Murder in Chinatown (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  Peyton started to answer her, but Maria shook her head and burst into tears again.

  “I’m gonna be living on a couch for the rest of my life. A couch in my mother’s house at thirty-one.”

  “You can stay with me.” The words came out before Peyton knew she was going to say them.

  Maria went still, her face buried in the tissue. Slowly she lifted her head, her eyes rimmed in red. “What?”

  Peyton forgot how to talk. She gaped at Maria, unsure what the hell she’d just done. Oh, Marco was going to tear out his hair and Defino, Defino was going to have her committed. Padded rooms, backwards jacket – C.O.M.M.I.T.T.E.D.

  She sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. “You can stay with me…and Jake.”

  “I can.”

  “Yeah, it’ll still be a couch, I only have two rooms, but at least it won’t be your mother’s house.”

  “You and I will share a bathroom?”

  “Oh no, no, you and Jake will share a bathroom.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “You’re a sap, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been told.” A lot.

  “Marco’s already pissed at you.”

  “I know.”

  “Defino’s gonna think you’re a lunatic.”

  “She already does.”

  “What’s Jake gonna say?”

  She hadn’t thought about that. “I have no idea.”

  “You and me, we don’t even like each other.”

  “Well…” That was a bit harsh. “We’ll manage. It’ll only be until you get on your feet and find your own place.”

  Maria turned and looked out the window.

  Please say no, please say no, Peyton whispered to herself. If she started having people sleeping on the furniture, it really was going to look like she was nuts.

  Maria’s gaze swept back to her. “I’ll take it.”

  Peyton’s mouth dropped open again. She forced a really awkward smile and nodded. “Great. Great. As soon as you get out, we’ll get your things and move you in. I have a closet in the entry you can use. Jake and I keep coats in there, but…”

  Maria took her hand, holding tight. “Thank you, Brooks. Thank you for everything. I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me.”

  Peyton patted the back of her hand. “It’s what you do for friends, Maria. That’s all.” And sure enough, she meant it.

  * * *

  “She’s what now?” said Jake, leaning close to Peyton.

  Peyton bit her lower lip and looked at Marco over Jake’s shoulder. “She’s moving in with us. She’ll take the couch.”

  “She’s moving in? She’ll take the couch?” He turned and faced Marco. “She’s moving in to our couch?”

  Marco scratched at the back of his neck and sighed.

  “You heard that? Right?” he asked incredulously, holding out a hand toward Peyton.

  “I heard it.”

  “What did you want me to do, Jake?”

  “I don’t know, say no, say nothing, sympathize gently, then keep your mouth shut.”

  “I took you in.”

  “You also took in a hooker. How’d that work out?”

  “What are you saying about Maria?”

  Jake narrowed his eyes on her. “Don’t deflect this.”

  She sighed. God, her body ached and she just wanted to go back home and sleep. “I’m sorry, all right? I should have asked you, but she had me cornered. She was crying and telling me how she was going to be living on her mother’s couch for the rest of her life…”

  Jake didn’t look like he cared. “And when someone says that, it’s only natural that you offer them your own couch. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Peyton shrugged.

  Jake paced away to the windows in the hospital waiting room.

  Peyton lifted her gaze to Marco. She couldn’t read his expression, but his posture said a lot. He looked like he might break if he moved too quickly. “What was I supposed to do?”

  Jake turned and leaned on the window sill. “Say no. For once in your life, just say no. Whatever impulse comes into your head, stop yourself and say no.”

  “This isn’t that big of a deal.”

  “No, this isn’t, but this whole pattern, this whole episode…” He waved his hands in the air. “…is so Peyton.” He pushed away from the window sill. “You’ve got to stop doing these things, Peyton, or you’re gonna be hurt worse than you were last night.”

  “Ryder!” said Marco in a warning tone.

  “If you won’t be man enough, I will,” he growled at him.

  Peyton gave them both a confused look. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’ve got to quit this, Peyton,” said Jake.

  Marco whirled on him, but he didn’t back down, glaring at him with such ferocity. “Go ahead and threaten me, Adonis, but I’m gonna say my piece.”

  “Say what, Jake?”

  He stepped around Marco and took her by the upper arms. “I want you to quit.”

  “Quit what?”

  “The job, Peyton. It’s too dangerous and you’re gonna be seriously hurt or killed. I hate it.”

  “That isn’t for you to decide.”

  “As your friend, I have to tell you what I think, don’t I?”

  She was touched by his concern, but it wasn’t any of his business. “This is who I am, Jake, what I do.”

  “And it’s going to kill you.”

  She lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not quitting. I hope you can accept that.”

  He released her with a heavy sigh, but he didn’t respond. He glanced over his shoulder at Marco, then gave Peyton a weary smile. “And I hope you can accept that I’m not going to stop trying to get you to quit. As long as I’m around, Peyton, I’m going to keep asking it.” He moved to pass her, then stopped. “By the way, it’s fine with me if Maria moves in.” Without another word, he walked out of the room, leaving Peyton to face Marco.

  “Is that what you think too?”

  He held up a hand and let it fall. “What difference would that make, Brooks? You just told Jake the way it is.”

  “Do you want me to quit?”

  He walked over to an armchair and threw himself into it, picking up a magazine. Crossing one leg over his knee, he began to flip pages. “Clearly it doesn’t matter what I want.”

  She took a seat on the coffee table before him. “What the hell does that mean, D’Angelo?”

  He looked at her over the top of the magazine. “Let’s not do this dance. You’re hurt and you need to go home and rest.”

  “How long are you going to freeze me out?”

  “I’m not freezing you out, but I’m not happy.”

  “Because I didn’t call you?”

  He glared at her.

  “Because I run off and do things impulsively?”

  He returned to looking at the magazine.

  “What do you want from me, Marco?”

  He didn’t respond for a moment, then he closed the magazine and dropped his leg, leaning toward her. “I want…”

  “Brooks!” came Defino’s voice from the doorway.

  She reluctantly glanced over. “Captain?”

  “What the hell is this about Maria moving in with you?”

  She looked back at Marco, but he simply placed the magazine beside her and rose to his feet.

  “Marco?”

  “We’ll talk later, Brooks,” he said and walked past the captain into the hallway.

  * * *

  Peyton climbed painfully off the bed, holding her ribs. Reaching for Pickles, she set him on the floor and walked to her bathroom. Turning her face to the left, she looked at her swollen cheek and jaw in the mirror. A faint tinge of black showed through her natural brown, but the swelling was a little better than last night.

  Shifting the other way, she fingered the faint white scars from the rock fragments when the priest had shot at h
er on Alcatraz. Turning on the water, she cupped it in her hands and pressed it against her swollen jaw, then wiped her fingers across her eyes to chase away the last of her nap. Gripping the edges of the sink, she closed her eyes and let the water drip off her chin.

  Alcatraz. Everything had been screwed up since Alcatraz. She and Marco fought more now than they had in eight years, and Jake was becoming a problem. The longer he stayed the more he thought he had a say in what she did. Still, the thought of him leaving opened up a gaping hole of loneliness inside of her. Now Devan was getting married.

  A knock sounded at the door and Pickles took off barking. She reached for a hand towel and wiped the water droplets from her face. Folding it and laying it on the sink, she padded from her room and across the living room, glancing out the front windows to see the late afternoon sun shining directly on the couch – a couch that would soon be occupied by Maria.

  Wryly shaking her head, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, then blinked in surprise to see her mother standing on the other side.

  “Oh my God, it’s true. You are hurt.”

  Alice Brooks reached up and cupped her cheeks. Peyton caught her breath at the flash of pain and encircled her mother’s wrist with her fingers.

  “I’m fine, Mama. What are you doing here?”

  “Your roommate called and told me you’d been hurt.”

  Jake! Oh, he was going to die a slow and very painful death. “I’m fine, Mama,” she repeated, stepping back to let her mother inside.

  Pickles continued to dance around their feet, but when Alice didn’t immediately acknowledge him, he ran and jumped on the couch where he’d be more visible.

  “It’s that job.”

  Here we go, thought Peyton. “Actually, I didn’t get hurt on the job. I went to see a friend with an abusive boyfriend. I got caught up in a fight between them.”

  “Is he in jail?”

  “He will be. He probably made bail now, but he’s got a heap of trouble facing him. Assaulting an officer, even an off-duty one, is bad news.” She motioned to the couch. “Do you want to sit down?”

  Alice made her way over to it, her eyes never leaving Peyton. Jake’s daily newspaper covered the seat, so she picked it up and dropped it on the table, giving Peyton an accusatory stare that only mothers could.

  Peyton ignored it. She didn’t feel like explaining why her housekeeping habits weren’t up to par. Besides, it was Jake’s damn paper. He had a whole collection in a bin beside the trashcan.

  The minute Alice sat down, Pickles jumped into her lap. Absently she reached for his ears and stroked them. “Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

  “It looks worse than it is. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine. Come sit with me.” She patted the spot beside her.

  Peyton eased between her and the coffee table, then carefully lowered herself onto the cushions, folding a leg beneath her.

  “What did he hit you with?”

  Peyton gave a short laugh. “His foot. He’s a martial artist.”

  “Who has to use women as his punching bags?”

  Peyton shrugged. “How are you, Mama?”

  “I was doing just fine, until I found out that my daughter’s hurt and no one thought to call me, not even her.”

  And sprinkle it with guilt. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  Alice reached over and took Peyton’s hand. “I worry all the time, knowing what you do.”

  “How’s Cliff?” she said to change the subject.

  Alice’s face lit with a smile. “He’s fine. He’d like it if you came around more often.”

  “I’ll bet,” said Peyton, rolling her eyes.

  “He thinks the world of you, Peyton.”

  “Really?” Cliff Martin might think the world of Alice Brooks, but he was less than pleased she had a mixed race daughter.

  Alice tightened her hold. “I’d like it if you came around more often.”

  “I know. I’m just so busy.”

  “Right.” She released her hand and went back to stroking Pickles, who curled up on her lap. “Funny you should ask about Cliff.”

  “Why?”

  “He asked me to marry him.”

  Peyton went still, her chin lifting.

  Alice smiled over at her. “Don’t look like that. I told him no. I know how you feel about him and I wouldn’t betray your father’s memory like that.”

  “You told him no?”

  Alice shrugged. “What was I going to do, Peyton? You’re the most important person in my life and if you don’t approve, I’m not about to go against your wishes.”

  Peyton looked down. What the shit? It was her fault if her mother didn’t remarry? What new circle of hellish guilt was this?

  “So tell me about this roommate of yours? Jake, right? Are you two an item?”

  Peyton’s eyes snapped back to her face. “An item?”

  “Clearly you’re living together. Is it serious?”

  “Jake? Serious?” Peyton swallowed hard. “Living together? No, Mama, we’re just housemates. He needed a place to stay and I needed the extra income.”

  “But he obviously cares about you. He was so concerned when he called.” She leaned close and patted Peyton’s knee. “Maybe it’ll work into something more.”

  Peyton laughed, she couldn’t help it. “Jake? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

  “He seems like such a nice young man…”

  “He is.” Peyton placed her hand over her mother’s. “He’s a very nice young man, but he just lost his wife about a year ago.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible.”

  “It was.”

  “Well, is there someone else? Weren’t you seeing a district attorney or something?”

  “I was. He’s getting married.”

  “He’s doing what?”

  “Getting married. To someone else.”

  Alice’s expression fell. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It’s okay, Mama.” She picked at a loose thread. “Look, about Cliff…”

  Alice waved it off. “Let’s not talk about it anymore. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  Peyton forced herself to look her mother in the eye. “Does he make you happy?”

  “What?”

  “Does Cliff make you happy?”

  Alice stared at her without speaking for a moment, then she gave her a slow smile. “Yes, he does, Peyton.”

  Peyton swallowed hard, forcing her jaw to unclench. “I think you should marry him.”

  “What?”

  Peyton took her mother’s hand in both of her own. “Dad’s been gone a long time, and it’s time you moved on. If Cliff makes you happy, you should marry him. You deserve to be happy.”

  “What about you? I don’t want to do anything that would upset you.”

  Peyton kissed the back of her hand. “I’m not upset. I want you to be happy.”

  Alice reached up and cupped Peyton’s right cheek, leaning forward and kissing her on the forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

  Peyton smiled at her. “I know you do.”

  They made small talk for a bit more, then Alice left, admonishing Peyton to get some rest. Peyton locked the door behind her and wandered into the kitchen. She eased down and opened the cabinet next to the sink, pulling out the Jack Daniels. Reaching for a shot glass made her wince, but she took it out of the cabinet beside the stove and set it on the counter next to the bottle.

  Pickles wandered into the kitchen and sat at the entrance, watching her. Peyton unscrewed the top on the bottle and poured a shot. “Did you hear that? Mom’s marrying a racist, Devan’s marrying a trust-fund baby, and I am alone as always.”

  Pickles tilted his head.

  “Con-freakin’-gratulations,” she said, picking up the glass and throwing back the shot. Fire blazed down her esophagus and she closed her eyes against the pain. A moment later, warmth spread through her belly. Pouring another shot, she saluted Pick
les with it. “Don’t tell me. You and that little whore of a poodle on the corner are getting hitched, right? And you’re going to live in her doghouse, aren’t you?”

  She heard the lock turn in the door, followed by the sound of keys hitting the bowl on the entry table. A moment later, Jake appeared at the counter. “Hey, roomie, how are you feeling?”

  Peyton threw back the shot and slammed the glass on the counter. “You are in so much trouble, Ryder!” she said.

  CHAPTER 5

  Janet Messette opened the screen door. “Detective Acosta, thank you for coming out.” She stepped back to let Gabby into the bungalow. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too.” The interior of the house was a lot cooler than outside. All the windows were open, allowing a breeze to blow through. Hardwood flooring spread from the entryway into the sunken living room on their left.

  “Can I get you some lemonade? Grandma’s lemons are some of the best around.”

  “Sounds great.” Gabby followed her down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house. It was a large, open room with stone countertops and gleaming stainless steel appliances. A French door overlooked a screened-in porch.

  Janet pointed to the porch. “Make yourself at home. I’ll bring the lemonade out.”

  Gabby walked to the door and pushed it open. It was a little more humid on the porch, but bearable. A wicker table and four chairs occupied the space and beyond it was a fenced in yard with citrus trees lined up along the property line.

  Gabby sat down in one of the chairs and clasped her hands in her lap, enjoying the moment of tranquility. Janet appeared, carrying a tray, and set it in the middle of the table. She lifted the pitcher and filled both glasses, then passed one to Gabby. The ice tinkled against the glass as Gabby brought it to her lips and took a sip. It had just the right mixture of tart and sweet.

  “Very nice,” she said, settling it on the table.

  Janet picked up a plate on the tray and held it out. “Homemade shortbread.”

  Gabby accepted a cookie and placed it on a napkin beside her lemonade. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”