Murder on Russian Hill (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 3)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Go get some sleep,” James ordered. He snatched the beer from her and drained it.

  Joshua knew James was drinking too much, but who was he to say anything?

  Evan levered himself off the couch next to Joshua and slapped him on the leg. “Don’t go to sleep. Wanna beer?”

  “No.” Joshua watched him stagger over to the hotel refrigerator and bend over to pull it open.

  When he saw there was nothing inside, he looked over his shoulder at James. “We’re all out.”

  “Go tell that roadie, Mark, to get some more.”

  Evan staggered to the other end of the room where a couple of roadies were chatting up some girls.

  James fell onto the couch next to him and the girl perched on his lap. “You should get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, and you should stop drinking.” He took the empty bottle away from his brother and set it on the floor.

  James broke into drunken laughter, nearly knocking the girl off his lap. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, but she continued to stare at Joshua. Across the room, the roadie extricated himself from the tangle of bodies and went to the door. Evan dropped into his place on the floor.

  “That was one bitchin’ concert tonight, huh?” said James, leaning on Joshua. “You see how many people were there.” His words slurred.

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t seem to realize he had the girl on his lap or else he was too drunk to care. “Can you believe what we’ve done in just a few months? We’re actually headliners now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell you what. Tell you what.” He slapped Joshua’s leg. “’Nother year and we gonna be doing stadiums.”

  “Great.”

  “Yep, s’great.” He shook his head drunkenly. “S’great.”

  Looking around the room, Joshua had a hard time seeing the great. Beer bottles lay on every surface, old pizza boxes, and half-clothed girls without names. The more success they got, the more chaotic it became. So many places, so many rooms, so many faces that all meant nothing. He loved the music, but he wasn’t sure he loved this.

  He pushed himself off the couch and stepped over sprawled legs and trash until he came to the bathroom, then wedged himself past a roadie to get inside. He didn’t bother to shut the door. What the hell did it matter? There was no privacy left.

  Leaning on the sink, he turned on the cold water and splashed some on his face, then reached back and grabbed a towel off the rack. Drying the water away, he dropped the towel over the sink and reached into his pocket for the baggy filled with oxycodone pills. He shook four into his hand and tossed them in his mouth, then bent over and drank water from the faucet to wash them down.

  “That’s a hell of a lot of pills,” came a feminine voice from the doorway.

  He straightened and looked into the mirror. His brother’s blond was standing there, but the minute he acknowledged her, she came into the bathroom and closed the door. He swallowed the pills, then turned around, leaning on the sink.

  “You always take so many?”

  He shrugged. He wasn’t going to answer that for a girl who came into a band’s hotel room of her own free will. She moved until she was so close, her breasts brushed against his chest with every exhalation.

  Her black-rimmed eyes searched his face. “You’re almost pretty. You know that.”

  “I thought you were with my brother.”

  She put her arms on his shoulders and began toying with his hair. “He’s not pretty.”

  Joshua braced his hands on the sink. He couldn’t deny he felt a sense of loyalty to his brother and didn’t want to upset him, but he wasn’t sure James gave a damn. He had to know the girl had followed him into the bathroom. “You got a name?”

  “Yeah.” She brought her mouth near his until they almost touched. “My name’s Terry.”

  * * *

  As soon as Peyton got to work the next day, she hauled out the white board and set it up behind Marco’s desk. She listed everything about Ravensong’s case into two columns – those things they knew and those they didn’t.

  For instance, Ravensong was in Terry’s apartment around the time of her death and he had her blood on his hands. Then there were the text messages showing that the two of them had been arguing about Tiffany. Those were all things they knew.

  What they didn’t know was where the murder weapon was and why he didn’t have cuts on his hands when the weapon broke.

  She tapped the grease pen against her chin. The evidence that muddied her whole system was the video. Clearly he had a temper, but he’d struck a wall, not Terry, so the injury to his hand was now explained. Which column did that go into?

  She circled back to her desk and took a seat, pulling up the video again. She had it keyed to the exact spot she needed and she leaned forward so she could see better. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but there had to be something she was missing.

  When Ravensong struck the wall, he actually seemed to calm himself, regain control. How odd. She couldn’t understand how someone could be so angry one minute, but appear perfectly rational the next.

  She played the video again.

  “Now that’s interesting.”

  Peyton grabbed the mouse and stopped the video, then jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Marco where he stood behind her chair. He hugged her back.

  “Glad to see you too, Brooks.”

  She leaned back so she could see his face. “Why are you here?”

  “I work here, right?”

  “Right, but how is Tonio?”

  “Resting. I couldn’t do much there, so I thought I’d come in for a while.” He pointed at her computer screen. “What the hell is that?”

  “That’s Ravensong punching the wall on his way to see Terry.”

  “Play it again.”

  Peyton returned to her seat and clicked the play button. She’d seen it so many times it was engrained in her memory, but it always made her jump when he struck the wall.

  “Hmm,” said Marco, bracing one hand on the back of her chair and the other on her desk.

  She looked up at him. “You ever hit something like that?”

  “Lots of times.”

  “Like what?”

  “Punched a locker when we lost a football game once. Socked Franco’s door when we got in a fight over who was taking the car.” His brows rose. “Punched a car once too.”

  “You punched a car?”

  “Yeah. The night we found that little girl in the dumpster.”

  Peyton would never forget it. She looked back at the screen. She was beginning to see the merit in punching inanimate things. “Jake punches pillows.”

  “Figures,” he said. He straightened and looked at her board. “Now we know how he hurt his hand.” He’d shaved since the previous day and he ran his hand over his chin. “I don’t know. The evidence seems to stack up, but that video makes me wonder.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it looks like he got his anger out in the elevator before he went inside.”

  “But what if she sent him back into a rage again once he was with her?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “It’s the cuts, isn’t it?”

  “Abe just isn’t wrong about stuff like that.”

  “I know, but if he didn’t do it, then who did?”

  “Do we have anything at all on a second suspect?”

  “Nothing except what Tiffany said about the preacher man.”

  “Doing Bible studies in the bedroom, yeah, I remember. We need to ask Ravensong.”

  “I agree, but he wouldn’t even talk about Terry with me the last time I tried.”

  Marco started to say something, but his eyes went past Peyton toward the lobby. Peyton didn’t need to turn around. She could hear the click of dress shoes on the tile.

  “D’Angelo,” Devan said, stopping behind Peyton.

  “D.A.”

  “How’s your nephew?�
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  “Better.”

  “Good.” Peyton could feel his eyes shift to her. “Peyton, how are you?”

  “Great.” She didn’t bother to turn around. She didn’t want to discuss this case with him.

  “Look, I’ve been to see Captain Defino again. She wouldn’t turn the case over to me until I get your confirmation.”

  Peyton swiveled around and looked up at him. “Well, you don’t have it. We’re not done with the case yet.”

  Devan glanced at Marco, but he simply shrugged. Leaning on the desk, Devan brought himself closer to Peyton’s height. “I know you want to tidy up all the loose ends, but this is ridiculous. The case is done. It’s obvious who committed the crime. You only have the one suspect and even he’s convinced he did it.”

  “The case is not done. We have an unreliable suspect, a weak motive, and next to no evidence. We aren’t ready to give him up yet.”

  “So you have other suspects? Who are they?”

  She wasn’t about to say the preacher man because she knew how that would go over with Devan. “We have other suspects.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I don’t have to tell you. I don’t work for you.”

  “In a way you do, so consider this pulling rank.”

  Marco let out a low whistle and retreated to his chair.

  Peyton rose to her feet. “You’re pulling rank on me? Who the hell died and made you King of San Francisco?”

  “It’s just an expression. I was trying to be funny.”

  “Of course you were, because telling a woman that you out rank her is always amusing.”

  “Look, I admire you as a cop. You do a good job, but...”

  Marco closed his eyes.

  “But?”

  “But you get all worked up over these cases.”

  “Worked up?” She turned to Marco. “You hear that. I get worked up. Silly little woman.”

  “Here it comes,” muttered Marco.

  She faced Devan again. “Silly little woman, right? Getting all worked up.”

  “Peyton…”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and ask me if I’m on my period!”

  Devan threw his hands up in surrender. “Look, I’m just stating a fact. God damn it, Peyton, you can’t rescue every single person that comes through those doors.”

  Peyton went still and stared at him. “You mean like uptight lawyers.”

  He started to respond, but nothing came out.

  She went toe to toe with him. “You can be sure I won’t make that mistake again.” She threw herself down in her chair and turned it away from him.

  Devan held out his hands to Marco. “Talk some sense into her, will you?”

  Peyton glared at him, waiting to see whose side he was going to take.

  Marco’s lips drew tight against his teeth. “Talk some sense into her?”

  “What? Now you too?”

  “You come in here and you throw your uptight lawyer ass around thinking that we’re your lackeys, while you sit in your air conditioned office, surrounded by your legal books and neatly stacked folders.”

  Devan took a step back. Peyton could hear the captain’s door open and she glanced around to see everyone watching them. Maria had her mouth open, Jake grinned from ear to ear, and behind him stood Holmes and Bartlet looking like they were ready to throw Devan out in the next minute.

  Marco slowly rose to his feet. “If my partner tells you we aren’t finished with the case, you’re going to nod politely and walk away because when it comes down to it, D.A., we’re the ones putting our asses on the line, so you can sit behind your desk and think up clever repartees.”

  Devan held up his hands again. “Okay, okay. Don’t go all De Niro on me. I’ll check back with the captain in a day or two.” With that, he walked away.

  Peyton waited until he left the precinct and everyone had started to disperse before she turned back to Marco. He’d taken his seat again and was busy messing with his keyboard. “You okay?”

  “Smug bastard pisses me off.”

  “Clearly.”

  He shot a look around, then gave her a narrow-eyed stare. “He pisses you off too, Brooks.”

  “Absolutely, but then he did dump me.”

  Marco gave a bark of laughter and returned to typing on his computer.

  Peyton picked up a pencil and tapped it against her desk. “You know we don’t have air conditioners in San Francisco, right?”

  “Right.”

  She nodded. “Okay then.”

  He looked up and the smile he gave her could melt anyone; she was so damn happy to see it.

  She started to tell him, but her phone rang. She grabbed it, but she didn’t recognize the number. Thumbing it on, she pressed it to her ear. “Brooks?”

  “Inspector Brooks, this is Chase Alreed on 30th Avenue. I got a message to contact you.”

  “Yes, Chase, I’m so glad you called. You have a video camera set up outside your house, pointed at the high school across the street.”

  “Yes. I pulled the video as soon as we got in.”

  “You did? Did you see anything on Saturday night?”

  “I viewed the whole thing…and, Inspector Brooks, I think you should come down here whenever you’ve got a minute. There’s something you really need to see.”

  * * *

  Peyton pulled the Charger to a stop in front of Alreed’s house and set the brake. Beside her, Marco stared out the window at the yellow caution tape and damaged trees. She watched him for a moment, then she reached over and covered his hand with her own.

  “You okay?”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look at her. “When he started to drive, I took him to the impound yard and made him look at the busted up cars. I told him that everyone who had been in those cars died in them. I wanted to scare him, make him understand how dangerous they were. We talked about how he didn’t have the right to take anyone’s life, even his own.”

  “He’s a kid, Marco. We all did stupid things when we were a kid. We think we’re invincible.”

  “I watch my brother and sister-in-law and I see the pain they’re going through. They can’t make this better for him. They can’t take it away. I just don’t think I can do it, Peyton. I don’t think I can ever be a father.” He turned and faced her, staring into her eyes. “This world is filled with so much horror, so much pain and suffering.”

  “We just see it, Marco. We see the brutality and the cruelty so much, but there’s good out there as well.”

  “What? Tell me one good thing you’ve seen this week, Brooks. One thing that gave you hope that we aren’t doomed.”

  She tightened her hold on his hand. “I saw a man take a seat on the edge of a hospital bed and gather a wounded teenager into his arms, holding him while he cried. To me, that was an absolute good, Marco.”

  His eyes searched her face, then he lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead. “What would I do without you, Brooks?”

  “That’s what I keep saying.”

  He laughed and reached for the car door. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  She caught his elbow and held him back. “This might be really hard, Marco. I could go view the tape and you could wait here.”

  He patted her hand. “I need to do this. I’ll be all right.”

  She let him go and reached for her own handle, pushing the door open. Walking up to the gate, Peyton looked around for some way to let Alreed know they were there. A buzzer beside the gate caught her eye and she pressed it. A moment later, the door at the top of the stairs opened and a young man with neatly combed blond hair jogged down to greet them.

  “Inspector Brooks?” he said as he began unlocking the gate.

  “Yes. This is my partner Inspector D’Angelo. Are you Chase?”

  “The one and only.” He pulled open the gate and held out his hand. Peyton shook it, then reached for her badge and showed it to him. “Thank you.” He motioned them in
side and shook hands with Marco as he passed him. “Please come up.”

  Peyton let him lead the way into a pleasant living room with minimalist furnishings and eggplant painted walls. She’d never have the nerve to do this, but she liked it. He motioned to a desk set up before the windows.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday. We got in late last night.”

  “I understand. How was your vacation?”

  He smiled at her. He had a kind, open face. Lifting a glass frame from the desk, he passed it to her. Two beaming young men stared back at the camera from the deck of a cruise ship. “The Bahamas are beautiful.”

  “Looks like you had fun.”

  “We did. Best vacation we’ve taken. You should try it sometime.”

  Peyton didn’t remember when she last had a vacation. It sounded good. “Is your partner here?”

  “He had to go to work.”

  “I appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.”

  “No problem.” He took a seat at the desk. “I went through the whole day and narrowed it down to the accident. Well, I’m not sure it’s an accident anymore.” He motioned for Peyton and Marco to gather around him. “I also put it on a zip drive, so you can have a copy of it.”

  “Thank you. What do you mean you’re not sure it’s an accident?”

  “See for yourself.” He clicked on the file and waited for it to load on the screen.

  Two vehicles tore down 30th, going too fast for the narrow street. One was the blue Ford Escort, but the camera didn’t catch who was driving because the little car was shadowed by a much larger white pick-up truck. Just as the two vehicles neared the intersection, the truck swerved into the path of the Escort, forcing it up and over the sidewalk and into the trees. The truck skidded to a stop, paused for a moment behind the Escort, then squealed away, turning the corner going left on Balboa.

  Peyton didn’t speak for a moment, staring at the screen. Behind her, she heard Marco breathing heavily. Reaching back, she grabbed his hand and felt his fingers tighten on hers. “Play it again, please, Chase,” she said.