Page 32 of Nightshade

ONCE THE MAINLAND team had assembled in Avalon, the investigation moved through the night. Stilwell was questioned repeatedly by two different pairs of detectives under Captain Corum’s command. Even Monika Juarez was questioned extensively. Eduardo Esquivel was brought to the island’s only twenty-four-hour clinic and diagnosed with a concussion to go with the deep laceration a metal bar had left across his forehead. His telling of what had happened in the jail would come later.

Corum’s investigators reviewed the video of Merris Spivak’s attack on Deputy Dunne the Saturday before, saw the intention in the assault, and understood what Stilwell had come to understand too late: that the violent attack was planned and that Spivak had wanted to be arrested and held in the substation so he would be in place should Henry Gaston come out of hiding and be jailed by Stilwell.

“I delivered him right to Spivak,” Stilwell said.

“There was no way you could have known,” Corum said. He quickly added, “At least that’s my opinion.”

Meaning that if a fall guy was needed in the case, Stilwell would still be the leading candidate.

The investigation stretched into Friday’s daylight hours, preventing Stilwell from picking up Judge Harrell at the harbor and getting him to sign the search warrant for the Black Marlin Club. Stilwell knew it was just as well. The rule of law required search warrants to be executed within forty-eight hours of a judge’s signature. That was most likely impossible now with the Gaston case dominating his time and attention. He decided he would wait until the new week, then go over to Harrell’s home court in Long Beach, get the warrant signed, and come back with Sampedro and Ahearn to conduct the search.

It was not ideal to delay one homicide investigation because of another, but the circumstances were dictating his moves. He explained this to Corum and then to Ahearn, who called after getting wind of what had happened at the sub. Stilwell wasn’t sure if he was calling to poke him about the situation he was in or simply to assure him that the Leigh-Anne Moss investigation was continuing on the mainland.

“We’ll keep it moving,” Ahearn said. “You fall in when you’re clear of that shit out there, and then we’ll search the club.”

Stilwell and the investigators hadn’t slept all night, and it was unlikely the town’s residents had gotten much sleep either. Two sheriff’s helicopters had been dispatched to the island to circle the town, beaches, and coastal waters in a cover-your-ass search for the wanted man. It was not surprising that Spivak was not located. He was either hiding or long gone.

What was also long gone was the external hard drive from the tech closet, and with it the recording of Stilwell’s interview of Gaston. With Gaston dead and the recording gone, any case against Oscar “Baby Head” Terranova would be in jeopardy. Stilwell had taken no notes during the interview because he knew he had a recording. A reconstruction of what Gaston said now, hours later, would invite a legitimate challenge if offered in court as evidence.

“We’re completely fucked,” Corum said when this problem was explained to him.

“Maybe not completely,” Stilwell responded.

He told Corum about the search of the cart barn he had conducted and about the saw handle that had tested positive for blood. He revealed that it had not yet been submitted for forensic analysis, and the captain agreed to personally take it to the lab and use his position to prioritize DNA comparison to blood from the buffalo.

“Even if it’s a match, it won’t get us far,” Corum said. “It solves the buffalo caper but not the murder of our cooperating witness.”

“It’s a start,” Stilwell said. “It gives us some leverage with Terranova. Maybe enough to flip him and move up the ladder.”

Corum nodded reluctantly. Stilwell had earlier briefed him on what Gaston had said about Terranova’s alleged relationship with the mayor.

“We’re staying away from that ladder until we have more evidence and it’s rock solid,” he said.

By midmorning the media was onto the story, led initially by Lionel McKey from the Call but soon followed by reporters and camera operators from the mainland-based news channels and the Los Angeles Times. Since Spivak had escaped, the session in the courtroom next to the sub was over in a matter of minutes. Judge Harrell and Deputy DA Juarez handled a short docket of cases involving minor crimes in which defendants had been released without bail after arrest. Once court was adjourned and Harrell and Juarez had headed back to the boats, the media members were told to gather in the courtroom and await a press conference to be conducted by Corum.

McKey, the lone local reporter, was not happy about being lumped in with the carpetbaggers from the mainland. He started calling Stilwell’s cell phone every ten minutes. Besides being frustrated by the repeated calls, which he sent directly to voicemail, Stilwell was annoyed by the fact that McKey had somehow gotten his private number. Stilwell had never given it to him.

Finally, when the fifth call started buzzing his phone, Stilwell answered with a low but intense tone. He was sitting in the bullpen with several of the investigators working around him.

“Who gave you this number?”

“Uh, I… don’t really remember. I think you did, actually.”

“Nice try. I have no comment at this time, Lionel. And blowing up my phone with your constant calls and messages is not the way to make me want to talk to you.”

“Look, I apologize, okay? But, man, this is a local goddamn story, and we’ve got all the heavy hitters coming in from overtown, and my deadline’s in like three hours. I need something they don’t have. It’s a matter of pride and I need it now. I just thought you’d get that and give the hometown paper something.”

“Well, you thought wrong. This is a murder investigation and there’s an escaped killer out there. No comment.”

“Look, we can trade. I guarantee you that someday you’ll need me to write a story that helps you with a case, and if you help me now, I’ll remember it then.”

Stilwell let him hang for a long moment before responding.

“Is that it?” he finally said. “That’s your best shot?”

“Well, what do you want?” McKey asked.

“I want you to stop calling me.”

He disconnected and looked at the detective sitting at the desk across from him. His name was Crockett, like the detective on Miami Vice .

“Fucking reporters,” Crockett said.

“Yeah,” Stilwell said.

He got up and went into his office, which had been commandeered by Corum. The captain was writing on a yellow legal pad.

“Need your office back?” Corum asked.

“No, not really,” Stilwell said. “What are you going to give the press?”

“I’m going to feed them shit and they’re going to love it.”

“Are we putting out Spivak’s photo?”

“Course.”

“What are you going to say happened?”

“That he overpowered a deputy, got the keys, and escaped. Clean and simple.”

“Are you naming Esquivel?”

“I should but I won’t. It’s not going to matter, though. He’s done in the department.”

“He’s not a bad cop. What about a suspension?”

“It won’t be my call. But he let a prisoner escape and kill a guy. And Spivak may kill others. Hard to come back from that.”

“What about Gaston?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to say we had him in protective custody?”

“Fuck no, are you kidding me? He was being held for cutting up the buffalo, end of story. That case is solved and that’s the silver lining in this whole thing. The guy who cut off the head of the buffalo nearly had his own head chopped off.”

Stilwell nodded.

“You need anything?” he said. “A coffee or a Coke?”

“I’m already floating, I’ve had so much coffee,” Corum said.

“Okay.”

“Listen, I want you out there with me in front of the media. You’re the head guy here on the island and you should be standing with me. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll introduce you and you just stand there.”

“Whatever you need, Cap.”

Stilwell took his coffee mug off the desk and stepped out of the office. But he didn’t go to the break room for coffee. He walked into the jail and saw that the body and the forensics team were gone. He quickly pulled his phone and called McKey back. The reporter answered the call with an excited tone.

“Sergeant Stilwell. What’s up?”

“You didn’t get this from me.”

“Okay.”

“Say it.”

“I didn’t get it from you. It’s off the record, deep background. Whatever you tell me, you won’t be anywhere near it.”

Stilwell turned so he could watch the door and see if anyone was coming in. He lowered his voice when he spoke again.

“Okay, prove I can trust you,” he said. “At the press conference, the captain’s going to state that the prisoner who got murdered was in jail because he had admitted to killing the buffalo up on the preserve last week.”

“Was that the motive for the murder?” McKey asked.

“Don’t ask questions. I’m not answering any. What the captain won’t be saying is that the dead guy worked for Island Mystery Tours in cart maintenance.”

“Okay…”

McKey obviously wasn’t making the jump.

“So the mutilated buffalo juices the aliens-on-Catalina stories in the media…” Stilwell prompted.

“Holy shit,” McKey said. “And that in turn juices business for Island Mystery Tours.”

“Cause and effect.”

“Did the guy who killed the buffalo admit that was why he did it?”

“I told you I’m not answering questions. But why else would he do it?”

“That’s Baby Head Terranova’s business. Is he being investigated?”

“Write a good story, Lionel. Just keep me out of it.”

Stilwell disconnected before McKey could respond and pocketed his phone.