The Peyton Brooks' Mysteries Box Set Read online

  The Peyton Brooks’ Mysteries Box Set

  Volume 0 - 7

  ML Hamilton

  authormlhamilton.net

  The Peyton Brooks’ Mysteries Box Set

  © 2017 ML Hamilton, Sacramento, CA

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  First print

  All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This box set is dedicated to the avid readers for whom there are never enough pages. May you find hours of entertainment within.

  “I live for the hunt – my life.”

  ~ David Berkowitz, the Son of Sam

  Table of Contents

  Murder in the Painted Lady

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  MURDER ON POTRERO HILL

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  EPILOGUE

  MURDER IN THE TENDERLOIN

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  EPILOGUE

  MURDER ON RUSSIAN HILL

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  EPILOGUE

  MURDER ON ALCATRAZ

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  EPILOGUE

  MURDER IN CHINATOWN

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  EPILOGUE

  MURDER IN THE PRESIDIO

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  EPILOGUE

  MURDER ON TREASURE ISLAND

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  EPILOGUE

  Murder in the Painted Lady

  A Peyton Brooks’ Mystery

  Volume 0

  ML Hamilton

  Murder in the Painted Lady

  © 2017 ML Hamilton, Sacramento, CA

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed by a newspaper, magazine or journal.

  First print

  All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to the fans who remain loyal throughout every change.

  You are appreciated.

  “It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”

  ~ Frederick Douglass

  CHAPTER 1

  Hey, Darla, it’s Jules. I just wanted to tell you I got the listing on Mason. Seven mil, baby. Don’t be too jealous. You’ve got your Painted Lady and all. Let’s get together for drinks to celebrate. We’re gonna be millionaires! I see Mercedes in our futures. Call me so we can coordinate our schedules. I got a showing at 2:00 and then I need to put in a few hours at the office, but I should be done by 6:00 at the latest. I can pick you up or we can meet at the bar. It’s your turn to pick the place. Talk to you soon, girl. Bye.

  * * *

  Lori walked up the steps before her clients, a young couple that had met at Google and married a year later. She loved this new crop of clients, high paying jobs and only a few years out of college. Of course, it was pushing home prices in San Francisco beyond anything people had ever seen, but she had no problem reaping the reward. Her new clients were book smart and money flush, without a lot of life experience.

  When they told her they wanted to own a unique bit of San Francisco, this house had come to mind. One of the famed painted ladies, it had yellow siding, white trim and accents of brick red. She typed in her code to unlock the box on the front door handle and pushed it open, giving them their first view of the interior.

  They were such a cute couple. The young woman grabbed her husband’s hand and let out a little squeal of delight. He beamed down at her. Lori was having a hard time remembering their names. She removed her business card from her pocket and looked at the back where she’d scribbled them down.

  Darcy and Ethan Cox.

  “Come inside,” Lori said, motioning them into the interior.

  The entrance opened on a long hall with dark, polished wood floors and white wainscoting. The walls were painted a soft butter yellow above the wainscoting.

  “The floors are all original as is most of the woodwork.”

  The Coxs murmured in wonder. She led them into the sunlit living room with its tray ceiling pain
ted a darker color than the walls and the bay windows overlooking the park. From there they entered the semi-circular breakfast nook with windows on three of the four sides and its newly tiled floors. The kitchen had been recently remodeled, the stainless steel appliances gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the open windows.

  “The kitchen has gourmet appliances, top of the line.”

  “Oh, we don’t cook,” said Darcy, clinging to her husband’s arm. “But it’s pretty.”

  Lori nodded. Of course they didn’t cook. Who had time to cook when you were making millions? “As you know, San Francisco’s famous for its restaurants.”

  They giggled at that.

  “Can you show us the bedrooms?” asked Ethan and he gave Darcy a lecherous look. She swatted at him, hiding her face against his shoulder.

  Lori tried not to throw up a little. Remember the money, she told herself.

  “This way.” She stepped around them, leading the way to the stairs. They climbed to the second floor and Lori showed them the five bedrooms, all in a row, and the two bathrooms. Of course, they complained there wasn’t a bathroom in the master bedroom.

  “This house was built in 1892. They didn’t have en suite bedrooms then.”

  “1892,” said Ethan in awe, staring up at the tray ceiling in the master bedroom. “Can you believe that?” he asked Darcy.

  “And it could be ours,” she said, her eyes gleaming.

  Let it be theirs, let it be theirs, prayed Lori. With this commission, even splitting it with the listing agent, she’d be able to pay off her daughter’s school loans, buy a new car, and sock some away in the bank in case there was another real estate downturn. “Well, what do you think? Should we go downstairs and write up an offer?”

  The Coxs looked at each other, silently communicating. Then Darcy nodded and Lori had to resist rubbing her hands together in anticipation.

  Ethan smiled at Lori. “Before we do that, I’d like to see the garage.”

  “The garage?” Lori tried to hide her disappointment. She was hoping to write up the offer as quickly as she could, get it sent over to the listing agent, then jet off for a massage and a pedicure before going home. Who gave a damn about garages in San Francisco? “It’s the typical garage. One car, accessed at street level.”

  “I still want to see it. I like to work on vintage cars and I want to make sure there’s enough room for my 67’ Mustang.”

  “Wow! That must be quite the car.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” said Darcy.

  Lori couldn’t care less about cars. They were a tool to get you from Point A to Point B. She drove an Acura, but mainly because you had to project prosperity to get prosperity, but it meant little else to her. She forced a smile. “Let’s go see the garage.”

  She led them to the stairs and they descended. Her feet were starting to hurt in these damn heels and she didn’t want to walk down another flight of stairs below this one, except she wasn’t letting these two out of her sight until she had a deal on the table. She wasn’t foolish enough to give them time to talk amongst themselves without her listening in. She’d been burned like that before.

  The door to the garage had been snuck into a corner of the kitchen. She unlocked it and pulled it open, reaching in to turn on the light. The staircase down was steep, but she gripped the handrail and preceded them into the dank, shadowy room. It smelled of mildew and something else she couldn’t identify. When they got to the bottom of the stairs, she searched for another light switch.

  She’d toured this property when they’d had the realtors’ walk-through, but she hadn’t come down to the garage. She turned a circle on the landing and finally located the switch next to a juncture box for the electricity. Flipping it on, she shifted to step down onto the garage floor, but Darcy suddenly let out a blood curdling scream.

  Lori’s eyes snapped up to the open area. A body lay sprawled in the middle of the concrete floor, brown hair fanned out in a halo around her head. She wore a navy blue pantsuit and heels, her hands folded on her breast. Lori couldn’t move, just stood, gripping the railing, while Darcy continued to scream.

  * * *

  Lori picked up her cell phone and looked at the time. She sat at the table in the breakfast nook with Darcy and Ethan huddled together at the other end. Cops swarmed the Victorian, snapping pictures, measuring things, laying down markers. More than an hour had passed and beyond a cursory few questions, no one had asked them anything else. She wondered how long they were going to be kept here. She just wanted to go home, she wanted a shower, and she wanted to drink enough that she’d forget what she’d seen.

  She knew the woman in the garage. They’d never talked much, but they’d worked on a number of deals together. Darla Stevens had to be Lori’s age, maybe a year or two younger. She’d been a realtor in San Francisco for the last ten years or so. She was pretty, likeable, and professional. If she told you she was going to do something, she always came through. Lori had liked that about her.

  After they’d found her, Ethan had worked up the courage to go up to the body. He’d felt for a pulse, but it was pretty obvious she was dead. She had bruises all around her neck where someone had strangled her.

  Lori shivered now. It was the very thing her husband had always feared, that one time she’d go into a house and someone would either rape her or kill her. He’d wanted her to quit for years now, but the money was too good. They had three kids to get through college and already they’d gone into debt for Lauren.

  She glanced up as a young African American woman stepped into the breakfast nook. She couldn’t have topped five foot four, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. She wore a leather jacket and combat boots with jeans. She had a pretty enough face, but her eyes were gorgeous. Large, dark, and heavily lashed, they gave her entire appearance an exotic look.

  She pulled back the side of her leather jacket and unhooked the badge from her belt, showing it to Lori, then flashing it at the Coxs. “I’m Inspector Peyton Brooks,” she said.

  Lori held out her hand. “Lori Hardy.”

  The inspector shook it, then walked around the table and shook hands with the Coxs.

  “Ethan and Darcy Cox,” said Ethan.

  Inspector Brooks took a small notebook out of her pocket and wrote something on it. Lori eyed her more closely. She couldn’t even be twenty-five. How the hell was she an inspector?

  “Brooks?” came a deep male voice.

  Brooks turned and looked toward the kitchen doorway. “In here,” she said.

  A moment later, the doorway filled with the handsomest man Lori had ever seen. He too couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, if that. He towered at least a foot over Brooks with black hair that touched his broad shoulders and blue eyes. His features had the symmetry of a male model and he had the build of an athlete.

  Lori let out a breath in appreciation.

  “Bob thinks you should see the body.”

  Brooks made a face. “I thought I’d take a statement from the witnesses first.”

  The man gave her a stern look. “Brooks.”

  She held up a hand. “Tell Bob I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Fine,” he said and disappeared again.

  Peyton offered Lori a self-deprecating smile. “That’s my partner, Inspector D’Angelo,” she said, coming to the table and pulling out a chair. She sank into it.

  “Inspector,” said Lori, clasping her hands on the tabletop, “how much longer do we have to wait here?”

  “Just a little longer. I need to take your statements, get your contact information, then you can leave.” She set the notebook on the table. “Did you know the victim?”

  Lori tried not to think of the body, but it was all she could see. “Yes, she’s Darla Stevens, a fellow realtor. She works for Bay Cities Properties.”

  Brooks wrote in her notebook. “Did you know her well?”

  Lori shook her head. “I knew her professionally. I don’t think we ever exchanged personal information
.”

  Brooks nodded and wrote some more. “What were you doing in the house?”

  Lori glanced at the Coxs and it suddenly hit her, they would never buy this house now. She’d just lost the biggest commission of her life, damn it. “I was showing the Coxs the house. They were interested in buying a Painted Lady.”

  “Okay. When you found the body, what did you do?”

  Lori frowned. “What?”

  “What did you do? I need to know everyone’s actions from the moment the body was found.”

  “I screamed,” said Darcy. “Lori turned on the light and I saw her and I just started screaming. I couldn’t stop.”

  “Okay, what about you?” Brooks asked Lori.

  “I just stared at her for a moment, trying to let it sink in.” She shivered. Dear God, they’d found a body. The thought kept ambushing her. “Then I called 911.”

  “And Mr. Cox?” asked Brooks.

  “I went down to see if she was alive.”

  “Did you touch her?”

  “I felt for a pulse. I didn’t do anything else.”

  Brooks wrote.

  “Is that okay? I mean, I had to see if she was still alive. I didn’t mean to mess up any evidence or anything. I just wanted to see if she was alive.”

  Brooks regarded him without speaking for a moment, then she scribbled something on her pad. Turning back to Lori, she said, “Did you expect Darla to be in the house when you showed it?”

  “No. I called her and told her I had interested clients. She told me to bring them over.” Lori turned in her seat and pointed to the door. “There’s a lockbox on the front door for us to use.”

  “So you had no idea Darla might be here?”

  “None. In fact, she said she had another appointment across town.”

  “Did she say who it was with?”

  Lori shook her head. “We weren’t close like that. We were just colleagues.”

  A uniformed officer appeared in the doorway. He had a thick moustache and a thatch of dark hair. “Hey, Brooks, D’Angelo wants you to come down and look at the body. They’re ready to transport.”

  Brooks sighed. “Got it, Frank. Tell D’Angelo I’m on my way.”

  “Are you, though?”

  She shifted in the chair and glared at him.