Page 24 of Nightshade
AFTER SAMPEDRO DROPPED him off, Stilwell caught the last Express back to Catalina. It was dark by the time of his arrival at the pier. He stopped by the sub to pick up the Gator and check on things. He had to use a key to enter because the p.m. watch deputy wasn’t there; he was likely out on patrol or answering a call. Stilwell checked his office and the bulletin board for messages and found none. He took a two-way out of a charger and, after consulting the personnel schedule on a separate bulletin board, radioed the deputy on duty.
“PM One, come up.”
A few seconds later Deputy Eduardo Esquivel responded.
“Here, boss.”
“What’s your twenty?”
“Up at the Zane Grey for an eviction.”
The Zane Grey was a boutique hotel and one of the better places to stay on the island. Having once been the home of the famed Western writer and sport fisherman, it was a major draw to the island as well. Though Catalina served as the last resort for many facing financial troubles, the Zane Grey was an establishment that attracted the more well-heeled visitors. Its proprietors rarely called the sub about problems with nonpaying guests.
“What’s the story?” Stilwell asked. “You want backup?”
“Affirmative,” Esquivel responded. “This guy is not going to go quietly, I don’t think.”
“On my way, then.”
“Roger that.”
Stilwell thought about grabbing his vest out of his locker but decided it might only serve to provoke a confrontation if the situation at the Zane Grey was simply a misunderstanding. He left it behind and headed for the door but stopped when he heard a shout come from the jail. Spivak was being held in a cell until his court appearance on Friday. Stilwell went back into the jail section and found Spivak standing with both hands gripping the bars.
“Hey, are you people going to feed me tonight or what?”
“You didn’t get food?”
“Been waiting all night, man.”
Esquivel had apparently forgotten his feeding duties. Stilwell checked his watch and saw that it was 8:20.
“Why don’t you sit down, Spivak,” he said. “I’ll go look for something.”
He walked quickly back through the bullpen to the kitchenette that was off the rear hallway. He started opening cabinets, looking for something he could give Spivak to tide him over until he or Esquivel could pick something up from one of the takeouts. He found two packs of Lance ToastChee crackers on a shelf marked Dunne—Do Not Touch . He took them off the shelf and back to the jail. Spivak was still at the bars.
“I told you to sit down,” Stilwell said.
“I don’t have to sit down,” Spivak said. “I can do whatever I want in here. You call that shit in your hand dinner?”
“It’s a snack, Spivak. Somebody will bring you dinner in a bit. Go sit down and relax. It’s not even eight thirty and you’ll get a hot meal soon.”
Stilwell tossed the packages of crackers through the bars to the bunk he had seen Spivak using before. One package bounced off the bed and onto the floor.
“Now, see,” Spivak said. “That’s how they get crumbled.”
“Just stay calm,” Stilwell said. “Somebody will be back with dinner.”
“You know, it’s probably against the rules for you to leave me alone in this place. There could be a fire and nobody to get me out.”
“Or a flash flood or even a tsunami.”
“It’s not a joke.”
“Then you better start praying, Spivak. Because I’m leaving.”
“I could fucking hang myself in here and then your ass would be on the line, I bet.”
“Interesting idea. There would be a big investigation, I’m sure. But in the end it would come down to a guy who tried to kill a deputy with a wine bottle killing himself in a cell, and nobody will really give a shit. But I’m sure I’d get my wrists slapped, if that would make it worth it to you.”
Stilwell grabbed the keys to the John Deere as he left and locked the sub. Spivak happened to be correct. It was a violation of regulations to leave someone in custody unsupervised. If anything happened, Stilwell would get more than a slap on the wrist. The irony was that the PM watch was down to one deputy because Spivak had put the second deputy, Dunne, out of commission.
The Zane Grey was up on Chimes Tower Road and it offered its guests one of the best views of the harbor by day or night. Stilwell saw Esquivel’s UTV parked near the entrance. He found the lobby empty and the front desk unstaffed, but he heard raised voices from the right wing of the hotel and headed that way.
He saw Esquivel and another man standing in the hallway in front of the open door to one of the rooms. He joined them.
“What’s happening, Eddie?” he asked.
“Sergeant, this is Fred Nettles, the night manager,” Esquivel said. “And this is Mr. Starkey, who says he won’t leave the room.”
“When we charged the first night’s stay on his credit card, it went through,” Nettles said. “The second night was rejected and he said he would handle it. He didn’t. The third night was rejected and now he’s been here five nights and only paid for one.”
“I’m fixing the problem!” Starkey yelled.
Starkey was the smallest of all four men, and Stilwell knew there was not going to be a problem removing him from the premises if push came to shove.
“I’ve been in constant communication with my bank and the credit card company,” Starkey said. “They’re processing payment, but it’s well after hours on the East Coast and this won’t be resolved until morning.”
“He’s been saying that for three days,” Nettles said.
“You gotta go, man,” Esquivel said. “You can’t stay. You get it fixed, then you can come back.”
“Where am I going to go?” Starkey yelled. “There are no more boats tonight and I can’t check in anywhere else.”
Stilwell tapped Nettles on the shoulder and nodded for him to follow. They walked down the hallway and out of Starkey’s earshot. Stilwell spoke quietly.
“He’s got a point,” he said. “We kick him out now and he can’t leave the island, and he can’t check in anywhere if his credit card doesn’t work.”
“What are you saying?” Nettles said. “That I have to eat another night with him?”
“I want to give him till the morning. He gets it fixed and he pays you, or we escort him to the pier and he’s gone.”
“That feels like a big win for him and a big loss for me.”
“I understand. Do you know anything about him? Like what he does for a living or what he’s doing here.”
“He says he’s a writer. We get a lot of them here. Not all of them are deadbeats .” He intentionally turned his head back toward Starkey’s room as he barked out the last word.
“You’re just making it worse,” Stilwell said. “We’re not going to remove him. So decide if you want to argue with him all night and disturb your other guests or give him the morning deadline.”
Nettles shook his head in frustration.
“Banks open at nine,” he said. “I’ll give him till ten if you promise to come take him if he doesn’t pay.”
“You got it,” Stilwell said. “I’ll go tell him.”
He walked down the hallway to the open door where Esquivel stood. There was no sign of Starkey.
“Where’d he go?” he asked.
“He’s in there making a call, I think,” Esquivel said.
Stilwell walked into the room, down a short entryway, and past the bathroom door. Starkey was sitting on the bed, the room’s phone to his ear. Stilwell made a signal that he wanted to talk to him.
“I’m on hold,” Starkey said.
“With who?” Stilwell asked.
“My agent. I’m trying to see if he’ll pay.”
“Mr. Starkey, the hotel has agreed to let you stay one more night. You have till ten tomorrow morning to settle your bill or we will evict you from the hotel and take you to the Express. Do you understand?”
“What if I pay? Do I still have to leave?”
“That will be between you and the hotel. But right now I need to hear you say that you understand that if you don’t pay by ten a.m., you are leaving the hotel.”
Starkey hung up the phone.
“I get it,” he said. “And it won’t be a problem. I just want to be left alone to write.”
“That’s fine, sir, but you need to pay for the room,” Stilwell said. “I’ll be back at ten tomorrow. I hope you get it fixed. Good night, Mr. Starkey. You want me to close the door?”
“Please. I’ve had enough of that man out there.”
Stilwell left and pulled the door closed. Nettles was gone, and only Esquivel was waiting.
“We’ll handle this in the morning,” Stilwell said. “You can roll.”
“Roger that,” Esquivel said.
“Meantime, get our prisoner some food. He’s hungry.”
“Who, Spivak? I fed him.”
“When?”
“About six. I got him a hamburger from Luau Larry’s.”
“Asshole tried to get another meal off me.”
“Fuck him. He’s fed.”
“You didn’t know him before the other night, did you?”
“No, why?”
“Just curious why he jumped in and hit Dunne. On tape it looks like he was targeting Dunne, like he knew him from somewhere. Was wondering if he knew you.”
“Not as far as I know. Did you ask Dunne?”
“Yeah, but he’s still fuzzy. Anyway, make sure you leave a report on this for day watch. I want the deadline on Starkey enforced. I’m heading home. I need you to get back to the sub and babysit Spivak. If you get a serious call—not bullshit like this—call me and I’ll come in.”
“Will do.”
Stilwell took the Gator up to his house. Tash Dano was sitting in one of the Adirondacks on the front porch, a glass of red wine in her hand.
“How’d it go over there?” she asked.
“About what I expected,” Stilwell said. “I’m on the case.”
“That’s good, right?”
“I’ll take it.”
“But you have to work with A-Hole?”
“Ahearn, yeah.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you call him by his real name.”
“Yeah, well, he started calling me by my real name, so, you know…”
He took the glass from her hand and took a sip.
“There’s more in the bottle,” she said. “And half a chicken sandwich from the Sandtrap, if you’re hungry.”
It was Stilwell’s favorite restaurant on the island. He nodded.
“Sounds perfect,” he said.
He took another slug of wine and handed the glass back to her. He leaned down and they kissed.
“I need to take a shower,” he said apologetically.
“I can wait,” she said.
He went in through the open door. She soon followed.