Page 127 of Nightshade

“Okay, I’m in.”

45

LESLIE SNEED SENTthe 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 askWho 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.

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