Murder on Potrero Hill by M. L. Hamilton Page B

think you better get out of here before they arrive.”
    Jake felt the fight go out of him.
    “Get him out of here,” said Andrews, walking beyond Jake and pulling open the door.
    The guard led him to the opening and across the foyer. Using his free hand, he shoved open the glass doors and then threw him out onto the sidewalk. Jake stumbled, but caught himself and whipped around. Andrews and the guard blocked the entrance. Behind them, Jake could see Sam watching him with a tortured expression on his face.
    “I’m sorry, Jake, I really am.”
    Jake looked around the street. Some of the customers were staring at him. When he looked back up, Andrews was gone, leaving the guard standing at the door, watching him.
    Jake’s gaze shifted to the plate-glass windows. Sam and a few other colleagues were looking out at him. He couldn’t read their expressions from where he stood, but he sensed their confusion. A moment later, Andrews appeared behind them, scattering them like gazelle.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Peyton’s cell phone vibrated on the desk and she automatically reached for it. “Brooks.”
    “Officer Smith here.”
    Peyton didn’t recognize the voice, but she remembered the name of the patrol officer sent to follow Ryder during the day. “Hey, Smith, what ya got for me?”
    “He just got thrown out of the bank.”
    “Hm, he went to work, huh?”
    “Yeah. The manager placed a call to dispatch, but we intercepted it. You want us to pick him up?”
    “No, tail him. Don’t haul him in yet. D’Angelo and I are trying to get more evidence before we bring him in. Don’t want him lawyering up on us.”
    “You got it.”
    “Hey, how’d he get to work? He doesn’t have a car registered in his name.”
    “Bus.”
    Peyton reached for a pen and jotted a note on her pad. Need to revoke bus pass. “Where’s he headed now?”
    “He’s just standing around in front of the bank, looking lost.”
    “When you say they threw him out, do you mean literally?”
    “Yep, the security guard dumped his ass on the street.”
    Peyton’s brows lifted. She hadn’t expected that when she talked with the bank manager. Nothing like innocent until proven guilty. Well, she was responsible. She hadn’t left much wiggle room when she talked to Andrews. She made it clear the first suspect was always the husband. Ninety percent of the time that proved to be the assailant as well.
    “He’s on the move,” came Smith’s voice over the phone
    “Where’s he headed?”
    “South, toward Mission.”
    “Don’t lose him.”
    “We’re on him.”
    “Where do you think he’s headed?”
    “Bus stop.”
    “Okay. I’ll get his pass revoked. Make sure he doesn’t see you.”
    “Got it.”
    Marco dropped something on her desk, then circled around to his seat and slumped into it.
    “Keep me posted,” she told Smith.
    “Done.”
    Peyton lifted the paper and glanced at it. “What’s this?”
    “Motive.”
    Peyton read more carefully. “Life insurance?”
    “Quarter of a million. Look at the beneficiary.”
    Peyton nodded. “I see. Did he have one as well?”
    “Yeah. Same amount.”
    Peyton tapped the paper with her pen. “They got these when they married.”
    “I know.”
    Peyton sank back in her chair. “A lot of couples get life insurance when they get married. I don’t know. It doesn’t feel solid to me.”
    “We’re pretty slim on everything. Your daddy’s stool is a bit wobbly on this one.”
    “So there’s got to be something we’re missing. Did you check his prescription records?”
    “Yep, no warfarin.”
    “What about hers?”
    “Nope.”
    “Where the hell did he get the stuff?”
    Marco opened the file again and riffled through a few pages. “Her father had a stroke five months ago. He’s in a convalescent home on California Avenue. I called the home and asked if Ryder had ever visited. They looked back over the records and found multiple times when he was there.”
    “Are you saying he got it from