Wild Card

by Luke Murphy

  “The way I see it,” Dale said. “There’s only one person left, with that kind of money, who benefitted from Doug Grant’s murder and the carnage that followed.”

  Calvin looked at Dale and struggled to swallow over the lump in his throat. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. “You mean Shawn Grant, don’t you?”

  “I went over the LUD again.” Because of his time working with Dale and Jimmy, Calvin knew that LUD stood for local usage details from the phone company. “It showed that numerous calls were made from the Greek Casino to Doug Grant’s house. Doug wasn’t always at the casino during those times, and we know that Doug and Linda didn’t have a very good marriage, so all of those calls, now, seem kind of off. Someone else was calling Linda.”

  “Shawn was calling Linda? His stepmother?” Calvin’s hesitated, confused. “He told me he hated Linda.”

  Dale pursed his lips. “It’s a possibility.”

  “And you think he had his dad killed?”

  “Corporate murder. There were so many phone calls it’s hard to know who called the shot. Again, another possibility,” Jimmy said.

  “We’ve been biding our time, collecting evidence. Giving Shawn Grant a false sense of confidence,” Dale added.

  “What’s the point? It was a year ago. Sanders has already been arrested and sentenced for the murder.”

  Dale smiled. “There is no statute of limitations on murder.”

  Calvin leaned forward on his seat. “Tell me what else you know.”

  “I’ve thought about this a lot,” Dale leaned forward. “Using the limited information we have at our disposal, I put a theory together.” He took a breath. “Doug Grant showed no sign of ever retiring, and after thirty years of waiting to take command of The Greek, Shawn’s patience wore thin. He started having an affair with Linda; maybe he was seduced by Linda, but either way, he did it to retaliate against his father. They kept their affair a very careful secret, not only from Doug, but especially from Ace, who thought, as he would, that he was the only man having an affair with Linda. Shawn was whispering in Linda’s ear, who then would relay the messages to Ace. Ace had no idea. He had conveniently, for Shawn, killed Linda, leaving no one left who knew the truth. You agreeing to work with Shawn to find the real killer only strengthened his alibi.”

  Calvin felt his face start to burn. “Slow down. This ‘theory’ is a little complex. Do you have any hard evidence?”

  Dale continued. “Ace and Baxter have done all of Shawn’s killings for him. This is all speculative.”

  “So, Shawn Grant’s just sitting back laughing at us?”

  “Not for long.”

  They decided on a plan and to check with each other as information came in. As Dale and Jimmy were leaving, Calvin’s phone rang. He looked at caller ID but didn’t recognize the number.

  “See you guys later,” Calvin said, waving to the detectives as they exited the office. He answered his phone. “Calvin Watters.”

  “Calvin, this is Anthony Briscoe with ANM Entertainment. How strong is that knee?”

  Calvin smiled. Briscoe was the agent who represented Toby Jenkins.

  Chapter 3

  It was after eight that night when Calvin placed the call.

  “Hey, Mike.” Calvin sat in his SUV, speaking into the vehicle’s hands-free phone system.

  “Calvin, great to hear from you. You’ve been a ghost lately,” Mike sounded cheerful.

  “Sorry, been pretty busy, with the new business and all.”

  Mike Armstrong had been Calvin’s best friend since Calvin had moved to Vegas. Mike had many contacts, could get anything for anyone, and was the first person Calvin turned to when there was a problem. Rachel and Mike were the two people Calvin trusted the most.

  “What can I do for you? That state-of-the-art computer system I set up for you isn’t acting up, is it?”

  “Nah, that’s working perfectly, as usual. Not a glitch. What I need is some serious hacking.”

  Mike chuckled. “Must be serious if you’re calling me and not doing it yourself. I thought I taught you everything I knew about hacking systems, but maybe I can muster up some new stuff.”

  Calvin smiled. “You taught me a lot, but I’m thinking there are still a few things left that the ‘professor’ never showed his student.”

  “What do you need?”

  Calvin explained about the three million dollars found transferred into Derek Baxter’s account from a Las Vegas bank.

  “The Cayman Islands, huh? That isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “Let me give you the skinny on the Cayman Islands’ banking security system. Only log-ins from a browser that supports the highest level of encryption are accepted. Encryption is implemented by the Secure Socket Layer protocol. This prevents transactions from being read by unauthorized parties over the Internet. It is the customer who is responsible for keeping their passwords and login identification confidential. Did you happen to get that information from Baxter?”

  Calvin smirked. “Maybe I’ll ask next time I see him.”

  “Since we don’t have a password, there are multiple layers of security protecting the account information. Cayman banks have developed a comprehensive security system and operate in an environment specially developed for hosting Internet banking. All data transmissions relating to an account are monitored by security software and trained staff. Any data passing through the system is examined for certain characteristics, and username applications, Internet Protocol addresses and many other characteristics are identified to provide additional security. And then we get into the firewalls.”

  “Most firewalls are pretty basic,” Calvin said.

  “The ones I taught you about are.” Mike took a deep breath, as if preparing for a dramatic monologue, and then he said, “Cayman banks use some of the latest firewalls available in the market today. You and I know that a firewall protects one network from another by acting as a gatekeeper to examine data and block any unwanted types of traffic. But over the past few years, firewalls have gotten even better at providing excellent protection by examining the data in greater levels of detail.” Mike chuckled. “Think of a firewall like Rachel.”

  “Rachel?”

  “When your office receives mail, Rachel filters out a lot of unwanted stuff—brochures, flyers or other unsolicited mail—just by looking at the type of mail it is and where it comes from. In some cases, she might even open packages and examine them more carefully to ensure that they’re important or that nothing dangerous is contained inside. Firewalls operate in much the same way—either doing a cursory examination of a packet that is entering the corporate network, or even opening the packet up and doing a much deeper level of examination. Such firewalls are often called a proxy.”

  It was Calvin’s turned to smile. “So, basically it should be a piece of cake?”

  Mike grunted. “If I get anywhere, I’ll let you know. But don’t bank on it. Get it?”

  “Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Mike.”

  Calvin hung up, got out of the car and approached a well-maintained duplex. No other front yard in the neighborhood could hold a candle to the apartment he entered, in terms of care and maintenance.

  He was still smiling from his earlier talk with Anthony Briscoe. He couldn’t believe that Briscoe had called so fast after seeing a thirty-second video. Agents were so desperate for the next “big thing”. But Calvin knew that his knee could never take the everyday wear-and-tear punishment that an NFL running back faced.

  He knocked on the door and waited.

  “Calvin, it’s so great to see you.” Dixie Miller opened the door wide and stepped out onto the stone porch wearing white flannel pajama bottoms and a beige t-shirt with spaghetti straps. Calvin could see a hint of crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her small arms around Calvin and squeezed. Calvin squeezed back.

  “Hi, Dixie. How have you been?”

  “Can’t complain, no one to
complain to anyway.”

  “What?” Calvin looked at her, mocking surprise on his face. “No boyfriend yet?”

  Dixie pursed her lips and punched his shoulder with her fine-boned fist. “Oh yeah, an aging single mom is just a billboard advertisement for the dating scene. Come in.”

  Calvin followed her into the house and headed down a short hallway. “You look great.”

  When Dixie Miller had worked with Calvin for Donald Pitt as a secretary, she was a human highlighter. She had a different dye job each week, skimpy clothes, long, colorful fingernails and tons of makeup.

  Now, she’d traded in her fast-lane lifestyle, the colors and sparse clothing for conservative garments, and a “mommy” life. She’d removed all piercings except her ears and a diamond stud in her left nostril. Calvin thought she never looked better, and now her natural beauty would not go unnoticed.

  She smiled. “Thanks, you too.” She rose onto her tiptoes and rubbed his head. “Much better without the dreadlocks.”

  Calvin touched his head. “Yeah, well, you know Pitt had me grow those out to look mean for a reason.”

  “Want a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  Calvin leaned against the sink as he watched Dixie fidget in the fridge.

  “Sorry to be stopping in so late.”

  “Nonsense,” Dixie said, her head inside the fridge. “You’re always welcome here. I just put Nathan to bed, so the night is mine. I was about to watch an episode of Orange is the New Black.” She lifted her head from the fridge. “My God, my life sounds pathetic.”

  Calvin shook his head. “Not at all. How is Nathan?”

  She handed Calvin a yellow can. “Growing like a weed. He’ll be three next month.” She smiled with motherly pride. “I hope you like lemonade? It’s either that or fruit punch. Not many adult beverages in the house.”

  He popped it open and took a drink. “It’s perfect. How’s the new job?”

  Dixie’s eyes lit up. “I love it, thank you. I really appreciate you putting a word in with Mike. He’s let me make my own hours around Nathan’s daycare and because you were my reference, he’s paying me senior-experience wages.”

  Calvin grunted. “Dixie Miller, cocktail waitress. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Dixie winked. “This old gal still has a trick or two on how to get a tip.” She turned serious. “Okay. I know you didn’t stop by here at nine o’clock to talk about my job.”

  Calvin nodded and took another drink. “You’re right. I’m here for a reason.”

  “Let’s go sit down.”

  Dixie led him into a small, comfortably furnished living room. A thirty-two-inch color television sat on a small, dark, oak bookshelf lined with second-hand paperback novels. A children’s show played on the TV.

  Baby toys littered the floor and empty sippy cups on the coffee table. Calvin saw an online dating site on a laptop open on the table, and a coffee mug smeared with lipstick beside it. Dixie closed the laptop and tidied up the table, making room for their drinks.

  “Sorry about the mess.” She started picking up toys and placing them into a wicker basket. “It’s usually ‘quiet’ play time before Nathan goes down.”

  Calvin got down on his knees and helped Dixie clean up. Once the floor was tidy, she sat down on a folded leg and cupped her lemonade with both hands. “So, what can I do for you?”

  He looked her in the eye. “I hate coming here asking for more help. You already did so much when I was framed for murder. The information you gave me about Pitt and Sanders was instrumental in clearing my name.”

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me. I wanted to help. I knew you couldn’t have killed anyone. Working with someone for three years, even if I was just the secretary, you get to know them. I miss our days with Donnie, even though I know you hated the job. I enjoyed our talks.”

  Calvin nodded. “I need another favor. I need you to think back to when we worked for Don.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you remember when Donnie had you call Doug Grant to set up that appointment to meet with me at his office?”

  “You mean the whole Winston Coburn thing?”

  “That’s it.”

  “You have to believe me, I had no idea you were Winston Coburn and that Donnie set you up. All he told me was to call and schedule an appointment for Doug Grant to meet Winston Coburn, a casino owner from Atlantic City. He said it had to be early in the morning before Coburn flew back. If I’d known it was you, and what Pitt and Sanders were planning, I never would have agreed to it.”

  Calvin put his hand on Dixie’s. It was cold from the can. “I know. That’s not what I’m here for.”

  She sat forward and placed her drink on the table, then leaned back on the couch and put both her hands in her lap.

  “When you called to schedule the appointment, what did you say?”

  “Exactly what Donnie told me. A casino owner from Atlantic City, Winston Coburn, was thinking of expanding his operations into Vegas. Coburn is only in town for two days and wants to meet with Grant to get his advice.”

  “And the secretary bought that without further explanation?”

  Dixie’s eyebrows arched. “She actually never let me finish my spiel. I was transferred immediately to Shawn Grant.”

  “Shawn Grant? Why would he take the call?”

  “Not sure. As soon as I mentioned Coburn’s name, I was transferred.”

  “What did Shawn Grant say?”

  “He said that his dad was interested in meeting with Coburn and perhaps conducting a possible joint venture.”

  Calvin scratched the side of his face. “That’s weird. If Pitt’s cover story was for Coburn to meet with Grant to get me in his office, why would Shawn Grant be so quick to accept a meeting with someone he’d never even checked up on? He had no idea who Coburn was or even if the name was legit, and he spoke about joint ventures? And why was Shawn Grant even taking the calls and making the appointments? Isn’t that a secretary’s job?”

  Dixie shook her head. “I don’t know. That was my job for Donnie. He never even answered the phone. Every call had to go through me first.”

  “That’s normally the way it works.” Calvin rubbed his chin, something bothered him.

  He stood up and gradually crossed the room to the window. He looked outside, an idea teasing at the back of his mind.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Calvin turned around, snapping back to attention. “I don’t know, yet.” He pulled out his cellphone and looked at Dixie. “Get dressed.”

  Dixie looked confused. “What?”

  “You’re going out.”

  Dixie stared at Calvin, squinting her eyes curiously. “What are you talking about? Where am I going?”

  “Rachel is taking you out for a night on the town.”

  She snorted. “Are you out of your mind? In case you haven’t noticed, I have a little sleeping angel in the next room.”

  “I’ll watch Nathan tonight. You need a night out.”

  “Really? Does Rachel know about this last-minute abduction?”

  “Not yet, but she will. No worries though, she’ll be on board.” Calvin called home. “Rach, get dressed, you’re taking Dixie out tonight.”

  “Where am I supposed to take her?” She sounded surprised and a little sleepy.

  “I don’t care where you go. Take her somewhere nice. Get ready and get over here.”

  He hung up and looked at Dixie. “Well? What are you waiting for? Go get ready.”

  “But—I—”

  “See, you have no reason to say no. Unless you don’t trust me here to watch your son.”

  Dixie grinned. “You know I trust you with Nathan.”

  “So?”

  Dixie threw her hands in the air. “Fine.” She turned and headed up the stairs in surrender.

  Calvin noticed a little jump in her step, and knew Dixie was trying to hide the fact she was kind of excited to be going out and spending time
in the company of adults.

  “Good,” he called out. “I have a call to make.” He reopened his cellphone and dialed. “Dale, it’s Calvin. You won’t believe what I just found out.”

  Chapter 4

  “You feeling lucky this morning?” Jimmy asked, pulling his personal car into valet parking at the Greek Hotel and Casino.

  “Not quite,” Dale said.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to talk to Shawn Grant yet?”

  “I don’t. I already called ahead. Shawn isn’t even here.”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “His secretary.”

  Jimmy stopped the car and they got out. The valet handed him a ticket, got in the car and drove off.

  “His secretary? I don’t get it.”

  “Calvin called me last night. He told me that when Pitt’s secretary rang to set up an appointment for Calvin to meet with Doug Grant under false pretenses, it was actually Shawn Grant who took the call.”

  Jimmy scratched his head. “That’s weird.”

  They entered the casino and flashed their badges to one of the thick-necked security guards. The bulky, uniformed bouncer didn’t smile or look impressed.

  “Mr. Grant isn’t in.”

  “That’s okay,” Dale said. “We want to make an appointment to meet with him.”

  The guard said nothing, only pointed to where Grant’s office was hidden upstairs in the back.

  They moved through the lobby and took the short set of stairs that led to a level between the first and second floors. They walked through the door into an entrance area, where a heavy-set secretary in her mid-fifties sat behind a desk.

  They removed their badges again.

  “Good morning. I’m Detective Dayton, this is Detective Mason.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Grant isn’t in yet.”

  Dale checked his watch and the name plate on her desk. “That’s okay, Maureen. We hoped to ask you a few questions.”

  The secretary looked nervous. “Me? What do you want to ask me? I don’t think I should say anything without Mr. Grant.”