Murder on Potrero Hill (10 page)

He forced himself to slow his breathing. He needed to go home. He needed to get some real sleep and then think through his next move. They hadn’t brought him into the precinct, which must mean they didn’t have a very solid case. They were speculating right now. He just needed time to figure this out. There had to be a way he could prove he’d done nothing and get them off his back. There had to be something he could do.

He walked to the bus stop on the corner of Powell and sank into the seat. Leaning forward, he braced his head in his hands. He felt like he was in a nightmare and couldn’t wake up. How had this happened to him? Just a week ago, he’d been happy. His life might not have been overly exciting, but he was satisfied with it. He had no problem with routine. He didn’t long for anything more. How could things have changed so quickly?

“Got any spare change?” A filthy hand shot into his line of sight and Jake looked up. A homeless man with a wreath of wild grey hair stood in front of him in tattered clothes. “Got spare change?”

Jake reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a few coins, extending them to the man. As he did so, his eyes landed on a white Crown Victoria parked across the street from the bus stop. Two men sat in the front seats, looking back at him.

The homeless man hit his hand with his open palm. Jake dropped the coins onto it, but his attention was fixed on the car. It had no markings, but a large antenna sat on the roof. The two men were nondescript, both white, one middle aged,
the other younger. Jake didn’t recognize them, but he was certain they watched him.

He rose to his feet, but as he did so, the bus pulled up to the curb, blocking his sight. The doors hissed open.

Who the hell was watching him?

“You riding?” said the bus driver.

Jake tried to look around the bus without being suspicious, but he couldn’t see the car.

“Hey, you riding?” said the bus driver again.

Jake looked down, trying to corral his thoughts. None of this seemed real. He felt like he was completely off kilter.

“Mister?”

Jake lifted his eyes to the bus driver, then stepped around the homeless man and reached for the handrail, pulling himself up the stairs.

He automatically reached into his pocket for his keys and thumbed the bus pass forward. Pressing it to the reader, he started toward the seats.

The reader made a strange sound.

“Hold up, mister,” said the driver. “Do that again.”

Jake backed up and pressed the pass to the reader another time.

The reader made the same strange sound.

The bus driver leaned back and looked up at Jake from beneath the brim of his hat. “Dude, it says declined.”

CHAPTER 6

Marco entered the coffee house. It was crowded as these places always were. He took in the overstuffed arm chairs, the small, round tables, the people of every race, every age, lounging around the room, reading from tablets or typing on laptops. He even saw a woman with a paperback. Funny how you didn’t see many of those anymore.

He pushed past the line of patrons waiting to order drinks and walked up to the counter. He felt the eyes of the customers on him, but he ignored them. Behind the counter, the employees scurried around, making drinks or grabbing pastries out of the glass cases. A lower counter to the left allowed patrons to pick up their drinks once they were made. He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out his badge, flipping it open.

He set it on the counter and pushed it forward, so the young woman making coffee could see it. She paused as she set a cup on the counter and looked up at him.

“A caramel latte with nonfat milk,” she called. A man reached around Marco and grabbed the cup.

“I’m Inspector D’Angelo,” he said, picking up his badge.

She studied him, nodding slowly. She was in her early twenties, Hispanic. A thick, brown braid ran down her back and she had at least six earrings in each ear. “What can I do for you?”

“Did you know Zoë Ryder?”

She sighed and looked down. “Yes. She and I worked together a lot.”

“What’s your name?”

“Teresa. Teresa Gomez.” She glanced at the other baristas, who were watching them. “Is something wrong?”

Marco looked at them as well. “Can you take a break, Teresa? I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”

“About Zoë?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He nodded.

“Hold on.” She moved toward the other workers and whispered something to them. Marco stepped back, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room following him.

Untying her apron, Teresa shoved it beneath the counter, then eased past her coworkers and met him in the middle of the store. She motioned to the doors. “Let’s talk outside.”

He followed her to the patio and took a seat opposite her in one of the metal chairs. The sun was breaking through the cloud cover and the temperature was pleasant. A few more people entered the coffee shop from the street. When Marco glanced over his shoulder, he could see a number of the patrons looking out at them.

“Curious bunch,” he said, offering the girl a smile.

She studied him with a worried expression.

Reaching into his inner pocket again, he pulled out his business card and passed it across the table to her. He noted that her eyes were locked on his jacket where it gaped open. The butt of his gun must be visible. He straightened and covered the gun.

“Tell me about Zoë.”

“What’s to tell?”

“Were you close with her?”

“I guess. We went out for drinks and a movie or two. I’ve even been to her flat.”

“Did you know she had a college degree?”

“Yeah, biology, but she didn’t want to be a doctor. That’s what her dad wanted for her.”

Marco nodded.

Teresa leaned forward. “I thought she had a blood clot or something. I can’t remember what it’s called, but her husband said she died from some genetic defect.”

Marco’s brows lifted. “That’s what he told you?”

“Yeah, I went by the house to take him some food, sandwiches and stuff that we made up for him.”

“How did he seem to you?”

“Devastated. He was sleeping on the couch. Wouldn’t even go into their room. I felt so bad for him.” She fingered a ridge in the metal table. “Why are you here? What does the police have to do with this?”

Marco ignored her question. “Did you ever see Zoë with her husband?”

“Yeah, he came in here sometimes. Once he sent her a dozen roses – their anniversary or something.”

“Did she ever talk about him?”

“All the time. They were always going on these little day trips up and down the coast. You know, Half Moon Bay, Santa Cruz. They liked to have lunch at some little dive in Pescadero and he really liked walking along Miramar Beach. He has all these pictures he took of her out there.”

“Did she ever say anything about their marriage? Complain about fights or anything?”

Teresa sat back. “What’s this about? Why are you asking these questions? He loved her. He was always good to her. I mean he let her work here and he never complained about it.” She watched a couple of people leave the store. “We make minimum wage. Who chooses to work for that? But he never said anything about it.”

“Did they fight, Teresa?”

“Of course they did. What couple doesn’t?”

“What did they fight about? Did she tell you?”

“Stupid crap. She was all into environmental stuff and she’d get angry if he didn’t recycle. She was pretty upset when he stopped visiting her dad. He’s in a home, you know? Had a stroke or something.”

“Jake stopped visiting her dad?”

“Yeah. He went regularly for the first few months. All three of them took turns – Zoë, her mom, and Jake, but Jake stopped going.”

“Why?”

“I guess he didn’t see the point. Dr. Harper is a vegetable or something. You know, comatose? Zoë wouldn’t give up on him. She went all the time. Read to him. It really upset her.”

Marco shifted in his chair, trying to stretch out his long legs. “Did you know Zoë was pregnant?”

The look on Teresa’s face told him everything. “No, pregnant?” She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, God, poor Jake.”

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No, but…” Her eyes drifted away.

Marco waited.

Finally she looked back at him. “Pregnant? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, why?”

Teresa picked at the metal ridge again. “It’s just that…well…”

Marco leaned on the table. “You can tell me, Teresa. I’m trying to help Zoë.”

Teresa flatted her palm. “Why? You still haven’t told me why you’re here. What happened to Zoë?”

“Was Zoë taking any medications that you’re aware of?”

“Zoë? Are you kidding me? She hardly took aspirin. I told you she was something of an environmentalist, a health nut.”

“Zoë had a very dangerous drug in her system. It caused her death. We can’t find any record of her taking anything either. That’s why I’m here. I need to find out how she got the drug or…” He drew a breath and exhaled. “Or who gave it to her.”

“Gave it to her? You mean deliberately?”

Marco nodded.

Teresa leaned forward. “You don’t think…” She glanced at the departing customers and lowered her voice. “You don’t think
he
did it, do you?”

Marco didn’t answer.

Teresa covered her mouth again. Her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t really think that do you?”

“Did she say anything? Tell you anything that you thought strange at the time. You started to tell me something earlier, but stopped. What was that?”

She didn’t answer and a tear escaped, rolling down her cheek.

Marco leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “Please, Teresa, anything you can remember will help. I know you want to help Zoë, so please tell me anything you know.”

Teresa swiped at the tear with her free hand. “She just seemed so sad lately, so on edge.”

“Go on.”

“She would snap for no reason and once I found her crying in the back. She was sitting on the floor, crying.”

“Did she tell you what it was about?”

“She said she couldn’t tell me. When I kept asking, she said she was sad about her father. I left it alone. I didn’t want to push too much.”

“Okay. How long had she been acting like that?”

Teresa shook her head and another tear escaped. “I don’t know…maybe two…three months.”

Three months?
The amount of time she’d been pregnant. “Did she mention any other men? Did anyone come to visit her?”

A frown drew a line between Teresa’s brows. “Men? No, what men?”

Marco shook his head and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Thank you, Teresa.” He pushed the card closer to her. “If you think of anything else, will you call me?”

She ran both of her index fingers under her eyes. “Yes.” She reached for the card. “You don’t really think he would hurt her, do you?”

“Who?”

“Jake. He couldn’t have done this, could he? He was her husband. How could her husband do something like this?”

Marco sighed. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He nodded at the card. “If he comes in here, you give me a call, okay?”

She swallowed hard, then curled the card in her fist. “Yeah, I’ll call.”

Marco pushed himself to his feet. “Thank you for talking with me, Teresa.”

She gave him a sad smile and he walked away.

*   *   *

Peyton put her cell phone on the desk and looked up. Marco was just going into the break room. She pushed away from the desk and followed him. He was pouring coffee into a mug, his back facing her.

“I thought you went to a coffee house.”

He turned, lifting the mug to his lips. “I’m a cop, Brooks. I’m not paying $7 for a cup of coffee when I can get diesel fuel here.”

She smiled and leaned against the table. “Find out anything?”

“Not much.” He moved to the table and took a seat. “I met her friend Teresa. Talked to her for a little bit.” He placed the mug on the table and stretched out his legs. “How the hell did no one know she was pregnant?”

“Her mother knew.”

He looked up. “You talked to her?”

“Yep. Interesting conversation. She kept demanding to know why I was calling. I finally had to tell her there were some concerns about Zoë’s death.”

“And?”

“She immediately jumped to Ryder.”

“That’s what everyone does.” He leaned forward and pushed a hand through his loose hair. “I like gun murders better. At least then I know what I’m looking for. What are we looking for here?”

“Teresa give you anything else?”

“The way she tells it, Ryder was a great guy. Bought Zoë flowers, took her to the beach.” He shrugged and lifted the mug, taking another sip.

“Did she say if they ever fought? If Zoë mentioned anything?”

“She said it was normal stuff.” He narrowed his eyes. “She did say she caught Zoë crying in the back room one time. Said she wouldn’t tell her what was wrong. When Teresa pressed, she just said she was sad about her father’s condition.”

“When was this?”

Marco lifted the mug toward Peyton as if making a point. “About three months ago.”

“When she found out she was pregnant?”

“Yep.”

Peyton sighed. “Okay, so Claire said Zoë told her about the pregnancy, but she told no one else, not even her girlfriend?”

Marco shrugged.

“Did you ask Teresa about other men?”

“Yeah, she got snippy with me and said what other men. Did you ask Claire?”

“I asked her if there was a reason Jake wouldn’t have known about the pregnancy. She couldn’t think of one. She was more concerned about keeping him away from the house. Wanted me to put a patrol in front of her place. Told her that wasn’t in the budget and I didn’t think she had much to worry about. Still, I think I better run it past the captain.”

“What about other girlfriends? People she hung out with? Did Claire give you any names?”

“I asked, but she said Zoë wasn’t close to many people. She had her family and that seemed enough. From the moment she met Jake, she didn’t seem to need any other contact. Claire obviously didn’t approve of this, but Zoë led her own life.”

“Here’s what bugs me. Zoë was obviously keeping secrets from her husband, yet she didn’t complain about him to the only girlfriend we’ve found. You’re a woman, Brooks.” When Peyton gave him a narrow-eyed stare, he flashed her a stunning smile. “In theory.”

She punched him in the shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you tell your only girlfriend you were having marital problems? Wouldn’t you tell her you were pregnant?”

“I don’t know. I’m not the right person to ask. You and Abe are my closest friends. I don’t have any girlfriends I talk to on a regular basis.”

He sipped his coffee. “Something isn’t clicking for me.”

Peyton swung her leg beneath the table. “Me either, but we’re running out of time. Claire was pretty insistent she wanted Zoë’s body released. I think I bought us some time, but once the shock wears off about her actual cause of death, she’ll want to continue with her plans. And believe me, she isn’t gonna be happy about us waiting to bring Ryder in. She’ll want him arrested with or without evidence.”

Marco settled the mug on the table and nodded. “Who’s on stakeout tonight?”

Peyton pulled out her notebook and flipped it open. “Holmes and some rookie named Bartlet.”