Page 42 of Nightshade
STILWELL WAITED UNTIL he was home to call Corum on his cell. He didn’t want to bother with Ahearn and Sampedro and wasn’t sure he could control his temper if he spoke to one of them. He could tell that Corum was driving when he answered.
“I thought I would hear from you,” the captain said by way of greeting. “Good work on Easterbrook.”
“Are you kidding me?” Stilwell said. “I don’t think he killed Leigh-Anne Moss and I told those two idiots that this morning.”
There was a long silence while Corum digested this and Stilwell listened to the sounds of traffic through the phone.
“What are you talking about, Stil?” Corum finally said. “They told me this was your lead. They went out there, and the guy had hung himself.”
“Killing himself is not proof he killed her,” he said. “Was there a note?”
“No note. But there were photos of the victim—bedroom photos, I’m told.”
“And, what, that’s their evidence that he killed her?”
“They said she was playing him for his money. She was bad news.”
“So we’re blaming the victim.”
“That’s not going out to the public. I’m just saying, is all. She was playing him, he got wind of it, and he acts out and ends up killing her.”
“The guy was infatuated with her, yes. He told me so. He said they were planning to take his boat and sail off to Tahiti. I told those guys that he was not the guy but that they needed to formally interview him, get a swab, and check out his alibi. He had an alibi. This is fucked up, Captain. Ahearn is hanging a murder on him. This is just like before.”
“No, it’s not, Stil, and you need to watch yourself on this one. I saved your job the first time. I can’t do it a second time.”
“You’re going to have to eat that press release, Captain.”
“Stil, the case is closed. My guys will do the paper on it and take it to the DA for a sign-off. And you go back to doing what you do on that island. You understand?”
The front door opened and Tash walked in carrying two plastic bags of groceries from Vons. She stopped in her tracks when she saw his face. She mouthed the words You okay? Stilwell nodded in return, even though he was far from okay.
“I want to hear you say it, Stil,” Corum said. “Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Stilwell said.
“Good, then I think we’re finished. I just got home and I don’t want to carry this shit into my house.”
“Fine. Good night, Captain.”
“Good night, Stil.”
Stilwell disconnected. Tash had put her bags up on the kitchen counter and was unloading them.
“Grilled cheese and chili,” she said. “Comfort food. Okay?”
“Okay,” Stilwell said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Fucking Ahearn.”
“What about him?”
“It’s déjà vu all over again. He’s hanging the murder on the wrong guy. He’s so fucking incompetent, and the captain doesn’t care because he gets an easy clear on a complicated case. Meantime, somebody gets away with murder.”
Tash stopped, a can of pinto beans in her hand.
“What are you going to do about it, Stil?”
“I don’t know yet… but I can’t do nothing.”
He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and rolled it into the bedroom. He opened it on the bed and started unpacking, returning unworn clothing to drawers and hangers in the closet. He was halfway through when his phone buzzed with a call from a number he recognized.
“What do you want, Ahearn?”
“I want to know what the fuck you’re doing telling the captain we tagged the wrong guy.”
“You did, Ahearn. You did what you always do. You took the easy road. But it was the wrong road.”
Ahearn laughed.
“You know what this is? It’s jealousy. I thought you’d be happy that we shared credit with you, but no, you want—”
“Don’t you get it, you fucking idiot? He’s not the guy.”
“So you say.”
“Okay, your press release says she was breaking up with him. Where’d you get that, Ahearn? Because less than twenty-four hours ago, he didn’t say a thing about that. He only talked about her quitting her job on the island so they could sail to Tahiti.”
“So he told you. He lied to you, Stillborn, and you can’t stand the fact that you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”
“Did you even try to check out his alibi? You know what, never mind. I already know the answer to that. You didn’t do shit. You go to the guy’s house, find him dead, and think, We can make this case go away real fast. You padded the press release like you padded the case. You were just hoping it was true. But it was bullshit, just like you.”
“You’re bullshit, Stillborn.”
“No, you know what I am? I’m the guy who’s going to bring in the real killer.”
“Stilwell, you better not do any—”
Stilwell disconnected. He raised his arm to throw the phone against the wall but held back at the last moment as Tash walked in.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
He pocketed the phone.
“Do you still want me to make dinner?” Tash asked.
“Of course,” Stilwell said. “I’m already hungry.”
“Then open a bottle of wine. I need an hour.”
“Red or white?”
“Red.”
“You’re on. As soon as I’m finished in here.”
She left the room. Stilwell zipped his empty suitcase closed and put it up on a shelf in the closet, then sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to compose himself. He had to put Ahearn and Sampedro out of his mind and concentrate on the case, not on their betrayal of Leigh-Anne Moss. Because that was what it was, a betrayal of the sacred bond between a victim and those charged with finding justice. Stilwell closed his eyes and promised himself that he would not do the same.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, a short tone indicating a text. He pulled it out, expecting a text from Ahearn. But it was from Monika Juarez.
We’re on. He’s coming in at 10. No lawyer—yet. You’ll be here?
Stilwell typed in a short reply.
I’ll be there.