Page 28 of Nightshade

AFTER DROPPING LESLIE Sneed off at the Sandtrap, Stilwell went back down to Crescent and then up Wrigley Road to the Mount Ada hotel. He agreed with Sneed that in a golf-cart town, only the Mount Ada was formal enough for Prada pumps, and he decided to check it out. The small but upscale two-story bed-and-breakfast catered to the wealthiest visitors to the island. The rooms were easily a grand a night on weekends in season. The opulence of the setting was accentuated by the man behind the front desk, who wore something seldom seen on Catalina: a suit and tie. Stilwell introduced himself and then pulled up Leigh-Anne Moss’s driver’s license photo on his phone. The deskman had a nameplate on his jacket pocket that said GILBERT .

“I’m wondering if you recognize this woman,” he said. “This photo doesn’t show it, but she might have had a purple streak in her hair. It was in the front and went down the left side of her face.”

Gilbert didn’t hesitate.

“Sure, she’s been here,” he said.

“You mean she stayed here?” Stilwell asked.

“A few times, at least. I checked her in.”

“Was she by herself or was someone with her?”

“I just recall checking her in. I don’t know who she was with or who she might have met, sir.”

“And you’re sure it’s the woman in the photo?”

“When you mentioned the purple streak, that made me remember her, yes.”

“She paid with a credit card?”

“That would be required, yes.”

“When was the last time she was here?”

“I would have to look that up.”

“Can you do that for me? The name is Leigh-Anne Moss.”

“Do I need to have a search warrant for that?”

“Not if you volunteer the information. I’m sure you want to help your local law enforcement, Gilbert.”

“I just don’t want to get in any trouble.”

“If you can’t do it for me, I’ll need to see your boss. I don’t know if that will cause you trouble or not.”

Gilbert took one step to his left and started typing on a computer keyboard.

“That’s L-e-i-g-h, dash, then Anne with an e, ” Stilwell said. “M-o-s-s.”

“Got it,” Gilbert said.

Stilwell couldn’t see the computer screen. Gilbert studied it for a moment before speaking.

“The last time she was here was May ninth and tenth,” he finally said. “Before that, it was May second and third.”

“Anything before that?” Stilwell asked.

“Yes, two other times—both weekends in April. Do you want the dates?”

“Yes, please.”

Gilbert gave the details of two more stays, one for three nights and one for four. Stilwell calculated that Moss’s stays at the Ada coincided with when she stopped living at Leslie Sneed’s apartment.

“Is there anything else you need?” Gilbert asked.

“What kind of room did she reserve?” Stilwell asked.

“She took the grand suite each time. It has the balcony with a wonderful harbor view.”

“I bet it does. What credit card did she use to pay for the room?”

Gilbert checked his screen.

“A Visa.”

“I’m going to need that number, Gilbert.”

Gilbert read the number off the computer screen without question or protest. Stilwell asked him to write it down. He did so on a small pad with the hotel’s name embossed on it.

“What was the name of the cardholder?” Stilwell asked.

“It was her name,” Gilbert said. “She would have been required to show ID.”

“Of course. Is the grand suite occupied right now?”

More typing followed the question.

“That room is reserved starting tomorrow,” Gilbert said. “For the weekend.”

“So it’s empty now?” Stilwell said. “I’d like to take a look at it.”

“Why would that be necessary?”

“Because this is a murder investigation, Gilbert, and I need to see the room.”

“You mean she’s dead? Leigh-Anne Moss is dead?”

“Yes. Murdered. So can you give me a key to the room, please?”

Gilbert turned around, reached into an old-fashioned rack of cubbyholes, and pulled out an actual key attached to a leather fob with 4 printed on it. He handed it to Stilwell.

“You can go up the stairs,” he said.

“Thank you,” Stilwell said.

Stilwell took the stairs up to a short hallway with doors on both sides. Suite 4 was at the end on the left. Inside was a small sitting room with a fireplace and an open door to a bedroom on the left. Stilwell imagined that it had at one time been the master bedroom of William Wrigley, the Chicago magnate who had once owned the island and built the mansion as a winter getaway. The Ada was named after his wife, and for a time, Wrigley brought his baseball team, the Chicago Cubs, out to Catalina for spring training. Stilwell knew that baseball greats such as Dizzy Dean, Hack Wilson, Roger Hornsby, and Grover Cleveland Alexander played on the field in Avalon Canyon. Nineteen Hall of Famers in all had trained on the island. Stilwell had learned all of this from Tash, who wasn’t so much a baseball fan as a fan of the island’s history.

Stilwell took a quick look around and then went through the double doors in the sitting room that led to the private balcony. He stepped out and took in the expansive view of the harbor and the iconic Casino below. He could see the Black Marlin Club and the line of mooring buoys in the water behind it. He imagined Leigh-Anne Moss standing in this same spot and looking down at the club. He could only guess what she would have been thinking.

Stilwell’s instincts told him that Moss had booked the room for liaisons with somebody she had met at the club. He guessed that the credit card charges were paid by that person as well. The circles he was making around the case were growing tighter, and the Black Marlin was still at the center. He recalled Leslie Sneed telling him Leigh-Anne had said that targeting men at the club was like shooting fish in a barrel. He was beginning to believe that one of those fish was a shark.

When he returned to the front desk, he asked Gilbert if there were any security cameras that would have images from the dates when Leigh-Anne Moss stayed in the hotel.

“We have only one camera here in the lobby,” Gilbert said. “But it’s on a fourteen-day loop. She hasn’t been a guest here in the past two weeks.”

Stilwell nodded. That would have been too easy.

“Can you check another name on the computer?” he asked. “See if he’s stayed here?”

Gilbert looked very put out by the request but didn’t refuse.

“What’s the name?”

“Daniel Easterbrook.”

Gilbert typed and then frowned.

“I show that he hasn’t stayed here in at least a year,” he said.

“What was the date of that stay?” Stilwell asked.

“He stayed for five days in May last year. The weekend of Cinco de Mayo.”

Stilwell knew that was before Leigh-Anne Moss’s time on the island. But the information did confirm that Easterbrook was familiar with the Mount Ada.

“Did he book the grand suite?” Stilwell asked.

“Actually, no,” Gilbert said. “He took the Windsor room. I don’t suppose you want to see that room too?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Good.”

The desk clerk seemed relieved. Stilwell put the key down on the counter.

“Thank you for your help, Gilbert,” he said.