“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.”