. “Do you want to see a picture of him?” She tilted the phone, so Tiffany could see her wallpaper. Pickles stared back at her with his ears pricked and his head tilted.
A faint smile touched the girl’s lips. “What’s his name?”
“Pickles.”
“Pickles?”
“I know. Silly, huh? My friend Abe named him, said he wasn’t any bigger than a pickle.”
That got a full smile. Elena smiled as well.
“I saw your dad yesterday,” Peyton said, placing the phone in her pocket.
“How is he?”
“He’s doing all right. He was playing the piano.”
“He does that a lot.”
“I know. He said it calms him.”
Tiffany nodded, but she didn’t say anything else. Peyton glanced at Elena and she nodded that she should continue. “I asked him if I could come talk to you and he agreed, but he told me I could only do it if you were okay with answering my questions.”
“Questions about what?”
“About your mom.”
Tiffany glanced over her shoulder at Elena and Elena leaned forward, covering her hands with her own.
“He told me I have to stop if you don’t feel like continuing. If I ask you something you don’t want to answer, all you have to do is tell me, okay?”
“How does this help my dad?”
Good question. “I’m a detective. You know what that is?”
“You investigate crimes.”
“Right. See, we look at clues, kind of like a puzzle and we try to find out the truth.”
“What does this have to do with my mom?”
“Well, some of the clues aren’t fitting too well, so we need to know something more about her.” Peyton reached into her pocket and pulled out her notebook. “I like to write things down when I talk to people, so I don’t forget.” She opened the notebook and showed the little girl a page. “Do you mind if I do that now?”
Tiffany shook her head.
“Okay. So are you all right with me asking you some questions?”
“If it’ll help my dad, yeah.”
“Good. So I know the last few months have been different for you, but you’ve been staying here most of the time, right?”
Tiffany glanced at Elena, then nodded. “Since school started, yeah.”
“How often did you see your mother?”
“Sometimes on the weekends. A couple times a month.”
“Good. When you were with your mother, what things did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you go anywhere, do anything special with her?”
Tiffany shrugged. “We watched T.V., saw a movie sometimes.”
“You didn’t go anywhere with her?”
“Not with Mama. Grandma used to take me places.”
Peyton smiled. “Where did she take you?”
“The zoo or Fisherman’s Wharf. I liked seeing the street performers.”
“Your mama didn’t take you to those places?”
“No, we stayed at home mostly. Maybe to the grocery store, but that’s all.”
“Okay. What about company? Did your mom have people over when you were there?”
“No. It was just the two of us.”
Peyton felt a wash of disappointment, but something else occurred to her. “When we were at your mother’s condo, we noticed she was packing. Did you know where she was moving to?”
“She said Europe.”
“Was she moving with anyone?”
Tiffany sighed and tightened her hold on Elena. “She said something about me maybe coming with her, but I didn’t want to leave.”
“Okay. Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Did she say why she was moving?”
“She was sad after Grandma died. She said she needed a change.”
Peyton looked at her notes. “Tiffany, this might be a hard question, but did your mom have a boyfriend?”
“No, she didn’t say anything about one.”
“Okay,” said Peyton with a sigh. This obviously wasn’t getting them anywhere. “I appreciate you helping me out.”
A frown creased Tiffany’s brow. “There was one time.”
Peyton stopped in the midst of putting her notebook away. “Go on.”
“One time I was there, Mama said she had someone coming over. She said he was coming to study the Bible with her.”
“The Bible? Did your mom belong to a church?”
“I don’t think so. At least not when Grandma was alive, but she said he was coming over and that I needed to go to my room and watch a movie.”
“And did the man come over?”
“Yeah, I heard the doorbell and then they were talking. She told me not to come out, that it was important I didn’t interrupt them.”
Peyton’s eyes lifted to Elena. The other woman swallowed hard.
“Did you stay in your room like your mama asked?”
“Yeah, I fell asleep, but when I woke up, I had to go to the bathroom, so I peeked out the door.”
“Did you see the man?”
“No, they weren’t in the living room, so I came out and went to the bathroom. It was weird though.”
“What was?”
“She said they were studying the Bible, but there was wine on the table.”
“Do you think the man was gone when you went to the bathroom?”
“No, he was there.”
“How do you know?”
“Her bedroom door was closed, but I could hear them. I could hear him. He had a deep voice.”
“What was he saying?”
“Bible things.”
Peyton sat back. “Bible things?”
“Yeah, about God and stuff.”
“Tiffany, was the man there the next day?”
“No, Mama said he was gone.”
“Did she tell you his name?”
“No, she just told me he was a preacher man. That’s all.”
“And you never saw him?”
“No.”
“Did he ever come over again or did she talk about him to you?”
“No, that was the only time I remember someone coming over. She never said anything about him again.”
Peyton made a note in her tablet, then replaced it. “Thank you, Tiffany. You’ve been a big help.”
She nodded.
Peyton rose to her feet and watched Marco extricate himself from the dog. Immediately the dog crawled over to the little girl and placed his head in her lap. Peyton gave him a pat, then the two of them headed toward the door. Elena followed them.
“Inspector Brooks?”
Peyton stopped and turned around.
“Does any of that help?”
Peyton put out her hand and grasped Elena’s elbow. “I’ll look into it, but we really have nothing to go on – no name, no description. I don’t want to get your hopes up, Elena. The D.A. is going to be breathing down our necks in a few days, demanding we hand the case over to him.”
“You don’t really believe Joshua did this, do you? You wouldn’t be here if you did.”
Oh, the two of them were perceptive, she had to give them that. “The evidence points to him.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
Peyton didn’t know how to give them hope, and yet maintain her objectivity. “I know. You don’t want me to answer that, Elena, do you?”
“Yes, I want the truth.”
Peyton glanced to where Tiffany sat. She didn’t think the little girl could hear her. “I think the evidence all points to Joshua. I’m sorry.”
Elena’s jaw firmed. “I don’t believe that. That’s just what you have to tell me.” Her gaze shifted to Marco. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have doubts. You wouldn’t be looking into anything.”
Peyton knew it didn’t do any good to pretend otherwise, but she wasn’t going to encourage a false hope. There just wasn’t enough evidence to believe Joshua Ravensong was anything other than doomed. “I wish I could tell you differently, but I can’t. Please take care of yourself. That little girl needs you right now.”
With that, she and Marco left the house.
* * *
Jake flipped through the pictures on the camera as he made his way back to his cubby. Funny how it bothered him less and less to see a dead body. He didn’t really like taking pictures for Abe, e
specially the way the M.E. flayed the bodies open, but even that wasn’t as upsetting as it once was. He was gaining a detachment about it that was necessary if he was really going to make this a career. Still he was careful not to tell his sisters this. They already didn’t understand why he’d left the bank, or stayed in San Francisco for that matter.
He stumbled to a stop and stared at the man sitting in his chair. The man was in his late fifties or early sixties with thinning grey hair. He lounged back in Jake’s seat, his hands dangling off the arms. In one hand he held a pair of dark sunglasses, on the other was a large ring. A shadow of beard lined his cheeks and he had a cleft in his chin. His face wasn’t handsome, but rugged, a man’s man. He wore black combat boots and a pair of faded jeans. A red flannel shirt stretched across a chest that still maintained a muscular physique.
“Hello?”
“Hey there.” The man nodded at the camera. “Nice piece. Must have set you back a bit?”
Jake nodded, then glanced around. No one else was in this area. In fact, all of the other officers seemed to be out on calls. “I’m Jake.”
“Chuck, Chuck Wilson. You took my job.”
Jake frowned. He was fairly certain the guy before him was Bob Anderson, who had quit because Peyton criticized his work. “I’m sorry?”
“Back about five years, I was the crime scene investigator. They let cops do that then.” He gave a deep laugh. “Relax, kid. I retired.”
Jake did relax. He set the camera on the desk and eased the bag off his shoulder, placing it at his feet. Then he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Chuck.”
Chuck shook it, then released him. “Sorry to invade your space, but I was just curious about how things worked now.”
“No problem.” Jake leaned against the partition. “Actually, I’m not certified yet, but I’m taking a couple of classes at City College.”
“Good for you. What’d you do before this?”
Jake cuffed his toe against the tiled floor. “I was a banker. Loan officer.”
Chuck laughed. “How the hell did you wind up taking pictures of dead meat?”
“My wife died and doing a job for money just didn’t seem that important anymore.”
“Sorry.” Chuck leaned forward in the chair. “My wife died too. Waited thirty years for me to retire, then she dies first year I’m free. We planned to buy an RV and see the country. We didn’t even get out of the hospital parking lot.”
Murder on Russian Hill (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 3) Page 12
