The Peyton Brooks' Mysteries Box Set, page 73
She forced a watery smile for his benefit and Peyton understood Joshua’s attraction. This woman brought out protective feelings in men, something she herself had never done. Maybe it was the kick-ass boots she wore, or the fact that she carried a gun, but she’d never found a man who wanted to take care of her. Not that she’d let him. If any man treated her the way Marco was fawning over Elena, Peyton would castrate him on the spot.
“Elena, I need to ask you some difficult questions.”
Elena sipped the tea, holding it with both hands. Slowly she lowered it. “You don’t have to ask that. He’s never once struck me or his daughter. Joshua would never do something like this.”
Marco looked down, chewing on his inner lip. It was the standard statement all battered women gave and it meant nothing. Fear or intimidation often made them protect the very person who was beating them.
“Look, Elena, Joshua’s in a lot of trouble right now and the only way we can help him is if you’re completely honest with us.”
Her jaw firmed and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I am being honest. I know what you’re thinking and I know you think you’re helping, but I’m telling you the truth. He’s never raised a hand to anyone.”
Peyton drummed her fingers on the table. She wasn’t sure how to pursue this. “What was his relationship with Terry like?”
“She was a gold digger, Inspector Brooks. That and nothing more.”
“She’s also the victim here, Elena.”
“Terry was never a victim in her life.”
Peyton glanced at Marco. She was usually good at this, but Elena wasn’t fitting the usual pattern.
Marco shifted toward her. “Elena, here’s the honest truth. Joshua’s drug addiction and past history with his ex-wife are going to go against him. The only chance he has of a reduced sentence is if we can find a motive for why he snapped. Temporary insanity…anything.”
Elena stared at him in astonishment. “Both of you are sure he did this. You’ve already convicted him before he’s had a trial. Is that what they teach you at the academy?”
“No, but here’s the reality. All of the evidence, the motive, and the opportunity points to Ravensong and there just isn’t any other possibility.”
Elena pushed herself to her feet. “I want to see him now.”
And just like that she closed the door.
Peyton sighed. “All right.” She and Marco rose together. “We’ll take you to him, but I hope you’ll reconsider and talk with us before you leave. We really are trying to help.”
“None of this helps, Inspector Brooks. None of it means a damn thing as long as you already believe him guilty. I’m not going to waste my time here. After I see him, I need to hire a lawyer, so we can get him out of here as fast as possible.”
Peyton walked around the table and pointed out the door. “This way, then.”
Elena grabbed her bag and followed her across the precinct. They took the single flight of stairs down to the holding cells and Peyton led her to a small conference room. It had no furnishings in it and the floor was bare concrete. There were no windows and the only opening was the heavy metal door. Peyton and Elena waited in the middle of the sparse room, while Marco stepped outside to talk to an officer.
Peyton reached for her card and held it out to Elena. “If you change your mind, you can call me any time.”
Elena took the card. “If you change your mind, why don’t you call me?”
Peyton crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Try to put yourself in our position, Elena.”
Elena studied her a moment, then tucked the card into her purse. “Why don’t you do the same?”
Marco led Joshua into the room. The difference in their heights was remarkable, but even in a prison jumpsuit, Ravensong exuded a powerful sexuality. He paused at the entrance and Elena turned to face him. Then they came together.
They never spoke, they simply fell into each other arms, pressing so tightly together that Peyton wondered if they thought they could meld into one person. Elena buried her face in his neck and sank her fingers in his dark hair. He folded around her, wrapping both arms around her back and closing his eyes.
Peyton glanced up at Marco. He shook his head in disgust and turned away, but Peyton couldn’t deny she was moved. Here were two people who obviously loved each other, and despite the situation, that was something she envied.
CHAPTER 4
James halted in the doorway of the theatre and watched Joshua play the piano. A group of senior girls were gathered around the back of it and one was sitting on the bench next to him. The piano tinkled out a cheerful ragtime tune and Joshua’s fingers flew over the keys, dancing away to the lively music.
He came to a flourishing finish and the girls all clapped, laughing in delight at his talent. The girl, sitting on the bench next to him, grabbed his arm and leaned into him, pressing her breasts to his side. James recognized her as Sarah Jameson, trouble. Joshua flashed a smile at her, but his eyes lighted on his brother at the top of the stairs.
“Gotta go,” he said, sliding out from the bench.
The girls all protested and Sarah reached for him, catching his hand. “Don’t run off. You said you’d play a slow one next.”
He leaned toward her, his dark hair sweeping across his cheekbones. “If I don’t go now, I’ll have to walk home and I hate walking.”
She pouted at him, but reluctantly let him go. Joshua grabbed his backpack off the edge of the stage and jumped down, jogging up the stairs. The girls all watched him, giggling at each other, and James felt his stomach tighten. No way should Joshua be hanging out with senior girls.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Joshua stopped and frowned at him. “Waiting for you. How was practice?”
“Forget practice.” James kicked open the door and held it as Joshua stepped through. “Those girls are seniors.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re a freshman. You shouldn’t mess with them, especially Sarah Jameson. She’s trouble. She’s seeing Luke Ames.”
“So? He’s a dick.”
“He’s on the football team. You screw with him, you screw with the whole team.”
Joshua shot an aggravated look at James. “I was playing the piano. No big deal. Back off, okay?”
James reached out and caught his arm, stopping him. Joshua looked from James’ hand to his face, but he didn’t pull away. “Those girls are trouble, Josh. Leave them alone. You don’t need to be messing with girls like that.”
“I like girls like that.”
“We all like girls like that, but it never works. You’re gonna get your ass kicked and no stupid girl is worth it.”
“Maybe they are. I’m not a priest like you, James.”
“I’m not a priest, but I know better than to sniff around those girls.”
Joshua shook off his hold and continued walking toward the parking lot. “I’ll handle it.”
“You stupid prick, you can’t handle it. Luke Ames is a mean sonuvabitch, Josh. And he’s not gonna come at you alone. He’ll bring the whole damn team.”
Joshua turned to face his brother, walking backwards. “It’s a free country, James. If Sarah wants something different, it’s her choice.”
“The hell it is. She’s playing with you. She isn’t serious. She’s never gonna be seen with a freshman.” He closed the distance between them and tapped Joshua in the forehead. “Think! You don’t need your insides rearranged again.”
Joshua stopped walking and looked behind James where the girls were leaving the theatre. “You’re right.”
“Damn straight I’m right.”
“They just look so good.”
“Yeah, right up until you get a fist in your face.” He grabbed Joshua’s shoulder and turned him around. “Just don’t look.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Then look, but keep your distance.” He shoved him forward.
“It isn’t just the way they look.”
“I know, but that’s what gets us in trouble.”
“I’m not sure I can avoid it, James.”
James slung his arm across Joshua’s shoulder. “I’m not sure you can either, but that’s why I’m here.” He ruffled his hair and shoved him away. “Someone’s got to protect that pretty face of yours.”
Joshua laughed and raced him to the truck.
* * *
Peyton eased her green Corolla into the parking lot and wound through the crowd to her parking space. Throwing open the door, she climbed out, almost smacking into the reporter who shoved a microphone in her face.
“Is it true that Joshua Ravensong’s been arrested for murder?”
Peyton shoved the microphone away and glared at the man until he stepped back. Damn paparazzi! She locked the Corolla and pointed herself in the direction of the precinct door, then shoved and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring their frantic calls for information.
She ran up the stairs. A uniform waited at the top and pulled open the door for her, holding it as she ducked inside. She didn’t even have time to thank him before he yanked the door closed again, blocking it with his body.
Maria and Captain Defino were standing on the other side of the counter, watching the insanity in the parking lot.
Peyton drew a deep breath and released it, smoothing a hand over her ponytail. “If I find out who leaked this story, I think I’ll shoot him.”
“Get in line,” replied Defino.
Peyton pushed open the half door. “So how is our rock star this morning?”
“You mean afternoon,” said Maria with a smirk.
“It’s only ten. I was here until late last night.”
“Don’t worry about it, Brooks,” said Defino. “Our rock star had a quiet night. His lawyer showed up at 8:00AM and is pressing for a bail hearing, but other than that everything’s fine.”
“His girlfriend didn’t waste any time, did she?”
Defino shook her head.
“Such a shame,” murmured Maria, looking out the door.
“I know.” Peyton couldn’t deny she’d wished it had all been a bad dream when she woke up. It was hard to have a hero fall, especially one as special to her as Ravensong had been.
“He tried so hard to stay clean. And his life has been so difficult.”
“Sort of self-inflicted difficult.”
Maria shook her head. “He wasn’t responsible for what his father did to him.”
“What?”
“His father beat him as a kid.”
“How do you know that?”
“He gave an interview a few years ago where he talked about it. He has a charity event every year against child abuse.”
Peyton moved closer to the desk. “Can you find me that interview on-line?”
“I’ll try.”
“And see if Stan Neumann can pull up a CPS report for his daughter Tiffany or a domestic violence report from Terry.” Peyton paused and thought for a moment, then tapped a finger against Maria’s desk. “Also see if he can locate Ravensong’s CPS report.”
“On it.”
“What are you thinking?” asked Defino.
“Elena Harris accused us of assuming Ravensong was guilty and not looking for other suspects. I just think we better cross all of our t’s.”
“Good thought. Devan’s gonna want everything we can find to establish a pattern of abuse.”
Peyton nodded. “Let me pull the drug tests from yesterday as well.”
“Keep me in the loop,” said Defino, moving toward her office.
“You got it, Captain,” said Peyton, heading toward the back. She slowed as she came near her desk.
Abe, her favorite Medical Examiner, was sitting in a plastic chair with his feet propped on Marco’s desk. Marco was leaning back as he usually did, talking to him. Peyton removed her coat and slung it across the back of her chair, adjusting her gun in its shoulder harness.
“Morning, Brooks,” said Marco.
“Morning. What are you doing here?” she asked Abe.
He dropped his feet to the floor and swung around to face her. “I was hoping I’d get to see the delicious rock star you’ve got in stir.”
Of course he was.
“And I brought Marco an apple scone.” He waved an elegant, long-fingered hand over a brown fold of glistening, flaky pastry.
“You made an apple scone?”
“Yes. I took a drive to the foothills this weekend and picked some apples with my bare hands.”
Peyton frowned at him. “You picked apples?”
Abe rolled his eyes. “Okay, I picked an apple.”
“Yeah, and did you really make that?”
“Of course I made it. Sheesh.” He sent his dread locks bouncing with a look of aggravation. “You have so little faith in me.”
Peyton sank into her chair. “Come on, Abe. Admit it. You don’t have one domestic bone in your body.”
“I do so, and it’s a very well-developed baking bone.”
Peyton glanced at Marco. He was making an uncomfortable face. There was never a literal meaning to anything Abe said.
“Well, you know what hurts?”
“What?”
“You brought Marco a scone and you didn’t bring me one. How could you do that to me?”
Abe gave her a pitying look. “You don’t just make one scone at a time, you daft girl.”
“You do if you pick only one apple.”
“I made a tray. The rest are in the break-room.” He pointed a finger at her. “But before you get one, you have to guess the secret ingredient.”
Peyton let out her breath. “Give us a hint.”
Abe glanced between them, the beads on the ends of his dreads clanking together. The beads were a new embellishment.
Marco shook his head at Peyton, but he stopped when Abe’s gaze landed on him.
“It begins with L,” said Abe jubilantly.
“Lard,” said Marco.
Peyton beamed a smile at him. “Love.”
Abe smiled too, his teeth struggling to be contained in his mouth. “Yes to lard,” he said, pointing at Marco, “Yes to love.” His finger jabbed at Peyton. “But I meant liqueur.”
“Why did you bring him one instead of me?”
“He’s prettier, darlin’. You know that.”
Marco pushed his scone toward Peyton. “You can have mine. I avoid lard as a rule.”
Abe pushed it back. “Do you really think I would give my Angel dead animal to eat? It’s vegetable lard, gorgeous.”
Marco broke off a bite and Peyton watched with longing as he put it in his mouth. She loved anything sweet and she meant anything.
Abe leaned back in his chair and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded card. “Look what I got in the mail.” He waved it in front of Marco.
Marco stuck another piece in his mouth and chewed. “What is it?”
“A birthday invitation.” Abe waved it again. “For someone’s thirtieth.”
Marco’s brows knit into a frown. Peyton couldn’t help but smile. He snatched the card from Abe’s hand. “What?”
“Did you get one?” Abe turned to Peyton.
“Of course.”
“Damn Vinnie,” muttered Marco.
“Vinnie D’Angelo.” Abe leaned toward Peyton, cupping his hand against his mouth theatrically. “You know what I mean?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Delicious.”
“He certainly is,” said Peyton, never taking her eyes off her partner. “Mama D’Angelo sure popped out some pretty babies.”
“Uh huh.”
Marco threw the card on the desk and reached for the phone in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said and rose to his feet, walking away.
“Brother Vinnie’s gonna get an ear full.”
“I don’t think Vinnie cares.”
“No, I guess not. So what are we getting him?”
Peyton leaned closer and dropped her voice. “Two tickets to the Niners, fifty yard line.”
Abe reared away from her and gave her an admiring look. “How’d you pull that off?”
“We helped out one of the players a few years back, so I called in a favor.”
“You slut.” He slapped at her arm. “That earns you an apple scone, and I’ll deliver it personally.”
“I want coffee too. Three tablespoons of sugar.”
“I know, I know,” said Abe, rising to his feet and moving toward the break room. “Someday you’ll make president of the Diabetes Club of America?”
“That’s not a real thing.”
“Sure it is. We meet in the morgue.” He shot a pointed look at her and disappeared inside.
Marco turned off the phone and slumped back to his desk. “He never listens.”
“You’re having a party, so get over it. You only turn thirty once.”
“I don’t need to turn thirty at all.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but the alternative is pretty unappealing.”
Marco gave a laugh and watched as Abe settled a scone and a cup of steaming coffee in front of her. Peyton immediately tore off a bite and stuck it in her mouth. The flaky crust melted against her tongue to be followed by a blast of vanilla and the sharp woodsy flavor of the liqueur.
As Abe sank into his chair again, Marco pointed at both of them. “And no gifts.” His finger stopped on Peyton when she was in mid-bite. “I mean it. No gifts!”
Peyton swallowed. “Of course not. Who buys gifts for a birthday party? Ridiculous.”
Marco didn’t seem convinced.
Peyton turned to Abe. “Out with it. Why are you here?”
“I told you. I want to see your rock star.”
“That’s a terrible reason. According to Jake, men are not for ogling.”
“Ogling?”
Marco made a face. “Ugly word.”
Abe nodded. “It is, Angel ‘D, which is why I never ogle. I venerate.”
“Venerate?” scoffed Peyton.
“Means admire.”
“Yeah, I got that. It’s still a no.”
“Why not? He won’t even know I’m there. This is my one chance to see him up close.”
“Then he’ll know you’re there. Come on, Abe, why are you here? You wouldn’t fight your way through paparazzi just to venerate or ogle either one.”
