by Luke Murphy
“So, what do we do with all of this hearsay?” Calvin asked.
“It’s all speculative. We have no proof of any of this. It’s just talk. Jimmy and I have been watching, investigating, for the last year. We crunched the numbers and put everything we had together and came up with this. Unfortunately, it means nothing to anyone.”
Calvin looked discouraged. “So, what do we do next?”
Dale looked at Jimmy. Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and gave Dale a “what do you think” look.
“What are you guys hiding?”
Dale smiled. “We might have an ace up our sleeve. A smoking gun, you could call it.”
“You gonna tell him?” Jimmy asked.
Dale pulled a cellphone out of his pocket.
Calvin looked at it and put his hands up. “A cellphone. Who cares?”
“A few days after Linda was killed, Jimmy and I went to the Grant house by ourselves and turned it upside down. We searched it from top to bottom and we happened to come across a small section of the floor cut out under Grant’s bed in the master bedroom. It was covered with a piece of false flooring. That’s where we found this phone stashed, still in its box,” Dale said.
“Why would Grant keep a cellphone under his bed?”
“I don’t think Grant knew anything about the phone.”
“Linda?” Calvin stood up and approached Dale.
“This phone isn’t in either of their names. But Linda’s prints are all over it. The only set of prints on the phone.”
Calvin’s eyebrows arched up. “Really? Who is it registered under?”
“False name and address.”
“But check the outgoing call log,” Jimmy cut in.
Dale handed Calvin the phone. Calvin looked at the screen and scrolled down.
“Many calls to the same number. It seems like it’s the only number she called.” He looked at Dale and Jimmy. “So, whose number is it?”
Dale smiled. “Shawn Grant’s cellphone.”
“You think Shawn and Linda were in it together?” Calvin asked.
“There’s no way to prove it. Linda’s dead and Shawn would never admit to it. But we do know that there were a lot of calls from the casino to Linda. It could have been Doug calling home, but my guess is that Shawn had taken an interest in his stepmother.”
“Gross,” Jimmy groaned.
Dale smiled. “Really? I thought you’d be into that.”
Jimmy chuckled.
“You think he was doing his step-mommy?” Calvin asked.
Dale shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t put it past him. They were the same age, and both wanted the same thing…Doug Grant’s money and power.”
“So Linda was shagging Doug, Shawn and Ace?” Jimmy asked.
“Busy girl,” Calvin said.
“For all we know, Linda was sleeping with half of Vegas. Since we found the phone, we’ve been sitting back and letting Shawn get comfy. He probably looked everywhere for it and wondered where it went. We’ve monitored his actions, waiting for a slip up.”
“The question is…” Calvin bit down on his lip. “What do we do with the phone now?”
♣
Shawn Grant sat back in his office chair, looked to the ceiling and drew in three rapid breaths. His body spasmed. “Just like that, baby.”
He tugged on the woman’s blonde wig, using his hands to guide her mouth. Shawn closed his eyes. He wasn’t worried about anyone walking in. It was late. Most of his personal assistants had gone home, and the woman was underneath the desk.
He was enjoying the moment when the sound of his cellphone, vibrating on the top of his wooden desk, startled him.
He looked at it. “Shit!” He looked down at the woman. “Don’t stop.”
He reached over her head and picked up the phone, checking caller ID. When he saw the number, his throat tightened.
The phone vibrated again in his hand and he dropped it on the floor.
“What’s wrong?” the woman asked, looking up. “You’re soft.”
He looked at her. “Get out, Janet.”
She got to her feet and started buttoning up her shirt. “It’s Janice, asshole!”
“Just get the fuck out!”
She stomped off and slammed the door.
Shawn picked up the phone. It had stopped ringing. He checked for a message but the caller hadn’t left one.
He sat back in his chair and wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to take a couple of deep breaths in the hope that his breathing returned to normal.
He walked over to the wet bar and poured himself a generous portion of scotch, mixing it with two ice cubes. Drinking half of it with one gulp, Shawn let the liquid burn down his throat and into his gut before returning to his desk.
He’d recognized the number immediately. Who had Linda’s phone? She was supposed to have destroyed it and all evidence of it before Ace had killed her. Shawn had told her to, given her exact directions and she’d always obeyed orders. That’s what he’d loved so much about Linda, she was a follower, and a loyal lap dog. Plus, a great piece of ass.
Had she given it to someone? Had she told someone about it?
Doubtful. Linda would never have disobeyed him. But for the first time, Shawn felt unsure about Linda’s obedience.
He was deep in thought when the cell rang again. He stared at it, vibrating, moving around on the desk as if taunting him. Same caller ID number.
He snatched it up.
“Hello?”
No answer. No sound.
“Who is this?” His voice grew louder.
Still no response. He could hear breathing.
“I said, who is this?”
Click.
♣
Dale, Jimmy and Calvin huddled around the phone.
Calvin smiled. “I think that got his attention.”
They all laughed.
“It’s a hollow victory, but I’ll take it. It should remove some of that smug, white-collar reserve,” Dale said.
Chapter 5
“You don’t seem like yourself this morning. You haven’t said two words since you got here.” A young, clean-shaven gun range instructor in a freshly ironed company golf-shirt and khakis looked concerned.
Calvin worked on dismantling a weapon, taking it apart and placing each piece in its designated spot in the case. “Sorry, Chet. I have a lot on my mind.” He wasn’t in the mood for chit chat.
The guy nodded. “Not that it affected your shooting. I’ve never seen anyone pick up something as fast as you. It’s not just anyone who can start on long-range rifle scope shooting and be near the top of his class. You shoot more consistently than men who’ve been practicing their whole lives. Have you ever tried anything that you weren’t the best at?”
“Sure, lots of things.”
“Like what?”
Calvin grinned. “I can’t sing soprano.”
The instructor returned his smile. “Have you thought any more about entering the long-range rifle competition next month?”
Calvin shook his head. “I’m not ready for that, yet.”
“Well, when you are, let me know. Have a great day, Calvin.”
“Thanks.”
♣
Calvin arrived at the office that morning later than usual. He hadn’t slept well—thinking about Shawn Grant, how the man had played him. He’d trusted Shawn, and Calvin was usually a pretty good judge of character. The thought put him in a bad mood.
Calvin felt sick to his stomach realizing he’d called Shawn all those months ago and agreed to help him find the real killer…have Shawn help Calvin establish his own innocence in the murder investigation. It had been inconceivable to Calvin that Shawn was in any way connected to the murders.
“What an idiot,” Calvin said, angry at himself for missing it.
He walked into the office. “Good morning, Rachel.”
“Is everything all right?” She looked worried.
“Yeah, why?”
&
nbsp; “You tossed and turned all night, even talked in your sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
“Dale and Jimmy are waiting in your office.”
Calvin looked at his watch. “Early start.”
He walked through the front room and into his office where the detectives sat on a sofa.
“You know, Rachel will think we’re having an affair.” He smiled, but the cops didn’t smile back. “What is it? Did Shawn Grant call back?” When he saw the stressed looks on Dale and Jimmy’s faces, Calvin’s smile vanished.
“We’re not here about Grant,” Dale said.
Calvin’s swallowed. “Is it Baxter? Have you spotted him?”
Jimmy shook his head. “No word yet on Baxter.”
Calvin looked at Jimmy, and then at Dale. Both detectives were quiet, and Calvin felt like he wasn’t ready for what was coming.
“Okay, you get into my office before me, and you’re telling me it’s not about Baxter or Grant. What’s going on?”
Dale took a deep breath. “Ace Sanders escaped from Ely State Prison.”
“Jesus Christ, how did that happen?”
“I’ve already called a local company who has agreed to fly us to Ely in their Cessna,” Dale said.
“How did you manage that?” Calvin asked.
Dale smiled. “I told them we had Winston Coburn, an Atlantic City casino owner, in town looking for property to build a new casino, and he’s also looking for a local tourist company to partner with. Let’s go.”
♣
Once they had left the ground, Calvin asked, “How does something like this happen at a maximum-security penitentiary?”
Dale shook his head. “Good question. I’m interested in hearing the answer. Over four-hundred employees and eleven-hundred inmates, you’d think someone saw something. All we know is that when his cell underwent morning check, Sanders’ bed was empty. Who knows when he got out, so that means he has a major head start. And if we know anything about Sanders, he has a plan already in place.”
Calvin added. “We know how far money can go in this country, and he had lots of it.”
“The Warden is waiting for us,” Jimmy said.
When they touched down and the plane jerked to a stop, the group hurried into a rented car and drove to the prison.
Ely State Prison was a maximum security penitentiary located in White Pine County, Nevada, built from white brick and stone upon a large mass of land. The prison was surrounded by a chain link fence topped with barbwire. Multiple guard towers with rifle-armed guards were located in each corner of the establishment. The prison grounds were also surrounded and hidden within the Nevada Mountains.
As he moved towards the building, Calvin scoured the two large outdoor inmate areas, which sandwiched the main building, and the entire grounds covered by a total of eight towers with rifle-armed guards overlooking them.
An outer perimeter chain link fence surrounded a second, inner fence, both running electronically from inside a bulletproof glassed-in booth. They were waved through and had to undergo serious security measures to enter, including scanners and pat downs. Then they were led to a private room filled with a number of people from various agencies, and a rack full of TV monitors.
A man in a suit, thick mustache and a bad comb-over sped towards them as they entered. A picture badge was clipped to the collar of his jacket. He stretched out his hand, looking visibly shaken.
“I’m Warden Terry Shilling.” He shook their hands, pumping profusely.
“I’m Detective Dayton, this is my partner Detective Mason, and this is—”
“Calvin Watters. I remember watching you play football. I was sorry when you injured your knee.”
“Thanks.”
Schilling nodded. “I read about your work with the LVMPD in bringing down Sanders, so I wondered if you’d be back for this.”
“What’s being done to find Sanders?” Dale asked.
“Standard operating procedures. Bridges have been shut down, checkpoint roadblocks at each highway exit from the prison. But there’s no telling how much of a head start Sanders got before we moved on him. APBs put out at the local, state and federal levels, media contacted, airports doubling up on security. If Sanders moves, we’ll hear about it.”
“So, what happened, Warden?” Calvin asked.
The warden shook his head. “We’re still not sure. It’s a cluster-fuck. Our security features are second to none. We have motion sensors, CCTV, barred windows, high walls, barbed wire and electric fencing.”
“Well, Sanders found the escape key,” Dale said.
“We had morning roundup, as usual. When the alarm sounds to start the day, each inmate is required to step outside of his cell for routine headcount. When Sanders didn’t show up, we sent a guard to check on him, as procedure dictates. His bed was empty and his cellmate isn’t talking,” breathless, rapid-fire words tumbled out.
“Cons usually love to talk,” Jimmy said.
“Not this time.”
Calvin looked around the room. He scoped the numerous display of monitors, which showed the guards roaming the grounds, having trouble digesting the warden’s explanation. He had a hard time believing that no one knew anything.
Dale rubbed the scruff on his face and looked to be thinking the same thing. “You’re sure the rounds were actually done?”
“They’re indicated in the log book,” the warden said defensively.
“That doesn’t mean they were actually done.”
“They’ve been confirmed through the video surveillance, what we can, anyway.” This time the warden’s tone was snappish.
“So, what do you know?” Jimmy asked, trying to ease the tension.
“At this point, very little.”
“I’m not doubting your security measures, but I’m pretty sure Sanders didn’t fly out of here with wings on his back,” Dale said.
“What about the guards?” Calvin asked.
Dale nodded. “That’s what I was thinking.”
The warden’s voice was again defensive, “Each of our guards had a complete background check and security clearance before they were hired.”
Calvin realized that the warden had probably answered all of these questions multiple times, and would have to face the media soon, so he was already on the defensive.
“What about duties? Go through a typical guard night-shift routine with us,” Jimmy said.
“We have headcounts at set times to assure the number of inmates actually in the facility matches the number on record. They also provide random cell searches to make sure inmates don’t have contraband that can be used to escape or commit violence against guards or other inmates.”
“Well, they missed something. When are the headcounts?”
“During the night, they are every three hours. The guards personally walk by each cell to make sure the inmates are in their bunks.”
“I want to personally speak with each guard on duty last night,” Dale said.
The warden looked stern. “I can vouch for my men.”
Dale pursed his lips. “If you have no suspect, then suspect everyone.”
“So how was Sanders missed?” Jimmy asked.
“The guards thought he was sound asleep.”
“Where is Sanders’ cellmate?”
“Being put through the ringer by FBI and US Marshals, but they aren’t getting anywhere. Either he doesn’t know anything, or he’s too scared to talk.”
Dale shook his head. “Maybe we should look at Sanders’ cell.”
The warden cleared them to visit general population and search the cells. The prison had declared emergency procedures, so all of the inmates were held outside in the yard while searches were conducted.
The warden led them out of the observation room to Sanders’ cell, following a number of narrow, windy corridors that felt like going through a hamster maze. The solid brick walls were painted a dull gray. One of the prison guards followed quietly behind them.
/> “So, what kind of inmate was Sanders?” Dale asked.
“Model. Smart, made friends and knew not to piss anyone off. He kept a low profile, stayed ‘under the radar’ and followed proper techniques in order to survive.”
“What do you mean?” Jimmy asked.
“Well, he—”
Calvin jumped in, “Learn the rules, and make sure you have money for supplies and payoffs.”
“They’re allowed money?” Dale asked.
“Not cash,” the warden corrected. “But each inmate is allowed five hundred dollars ‘on their books’. They usually have this through money order.” He turned to Calvin. “So, what else can he do to survive?”
Calvin smiled. “Don’t trust anyone. That goes for guards, other prison officials, and your cellmate. Everyone always has some hidden motive, nothing is free. Choose your words carefully. Be aware that things may not be what they seem. Be polite and respectful to guards. Don’t stare at other prisoners. Don’t be a snitch. Solve your own problems. And never, ever, join a gang.”
“Was Sanders associated with any groups?” Dale asked.
The warden shook his head. “He didn’t join a gang, but he showed allegiance to his race. And he soon got to know the ‘important’ figures within his race. But he wasn’t stupid. He was also ‘friendly’ with people of other races.” The warden looked back at Calvin. “Any other tips?”
“Respect the personal space of the other prisoners and don’t let them invade yours.”
The warden smiled. “Congratulations, you would survive in federal prison.” He stopped in front of a cell. “Here we are.”
Dale entered first, followed by Jimmy and then Calvin.
“Nothing has been moved,” the warden stated.
“Jesus,” Calvin said as he entered the cell. “I thought that was Sanders in the bed.”
“Yeah,” Dale said, removing the top sheet off the bunk. “A clever dummy.”
The dummy was constructed using hair, shoes, and miscellaneous materials for stuffing, hidden under the blanket to give the appearance a body was present.
