by Luke Murphy
Calvin nodded. “I’ve been busy.” He looked at Jimmy and smiled. “Who’s this lean, mean new partner of yours?”
“He looks great, doesn’t he?”
“I lost about twenty pounds.” Jimmy opened up his jacket to reveal his slimming waistline. “Now you have some competition for the sexiest black man in Vegas.”
Dale had known Jimmy for over ten years, nine as partners. He’d always been a big man, six-two or three. Dale was much smaller, leaner, so it was nice having a partner of that stature.
Dale chuckled. “Too much sex.”
“I wish,” Jimmy replied. “Tina made me go on a diet. Two-hundred and fifty pounds was getting a little too big for her.”
“You were probably crushing her in bed.” Dale grinned.
“Not sure about that new mustache though.” Calvin grabbed a towel and tried to rub it off Jimmy’s upper lip.
Jimmy swatted him away. “The gym looks great.”
Calvin’s chest swelled with pride. “I can’t believe how quickly it all materialized. Shows what can happen when a community comes together. A very generous, sizeable donation by Mr. Shawn Grant, and The Greek Hotel and Casino got the ball rolling.”
“How is business?” Jimmy asked.
“Can’t complain, but I was hoping for more.”
“Give it time. It’ll pick up,” Dale said. “Looks like you haven’t changed. Still in impeccable shape, and a slave driver to those kids.”
“I agree,” Jimmy said. “You look like you’re in tremendous shape. You have my body…in my wife’s dreams.”
“Gotta keep these boys in tune. You haven’t changed either, Dale, except for your hair. Are you joining a boy band?” Calvin smiled, referring to Dale’s longer, gelled up hair.
Jimmy grinned. “The man’s in play, now.”
Dale elbowed his partner in the rib cage.
Jimmy looked around. “Man, this place is looking great. Sorry we missed the grand opening.”
Calvin smiled again. “Don’t worry about it. I never thought it would actually happen. All my hopes and dreams in the design came out perfectly. Father Mac would be so proud.”
“No doubt. A local neighborhood gym for youth boys in his honor. He would be beaming.”
“I owe everything to Father Mac. If he hadn’t taken me under his wing, I’d probably be behind bars, or dead. When I’d accepted a full ride to USC, I knew I’d made him proud.”
“Don’t give away all of the credit,” Dale interrupted. “I’m sure some of that was you. Hard work can go a long way.”
Calvin nodded. “Father Mac always said I possessed natural athletic ability, but training, focus and hard work had prepared me for college both on the gridiron and in the classroom.”
Jimmy smiled. “Being six-foot-five and well over two-hundred pounds hadn’t hurt either.”
“No, it hadn’t.” Calvin returned the grin.
Dale looked around. “Looks like a great turnout today.”
“Yeah. The hard part will be keeping them here. There are just so many temptations on the streets to make it easy for a kid to go down the wrong road. I’m trying my best.”
“Remember, you’re only one man,” Dale said.
“That sounds a lot like the speech I gave you after you arrested Sanders.” Calvin smiled.
Jimmy looked at Dale, surprise in his eyes.
Dale hadn’t told his partner about the hour-long talk he’d had with Calvin, when Dale was at one of the lowest points in his life. He’d gone to Calvin for advice, for a sympathetic ear, and the large, former football star/leg breaker/murder suspect/fugitive showed Dale a side of him that no one, except maybe Rachel, knew existed: a warm heart, kind words and sound advice.
“How are Betty and Sammie anyway?” Calvin asked.
“I’m meeting with Betty later this week.”
“That’s great news.”
“Yeah, let’s hope he can trick her into taking him back.”
“Up yours, Jimmy.” Dale smiled. He turned to Calvin. “How’s the knee?”
Calvin opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.
“Knee injury, yeah right. That’s a punk’s excuse. He’s hiding behind it,” Johnny remarked with a smile. He wiped at perspiration running down the side of his face.
Calvin smiled. “You want a shot at the title, Johnny-boy?”
“You bet, old man.”
Another teenager in the group heard the talk, cupped his hands around his mouth and announced to the entire gym in a loudspeaker announcer’s voice, “It’s on!”
Dale looked at Johnny, recognizing that young, cocky, “me-against-the-world” attitude that all teenagers seemed to have these days. He was thin and wiry, but his immature muscles were defined and tight. He was shaved bald and teenage acne peppered his forehead.
Dale pulled Calvin aside. “You sure you’re up for this? You’re not a kid anymore.”
Calvin winked. He turned back to Johnny. “What’ll it be, kid?”
Johnny said, “Four Corners Drill.”
Dale watched Calvin grab four cones and form a ten-yard by ten-yard square, setting up the timed-race.
“One time through, lowest time wins,” Calvin said.
Johnny nodded. “Sounds good.” He put out his hand. “Age before beauty.”
Calvin snorted. He gritted his teeth, a look of pure determination streaking his face.
Another coach, with a high, flat-brimmed hat, big gut and short shorts, pulled out a stopwatch and a whistle. By this time, everyone in the gym had stopped what they were doing and gathered around to watch. The young girls seemed overly excited.
A crowd of teenagers had now formed a circle around the cones, remaining about ten feet outside the cones’ arc, rooting for Calvin, shouting words of encouragement. iPhones and Blackberrys were pulled out of pockets, snapping photos, recording videos, and taking selfies with Calvin in the background. Within minutes, Calvin would be a social media star.
“You ready, Boss?” the coach asked.
Calvin nodded.
He squinted his eyes, his face totally focused. At the sound of the whistle, he took off. Dale and Jimmy stood back in the crowd as Calvin moved with ease, a smoothness that could only be captured by the grace of a naturally gifted athlete. Even with a gimp knee, Calvin looked as if he floated while he moved.
Dale remembered Calvin on the football field. Every time he received a handoff, the crowd held their breath because they knew something magnificent was about to happen. People paid big money just to watch Calvin carry the pigskin.
Starting at the first cone, he backpedaled to the parallel cone, moving directly into a shuffle to the next one. By the time he rounded the second cone, his legs were pumping, knees high, sweat pelting his forehead.
When he reached the third cone, Calvin moved into the Karaoke drill. At the fourth cone, he sprinted as fast as he could to the last one, making the full perimeter of the square.
The coach stopped the watch as Calvin crossed the finish line. A roar erupted from the crowd. Cheering, clapping and whistling echoed throughout the gym.
Johnny smiled. “Not bad, old man. Now watch how it’s really done.”
♣
After the match, Calvin led Dale and Jimmy up the concrete steps at the back of the gymnasium facility, away from the gathered crowd just starting to die down and depart. He was still gathering his breath, and his shirt now clung to his sweaty chest, but the exercise had been invigorating. Still, his quads and calves screamed at the punishment.
“I guess you showed that kid,” Dale said from behind.
Jimmy smiled. “He won’t be running his mouth off anymore. Did he call a twenty-eight-year-old an old man?”
Calvin reached the top step and opened his office door.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t feel like me right now. Is the room spinning for anyone else?” He smiled.
“You’ve still got it, Calvin,” Dale said.
Calvin sh
ook his head. “Nah. That was a one-time drill. Thirty seconds of go-get. I couldn’t handle that consistently.”
Jimmy said, “You looked pretty good to me. And I bet your time would compete with the top times at last year’s NFL Combine.”
Dale nodded and checked his watch. “It’s been about ten minutes since your clinic, so your video’s probably gone viral now. You’ll be famous—all over YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, and every other social media kids use today. Be ready to get some calls from NFL scouts.”
They entered the office, loosely decorated with used furniture. Calvin’s desk was scratched and chipped, an old tin filing cabinet rested against the wall and a seventies-era shag area-carpet covered faded, scratched hardwood.
A complete gym of second-hand equipment was set up in the corner of the room: a workout bench held a barbell with three hundred pounds of weight; a plate tree was stacked with forty-five-pound plates; a twelve-pound medicine ball had been rolled under the bench beside multiple dumb bells and a curl bar; and a twenty-pound weighted vest hung over a treadmill.
Calvin sat down and motioned for the detectives to do the same. “Do you guys want a drink?”
They both declined.
“We think that what you’ve done here is great,” Dale said.
“They’re good kids. They’ve just had a few bad breaks. Some of them have nowhere else to go. I’d rather they hang out here than on the streets getting mixed up with drugs and gangs. Most of these kids can barely afford clothes and food, so that’s why the grants, loans, and donations from local businesses have been so critical. I had to keep costs as low as possible, so that membership is next to nothing. The odds are against them. But you know the juvenile justice system in this country. It doesn’t help kids, it turns them into criminals. I’d rather see them in here.”
Calvin opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a couple of papers. He handed one to Jimmy and one to Dale. “Speaking of the kids, I’m trying to start a mentoring program for disadvantaged children. We’re always looking for fine young gentlemen like yourselves to take part.”
“Maybe,” Jimmy said.
Calvin leaned over and pulled out a bottled water from a small refrigerator behind his desk.
“Nice plaque.” Jimmy pointed behind Calvin’s desk.
Hanging on the wall above his desk chair, in a new, wooden frame, was the Las Vegas Medal of Freedom. A medal Calvin had received from the Mayor of Las Vegas. After “borrowing” the medal from Calvin with a cover-story excuse, Dale had the honor framed and hung on the wall. Now, every day Calvin could look at it and remember how the Mayor, the police department and the entire city had honored his courage and selfless dedication to helping Dale, Jimmy, the investigative teams, and the LVMPD protect his fellow citizens.
Dale and Jimmy had been honored too for their courageous and superior work. They’d been awarded the LVMPD Medal of Honor, the most distinguished award the police department could grant.
Calvin’s smile brightened. Nothing could hang on that wall that was more important to Calvin than his special medal.
Dale read the inscription aloud, “Calvin Watters, thank you for your hard work, discipline and dedication in protecting the city and people of Las Vegas. You put your life on the line to protect the innocent. For that, we will always be grateful. Signed, Mayor Paul Casey.” Dale shook his head. “Casey, the consummate politician. What an asshole.”
Calvin nodded. “I agree. Okay Dale, what’s up? You told Rachel you’d meet me here, and then you ask for a quiet place to talk. Nothing good ever comes from that. Is it Baxter?”
Dale shook his head. “No. No sign of Baxter since his escape from military confinement.”
“I’m surprised the military admitted Baxter was on the run,” Jimmy said.
“I guess having a Vegas, cop-murdering, psychopath on the loose gave them no choice,” Dale answered.
Calvin looked at Dale. “Rachel watches you drive by our house every night. Our own personal secret service.”
Dale’s face reddened. “Can’t be too careful. I’ll do everything I can to help, but I’m not much competition against a pro like Derek Baxter.”
“You really think Baxter would return to Vegas after everything that went down?”
Dale nodded. “You blew off his leg and ruined his record as an assassin. You caught him for the military. I’d say he could be just pissed off enough to come back.”
“I have my contacts’ ears to the ground, on alert for Baxter. And I’m sure you have your contacts doing the same,” Jimmy added.
Calvin agreed, “Yeah, I have a few people watching my back.”
“Haven’t seen much of you since the trial,” Jimmy said.
Calvin took a drink. “Yeah, sorry…With all the shit that went down, right from finding Grant’s body to nailing Sanders to the ‘guilty’ verdict, Rachel and I just needed to get away from everything and get on with our lives. I had healing to do, plus I had to get my PI certificate.”
“You don’t need to apologize. No one knew how much you went through more than Jimmy and I.” Dale sneered. “We actually put you through most of that ourselves. How are you feeling?”
Calvin shrugged. “I’ll never be a hundred percent, I’ve accepted that. But added to the pain I’ve always felt in my knee, the gunshot and other wounds from the shootout with Baxter, I had a lot of thinking and healing to do. That case damn near killed me, literally.”
“It still amazes me that you”—he aimed an invisible pistol across the room—“having only shot at paper targets, not only survived but won against Baxter,” Dale said.
“Man, it feels like it was only yesterday. The healing isn’t complete, but the doctors are amazed at my recovery.”
“Your work ethic and fitness helped,” Jimmy swatted Dale’s hand out of the air.
Calvin removed a pill bottle from his desk and popped a couple of pain killers. “For the first time in over four years, I’m almost pain-free.”
“I still can’t believe that you called me and volunteered to be bait to draw Baxter in.”
“Dale, my offer wasn’t just public service. I was also trying to save Rachel’s life, and my own.”
“I know.”
Calvin looked at Dale, smiled, and they nodded to each other. After everything they’d been through with the Grant case, they now had a special bond.
Calvin knew that the three of them would be lifelong friends and, with his new profession, he looked to them for continuing support, ready to give back as much as or more than he was given.
“So, if it isn’t Baxter, then why did you want to see me?”
Dale’s face turned serious. “What did you think of the trial?”
“Sanders had no choice but to plead guilty to Linda’s murder, we all witnessed it. I thought Sanders and his lawyers might be cocky enough to fight it with misdirection. But with what you had on him, the plea-bargaining wasn’t a surprise. When he pleaded not-guilty to the Grant, Pitt and prostitute murder, I thought, what’s the point?”
Dale huffed, “Cocky bastard.”
“When the jury bought the attorney’s story that the DNA from Sanders’ skin under the prostitute’s fingernails had been there because Ace had had sex with her earlier in the evening, I thought we were dead in the water,” Jimmy said.
Calvin winked at Dale. “You looked like a seasoned veteran on that stand.”
“Experience. The lead detective is always the primary witness for the prosecution, so I’ve had lots of practice. You remember when we arrested Sanders, all the shit that ensued?”
“I still see that night when I close my eyes. The way it all went down.” The memories came back to Calvin in snapshots. “I still dream about it.”
“It was a shit show,” Jimmy said. “We did everything we could, with what we were given.”
Dale was silent.
Calvin knew Dale lived with the guilt of Linda Grant’s murder. “You weren’t sure about it all.”
/> Dale shook his head. “No, I wasn’t. Even after Sanders’ trial, something still didn’t sit right with me.”
The room got quiet.
“So, Jimmy and I kept the case open.”
Calvin lifted his head. He was sure his eyes bulged. “You did what?”
Dale held up his hand. “No one knew about it. Not the sergeant or lieutenant. Only Jimmy and I. We worked it on our own time. Jimmy used his underground connections to do some digging, and we’ve been on it for months now.”
“What did you find?”
Dale sat back and shrugged his shoulders. “It hasn’t been easy. There’s a lengthy paper trail that looks like it leads to dead ends. Whoever is involved is smart, secretive and covered their tracks flawlessly.”
“Why are you telling me all this? Do you guys have anything or not?”
Dale’s mouth twitched. “We do have something.” He looked at Jimmy.
Calvin looked at Dale, then at Jimmy and then back to Dale. “So, what is it?”
“We followed the money.”
“What?”
Dale’s tone became grave. “We discovered one of Baxter’s Cayman Islands bank accounts. There’s no way to know for sure how many accounts he has, in what countries, or under how many names. But the trail led us to one specific account.” Dale rubbed his face and continued. “Three million dollars transferred in from a Las Vegas connection.”
Calvin raised his hands. “Probably a payoff from Sanders. Didn’t Baxter’s Marine Colonel admit that Sanders hired Baxter to take me out and said that he paid half up front, and the rest would be paid upon completion of the mission?”
Dale nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“So, then what’s the big deal? What aren’t you saying?”
“The transfer was made almost a week after Sanders’ arrest. Since Sanders hadn’t been granted bail during the trial and was being held at the Clark County Detention Center until his case was adjudicated, he’d have no access to any of that. Once Sanders was found guilty, he was immediately transported to Ely State Penitentiary, where his internet searches would be highly secured and under heavy surveillance.”
Calvin looked at Dale, and the detective looked back. Neither man said a word. All of the air seemed to be sucked out of the room.
