Page 4 of Nightshade

THE MAYOR HAD his hands on his hips as he stood at the skiff dock and waited for them. Tash and Lionel stood slightly apart from Allen. Abbott ran the bow up on the landing, and Stilwell stepped off, a green-and-white towel draped over his shoulders.

“You need me anymore?” Abbott asked.

Stilwell turned to him. “The detectives from the mainland will probably want a statement,” he said. “We can call you. Are you going home or back under?”

“Home,” Abbott said. “No work after seeing that.”

Stilwell nodded. He understood. He turned back, and Tash came forward and away from the reporter.

“Do we hold the Aurora ?” she asked quietly. “They want to go.”

“They can go,” Stilwell said. “What’s down there’s been in the water longer than they’ve been here. Remind them to stay at idle speed till they’re out of the harbor. I don’t want to churn up the bottom.”

“Will do,” Tash said.

McKey came over to him next. “Is there a body?” he asked.

Before Stilwell could answer, the mayor spoke.

“Wait a minute,” Allen said. “Wait just a minute. We’re not saying anything for publication yet. Sergeant Stilwell, I need to speak with you privately before any public statement is made.”

“Okay,” Stilwell said. “For now.”

“You need to go back up to the pier,” Allen said to McKey.

“This is a public dock, Mayor,” McKey said. “I have just as much right to be here as you do.”

“Whatever,” Allen said. “Sergeant, can you step over here?”

The two men walked to the opposite side of the floating dock, where they would not be overheard.

“Did you confirm a body is down there?” Allen whispered urgently.

“I did,” Stilwell whispered back.

“So what happens now? I don’t want that thing bobbing up on the surface in front of the Express. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to call out the homicide unit and dive team. It’s not going to come to the surface until we bring it up.”

“Homicide… are you saying this is a murder?”

“The body’s in some kind of a drawstring bag and weighted with an anchor and chain. That says homicide to me.”

Allen took a step closer to Stilwell and raised his whisper to an urgent tone: “Look, you need to understand something here. The ferries are full, and every ball in the harbor is reserved. This is our second-biggest weekend of the year, after July Fourth, and I don’t want this harbor turned into a crime scene circus.”

“I get it, Mr. Mayor. But we’re going to conduct the investigation that is warranted. We’ll do our best to shield the body recovery from the public. There are ways to do that. But if you’re suggesting we leave it down there till this place clears out Monday, you are—”

“Of course I’m not suggesting that. What I’m saying is that murder is bad for business. Be discreet. And don’t tell that reporter anything until he’s past deadline. He can put it in next week’s edition for all I care. Not tomorrow’s.”

“I’ll do what I can. Now I have to go make those calls.”

Stilwell stepped away and headed toward the gangway to the pier.

“And Sergeant?”

He turned.

“Yes?” he asked impatiently.

“I received a complaint about you this morning,” Allen said. “From one of our business owners. Oscar Terranova.”

“Really? That was fast.”

“You searched his business?”

“I had a warrant signed by Judge Harrell. It was all perfectly legal.”

“He said you were heavy-handed.”

“I don’t know what that means. I had a search warrant for the place. I searched it. Baby Head showed up afterward and he wasn’t happy. But that was it.”

“Okay, understood. Can I ask what it was about?”

“No, you can’t, Mayor. It’s an open investigation. I can’t talk about it.”

“I was born and raised on this island, Sergeant. I’ve been mayor for sixteen years. You’ll probably come and go like all the deputies assigned here before you. But I’ll be here. I love this place and I want to protect it. I don’t like surprises, especially when they may negatively affect the reputation of this beautiful island.”

He gestured toward the water in the direction of where the body was anchored.

“I understand that,” Stilwell said.

“Good,” Allen said. “We’re on the same page, then.”

Stilwell nodded and turned rather than arguing with the mayor’s conclusion. He saw that McKey remained on the dock, but Tash was up on the pier and heading back to the harbormaster’s office.

“I can’t talk to you yet,” Stilwell said as he attempted to pass the reporter.

“What do you mean?” McKey said. “Is there a body down there or not?”

“I can’t say anything yet. Talk to Abbott. He can tell you what he saw. I can’t.”

“You’re letting the mayor tell you what to do?”

“No. That’s how it would be whether he was here or not. I’m following sheriff’s department procedure, and you know it.”

He left McKey there and went up the gangway to the pier. Several people were watching from the railing. Stilwell recognized most of them as locals who worked in the souvenir stalls on the pier. Word had spread quickly that there was something in the water.

He crossed Crescent and walked up Sumner to the sub. He went directly into the locker room, peeled off the wet suit, took a quick shower, and then put his work clothes and sidearm back on. His windowless office, the size of a walk-in closet, was off the bullpen, and from there he made the calls, starting with the homicide unit. It was a number he knew by heart. He didn’t recognize the voice that answered and asked to speak to the captain.

“Corum.”

“Cap, it’s Stil. We’ve got a homicide out here. A body in the harbor. Looks like a female.”

“A floater?”

“She’s thirty feet under, held down by an anchor.”

“And this is confirmed?”

“I went down, saw it myself. It’s probably been in the water four days or so, judging by the decomp. Hard to tell, though, with the water temps in the low sixties. You need the divers and one of your teams out here.”

“Jesus Christ—on a Friday.”

“Yeah, I already got the mayor on my ass because this place is going to fill to the brim today. Murder is bad for business.”

“Okay, listen, Ahearn and Sampedro have the up. I’ve gotta send them. Are you going to play nice with them?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Then send ’em. I can hold their hands if I have to.”

That brought a long silence from Corum. Stilwell thought about the last time he had encountered Rex Ahearn. It was when he had gone into the homicide unit on a Sunday morning to clean out his desk. He was surprised to find Ahearn there and it had gotten ugly pretty quickly. And physical.

“You know, Stil, I don’t think I want you holding their hands,” Corum said. “Just point ’em in the right direction and let them do their job.”

“Well, their job is to solve the case, Cap. So good luck getting them to do that.”

“I’m not going to get into that with you, Detective Sergeant.”

Corum’s invoking his full and formal rank made Stilwell realize that he had gone a step too far. He tried to recover.

“Captain, will your people set up the recovery team and the coroner’s, or you want me to handle that?”

“No, we’ll handle it. Your job now is to protect the crime scene as best you can. We’ll take it from there.”

“Copy that.”

Corum disconnected without another word. Stilwell wished he had not brought up his grievances with Ahearn and Sampedro. He put the thought aside and stepped out of his office. Mercy Chapa was now at her desk in the substation. She was in her early fifties, with gray hair she didn’t bother dyeing. It fit with her role as the unofficial mother hen of the substation. She handled all duties not related to direct law enforcement.

“Mercy, can you get Lampley up on the radio and tell him to meet me at the skiff dock?”

“Sure. I think he just drove Kermit up to the golf course.”

“Well, tell him to get over to the dock. I’ll meet him there.”

“Right away, Sergeant.”

Stilwell pulled a fresh radio out of the charger station on the wall next to Mercy’s desk.

“Have there been any missing person reports that I wasn’t told about?” he asked. “Any at all?”

“No,” Mercy said. “You get all the reports.”

“Right. Do you happen to know of anybody in town who has long dark hair with a purple streak? You know, like a purple dye?”

“Um, no. Is there really a body out there in the water?”

“There is. But I don’t want you talking to anybody about it.”

“I don’t tell anybody about work. Is it a girl?”

“A female, yes, I’m pretty sure. You haven’t heard about anybody not showing up for work or school or anything like that? Maybe somebody who supposedly went to overtown but didn’t come back on schedule?”

Mercy was third generation on the island and Stilwell had learned early in his assignment to the Catalina sub that she had vast connections in the community.

“No, nothing.”

“Okay. Well, let me know if you hear anything.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll be out at the harbor waiting for the homicide team.”