Murder in Chinatown (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  Sanderson came to his feet, startling both Billy and Gabby. Gabby realized she’d instinctively dropped her hand to her gun. So had her partner. “I consider this harassment, Detective Lucott. My son has been dead twenty years and you keep coming out here dredging it all back up.”

  “We’re trying to solve a murder case.”

  “Who cares? Who wants you to dig into this?”

  “Carol Witan’s niece, sir. She wants closure.” He nodded past the man at Andrea Sanderson. “Your wife. I think she wants to finally put her son to rest.”

  He started to come down the stairs, but Billy held up a hand.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sir. You’re clearly agitated and I wouldn’t want to mistake your intention.”

  Sanderson stopped in mid-step, looking surprised. Then his face clouded over. “This stops today. I don’t care who wants this case solved. You leave us out of it. If you come back to my house again, I will sue you. In fact, I’ve already been in touch with a lawyer.” He straightened to his full height. “Now, this is private property and I want you off it.”

  “We can get a warrant to search the house, Mr. Sanderson,” said Gabby.

  “You can try. Let the dead rest in peace, Detective. The Witans are dead, Grant is dead. Lily’s all the way across the country. There is no one else who needs closure.”

  “You do, sir,” said Billy. “Your wife does.”

  He looked at Billy, shaking his head. “You just don’t get it. You’re too damn young to understand. You don’t always need closure, boy. Sometimes you just need to forget.” Without another word, he turned his back on them and went into his house.

  Billy stared at the stairs without moving for a long time. Gabby came to him and touched his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “I screwed up.”

  “No, you didn’t. You just figured out who killed the Witans.”

  Billy turned, his expression bewildered. “The old man?”

  Gabby paused and sighed. “No, not the old man.”

  A sudden blaze of comprehension lit Billy’s face. “Ooh.” He jogged to catch up to Gabby. “How much do you love me now, huh?”

  Gabby shook her head and unlocked the car door.

  * * *

  “I’m getting sick of coming out to Chinatown every other day,” grumbled Marco, walking beside Peyton down the tight sidewalks. Even at 9:00AM, Chinatown on a Saturday was filled with people.

  “We need to find that last bit of evidence. I can’t wait to take a crack at this bitch in interrogation.”

  Marco smiled at her. “What time did Maria get home?”

  “I think it was late. Pickles started barking about 1:00.”

  “Did she say she had a good time?”

  “Maria doesn’t exactly get up at the crack of dawn on a weekend. She wears noise canceling headphones and a sleep mask to keep out the light. Poor Jake tiptoes around the kitchen like a mouse, scared to make any noise.”

  “Jake have any problem with her living there?”

  “Jake, not so much. Me...” She shook her head.

  “You can say no.”

  She stopped and looked up at him. “I think we both know I can’t, but it’s cute of you to encourage me.”

  He laughed and she relished the sound. Maybe things were starting to smooth out between them just like he said it would.

  They continued walking and came to the Yellow Lotus. It was closed, but when Peyton peered in the window, she could see Leah folding napkins at a table. She motioned the girl over and Leah glanced toward the screen before scurrying across the floor and quickly unlocking the door.

  She pulled it open and motioned them through, putting a finger to her lips for quiet. “Inspector Brooks?” She gave Marco a shy smile.

  “How are you, Leah?”

  She motioned them further into the restaurant and locked the door again. Leaning close, she said, “We try to be quiet down here when she’s upstairs. The longer she sleeps, the more work we get done without her supervision.”

  “Wait. She moved back in upstairs?” Peyton deliberately kept her voice at the same level as Leah.

  “Two days ago. She said it was stupid to waste so much money on a hotel.”

  “Wonder why we weren’t told?” Peyton said to Marco.

  He shrugged.

  “Leah, is there someplace we can talk where we won’t wake her up?”

  “Kitchen.” She waved them to follow her and led them into the kitchen. Peyton recognized all of the same faces that had been there before, working over cutting boards or woks, stirring boiling pots of something on the stoves. Lin climbed off a stool as they entered, setting down her knife. She came over to Leah and touched her arm, talking to her in Chinese.

  “My aunt says to tell you hello,” Leah translated.

  Peyton smiled at her.

  “What do you want to talk about, Inspector Brooks?”

  Marco leaned against the wall where he could look through the little window in the door and see the restaurant.

  Peyton pointed over her shoulder. “Do you know the lotus painting in the restaurant?”

  “Yes.”

  “They were painted by the same man who did the menu, right?”

  “Hui Bai, yes.”

  At the name, the aunt began speaking in Chinese. Leah talked back to her.

  “What did she say?” asked Peyton.

  “Hui Bai, he does a lot of art for people in Chinatown.”

  “Have you or Aunt Lin ever met him?”

  “Hui Bai?” Leah started to say something, but Lin grabbed her sleeve tugging on it, her voice rising as she talked. Leah nodded and answered in return.

  “Leah?” urged Peyton.

  “We haven’t seen him for a few days, but before that, he ate here every day. He had a regular order he placed and we’d have it waiting for him at 4:00PM sharp.”

  “Does he live in Chinatown?”

  “No, just outside.”

  “He ordered the same thing every day?”

  “Yes, we prepared the same thing for him every day. He’d come in to pay, pick up the food, and leave. He didn’t talk much.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Since the restaurant opened. The first week we were here, he came in and said he could do the menus. Meilin liked him. He’s handsome, so she gave him work. Then she started buying his paintings. Lots of people in Chinatown have his paintings.”

  Lin tugged on her sleeve again, saying something urgent.

  “Right. He always got the same thing every day. He would only eat here, no other restaurant.”

  Peyton exchanged a look with her partner. “Why?”

  “He said he couldn’t trust them. He was allergic to peanut and he was afraid they’d make a mistake. He said one bite, even cooking in the same pan could kill him.”

  Peyton bit her lower lip. “Did everyone know this?”

  “Of course. Meilin made a big deal about it. We even have special pans for people allergic to peanut.” She pointed over her shoulder at a pot rack. “See the ones with red handles. Those are for no peanut.”

  No peanut. At some point it had become some peanut and Peyton suspected that was after Matt Jensen was shot.

  Peyton squeezed her arm and smiled at Lin. “Thank you.” She turned toward the door.

  “Inspector?”

  Peyton shifted back around.

  “Is Hui Bai okay?”

  Peyton glanced at her partner. He shrugged.

  Stepping close to the girl again, Peyton dropped her voice. “Hui Bai died about a week ago.”

  “How?”

  “That’s an on-going investigation. I can’t reveal anymore to you. I’m sorry, Leah.”

  “Do you know if there’s a funeral for him?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry again.”

  Leah nodded, forcing a tense smile. “He had such nice paintings.”

  “I know.” And Peyton couldn’t deny Hui Bai’
s death made her sad too.

  * * *

  Marco pulled the Charger out of the St. Mary’s Square parking garage and turned onto the street. Peyton was typing into her phone, focused on the display.

  “What now?”

  “Abe is sending me the police report and his autopsy on Hui Bai. Give me a second,” she said, pressing the document and waiting for it to load on her screen. “Okay, police took a brief history. A neighbor found him, but he went into cardiac arrest before the paramedics arrived.”

  “Do you have a name for the neighbor?”

  “Chen...ah, hold on. Gan Chen.”

  “Address?”

  Peyton showed it to him.

  “Let’s go.” Marco flipped a U-turn with the Charger and headed back the way they’d come.

  Hui Bai’s apartment on Bush Street was within walking distance of Chinatown, a five story brick building with laundry hanging off lines strung from one fire escape to another. Marco parked the Charger, then they walked to the building, jogging up the staircase to the front door. Peyton tried the handle and found it unlocked. Stepping into the dark building, they were assailed with the smells of cooking cabbage, mildew, and the overpowering scent of mothballs.

  Looking at a list in a metal case posted beside the door, Peyton searched for the apartment they wanted. Most of the names were written in Chinese characters, but a few had the English translation beneath them. By pure luck, Chen was one of them.

  “Upstairs,” said Peyton, pointing to the carpeted staircase. She started for it, Marco on her heels.

  The hallway was dark, a bulb burnt out near the Chen door. “Kinda run-down,” she remarked.

  Marco nodded. “I guess if you’re undocumented, you’ll take whatever you can get in the way of housing and don’t fuss much with a landlord.”

  “You’re probably right.” Peyton knocked at the door, reaching for her badge. “‘Suppose we’ll get any help then?”

  “It’s iffy.”

  A moment later, the door open and a young man in his mid-twenties peered through the crack. A chain kept the door from opening any farther. “Yes?”

  Peyton showed her badge. “Mr. Chen? I’m with the San Francisco Police Department. This is my partner Inspector D’Angelo. We’d like to ask you some questions about Hui Bai.”

  “Hold on.” He pushed the door shut and unhooked the chain, then he pulled it open again. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Inspector Brooks. Are you Gan Chen?”

  “Yeah. You said you wanted to ask me about Hui Bai?”

  “Right.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re investigating a murder and his death may be connected.”

  “Murder? The police said he died of natural causes.”

  “I know, I read their report. We think it might not have been as natural as they thought. Can we come in?”

  Gan Chen considered what she told him for a moment, then he motioned them into his apartment. As Peyton stepped through, she was immediately confronted by a sofa. In fact, the entire interior of the place was covered with furniture. Sofas, chairs, tables of every variety, futons and even a narrow twin bed in the corner. A galley kitchen occupied the wall next to the door and wicker baskets blocked half of the entrance.

  Gan stepped around Peyton and motioned to a sofa in the center of the room. “Excuse the mess. I live with my father and he likes to collect things.”

  Peyton nodded. That she could see. Following him through the obstacle course of their studio apartment, Peyton made it to the couch and sat down, taking another look around. An entire collection of plant stands occupied the corner directly to her left and patio chairs were stacked up right next to them.

  “Does he sell furniture?”

  Gan Chen sat down on a futon across from her. “God, I wish.”

  Peyton laughed.

  Marco didn’t seem to know where to put his 6 foot 4 frame and he turned a semi-circle next to her. She patted the cushion beside her and he finally stepped over a number of wicker crates to get to her.

  “According to the police report, you found Hui Bai.”

  “Yes.”

  A door behind them opened. Peyton looked over her shoulder to see an older Asian man coming out of a bathroom. He stopped and surveyed the scene, then quickly wound his way to his son, asking him questions in Chinese. The son answered.

  The old man plopped himself on the futon beside him, giving Peyton a gap-toothed smile.

  “This is my father, Shen.”

  Shen Chen. Peyton reached for her notebook. “Do you mind if I take some notes?”

  “That’s fine.”

  She jotted their names down, then looked up. “Did you know Hui well?”

  Gan gave her a wry smile. “We share a wall and the walls are thin. We knew him a bit too well.”

  “Did you know he had a severe food allergy?”

  “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

  “Tell me what you found when you went over there.”

  “He was lying on the floor of the kitchen. I went over to him and he seemed to be struggling to breathe, his face horribly red. So I called 911.”

  “And before they arrived, he stopped breathing?”

  “I tried to do CPR. The paramedics got here in about 5 minutes and they took over, but I knew he was dead.”

  “Did you find anything in the apartment? Any take-out boxes or containers?”

  “I didn’t see anything. I found one of those epi pens next to him, but the cops said it was expired.”

  “Was he here often?”

  Gan gave a grunt. “He was here all the time. He’d go out for a few hours maybe, but then he’d be back in there. He was an artist, I think.”

  “Yeah, he was. Did you ever see his work?”

  “He had some of it up in his apartment. He was pretty good.”

  “I know.”

  Up until this point, the father hadn’t said anything. Suddenly he turned to his son and began talking. The son listened, then responded. The exchange went on for some time. Peyton watched them, then glanced at Marco. He nodded for her to interrupt them.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Chen?”

  “He’s just asking why you’re here.”

  “Did Hui Bai have any visitors?”

  Gan rubbed the back of his neck. “Lately, he’s had one. I haven’t seen her, but I hear her.” He gave Peyton a significant look.

  The father started talking again, tugging on his son’s arm.

  “What did he say?”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Anything you can tell us for our case would help us, Mr. Chen, even things that are embarrassing.”

  “He said Hui Bai was a dog, always humping anything he could.”

  Peyton and Marco couldn’t help but smile. “Anyone in particular?”

  “Like I said, I heard them. I didn’t see them.”

  “Can you ask your father?”

  He began translating for his father and the father began an excited explanation, waving his arms and pointing repeatedly toward the apartment’s only window. When Peyton shifted to see where he was pointing, she noticed a small television sitting on a plant holder next to the twin bed. A shiver ran up her spine.

  “He saw who the woman was, didn’t he?” she said, turning back around.

  “That’s what he’s saying.”

  “And she was on television?”

  “Do you speak Chinese, Inspector?” Gan said with amusement.

  “No, but I do speak human nature, Mr. Chen.” When he gave her a questioning look, she focused on his father. “Was the woman Hui Bai entertained on Food Battles?”

  At the name, the father pointed at Peyton and gave her a huge smile.

  * * *

  By the time they debriefed Defino and placed a call to Detective Acosta in Miami, it was nearly six. Another Saturday, come and gone, and she was working. No wonder she would never have anyone significant in her life.

  Detec
tive Acosta, it turned out, wasn’t much better. She was also working, but they’d run up against a road block. They needed a warrant and judges in Florida weren’t any more likely to issue one on the weekend, unless it was an emergency, than they were in California.

  So Marco and Peyton returned to her house on 19th. Maria was cooking and Jake was sitting on the barstools, watching her. They were sharing a bottle of wine.

  Peyton dropped her keys and wallet on the sofa table, took off her gun and picked up Pickles for a cuddle, heading into the kitchen to get her and Marco a beer. Jake gave her a smile and nodded at the dog.

  “He’s eaten and gone for his walk,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Peyton set him on the ground and opened the refrigerator. Since Jake had moved in, he did a lot of Pickles’ care. He said he and Pickles were BFFs.

  She grabbed the beers and passed one to her partner on the other side of the counter. She was actually a little surprised he’d come back with her. Usually he had something planned with his family or a date, but this was two nights in a row he was spending with her. Not that she was complaining. Until Alcatraz, her friendship with Marco had been one of the easiest and longest she’d ever had.

  She glanced over at Maria. “What are you making?”

  “My famous minestrone soup and a salad. You get too much take-out, Brooks. Your ass is gonna be as big as a...”

  “Hippo?”

  “Elephant.”

  At least they were changing it up some. She leaned over the pot. It smelled good. “Minestrone’s vegetarian, right?”

  “Well, mine definitely is. I figured you’d be coming back, Marco baby,” she said, giving him a smile over her shoulder.

  “Thank you,” he answered, saluting her with his beer.

  “How the case going?” asked Jake.

  Peyton took a seat at the counter between them. “Frustrating. I’m sure she killed Matt, but we just can’t prove it yet. I’m also fairly certain she offed Hui.”

  “How you gonna prove that? The police ruled his death from natural causes.”

  “I know, that’s where the frustration comes in.” She took a sip. “We need some way to tie her to both deaths. She was sleeping with Hui. We could get the neighbor to testify to that, but the old man who saw her doesn’t speak English.”