Page 50 of Nightshade
CITY HALL WAS located on Avalon Canyon Road. Parking was not allowed along the brick-lined circle in front, but Stilwell parked there anyway, pulling to a stop directly opposite the green-framed glass doors of the main entrance. While he waited for Lampley and Ramirez to show up, he called Captain Corum. As usual, Corum did not answer with a hello.
“Are you in position?”
“Yes. Just waiting on backup.”
“Backup? You think there will be trouble?”
“Not really. But I want numbers for this so nobody gets a bad idea.”
“Good. The chopper in position?”
“And waiting. We’ll be sending two.”
“And we’ll meet them.”
“You have media relations working on press releases?”
“In process. Big day for Catalina.”
“Bad day.”
Ilsa Ramirez pulled her cart to a stop next to Stilwell’s.
“Backup’s here,” he said to Corum. “I should go.”
“Call me when they’re in the air,” Corum instructed.
“Will do.”
“And by the way, I just got word that the DA has signed off on the shooting. We got the psych eval in too, and you are returned to duty.”
Stilwell thought about that for a moment.
“You hear that?” Corum prompted.
“Good to know, Cap,” Stilwell said. “But I’m going to need a couple days off after this. A personal matter to attend to.”
“Not a problem. But it would be good for you to be back by the weekend.”
“That’s the plan.”
After ending the call, Stilwell saw Lampley pull up behind Ramirez. He got out and walked between their carts.
“What’s up, boss man?” Lampley said. “You back on duty?”
“As of right now, yes,” Stilwell said.
“Welcome back,” Ramirez said. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re arresting the mayor,” Stilwell said. “For conspiracy to commit murder.”
Both deputies were speechless. Stilwell continued.
“I’m not expecting anything other than verbal pushback,” he said. “But be prepared. He’s got a lot of cronies in this building. Keep alert.”
“You got it,” Lampley said.
“Copy that,” added Ramirez.
Built by William Wrigley Jr. in 1929, City Hall was a sprawling one-story structure that featured the same mix of Art Deco and Mediterranean Revival design elements that the town’s signature Casino had. The trio had to navigate a warren of hallways and helpful arrows to the mayor’s suite of offices, all the while attracting the attention of passersby with their gun belts and badges. Along the way, Stilwell pulled his phone and tapped out a quick text. He sent it just as they got to a set of dark wood doors with the seal of the City of Avalon carved into them.
They proceeded through. In the foyer of the mayor’s suite, twin desks were occupied by female gatekeepers who looked like a formidable mother-and-daughter team. Matching looks of shock spread on their faces when they saw the firepower that had arrived. The elder gatekeeper spoke first.
“Is something wrong?” she asked. “Is this an evacuation?”
“Not really,” Stilwell said. “We just need to see Mayor Allen.”
Her eyes dropped to her desk, where she apparently kept the printout of the mayor’s daily schedule, and she began to shake her head.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t think you—”
“No, we don’t have an appointment,” Stilwell said, cutting her off. “Is he in the office?”
“He’s with people at the moment. I may be able to squeeze you in this afternoon if you can tell me what—”
“That’s not going to work.”
Stilwell moved between the two desks and headed for the next set of double doors, which he knew led to the inner sanctum. He had been in the mayor’s office exactly one time previously. On his first day on the job on the island, he had been summoned there for a meet-and-greet, during which Allen made it clear that he was in firm and permanent control of the town, while Stilwell was a mere carpetbagger who served at his pleasure and convenience.
“Excuse me,” the elder gatekeeper said. “You can’t just go in there. The mayor is—”
“Busy,” Stilwell said. “Yes, I know.”
He kept going, and Ramirez and Lampley followed. Stilwell pushed through the doors, opening both wide, and entered the spacious office. There was a desk to the left and a seating area to the right. Allen was sitting in a chair on the right; another man sat on a couch to his left, and a third stood in front of an easel with an artist’s drawing of what looked like a small hotel or apartment building.
The man by the easel abruptly halted his presentation and looked frightened. Allen turned to see who had entered and immediately jumped to his feet.
“Stilwell!” he barked. “You can’t just come barging in here like some kind of—”
“Douglas Allen,” Stilwell said loudly, shutting down the mayor’s protest. “You are under arrest. Do not resist, and place your hands behind your back.”
Stilwell signaled Lampley and Ramirez to move in and cuff Allen. Lampley hesitated as though they might be making a mistake, but Ramirez didn’t. She moved toward Allen, who put one hand up to try to hold her off.
“What the fuck is this, Stilwell?” he yelled.
“You have been indicted by the Los Angeles County grand jury on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and obstruction of justice,” Stilwell said calmly. “If you attempt to resist, you will be taken to the ground. Put your hands behind your back and surrender peaceably.”
Embarrassed by his hesitation, Lampley now moved toward Allen, passing Ramirez, and grabbed the mayor by an arm in an attempt to turn him around for cuffing. Allen shook him off and raised a hand to point at Stilwell.
“This is you,” he said. “You trumped up this whole thing.”
“Cuff him,” Stilwell ordered. “Now.”
Lampley forcibly took hold of Allen’s arm again and spun him around and into the back of the chair he had been sitting in. He snapped a cuff over one of Allen’s wrists and went for the other arm.
“You’re hurting me!” Allen yelped.
“You’re resisting,” Stilwell threw back at him.
With Ramirez helping, Allen’s other arm was pulled back and cuffed.
“Put him in the chair,” Stilwell said.
He looked at the two men who had been in the meeting. Their eyes were wide, and the color was draining from their faces.
“You two, out,” he ordered. “Now.”
One man headed straight to the door; the other grabbed the easel and awkwardly followed without folding its legs. Stilwell tracked them and saw the gatekeepers standing in the doorway, blocking the exit.
“And you two, back out,” he ordered. “Now.”
The younger gatekeeper spun around and went to her desk. The other held her ground.
“Mayor, who should I call?” she asked.
Stilwell moved toward her to push her out of the room. She saw him coming and started leaving the room while Allen yelled after her: “Dotty, call Derek Haas. Tell him to get me someone. I need a lawyer that will blow these fucks out of the water.”
“On it,” Dotty said.
“You’ve made a big mistake, Stilwell,” Allen said. “I don’t know what you think you have, but you’re the one going down. You’re finished.”
Stilwell ignored his words.
“Mr. Mayor, we’ve got a helicopter waiting for you,” he said. “You’ll be booked on the charges under the indictment at the county jail.”
He then looked at Lampley and Ramirez.
“Take him out to the carts.”
The deputies took one arm each and started walking Allen toward the doors. As they passed Stilwell, Allen looked at him, his eyes sharp with hate.
“You’re done,” he said. “You hear me? You’re done!”
With the deputies on either side, Allen was walked through the building, the halls now lined with city workers who’d somehow already gotten word about an arrest in the mayor’s office. They saw a lot of open mouths and heard whispering as they passed. Allen kept his head down and acknowledged none of them. When they exited the building, Lionel McKey was there waiting with his phone up and ready to video the perp walk. He fired questions at Allen, but the mayor ignored these until he was firmly belted in the passenger seat of Lampley’s cart. He then looked directly at the camera and spoke.
“I am innocent of these charges,” he said. “I am the victim of a corrupt investigation by a corrupt law enforcement officer and I will prove my innocence when I have my day in court.”
Stilwell slapped his palm twice on the top of the cart and looked at Lampley.
“Take him to the chopper,” he said. “Ramirez, you follow. Don’t stop for anything, and hold the takeoff until I get there with our other custody.”
“Copy that,” Lampley said.
“You got it,” said Ramirez.
The two carts drove off, leaving Stilwell standing next to McKey.
“Thanks for the text,” McKey said.
“You owe me one,” Stilwell said.
“What are the charges against him?”
“They’ll be putting out a press release as soon as he’s booked.”
“You can’t tell me?”
“Conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Holy shit! Are you talking about the woman in the water?”
“No. Henry Gaston.”
Stilwell walked over to the John Deere. McKey followed him.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
Stilwell got behind the wheel.
“That’s why I told you to wait for the press release. You’ve got video and photos. The press release will give you the words to go with them.”
“Come on, Stilwell. You can’t do this to me.”
“I just did.”
Stilwell turned the key and put the cart in drive. He turned the wheel and pinned the accelerator. The cart took off, leaving McKey in its wake. The reporter called out after it:
“Who’s the other custody?”
Stilwell didn’t answer. He kept driving.