Page 76 of Nightshade

“The guy up there got his bank to wire money to the hotel, so everything turned out fine.”

“How’d you find this out?”

“I called the manager. He said the bank wired enough for two weeks, so he’s letting the guy—Starkey—stay, and now everybody’s happy. The hotel got the money and Starkey can finish writing his book or script or whatever it is.”

“Well, good, then. What are you writing up?”

“Just a bunch of bullshit. Somebody graffitied the Casino last night. They’re painting it out today but they want a report for insurance.”

Stilwell wondered if the vandal was a local. Catalina had no street gangs but that didn’t stop gangsters from coming over on the ferries from time to time.

“What did the graffiti say?”

“Just two names, Sleepy and Mako.”

“You might want to go up to the school and talk to the maintenance people. They’ve had some graffiti issues up there this year. Maybe see if they’ve had anything with those names. That way we find out if they’re local or from off island.”

“Copy that,” Lampley said. “I’ll go up after I finish this.”

Stilwell walked over to Mercy’s desk and she held up four pink message slips.

“These came in,” she said.

The first was from Mayor Allen. There was no message, just a number, and Mercy had checked theCALL BACKbox.

“You probably should have knocked on my door for this one,” he said. “Any idea what he wanted?”

“It was actually one of his assistants who called,” Mercy said. “She let slip that the council just approved a ten-thousand-dollar reward on the harbor case. The mayor wanted to tell you and give you the parameters.”

Stilwell stared at the message, trying to decide if the reward was a good or bad thing. It would likely bring in multiple calls with information he would have to chase down—a lot of spinning of his wheels. But it could also bring in a solid lead. He had seen rewards work both ways when he was on the homicide unit.

The next message was from Ned Browning. It saidNo go on the sales records,and Stilwell understood this to mean that Browning had found no record of the purchase of a handsaw by Henry Gaston or Oscar Terranova. That would have been too easy, Stilwell thought.

Message three was from Lionel McKey, and Stilwell guessed he was calling for comment on the reward. Stilwell crumpled that slip up and tossed it into the trash can next to Mercy’s desk.

The last message was from someone named Leslie, no last name or phone number given. Mercy had writtenWanted to know if the dead girl was Leigh-Anne Moss.

“She had the name?” he asked. “What did you tell her?”

“You told me not to give out information on cases,” Mercy said. “So I told her we didn’t have an ID yet, and before I could ask anything else, she hung up.”

“Damn.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure she works at the Sandtrap if you want to talk to her.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I could hear plates and voices in the background and someone saying, ‘Leslie, pickup.’ I think that’s why she hung up so fast.”

“Okay, a restaurant kitchen. Why do you say it’s the Sandtrap?”

“Well, that part’s a guess, but there’s a girl who works up there named Leslie. She’s waited on me before.”

It was Mercy who had told Stilwell about the Sandtrap being the best place for lunch when he first came to the island. She went there often on her lunch break.

“That’s really good, Mercy,” he said.

Stilwell had eaten half a sandwich from the restaurant that morning but it looked like he would be going there for lunch now. He told Mercy to call him if anything came up and headed out of the sub.

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