A Sour Grape (A Peyton Brooks Homicide: The Early Cases Book 1) by M.L. Hamilton

Author:M.L. Hamilton [Hamilton, M.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 5

P eyton replaced the phone on the cradle and looked up as Marco and ADA Henry Byrne walked out from arranging for Luke Watt to reschedule his court appearance.

“Watt’s alibi checks out,” she told Marco. “His supervisor at the nursing home, Alma Reyes, confirmed he did a twenty-four-hour shift. They keep surveillance cameras in the lobby and she said he was there the whole time.”

“Well, I could have told you this was a red herring,” said Byrne.

Peyton started to swivel toward him, but Marco placed a hand on Byrne’s shoulder and guided him toward the front of the building. “We really appreciate you coming down. We’ll let you know when we get anything.”

Grabbing her keys and leather jacket, she followed the men to the lobby. “Let’s go, D’Angelo. There are so many red herrings, and so little time.”

Byrne looked back at her, but Marco kept a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing open the half-door for him. “Thanks for your help,” Marco continued.

Byrne shook his head, but went to the front door and pushed it open, heading down the stairs into the parking lot.

As soon as he was gone, Marco turned to face Peyton. “You don’t play well with others, Brooks.”

“No, that’s not true. I don’t play well with vampires.”

“Lawyers,” corrected Marco.

“What’s the difference?” She held up her hands.

“It’s because she’s got an attitude problem, Marco baby,” said Maria, lounging in her chair.

Peyton turned on a heel to face her. “I have an attitude problem?” she said, pointing at herself.

“Mmm hmm,” said Maria, swiveling back and forth. “You got a oppositional defiance disorder.”

“Oh, big words,” said Peyton. “You wanna know what you got?”

Marco caught her elbow before she could go after the receptionist. “Let’s go talk to Roy Wood.”

Peyton let him drag her back toward the half-door. “I want a milkshake on the way.”

“You already had a milkshake for lunch,” he said.

“Let her have another one, Marco baby,” called Maria. “Her ass is gonna have its own zip code someday.”

Peyton started back into the precinct, but Marco caught her around the waist and swung her out the front door, setting her on her feet again.

“Jesus, Brooks, why do you let her get at you?”

Peyton smoothed down her jacket, then jogged down the stairs. “She doesn’t get at me. I just let her think she does, so she’s always a little afraid of me.”

“I don’t think she’s afraid of you or anyone,” he said, unlocking the Charger.

“She is,” said Peyton, staring at him over the top of the car. “You can see it in her eyes.”

“Whatever you say,” he answered and dropped behind the wheel.

Peyton climbed in after him and put on her seatbelt, leaning forward to look out the windshield. The fog was rolling into the City and the sky was growing dark. She glanced at her phone and saw it was pushing 6:00PM.

“Forget the milkshake,” she said as he pulled onto the street and headed for North Beach. “After we talk to this Wood fellow, I want dinner at Mama’s on Stockton.

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