Murder in Chinatown (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  “Can I ask you why you’re investigating this Meilin Fan?”

  “Actually, we’re investigating the death of Meilin Fan’s boyfriend, Matt Jensen.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did he die?”

  “Gunshot wound to the chest.”

  “Interesting.”

  “We thought so.”

  “Does she have an alibi?”

  “All of her employees vouch that she was working in the kitchen at the time of his shooting.”

  “So she isn’t a suspect?”

  “Oh, I think my partner would beg to differ with you. She believes she’s not only a suspect in our case, but also yours. Can you tell me what you’ve learned about your side of the story?”

  So Gabby related everything she’d found out about Lily Witan. She talked about Janet Messette and the music box. The key to the safe deposit box, followed by the album with every page of Lily torn out. She went on to Billy’s discovery of the yearbook and the picture of Lily Witan with Grant Sanderson, who committed suicide one month after her parents’ deaths. Then she concluded with both her meeting with Grant Sanderson’s parents and her talk with Detective Ehrenthal from New York.

  “Your turn. Tell me what you found out.”

  So Marco D’Angelo with the newscaster’s voice told her about their investigation into Matt Jensen’s death up until their last meeting with her when they confronted her about being Lily Witan. Gabby was impressed with Lily’s resourcefulness in getting a new identity by using her incomplete birth record from China. She would have completely disappeared into the world if she hadn’t gone on Food Battles.

  “Do you think she killed this Matt Jensen?”

  “My partner does.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I can’t get her in the apartment during the shooting. Her employees swear she never left the restaurant, let alone the kitchen of the restaurant that night.”

  “Accomplice?”

  “We do have a third set of fingerprints from her flat, but they don’t pop in any system. We’re thinking an undocumented immigrant.”

  Gabby tapped the pen on her blotter. “Here’s what bothers me. Lily Witan goes to the senior prom. While she’s away from the house, someone comes in and pops her parents. She has witnesses galore who admit to seeing her at the prom. Then she comes home just in time to find her parents shot dead.”

  “I’m with you.”

  “Twenty years later, she winds up across the country and goes to work where she has witnesses galore who admit to seeing her in the kitchen. Then she comes home just in time to find her boyfriend shot dead. Something is rotten in Denmark, Inspector.”

  “That’s Shakespeare, right?”

  Gabby smiled. “Right. Hamlet. Even in school I liked the books with murder in them.”

  D’Angelo laughed. “Okay, so let’s focus on your double homicide. She had to have an accomplice.”

  “Right.”

  “This Sanderson kid?”

  “But he was also at the prom. He was her date. Witnesses put him there.”

  “But didn’t you say he killed himself a month later?”

  “He did.” Gabby stopped tapping her pen. I’m sorry. “He said, I’m sorry.”

  “Who?”

  “Sanderson, in his suicide note.” Gabby scratched at her hair. “I got two other pieces of this puzzle.”

  “Go on.”

  “Lily Witan’s grandfather, Philip Messette, reported a missing gun three weeks before his daughter was murdered. A Colt M1911. The Witans were shot with a .45.”

  “Anyone find the gun?”

  “No. What was Jensen shot with?”

  “.22. Our ME says it was a cheap bullet, came apart.”

  “So whoever offed Jensen didn’t use the same gun?”

  “No. You said you had two pieces of the puzzle?”

  “Lily Witan was a straight A student, until her senior year.”

  “What happened?”

  “I have no idea, but Mrs. Sanderson told us that Lily’s parents wanted her to go to some Ivy League University. According to the mother, Lily didn’t want to leave Grant, so they planned to run away to New York.”

  “But they didn’t?”

  “No, Mrs. Sanderson talked Grant out of it. She told him Lily could move into their house.”

  “But something happened?”

  “Mr. Sanderson vetoed that idea.”

  “That sounds like motive to me, Detective.”

  “Sounds like it to me too, but what’s the motive in your case?”

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “What’s your next step?”

  “Matt Jensen’s mother is living here. I think we’ll go have another talk with her about her son.”

  “I think I’ll do the same on my end. Brief each other again?”

  “Yeah.” He paused. “Here’s what bothers me. If we don’t find some direct connection between Meilin and the murder victims, we only have circumstantial evidence.”

  “We need a smoking gun.”

  “Literally.”

  “My gun is twenty years old, Inspector. I’m afraid the smoking gun is gonna have to come from your end.”

  “Which means we need to find our undocumented fingerprint.”

  “”Fraid so.”

  “Okay, Detective Acosta, pleasure talking with you and I’ll be in touch real soon.”

  “You too, Inspector D’Angelo. Good luck.”

  * * *

  Marco lowered the phone and looked up at Peyton. She was sitting on the edge of his desk.

  “You get all of that?”

  “Most of it,” she said. “How are we going to shake out our undocumented fingerprint, Marco?”

  “We gotta get lucky.”

  She pushed his shoulder. “I told you the bitch killed them.”

  “Well, I’m not certain she’s ever pulled a trigger, but it sure seems she’s got a very persuasive nature.”

  “Hm.”

  “Hey, Marco baby, your reporter girlfriend is here and she’s all riled up about something,” said Maria, coming from the front of the precinct.

  “What?”

  “That reporter chick, Lake or something?”

  “Yeah?”

  “She’s out front with her panties all in a bunch.”

  Marco pushed himself to his feet and started toward the front of the precinct with Peyton and Maria trailing him. Genevieve Lake was pacing behind the counter, but she whirled around when he appeared and pointed at him.

  “Did you do this?” she shouted, holding out her hand.

  “Do what?”

  Defino’s office door opened and she stepped out. “What’s going on?”

  “You told me just last night not to get involved, that I’d get myself in trouble, then this shows up in my mailbox today. If this is some kind of sick joke, you need serious help, buddy!”

  He felt all of the women’s eyes on him, so he held up his hands in a motion of surrender. “I don’t have any idea what you’re yelling about.”

  “This! This!” She slapped the scrap of paper in her hand, then set it on the counter and pushed it away, pacing to the front door and back again.

  Marco and Peyton edged to the counter and peered down at the small white business card. The words Clean-up Crew were typed across the front in bold red font. Marco reached behind him and grabbed a pen out of the cup on Maria’s desk, using it to flip the card over. On the back in scrawling pen it read, Little girls who go looking for monsters get eaten.

  “Frickin’ A,” whispered Peyton.

  Defino came to the counter, then she turned immediately. “Maria, get Cho and Simons, and bring Ryder back with you.”

  Maria hurried off.

  Genevieve had her hands on her hips, her breath coming in a furious pant.

  Marco glanced up at her. “I didn’t do this, Free-lance.”

  “Really? What about last night?”


  Peyton folded her arms in front of her and gave him a speculative look. “Yeah, what about last night, Marco baby?”

  He glanced at her. “We ran into each other at the Fiddler’s Green. I told her to stop snooping around and I did warn her that she was going to attract the wrong sort of attention.” He gave Genevieve a pointed look.

  “Why were you there?” Defino asked her.

  She gave a careless shrug. “It’s a free country. I like wine.”

  “She knows I go there for a drink sometimes,” he told Defino. “Funny thing was Bartlet also showed up.”

  “I didn’t go there to meet him,” she answered.

  “No, you’re trolling after the big fish, aren’t you, Miss Lake?” said Peyton.

  “So sue me.”

  Marco came closer to the counter and leaned on it. “This is why I told you to step off. Sue you? You don’t have any idea what can of madness you’ve opened up on yourself.”

  Her face shifted to a look of fear and she took a step back.

  “Why was Bartlet there?” demanded Defino.

  “He wanted to ask her to dinner. I talked with him, Captain. I don’t think he’ll be so stupid again.”

  Cho and Simons arrived, trailing Jake. Defino motioned them to the counter.

  “Does this look like the other cards, Mr. Ryder?”

  Jake took in everything, then eased between them, peering at the card on the counter. Using the same pen Marco had, he flipped it over and let out his held breath. “It looks identical. Even the writing on the back looks the same as the one delivered here after the priest’s death.”

  “Take it for fingerprints,” said Defino.

  “It’ll have my fingerprints on it,” said Genevieve.

  “And maybe the killer’s,” answered Marco.

  Jake left to retrieve his evidence case.

  “You’ve got to stop snooping into these murders,” said Peyton.

  “I’m a reporter, that’s what we do.”

  “You’re gonna be a dead reporter if you don’t stop,” said Simons gruffly.

  Genevieve seemed to shrink in on herself. “How can I go home? He knows where I live.”

  “Someone will escort you home,” said Marco.

  “What are you – stupid? I just said he knows where I live.”

  Marco held up a hand, fighting for patience. “How about you listen for once?”

  “Fine.”

  “We’ll escort you home where you’ll pack a bag. If you won’t go back to L.A., you’re gonna have to stay with a friend until we catch this guy.”

  “How long will that be?”

  Cho frowned at her. “Who knows? Deal with it. You got yourself in this mess, now we gotta get you out.”

  She hugged her arms around herself and Marco actually felt sorry for her. She was too young to realize how dangerous her snooping was.

  “Cho, have Smith take her home,” said Defino, “and get all of her contact information so we can keep track of her.”

  Cho gave her a final glare, then wandered off. Jake returned with his evidence case and began working on the card.

  “Brooks, D’Angelo, my office,” said Defino.

  “Wait.” Genevieve came to the counter. “Can’t you take me home?”

  Marco gave her a bewildered look. “A minute ago you were accusing me of planting this on you, now you want me to take you home.”

  “I’d feel better with you.”

  Peyton rolled her eyes and walked into the captain’s office.

  Defino turned at her door and pointed at Genevieve. “Sit down, Miss Lake, and wait patiently for Officer Smith. We have other things we need to do right now and babysitting you isn’t one of them.”

  Genevieve gave a huff, but she backed up and took a seat.

  Jake exchanged a look with Marco as he moved toward the captain’s door.

  * * *

  “Dammit, dammit, dammit,” cursed Defino, walking around her desk and taking a seat.

  Peyton perched in the chair across from her, looking up as Marco moved into his own chair. As always Defino’s office was dark, closed up tight. Peyton couldn’t help but wonder at her aversion to natural lighting.

  Marco touched the paperweight with the beetle inside, giving Peyton a strange look. She held up her hands. She didn’t understand it either. There was something creepy about the bug in a huge ball of acrylic.

  “I should fire Bartlet,” said Defino, placing her hands flat on her glass topped desk.

  “I talked with him and told him he was risking his badge, Captain. I don’t think he’ll do it again.”

  “If I find out he does it again, I swear I’ll gut him.”

  “He’s just flirting with a pretty girl,” said Marco.

  Peyton and Defino gave him a critical look. “Is he the only one?”

  Marco made a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort. “I don’t want any part of that one. She’s definitely trouble.”

  “Good.” Defino leaned back in her chair. “Dammit.”

  “You didn’t really think the Janitor had left San Francisco, did you, Captain?” asked Peyton.

  “You know I’d hoped he had.” She glanced up at them. “I need you to finish this Fan case, so you can get back on the Clean-up Crew. Where are you with it?”

  “She killed Jensen, Captain,” said Peyton. “We can’t prove it right now, but I’m sure she did it.”

  Defino frowned. “I was really hoping that wasn’t the case.”

  “I know.”

  “What’s your next move?”

  Peyton glanced over at Marco.

  He shifted weight. “I contacted a Cold Case detective in Miami. She’s working a double homicide that she believes Meilin’s involved in.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, the double homicide’s twenty years old. Her adoptive parents, both shot at close range, just like…”

  “Matt Jensen,” finished Defino. “Can this detective tie her to the murders?”

  “No,” answered Peyton. “Just like in our case, she has an alibi and there’s no murder weapon.”

  “And our next move?” asked Defino again.

  “We’re going out to talk to Matt Jensen’s mother about her son’s relationship with Meilin. This detective in Miami has a motive for her murders, but we really don’t have one for ours.” She picked up the paperweight and gently tossed it back and forth in her hands. “If we can get a motive, I’ll bring her into the precinct and confront her. Maybe we can get her to break?”

  Defino nodded, watching the paperweight pass back and forth. “As soon as you finish this case, you’re back on the Clean-up Crew. Got it?”

  Peyton tried to hide her excitement. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, rubbing her thumb over the acrylic surface.

  “You can have that,” said Defino, nodding at it.

  “What? No, Captain, I can’t take your beetle.”

  “Take it. You drive me crazy playing with it whenever you come in here. Now go. I’ve got some calls to make.”

  Peyton and Marco rose to their feet and turned toward the door. She studied the strange bug as she made her way into the precinct again.

  “You just can’t leave shit alone, can you, Brooks?” said Marco, closing the captain’s door at his back.

  “This thing freaks me out,” she whispered, holding it up for him.

  “Yeah, well now you get to be freaked out every single day because you know it has to sit right on top of your desk in plain sight.” He draped an arm across her shoulders and turned her in the direction of their desks.

  Peyton sighed. “I don’t suppose it breaks, does it?”

  “Nope. That thing would probably withstand a nuclear blast.”

  “The beetle or the acrylic?”

  “Yep,” he said, ruffling her hair with his hand and laughing.

  * * *

  Peyton and Marco approached the townhouse and Peyton knocked on the door. She’d already called to warn Mrs. Jensen they were comi
ng, but the house looked deserted. She knocked again.

  After waiting for a good two or three minutes, the door opened and Mrs. Jensen peered out.

  Peyton showed her badge. “Mrs. Jensen, I spoke with you on the phone a little while ago?”

  “Yes, you wanted to ask me some more questions about Matt.”

  “Right. May we come in?”

  “Of course.” She stepped back to allow them entrance. Using her cane, she directed them down the tight hallway and to the small room with the dated furnishings. Except one thing wasn’t dated. Mrs. Jensen had a brand new flat screened television that was showing a soap opera of some kind.

  “New television?”

  The older woman levered herself onto her sofa, but she glanced up. “Gift from Meilin.”

  Peyton made deliberate eye contact with her partner. He sank into the armchair to the left of Mrs. Jensen, but Peyton took a seat beside her on the sofa. She reached out a shaky hand and muted the sound, but the crisp, clear picture remained.

  “Extravagant gift?”

  “I told her it was too much, but she wanted me to have it.” She shifted to face Peyton. “Have you found Matt’s killer?”

  “We think we might have, but I need a little more information about Matt.”

  “Who is it?”

  “We can’t divulge any information in an ongoing investigation, but as soon as we’ve collected all of the evidence I will come back here and tell you in person, okay?”

  “It’s taking a long time. Does it usually take this long?”

  “Oh,” said Peyton with a sigh, “sometimes it takes a very long time. Sometimes it takes twenty years.”

  Mrs. Jensen frowned at her. “What?”

  “Anyway, Matt and Meilin – what was their relationship like? Did they ever fight?”

  “Every couple fights, Inspector Brooks.”

  “Right, but moreso than any others?”

  “No, they seemed very happy with each other.”

  Peyton patted her hand where it rested on the couch. “I know this is hard, but was Matt demanding or overly jealous in anyway?”

  “Demanding? Jealous? Do you mean domineering?”

  Peyton shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Mrs. Jensen gave her an arch look. “If you want domineering, that was my husband, Matt’s father. Matt was the most sensitive, gentle soul in the world. He treated Meilin like a princess.”