Murder on Potrero Hill (11 page)

He tapped her knee. “What’s say we pick up some Chinese takeout and relieve those two for a few hours? See if Ryder makes a move, then we can pick him up and question him.”

“Bring him in?”

“No, if he comes out of the house, we can cite probable cause, cuff him and put him in the back of the patrol car. That might scare him enough to get him to spill.”

“What probable cause would we have? We have less than no evidence, no solid motive, nothing.”

“We can say he was headed to Claire’s and we wanted to protect her.”

“That’s pretty weak sauce, D’Angelo.”

“What else do we have?”

She raised her brows, but didn’t answer. She wished she knew what direction to go next. She wished something would land in their laps, guiding them, but… “I’ll have to pass,” she answered. “I have a date tonight.”

Marco leaned back. “A date? With who?”

“Devan Adams.”

“The Assistant D.A.?”

She gave him a nod. Devan Adams was tall, dark and handsome, everything she liked in a man. He looked a lot like a young Denzel Washington, and he was smart. Not only did she like looking at him, she liked listening to what he had to say. Plus he had money. Marco had one thing right – they couldn’t afford many luxuries on their salaries and Devan always took her to the best restaurants. In a city like San Francisco, that was saying a lot.

“How long has this been going on?”

“About a week,” she answered with a smile.

“I thought you said no man can handle you, Brooks.”

“Well, I’m willing to let him try.”

Marco made a face. “
Ewww.”

“Have fun on your stakeout.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Call me if you get anything.” She hopped off the table and turned around.

“Like I’m gonna interrupt your hot date,” he said, smacking her on the ass.

She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Call anyway. I
wanna know.”

“Go have fun, Brooks,” he said as she reached the door. “Forget about this place for
awhile.”

She looked back at him from the door. “Night, Marco baby.”

“Night, Brooks.”

*   *   *

A knock at the door woke Jake from a deep sleep. He sat up, letting the blanket pool around his waist and looked around the room. The shadows were long, coming in from the window. The knock sounded again and he looked over his shoulder at the door.

With a yawn he climbed off the couch and went to the door, but before his hand touched the knob, he hesitated and looked into the peep hole. Not that he could do anything if it was the police. He just wanted to prepare himself.

Sam’s distorted forehead was the first thing he saw and he unlocked the door, pulling it open. “Did you get my text?”

Sam nodded, then gave him a critical stare. “You look like shit.”

Jake moved back to let him in, scratching at his mussed hair. Sam wasn’t carrying anything. “You didn’t get my briefcase?”

“I wasn’t able to get anything. Two police officers came in and went through your desk. Took all your personal belongings.”

“The briefcase too?”

“I didn’t see them take a briefcase. Was it in the desk?”

“No, I told you it was in the credenza under the window.”

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Jake. The police cordoned off that area and Andrews is patrolling it like it was his particular mission. I don’t think I’ll be able to get it tomorrow either. Maybe once this blows off.”

Jake shook his head. “I need my briefcase, Sam. You’ve got to find a way to get it.”

“How, Jake? There are cameras all over that branch. How do you think I’m
gonna get it without getting fired? Besides, what’s so important about a briefcase? Seems like you’ve got bigger problems.”

“My tablet was in there and Zoë’s…” He stopped and looked at Sam closely, registering the last thing Sam said. “You don’t believe I would hurt Zoë, do you?”

Sam gave him a wounded look. “Why the hell would I be here if I believed that? Shit, Jake, do you know what I risked when I argued with Andrews over you?”

Jake scratched at his stubble. “I’m sorry. This whole thing is making me paranoid.”

“I know. You need to get out of here. Grab some shoes. You’re coming back to my house. I already ordered a pizza. We’ll drink beer and watch the Giants game.”

All Jake could think about was getting Zoë’s journal. He wondered if he should just call the police and demand it. They had no right to hold it. They hadn’t charged him with anything.

“Come on, Jake. Let’s get out of here.”

Jake walked to the couch and sank into it. “No, I need to figure out my next move. I need to call Claire and see if I can borrow money. They blocked my accounts and my bus pass.”

Sam put his hand on his shoulder. “You can’t think without food. Besides, you need to get a new perspective. Come on. I’m parked illegally downstairs. Grab a jacket and let’s go.”

Jake looked up at him. He did have a point. He couldn’t remember when he’d eaten last. Pushing himself off the couch again, he returned to the entryway, grabbed a pair of sneakers from beside the door, and shoved them on, then grabbed a jacket out of the small closet next to the kitchen.

When they stepped into the hall, Jake motioned Sam toward the stairs as he locked the door. “I don’t want to see any neighbors.”

Sam jogged down to the lower level and across the entrance hall. Jake followed. When he got outside, the few pink clouds floated overhead and the air had grown crisp. Sam pressed the remote
and unlocked his Civic, crossing around the front of it and climbing inside. Jake grabbed the passenger door, but hesitated. A Crown Victoria was parked across the street.

The officer in the driver’s seat was the one who had come to the flat the other day, the big man who bordered on pretty. The second officer wasn’t the woman, but a young man. He looked like he wasn’t older than a high school student.

As Jake stared at them, the good looking officer gave him a short nod. Jake yanked open the Civic’s door and slumped into the seat. He braced his hands on his thighs and stared at the dashboard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just go.”

“Put on your seatbelt, dude,” said Sam, starting the car.

Jake reached for the seatbelt as Sam pulled away from the curb. Looking into the rearview mirror on his side of the car, Jake watched the Crown Victoria make a U-turn in the middle of the road and pull up behind them. Swallowing hard, Jake gripped the armrest.

The entire ride to Sam’s apartment passed in silence as Jake kept the police car in his sight. When Sam pulled beneath the building into the garage, Jake didn’t get out for a moment. He watched the Crown Victoria pass by, then the garage door closed.

“Jake?” Sam poked his head back into the car.

Jake reached for the handle and shoved the car door open, climbing out. He followed Sam into the building and watched as Sam pushed the button on the elevator. He turned and looked toward the glass doors leading to the street, but he could only see the rapid traffic passing by in a multi-colored blur.

The elevator opened and Jake stepped inside behind his friend. Leaning against the back wall, he closed his eyes. His legs felt weak and he had a strange flutter in his stomach. He really needed to eat something.

When the elevator opened, he trailed behind Sam as they went down the hall, then waited while Sam fished out two sets of keys, juggling them as he unlocked the door. Jake’s gaze focused on the keys clasped in Sam’s other hand. He could see the distinct box shaped ones to the bank – one for the outer door, leading to the ATM machines, and one for the inner door, leading into the branch itself. If he just had his keys, he could retrieve his briefcase on his own. He didn’t give a damn who saw him now. He didn’t think breaking into a bank was nearly as bad as being accused of murdering your own wife.

Sam turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Jake realized he was standing in the hall. He dug the heels of both hands into his eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn tired and I don’t remember when I ate last.”

“Come in and I’ll get you a beer. The pizza should be here any minute.”

Jake nodded and followed him into the apartment. While Sam disappeared into the hallway to their right, Jake wandered toward the windows. Sam’s apartment was toward the front of the building, overlooking the street at an angle. Jake unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped onto the tiny cement balcony. If he leaned over the edge, he could see the front of the building and the street.

The Crown Victoria was parked in front of a small grocery across from Sam’s building.

“Here.”

Jake felt his heart kick against his ribs and he jumped. Sam held out a beer to him. Jake reached for it and realized his hand was shaking.

Sam noticed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone need a drink as bad.”

“Thanks.” Jake lifted the beer and drained half the bottle.

Sam motioned toward the apartment. “Let’s watch the game.”

Jake walked to the couch, a low slung, modern piece in green leather, and sank down. Sam turned on the television set and settled the remote on the glass coffee table. Jake was only half aware of the game as he finished off his beer.

At some point, Sam replenished the beer and answered the door. A few minutes later, he plopped a pizza on the coffee table and motioned for Jake to help himself. Jake settled his beer on the table and took a piece. The first bite nearly made him sick. He felt his throat contract, but he forced himself to eat it and take another piece.

Sam brought him another beer. Within minutes, they finished off the rest of the pizza and a line of empty bottles ringed the table. Jake didn’t remember drinking that much, but a familiar buzz filled his head.

Sam rose and went into the other room. Jake watched the batter knock the bat against each shoe, then the corners of home plate, not really seeing it. What the hell was he going to do? The cops were outside. He had no money. His job was gone. He didn’t even have the last thing connecting him to Zoë – her journal.

“Here.”

A wad of bills appeared in his line of sight and he blinked up at Sam. “What’s that?”

“Two hundred dollars. I want you to have it.”

Jake pushed the money away. “I can’t take your money.”

“Consider it a loan.” Sam’s words were slurred.

“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m not taking your money.”

Sam grabbed his hand and shoved the wad into it. “I’m fine and you need some cash to help you get through until this whole thing blows over.”

Jake extended the money to him. “I’m
gonna go talk to Claire tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but you need money for cabs and food. Take it, Jake. You can pay me back later.” He slumped on the couch and reached for another beer. “Trust me. It isn’t much.”

Jake put the money in his jacket pocket. “Thank you, Sam.”

“
Ain’t no thing.”

“Actually it is. Just having you believe me is a lot.”

Sam lifted his beer and drank. “Ain’t no thing,” he repeated.

Jake pushed himself to his feet and swayed. He’d had a little too much to drink as well. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“You know where it is,” Sam said, pointing with the neck of his bottle.

Jake weaved his way to the back of the apartment and found the bathroom. He relieved himself, then washed his hands, splashing water on his face to clear away some of the buzz. On his way back to the living room, he halted. Sam’s dresser occupied the space beside the bedroom door and on the top of it were the things any man carried in his pockets – wallet, comb, receipts and…keys.

Jake’s gaze whipped to the doorway. He could hear Sam talking to the TV, complaining about a call. Before he knew what he was doing, Jake snagged the bank keys and tucked them into his jeans’ pocket. He felt a cold sweat break out across his shoulders and down his spine, but he didn’t put them back.

Hurrying into the living room, he grabbed his beer and downed the rest of it in one swallow. “I think I’m
gonna head out,” he said, praying the tremor in his voice didn’t give him away.

Sam leaned forward. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, you’ve had too much to drink. I’ll take a cab.”

Sam slumped back on the couch. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Thank you for the pizza and beer, especially the money.”

Sam waved him off. “You want me to call a cab.”

“No, I’ll walk until I find one. I need to clear my head. I drank too much too.”

Sam climbed to his feet and walked him to the door. “You take care of yourself, okay? I’ll give you a call in a few days.”

Jake stepped into the hallway, trying not to appear too anxious to get away. “I mean it, Sam, thank you.”

Sam shook his head. “Stop saying that. Talk to you soon.”

“Sure,” answered Jake, then he started toward the elevator before Sam closed the door. Once inside, he leaned on the rail and closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. He couldn’t believe he’d taken Sam’s keys and he didn’t know what he planned to do with them, but what was done was done.