“Ah, Jesus,” Stilwell said.
“What? You want me to stop?”
“No, just keep reading.”
“‘Today, when investigators went to his home to question Easterbrook about the killing, they found him dead by apparent suicide. Captain Roger Corum said that there is evidence that Easterbrook, who was married but had recently separated from his wife, had been involved romantically with the victim and that she had tried to break off the relationship. Investigators believe Easterbrook, an attorney, met Moss in Avalon, where she worked as a waitress at the Black Marlin Club. Corum said that DNA evidence is being analyzed that investigators believe will furtherconnect Easterbrook to the death of Ms. Moss. Corum said that the investigation is ongoing and further details will be withheld until its completion. He thanked investigators from the homicide unit and the Catalina substation for their tireless’—blah-blah-blah, and that’s it. Now, can you tell me what exactly led you to Easterbrook?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Was he a member of the Black Marlin Club?”
“No comment.”
“Come on, man, you said you would comment if I read it. I need something nobody else has. This is our turf. Our story.”
“It’s nobody’s story. They have it wrong.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“That’s off the record.”
“No, you can’t do that. You can’t say something and then afterward say it’s off the record. What do you mean, they have it wrong?”
“I have to go.”
Stilwell disconnected and got up off the bench.
42
STILWELL WAITED UNTILhe 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. Hehadan 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?”