Willingham had no idea that Stilwell was posted on Catalina, twenty-two miles from the mainland and even farther from the sheriff’s homicide bureau. Willingham was thinking a downtown deputy would owe him a favor.
“I can do that,” Stilwell said. “Deal.”
“All right, then, we good,” Willingham said. “We good.”
“So I can let Forbes walk?”
“You can set him free.”
“Beautiful. Thank you.”
“Have a good one. And remember, I’m going to call you.”
“Anytime.”
Stilwell disconnected the call. He unlocked his desk drawer and removed his sidearm. He holstered the weapon and got up to release Forbes. But the desk phone buzzed on his direct line and the readout said SHERIFF’S HOMICIDE. He sat back down and took the call.
“Stillborn,” he heard.
“A-Hole,” he said. “What do you want?”
“What I want is to take your badge, and this time I think I’ve got it.”
“You haven’t got shit, Ahearn. Why don’t you try to work on the case instead of on me?”
“I am working the case, and guess who I just talked to?”
“I don’t know, Ahearn, but I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”
“Your pal Peter Galloway, and he told me all about you knocking on his door last night. He almost didn’t talk to me because he said he already told you everything he knew about the girl.”
“Yeah, that’s bullshit.”
“No, you’re bullshit. You fucking crossed the line, Stillborn, and I can prove it. I already went to Corum, and he’s got everything he needs to bench your ass. And that will be only the first step.”
“Ahearn, listen to me, I can help you. I have information, but you told me to fuck off. Now, if you want to close the case, let’s share what we’ve—”
“We’re not partners and you’re not homicide. You’re going to be a nobody as soon as Corum takes your badge. And you know what, I’m going to see if I can mount it on the wall here over my desk.”
“You’re pathetic, Ahearn. You’d put your shit with me over solving—”
He stopped. Ahearn had hung up on him. He sat still, trying to control the anger that was welling up in him. The phone buzzed again and he saw that it was another call from the homicide bureau. He answered with a full head of steam.
“I said, you’re pathetic. You’d put our shit ahead of closing the case when I—”
“This is Denise from Captain Corum’s office.”
Stilwell realized his mistake.
“Oh, um, sorry, I thought it was some—”
“Captain Corum would like you to come in today for a meeting. What time can I schedule it?”
“Uh... can I talk to the captain?”
“He asked me to set this up.”
“I’m not coming in, Denise. So please put him on the phone. I’ll hold.”
“Very well.”
She put Stilwell on hold and he rehearsed what he would say to the captain if Corum took his call.
A solid five minutes went by before Denise came back on and said the captain would be with Stilwell shortly. She hit the hold button again and Stilwell wondered if Corum was really tied up or simply playing a power game and making Stilwell wait.
When Corum finally came on the line, he came with fire.
“Goddamn it, Stil. I put you out there so you would be below the radar, and what do you do? You take out your dick and piss all over the place.”
“Captain, you’ve only heard one side of this thing. I can practically give Ahearn the case, but he’s only interested in burning me, not closing a murder.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not your case to give, but you’re off the island, running all over the county chasing it. You give me no choice here, Stil.”
“Can I explain something before you decide whatever you’re going to decide?”
“I don’t know what good it will do, but go ahead, say your piece.”
“Is Ahearn there? Sounds like I’m on speaker.”
There was a pause before Corum confirmed the obvious.
“He’s here but I told him to keep quiet,” he said. “Now, do you want to explain or not?”
“Sure, and I’m glad he’s there,” Stilwell said. “So he can fucking listen and stay quiet.”
“Fuck you, Stillborn,” Ahearn said.
“Ahearn, enough,” Corum said. “Stil, go ahead.”
Stilwell took a deep breath, tried to clear the image of Ahearn’s smug face out of his mind, and began.
“On Saturday we received a report of a theft of a supposedly priceless piece of art from the Black Marlin Club out here,” he said.
“A painting?” Corum asked.
“No, a small sculpture of a black marlin. It was taken from a display in the main hallway of the club, where it had been for almost a hundred years. Do you know anything about this club, Captain?”
“I’ve heard of it, yes. People with money and power.”
“Exactly. So, the report was taken by Deputy Dunne and it got lost for a couple days because Dunne was the deputy who got assaulted Saturday night and he’s out with a concussion. The report didn’t cross my desk till yesterday, and then I started working it.”
“What’s this have to do with you coming over here and interviewing witnesses in the murder case?”
“I’m going to get to that, Captain, if you let me tell the story.”
“Go ahead, but I don’t have all day here. You need to land the plane.”
“I went to the BMC and talked to the general manager, who had made the initial report. His name is Crane and he said no one noticed the sculpture was missing till Saturday, when he made the report, but that it had likely been gone a week. Then he pointed the finger at an employee he had fired the week before, Leigh-Anne Moss. He said he suspected that she stole the statue on her way out of the club right after he fired her.”
“Fired for what?”
“He said she was fraternizing with the members and that’s a big no-no.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Well, I ran down Leigh-Anne Moss and learned that she had a dyed streak of purple in her hair. I’d seen the victim we pulled out of the harbor, so I put two and two together and called Ahearn to give him the name. He invited me to fuck off, to use his words. So I did and kept going with my case. But everywhere I went, it rubbed up against the harbor case.”
“That true? He gave you the name?” Corum said.
Stilwell knew he was speaking to Ahearn.
“He mentioned the name,” Ahearn said. “But we made the ID through DMV on a thumbprint. I go to the address on her DMV, and the boyfriend tells me the sheriff’s already been there. Stillborn should have called me before he even got on the ferry.”
“Did you not tell him to fuck off?” Corum asked. “And stop using that name. I find it offensive.”
“I meant stay the fuck away from my case, and he didn’t,” Ahearn responded.
“Jesus Christ, what am I going to do with you two!” Corum erupted. “Stilwell, did you take it further than that?”
Stilwell paused to compose a truthful answer as well as open a path through this thicket that would allow him to keep his job.
“There are no cameras in the BMC, so there was no way of confirming who stole the sculpture from the display,” he said. “But I went over to the harbormaster’s tower and reviewed video from the harbor cams that had angles on the club. I saw something suspicious on the night after Moss was fired and the theft presumably occurred. This involved a boat that belonged to a member of the club. A man named Mason Colbrink. He lives in Malibu. I followed that up and just this morning confirmed that both an anchor and a sail bag had been taken from the boat and replaced with new ones.”