Page 45 of Nightshade

LESLIE SNEED SENT the text to Charles Crane at three thirty and set their meeting for two hours later in the bar at the Zane Grey, where there was always an evening happy hour and a guarantee of safety in a crowd. That allowed plenty of time for Crane to go to the bank to withdraw what her message had called a down payment on her silence. Crane did not acknowledge the text in any way, but the fact that he didn’t ask Who is this? or respond that it was a wrong number told Stilwell that he might be taking the bait.

The two hours also gave Stilwell time to get to the hotel and enlist the cooperation of the manager, Fred Nettles, in his plan. He needed to get into the bar before it opened and hide a directional microphone from the substation’s equipment room between the bottles of bourbon on the shelf opposite the barstool where Sneed would sit.

The message Stilwell composed and had Sneed send to Crane contained a clear threat: I know it was you. She told me about you two. Think the sheriff will change his mind about the killer when I tell him? There’s reward money, so make me a better offer. Bring a down payment on my silence to the Zane Grey at 5:30. Don’t be late. If I don’t see you, I call the cops.

By 5:15 Stilwell was positioned in the hotel’s office in front of a split screen showing two camera views of the lobby bar. Couples were sitting at two tables, and Leslie Sneed sat by herself at the bar opposite the line of bourbon bottles, a glass of sauvignon blanc in front of her. Five stools down from her sat Starkey, the writer who’d been involved in the eviction call the week before. He was now apparently back in the hotel’s good graces financially and still the writer in residence.

Stilwell rolled his chair away from the desk to a window that had a good view of Chimes Tower Road as it ascended from the harbor. It wasn’t the only way to the Zane Grey but was the likely route Crane would take from the Black Marlin Club—if he was coming.

The video feed was being recorded and so was the microphone hidden between bottles of Blanton’s and Pappy Van Winkle. Stilwell listened on headphones connected to a wireless recorder as Starkey attempted to engage Sneed in conversation. Stilwell had shown her a DMV photo of Charles Crane so she would know who she was meeting, and Starkey was clearly not him. She told Starkey that she was waiting for someone and he left her alone.

Stilwell checked the road again and saw no cart heading up. He was beginning to believe that Crane had not taken the bait after all and had simply ignored the text from Sneed. He started wondering if he was wrong about Crane. He thought about the bar manager, Buddy Callahan. He was one of the club employees Crane said had complained about Leigh-Anne flirting with members. Was he the one Sneed should have sent the text to?

Stilwell’s phone buzzed and he saw that it was Juarez. He answered.

“I’m in the middle of something,” he said quickly. “Can I call you in an hour or so?”

“Sure,” Juarez said. “I just wanted to let you know we’re on for tomorrow.”

“What do you mean? We’re on for what?”

“Oscar’s going before the sitting grand jury downtown.”

“That soon? Don’t we need time to prep? Do you know what he’s going to say?”

“I’ve been dealing with his attorney all afternoon. And the public integrity unit. Believe me, we’re set. We’ll go for a conspiracy-to-commit charge against Allen, and Oscar will be an unindicted coconspirator.”

“That’s it?”

“We’ll start with that. And down the line we’ll add solicitation of murder as well as charges in the Dano case.”

“What else does Terranova have in the way of evidence?”

“His lawyer played me another recording over the phone. It’s better than the first one Oscar played for us. It was about abducting Tash, and Oscar tells Allen that he crossed a line and that he wants no part of it. Allen makes an admission. He says he’s tired of cleaning up after Oscar’s mistakes and that the only way to get to you is through Tash. It’s gold, Stil. We got him.”

Stilwell nodded. While the killing of Henry Gaston was the bigger crime, he wanted someone to go down for Tash’s abduction. It sounded like Allen was going to be good for both.

“Unindicted coconspirator,” he said. “So Baby Head gets the golden parachute. Your bosses were okay with that?”

“He walks for now,” Juarez said. “Everyone here has signed off on it. He’ll have a formal deal before he testifies.”

“And no justice for a murdered buffalo.”

“Well, not today, at least. But the greater good is served. Or I should say the greater evil is taken down.”

Stilwell wasn’t so sure about that. He checked through the window again and saw a cart coming up the hill. It had a distinctive maroon-and-white-striped roof that matched the awning over the back deck of the Black Marlin Club. Crane was coming.

“I need to go,” he said.

“I need you here tomorrow to present to the grand jury,” Juarez said.

Stilwell thought about Tash camping by herself out near Two Harbors.

“What time?” he asked.

“First thing,” Juarez said. “They’ll be seated at ten.”

“Okay. Where is it?”

“Criminal Courts Building, room three-oh-eight. It’s unmarked, so just wait in the hall for me. It will be you and then Oscar, and that should be all we need.”

“What about Tash?”

“We talked about her and we don’t think we need her for tomorrow. But we’ll definitely need her if we go to trial. She’ll be the emotional core of the case, and a jury will love her.”

Stilwell understood that and knew it would fall to him to convince Tash to testify and then prep her for trial.

“Okay, and what about Corum?” he asked. “Has he been brought up to speed?”

“He’s my next call, unless you want to do it.”

“No, thanks. Like I said, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Okay, I’ll call him.”

“Is there a subpoena for me for tomorrow?”

“Uh… no. I was counting on you appearing voluntarily. Do I really need to subpoena you?”

“It will help with Corum, since I’m supposedly relieved of duty.”

“Got it. I’ll have one for you in the morning. I’m going to need you to walk the grand jury through the whole case, starting with you serving the search warrant on the cart barn.”

“The start was the beheading of the buffalo.”

“You know what I mean. So, are we good?”

“We’re good. I’ll see you at ten tomorrow.”

Stilwell disconnected and stood back from the window so he wouldn’t be seen as Crane parked the BMC cart and walked toward the lobby of the hotel. Stilwell returned to the seat in front of the video screen and put on the headphones. It was showtime.

The turnout for the midweek happy hour remained low, which was to Stilwell’s advantage. He could hear the banter between the bartender and Starkey even though they weren’t in the target range of the microphone. There was a familiarity between the two that told Stilwell that Starkey didn’t miss many happy hours at the hotel.

Nervous energy made Stilwell stand as he watched the screen. He had thought about asking one of the off-duty deputies to be at the bar as a precaution but dismissed it out of concern that Crane might know who the deputies assigned to the island were. There was no one but him, and though he was only one door away from the bar, he had to be ready to move should Crane choose to act out in any way with Leslie Sneed.

Right on time, Crane entered the bar through the lobby, looked around, and assessed the couples seated at the two tables and then the two people sitting three stools apart at the bar. He took a position between them and said something in a low voice to Starkey that Stilwell could not make out. But Starkey’s response was audible.

“Sorry, pal, I play for the other team.”

Starkey had taken what Crane said as a pass. Crane shrugged it off and turned to Sneed. Again his voice was too low for Stilwell to hear. The hidden microphone was pointed directly at Sneed, but Crane was standing two stools away. Her voice came through clearly.

“That’s right,” she said. “Did you bring me something?”

Crane moved to the stool next to Sneed and sat down. He glanced at Starkey suspiciously, and when he turned back, the bartender was there to take his order.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Crane said.

The bartender pulled a wineglass off an overhead rack and moved down the bar to the wine cooler. Sneed watched him walk away, and at the same moment, Crane made a move, running one hand down Sneed’s back and one up the front of the loose-fitting blouse she was wearing.

“Hey!” Sneed said sharply.

The bartender turned to see what the disturbance was. Crane held up his hands, palms out.

“I had to check,” he said to Sneed. “Let me see your phone.”

“I’m not giving you my phone,” Sneed said.

“I check your phone or we’re not having this conversation. You want the money or not?”

“Fine.”

Sneed opened the small purse that had been on the bar top next to her glass. She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. This was a move Stilwell had anticipated and planned a response for.

“Unlock it,” Crane said.

He held the phone up and Sneed typed in a password. Crane then started looking through her apps. The bartender put a glass of wine in front of him and moved away. Crane finally found the voice-memo app, opened it, and saw that there was a recording in progress.

“Amateur,” he said. “You think I’m stupid?”

He stopped the recording, deleted it, and put the phone down on the bar.

“You think you can play me like that?” he said. “Well, fuck you, honey. This conversation is over.”

He stood up and kicked his stool back with his foot.

“You leave and you’ll regret it,” Sneed said, expertly delivering the line Stilwell had given her.

Crane stayed standing but didn’t move toward the exit. He leaned down and in toward Sneed, a move designed to intimidate the younger woman.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I told you what I want,” Sneed said. “I want money. I decided I also want a job at the Black Marlin. I’m tired of waiting on tourists and sweaty golfers who think they’re funny. I want what Leigh-Anne had.”

“Or what?”

“Or I call up Stilwell, the sheriff’s guy who came and asked about Leigh-Anne, and tell him what she told me the morning before she got murdered. I sort of left that part out when he came around.”

“Which is exactly what?”

“That she was going to see you to get her money and tell you she was quitting the club… and quitting you.”

It was another line Stilwell had given her—a guess based on what he had learned during the investigation. How Crane reacted here would determine whether there was a case to be made.

“You’re full of shit,” Crane said. “And you know it.”

“Really?” Sneed countered. “She lived with me, stupid. I’m sure she told you that. And she was only letting you bang her so she could keep her job and hook one of those rich assholes like Easterbrook. That morning she joked about dumping you. She said you were disgusting and that you wouldn’t take the news too well. I guess you didn’t.”

Sneed had now gone off script. Stilwell wondered if the conversation she had just recounted had actually happened or if she was just riffing. Either way, she was good, and her words hit Crane hard. Even on an overhead camera, Stilwell could see his furious reaction and knew that staging the meeting in a public place had been the right choice. It was the only thing holding Crane in check. He was tensed and ready to lash out at Sneed.

In that moment, Stilwell knew that Crane had killed Leigh-Anne Moss.

“What did she say that set you off?” Sneed said. “That must have been so hard to take after all that time when you were thinking you were in charge. Hard to find out she was running you, not the other way around. You must’ve been scared about what she would do next, who she would tell.”

Crane leaned in again to return fire.

“You’re all alike, aren’t you?” he said through a clenched jaw. “The way you think you can destroy a man. Well, your little friend got exactly what she deserved and you will too if you think you’re going to take from me what’s mine.”

It wasn’t a full admission, but it was close. Stilwell felt a cold finger go down his spine. He almost had what he needed. Crane’s words also revealed that Leigh-Anne might have threatened him during their last meeting—threatened to expose him, which would have cost him his job and livelihood.

“Look, I’m not talking about this anymore,” Sneed said. “You know the town put up a reward. Ten thousand dollars—and the members of your club announced they’d match it. I figure I get that and then some from you or I get it after I turn you in. Which is it going to be?”

“You think I have twenty thousand dollars?” Crane shot back. “You’re the same as her. She didn’t just want her paycheck. She wanted more. She wanted everything I had, and I wasn’t going to give it to her. You’ve made a big mistake here, honey. Just like she did.”

“Don’t try to scare me. I’ll put you in jail.”

“You’re blackmailing me and that’s a bad idea. Just ask your little friend. Oh, wait, that’s right, you can’t, because she’s dead.”

Crane’s anger and hate was radiating off the screen, and Stilwell was suddenly not sure that Sneed was safe despite her being in a public place. Crane had not directly incriminated himself yet, but he had said enough to help persuade a jury. Stilwell pulled off the headphones and stepped away from the monitor. He pocketed the recorder and quickly walked out through the hotel lobby and into the bar. He came up behind Crane unseen, put a hand on the back of his neck, and shoved him forward and down, chest on the bar top, knocking his wineglass over.

“Charles Crane,” he said. “You are under arrest for the murder of Leigh-Anne Moss.”

Stilwell pulled handcuffs from his pocket and expertly latched Crane’s wrists together behind his back.

“What the hell is this?” Crane said.

“You heard me,” Stilwell said. “You’re under arrest.”

Stilwell looked at Sneed.

“Good job, Leslie,” he said. “We got what we needed. You can step back.”

Sneed slipped off her stool and regarded Crane as she moved away.

“Nice doing business with you, honey, ” she said.

Crane made a lunge toward Sneed, but Stilwell easily restrained him and swung him back hard against the bar.

“You people don’t have shit!” Crane yelled. “I didn’t do anything. She’s an extortionist and I was just trying to scare her off.”

Stilwell held Crane against the bar as he started going through his pockets. From one, he pulled a fold of hundred-dollar bills. He tossed it on the bar top and they spilled apart. It appeared to be more than a thousand dollars.

“Really?” Stilwell said. “You were going to scare her away with hundred-dollar bills?”

“That wasn’t for her,” Crane said. “You have no proof of that.”

“Whatever you say, Crane. Now listen to this.”

Stilwell recited the Miranda admonishment. As he spoke the words, he thought about Leigh-Anne Moss and Daniel Easterbrook and how the crime Crane had committed had destroyed much more than one life.