Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5) Page 6

  Rosa felt relief. So she wasn’t just being paranoid.

  “What else did she tell you?”

  “Just that the kids were staying with Joe’s mother in Virginia, and she and I haven’t seen each other in a long time. She stressed we needed to get caught up. Celeste and I have never needed to get caught up. We weren’t exactly friends when I was Joe’s partner.”

  “I can imagine you weren’t.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Brooks made a motion with her hand. “Have you looked in a mirror? Any woman would be intimidated by all of that.”

  Rosa smiled, bracing her chin on her hand. “You know you don’t have to be intimidated, right?”

  “I’m not.”

  “But you just said…”

  “Any woman. I’m not any woman.”

  “Fine.” She held out her hand, indicating the business cards. “I’ll take those.”

  Peyton settled them in her hand with a sheepish shrug. “I don’t think you should go to this lunch by yourself. Something’s up, Sarge.”

  Rosa nodded. “My thoughts exactly, but I’m afraid if I ask one of the men to go, it’ll intimidate Celeste. I also want someone who can pick up subtleties and that’s just not Radar.”

  Brooks gave her a look of agreement.

  “I know you’re still on vacation, but I was wondering if…”

  “I’ll do it. What time do you need me to be there?”

  “Is 12:15 okay?”

  “Perfect. It’ll let me take Marco to physical therapy.”

  “Okay, Cafe Flore at 12:15.”

  “I’ll be there.” Brooks rose to her feet and turned toward the door.

  “Brooks?”

  She stopped and looked over her shoulder.

  “Wear your gun tomorrow.”

  With a nod, she disappeared into the hallway, headed for Margaret’s desk.

  * * *

  Marco sank into his desk chair with a sigh. Peyton had dropped him off after physical therapy and insisted on seeing him into the precinct. Lee, his massive Samoan administrative assistant, had been the only one in the lobby when they arrived, but he’d jumped to his feet and hurried to open the half-door for Marco, fussing over him, the very thing Marco hadn’t wanted to happen.

  After assuring Peyton he was all right, he’d finally gotten her to go to work. He felt grateful for the time they’d had together lately, but there was a strange tension between them. She acted like he was fragile porcelain and well…he was sexually frustrated by her no touching edict. Even her boyish black suits were starting to get him all hot and bothered.

  As soon as she climbed in the Prius to go, he’d ask Lee where everyone was. Tag and Holmes, his younger detective team, were discussing Lowell Murphy’s murder with Lieutenant Dan Wegner of the Taraval Station, the station that had been first on the scene of the homicide. Cho and Simons, his veterans, were on a new case, the drive-by murder of a seventeen year old kid in Hunters Point. Jake Ryder, their CSI, was with them.

  He crutched to the back of the station and found Stan Neumann, their tech guru, in his office. He checked in with him and remarked on the new dolls (sorry, action figures) Stan had on display, then he and Frank Smith, the old uniform cop, had a cup of coffee together. He enjoyed the few minutes catching up with Frank. Finally, he made it to his office, sinking into his desk chair.

  Leaning back, he took in his heavy wooden desk, his forest green visitor chairs, the curtains on the window, and the picture of Peyton and Pickles. He reached over and touched Peyton’s cheek in the photo with the edge of his finger. God, he was glad to be back in her house, but damn it, she was making him crazy with her insistence on sleeping in different beds…hell, different rooms.

  His phone buzzed. He picked up the receiver. “Hey, Lee.”

  “Captain, ADA Adams is here to see you.”

  Marco had forgotten how efficient Lee was. Compared to his last secretary, Carly, who couldn’t seem to find her desk, let alone understand what one was used for, Lee was efficiency personified. “Send him in.”

  Lee opened the door and ushered Devan Adams into his office. Of course, Devan looked polished in a dark navy suit with a pale pink collared shirt, and a navy tie. He was one of the few straight men Marco thought could pull off pink.

  “Can I get you some coffee, ADA Adams?” asked Lee.

  “I would love a cup. Black, please,” he answered, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he took a seat.

  “Captain?”

  “Coffee would be great, Lee. Thank you.”

  Lee nodded and disappeared out the door.

  Devan turned his handsome face toward Marco, his hair cut short and perfectly aligned, his jaw clean-cut, and his eyes clear and bright.

  “You must be sleeping at night again,” Marco said. Devan had an infant daughter and he usually pulled the 2:00AM feeding.

  “Amira’s been sleeping until 5:00AM lately. It’s perfect. I have to be up at that time anyway.” He eyed the crutches. “So how are you?”

  “Getting along. They still won’t let me put weight on the leg, but Dr. Chamberlain said he’s pleased that the graft seems to be taking, so I hope I’ll be walking again in another couple of months.”

  Devan nodded. “And Peyton?”

  It always circled back to Peyton with Devan. “She’s good.”

  “But are you two? You know?” He shrugged.

  “We’re living together again, yeah.” He wasn’t about to tell the ADA that they weren’t sleeping together yet. No way in hell was he bringing that up.

  “So you’re all moved out of Abe’s?”

  “Yeah, he and Jake moved my stuff back while I was in the rehab facility.”

  Devan scrunched up his brows. “So is the engagement back on?”

  “Why are you fishing?”

  “Just trying to show interest in your life, D’Angelo.”

  “I call bull shit on that.”

  Devan held up his empty hands. “You always think I have an ulterior motive. You’re suspicious by nature.”

  “Detective,” said Marco.

  Lee opened the door again, offering both of them their coffee.

  “Thank you, Lee,” said Marco, smiling at him.

  Lee ducked his head.

  “Yes, thank you, and if you ever want to get out of here, I’ll make a position for you in my office,” said Devan, sipping at his coffee.

  “Don’t poach my people,” Marco grumbled.

  “Hey, if you can’t hold them, they’re fair game.”

  “I’m happy where I am, ADA, but I appreciate the offer.” Lee ducked out of the room.

  Marco leaned back in his chair and sipped at his own coffee. “I know this isn’t a social call.”

  Devan settled the mug against his thigh. “Nope. What are we going to do about Harlan Osborn? Are you going to drag him in for interrogation?”

  “The moment I do that we get a gag order slammed on us.”

  “So you’re going to ignore the fact that he was Murphy’s secret lover?”

  “No, but I just don’t know how to approach it. We go at it the wrong way and he shuts us down.”

  “That never stopped you before. What are you afraid of?”

  Marco considered that, swiveling to look out his office window. “Harlan Osborn has been a burr in my side for years. He’s complicated cases that had nothing to do with him, just because he wields power in this town.”

  “Claire Harper?”

  “And Jedediah O’Shannahan, to name a few.” Marco held up a hand. “And this could ruin your chances for the governor’s mansion, Adams. I thought Rani already had plans to redecorate it.”

  “I don’t want it at the expense of justice,” Devan said.

  Marco rolled his eyes. “Really? God, you’re so cheesy sometimes.”

  “You’re the one usually making the cheesy speeches, D’Angelo, appealing to my better nature. I don’t like this role reversal.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Damn, that
Ryder knows how to buy coffee. You think he’d want to come work for me?”

  “Stop poaching my people!” Marco growled again, then he stared at his computer screen, thinking. “I just wish I knew how best to handle this.”

  “He’s gonna lawyer up the moment you mention Lowell’s name, so just go with it.”

  Marco’s gaze rose to Devan’s face. “Do you remember the reporter that got thrown out of his fundraiser a few weeks ago?”

  “Yeah, the McLeod woman. What’s her first name? Hannah or Hilda?”

  “Hilda, really?” Marco asked him.

  Devan shrugged. “What do I know about women’s names?”

  He sure never forgot Peyton’s. “Harper,” Marco corrected. “I’m gonna call her and see if she can tell me what she’s learned about Osborn.”

  “She’s gonna want something in return.”

  “Of course she is.”

  “Quid pro quo.”

  “Right.”

  “What if you can’t give it to her?”

  “Then I’ve lost nothing, have I? I don’t have anything right now as it is.”

  Devan jerked his chin at Marco’s cell phone. “Call her now.”

  Marco pulled up her contact on his phone and pressed the icon. It rang so long, he was sure it would go over to her voicemail, but suddenly she picked up. “Harper McLeod, The Emersonian?”

  Marco recognized her voice. “Ms. McLeod, this is Captain D’Angelo of the SFPD Homicide Division.”

  “Yes, Captain D’Angelo, how can I help you?”

  “Well, I was hoping we could help each other.”

  Across from him, Devan sipped at his coffee.

  “What do you mean, Captain?”

  “I’d like to meet with you tomorrow if you have some time.”

  “I’m booked solid tomorrow. What about the next day? Thursday?”

  “Thursday works for me. How about noon?”

  “That’s a little late. Can’t we meet earlier?”

  “I have physical therapy in the morning, Ms. McLeod, so it’s a little difficult for me to get here before noon.”

  “Noon it is. Are you buying me lunch?”

  Marco considered that.

  “I like sushi. California rolls are okay,” she added.

  “Fine. I’ll have lunch here for you.”

  “Great. A girl’s gotta eat you know.”

  “Right.”

  Devan smiled.

  “What is it we’re discussing, Captain D’Angelo?”

  “Mayor Osborn.”

  She went quiet. So quiet Marco wasn’t sure she was still on the line.

  “Ms. McLeod? Are you still there?”

  “Here,” she answered. “Well, I have some information on Osborn, all right, and I’m happy to share, but what do I get in return?”

  “We’ll discuss that Thursday. You know I can’t reveal any information on an ongoing case.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll have to see about that, won’t we? I mean, I don’t dish for nothing.”

  Marco shook his head in annoyance. Working with a reporter was always a dicey proposition. “We’ll talk Thursday. See you at noon, Ms. McLeod.”

  “See you at noon, Captain D’Angelo.”

  Marco disconnected the call and gave Devan a speculative look. “Okay?”

  “It’s a start,” he said and finished off his coffee. “I think I’ll go get myself a second cup. You ‘spose Stan Neumann would like to join me. I could really use a good computer tech to do some research for me. Maybe I can poach him instead.”

  “Nice,” said Marco, watching him walk to the door and let himself out.

  * * *

  Cho and Simons appeared in the late afternoon, taking a seat across from Marco’s desk. They both wore that grim cop look Marco knew so well. They’d seen things they’d rather forget. He pressed the button for Lee and the assistant appeared in the doorway a moment later.

  “Get Cho and Simons some coffee, Lee, please.”

  The big man nodded and disappeared again.

  “Tell me.”

  Cho glanced over at Simons and sighed. “Drive-by in Hunters Point. Caught a 17 year old kid, Jamaad Jones, in the temple. Dead on impact.”

  Marco grimaced. “Anyone see anything?”

  Simons curled his hands around the arms of his chair. “Couple of people reported a late model Lincoln leaving the scene, but no one thought to get a license plate number.”

  “No one thought to or no one wanted to?” asked Marco.

  “Yeah,” said Simons. He looked older than he had a few weeks ago when he’d visited Marco in the rehab facility. Marco wondered how many more years Simons had in him.

  “Gang related?”

  Cho shrugged. “Looks that way, but no one puts Jones in a gang. His mother lost it. Had to call the paramedics out to give her a sedative. God, that just…” He shivered.

  Marco nodded. “I know, Nate.”

  “We’re gonna go out to the high school tomorrow. Talk to the teachers, his friends, see if anyone knows if he was mixed up in a gang, but he was just a kid,” finished Simons.

  “There are two gangs operating in the area. Big Block Gang, which we already know about, and a new one called Mainline,” said Cho. “Mainline’s pushing into Big Block territory. I talked with Javier Vargas of the Gang Taskforce. They’ve been keeping a close eye on Hunters Point, worried about this new gang.”

  Marco nodded. “How’s Ryder doing?”

  “He’s Ryder, you know?” said Nate. “It was hard listening to the mother, but Ryder kept on working the scene. Afterward, he just sat in the back of the car, not speaking. I didn’t know if I should press it or not.”

  “I’ll talk to him before I go home.”

  Lee opened the door, handing Simons and Cho their coffee. “The ME’s here to see you, Captain.”

  Marco nodded. “Tell him just a minute.”

  “We’re done. We got nothing else right now, Captain,” said Cho.

  “Okay, go home.”

  They rose and headed for the door.

  “Cho?”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder.

  “Take Bartlet and the new kid with you to the school tomorrow. That way you can cover more ground.”

  “Got it.”

  Marco nodded and watched them go, their shoulders drooping. A moment later, Abe appeared in the doorway, throwing his arms wide.

  “Sweet Angel’D, how are you, darlin’? How’s the first day back behind the desk?”

  Marco couldn’t help but smile seeing Abe. He wore a pink shirt with white polka dots all over it and striped pants in pink and white. Glancing over the desk, Marco saw he wore white spats with pink tassels.

  “What? No pink spats?”

  “I had to order them custom, but they’re not here yet.” He threw his long frame into the chair across from Marco’s desk, his pink and white beads tinkling on the ends of his dreads. “I sure do miss your pretty face across the breakfast table from me, Angel. If things aren’t working out with the Divine Miss P, you know I’ll take you back in an instant.”

  Marco shook his head. “Things are fine.”

  Abe’s brows lowered immediately in a frown. “Fine? Fine? That does not sound fine at all. Are you fussing at each other again?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is fine?” He said fine like it was a dirty word.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Abe crossed his legs and folded his hands on his knee. “I’m not leaving until you dish, Gorgeous, so dish.”

  Marco felt his frustration rise. “She’s sleeping in Jake’s old room.”

  “Oh!” Abe placed a long fingered hand against his chest. “Oh, that’s not good at all. You’re living like Lucy and Ricky.”

  “What? Wait. What?”

  “Ricardo. Twin beds and all.”

  “Sure.” Marco knew he shouldn’t have told Abe anything.

  “Well, give her time. You know women
.” Abe gave him a skeptical look.

  Marco narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, and you don’t. This isn’t a sex thing, Abe. Well, not exactly. She’s afraid she’ll hurt me.”

  Abe’s expression grew more puzzled. “What sort of sex do you straight people have?”

  Marco laughed, despite himself. “No, it’s the graft.” He stopped himself and held up a hand. “Let’s change the subject.”

  “Good, because I really came here to talk about the bachelor party this Friday night.”

  “You’re organizing that?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, then you need to talk to Peyton because apparently the two parties have to be in the same venue and there can’t be any strippers.”

  Abe leaned forward. “I have the perfect place lined up. I’m thinking a Men’s Club theme for our side of party.”

  It was Marco’s turn to look concerned. “Men’s Club, as in…”

  “Cigars, poker, fine brandy, smoking jackets, and cravats.”

  Marco blew out air in relief. “Right. Of course.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  Marco shook his head. “So what about the women?”

  “You said no strippers.”

  “No, I mean the bachelorette party.”

  “Peyton’s supposed to do that.”

  “She’s gonna needs some help, Abe, and you know it. Especially if you wanna pull it off by this Friday.”

  “Well, I figure we better do it soon. They get married in mid-July and we never know when Peyton’s gonna get called away.”

  “I agree.”

  “Okay, well then, I guess I’ll think about the girls side too, but I’ve already reserved the Butterfly Restaurant.”

  “The Butterfly Restaurant?”

  “In the Embarcadero, Pier 33. They’ve got private rooms.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Do you have cravats?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Then just show up looking beautiful, Angel, I’ll handle everything else.”

  Marco forced a smile, but he couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “No strippers, right?”

  “No strippers, right,” said Abe, then he winked.

  CHAPTER 5

  “What is going on with this cold case Brooks has been looking into, Radar?” said Rosa, taking a seat in the simple metal chair on the other side of his desk.