Dead Man's Hand

by Luke Murphy

  Calvin smiled. “Thanks. Just handguns today. Give me two 50-round boxes of nine millimeters.”

  “Paper or plastic targets?”

  “Paper.”

  The man handed Calvin ten pieces of paper of solid black circles with scoring rings on a white background. “Do you have your own eye and ear protection?”

  He showed the man his glasses and ear plugs and muffs. He always doubled-up on ear protection to fight the increased noise pressure level inside the shooting range.

  “Did you want to renew your annual membership today? Since this is your third year in a row, there’s a discount.”

  “Nah,” Calvin said. “I’ll do that another time.”

  “You know the regular rules.” The man snickered. “No holster drawing, cowboy action shooting or combat-style shooting.” Chet put his fingers in the form of a gun and imitated a cowboy. “Just sign this waiver and that’s $19.99 for the ammo. You know where the handgun range is. Markus is already down there.”

  He signed the waiver, paid, placed his guns and targets back in the bag and left the lobby.

  He moved straight to the handgun range and entered the soundproof air-locked corridor. Markus, the head Range Safety Officer, smiled and waved when he saw Calvin. Markus had also been Calvin’s teacher for the concealed-carry license course he had taken when he’d first joined the club.

  “Hey, Calvin.”

  “Markus.” Calvin nodded.

  “We’re hot right now. But in a few minutes you should be good to go.”

  Calvin stood back and watched through a Plexiglas window. A row of lanes were occupied and clients fired their weapons at targets, each at a different range length.

  The lanes were covered by absorbing foam material on the floors, walls and ceilings for noise reduction. The bullets struck targets and then passed through a rubber curtain before hitting the metal backstop and falling safely into angle-plated collectors.

  Markus walked over and stood beside Calvin.

  “Are you entering the members’ tournament next month? If you win it for a second year in a row, it’s a free membership.”

  He grunted. “I’ll think about it.”

  He waited as each shooter, one by one, raised their hand to indicate they were done. When the last person raised his hand, they placed their guns on the firing line table with their actions open.

  Markus said, “We’re cold. Go ahead in, Calvin.”

  He donned his eye and ear protection and made his way to lane six, dropping his duffel bag on the table. He hung a paper target on the target holder positioned on a slide and hit the electrical switch. The motorized assembly withdrew the target and he stopped it about thirty yards away. He then hit another switch and the lane’s ventilation system started. It would pull smoke and lead particles away from the shooting line to reduce the risk of lead poisoning.

  He loaded his Browning High-Power and took aim. His face was a mask of concentration. He steadied the weapon with his right hand, used his left for support and then squeezed the trigger.

  Chapter 6

  When the phone rang, she felt a chill and checked caller ID before answering. “Hello?”

  “Is Ace there yet?”

  “No.” Her body trembled as it always did when they spoke. She never knew if it was from excitement or fear. Maybe both.

  “When are you expecting him?” His tone was brisk, like always.

  “Soon.” She pulled the curtain aside a few inches and watched the back yard. “Most of the time he parks on a side street and comes in through the back.”

  “You know what to do?”

  “Of course. I’m not an idiot. You’ve told me enough times.”

  “Don’t get smart, Linda. You know how important this is.”

  She knew not to mess with his hair-trigger temper. But when he got this way, it only excited her more.

  She spotted Ace rounding the corner of the house, using his key to unlock the back door. “I see him coming.”

  “Good. Don’t let me down. Call me when he leaves. And like always, make it look real.”

  “Those acting lessons are coming in handy after all.”

  She smiled, but the call was disconnected without a goodbye. She jogged down the hall, stripping off layers of clothing along the way to the back door. She took a deep breath and prepared herself. She sat on the edge of the table, spread her legs and hoisted her feet in the air—showing off her double-jointed, dancer flexibility—as the door opened.

  “We have twenty minutes,” she whispered in a sexy, raspy voice.

  Ace and Linda Grant lay naked, bathed in sweat on top of the bed sheets.

  He let out a breath. “You’re gonna kill me. Do you see what you do to me?”

  “Come on, baby.” Linda stroked the tuft of hair on his chest. “Poor Linda needs to have her fun too.” When his penis stirred, she gave it a teasing stroke with her fingertips.

  “You’re a bad girl, Linda.” He grabbed her hips to turn her around, but she pushed him away.

  “We don’t have time. Doug will be home soon.”

  “Why did you marry him, anyway? Did you ever love him?”

  “Oh, I loved him. I loved his money and the thought of owning the Greek. I knew that if I danced at the club I would land him.”

  “You do have a way of catching a man’s attention.”

  She arched her brows. “I caught yours.”

  “What would I do if we hadn’t met at that conference?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “The sex has been amazing.” He tried to kiss her, but she moved away again and headed toward the walk-in closet. She disappeared inside. A minute later she emerged wearing a Victoria’s Secret floral silk kimono.

  He thought Linda’s body was still as tight and firm as it had been when she’d first moved to Vegas to become a show dancer.

  “We need to stop meeting here,” he said. “It’s getting too risky. Especially now, being so close.”

  “Doug knows.” She cinched the belt around her waist, but left it opened a bit to reveal just enough skin.

  “What?” This wasn’t what he was expecting.

  “The other day he showed me pictures. Of you and me. Then he asked for a divorce.”

  He sat down to think.

  “A divorce, Ace,” she reiterated. “That would leave me with millions.” She pouted her lips and in a child’s voice added, “But I want a lot more.”

  “You’re evil.” He smiled again.

  “You know that I signed a prenuptial agreement. I had to prove I wasn’t marrying Doug for his money. His family and friends never trusted me. If we divorce, I’m only entitled to ten percent of Doug’s estate and I’m immediately taken out of his will, which alone is worth twelve percent non-voting stock of the casino. I’d be losing my part ownership and stock worth multi-millions. After everything I have done for that man. Is that fair?”

  “What did you say to him?”

  “I had to cry, kneel and then give him the best blow job he’s ever had. He says he forgives me and we need to get things straightened out with a counselor, but I don’t quite believe him.”

  “He bought it?”

  She chuckled. “I’m not divorced yet, am I? But we both know that as stubborn as Doug is, once he makes up his mind, he won’t change it.”

  “I know. The damn fool won’t sell the Greek! Did you search his office yet?”

  “No, I’ll do it tonight while he’s at work.”

  She approached him and wrapped a muscled leg around his waist. When she opened her kimono, her nipples were hard. “You do have a plan, don’t you, Ace?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Good, because he barely speaks to me now and he’s getting colder and more distant. I can’t do more to reach his heart than I’m already doing.”

  “Shit!”he snapped, pushing her away.

  “I know.” She approached him again and started massaging his shoulders. Then she reached aro
und and grabbed his midsection, kneading it like dough. “I could get those divorce papers at anytime and then all of our plans are ruined.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I’ve got it under control, but we have to move fast. Doug is coming to harm soon, isn’t he?” Her lips curled in a smile that could melt a man’s heart.

  He nodded.

  “Fatal harm?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I thought so.” She walked across the room. “You know I’m not just in his prenup. I’m in his will and at his death I get three times as much as I would after a divorce.”

  He grinned. “You are evil beyond a doubt.”

  “When does the sad event take place?”

  “Soon, baby. Very soon.”

  He tried to grab her one more time, but again she brushed him off. “No time, Ace.”

  “Right.”

  He put on his sports jacket and took his time walking toward the door, wondering exactly how much he could trust Linda. That could be calculated to the dollar and penny. He liked that kind of clear understanding. How long had Linda been counting on Doug’s death, rather than just a divorce?

  She was ice to the core and he’d have to watch her. He didn’t want to think about not having sex with her. It was amazing that he had not gotten bored yet.

  When I have the Greek, I’ll think about what to do with Linda.

  As soon as Ace was gone, Linda dialed a number. It was answered on the first ring.

  “So?”

  She grinned. “He bought it.”

  “Is he suspicious?”

  “Give me some credit, will you? Ace thinks he’s calling the shots.”

  “Good. When will it happen?”

  “Ace says soon.”

  “Good. I gotta go and get some work done.”

  “Me too. I need to take a shower and wash this filth off. That man is disgusting. I have to close my eyes and think of you just to get through it.”

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  She pouted. “Hey, this was your plan, pimping me out. It’s getting to be a strain to play the repentant unfaithful wife and the superfreak lover at the same time.”

  “I know you better than anyone, Linda, and you have to admit that deep down you love this. But we’ll be together soon.”

  “I’ll do it for you.”

  “No, you’ll do it for you and that’s why I love you. Go have a shower and I hope you think of me when you do.”

  “I’ve already started.”

  Chapter 7

  Doug Grant was mentally and emotionally drained.

  That little slut Linda.

  He had to admit that it felt right to think of her that way. She thought he was fooled. But he didn’t get to run the second-largest, highest-earning casino in town, or deal with the mob, or deal with the new Vegas as a Disney World and retirement theme park by being stupid or rigid. He did fall for her, but at the back of his mind, he had no illusions about the nature of his appeal to a woman like her.

  Divorced for almost fifteen years, he’d met Linda when he decided to upgrade the casino entertainment. Linda had been one of the dancers.

  They’d been married for six years, with no children. He was too old and Linda had never shown any interest in being a mother. Linda was always too concerned about keeping her dancer body trim and fit. Doug’s fatherly love remained focused on Shawn and his other child, Shawn’s younger sister, Melanie.

  The shock and unexpectedness of Linda’s infidelity had almost caused a heart attack. He’d never been the same since.

  Shawn was almost ready. Doug had been training his son and showing him the ropes for the last fifteen years. As the Vice President of Operations, he had the respect and loyalty of the key staff at the casino. He was all business, but fair and hands-on without being a micromanager. Shawn was smart and could be ruthless. Retirement was near and he’d turn almost everything over to him. Shawn would be a great CEO. Doug could chair the board, with veto power over only a few essential matters. That suited him fine.

  Shawn would receive an additional thirty-six percent of voting stock, giving him fifty-six percent majority ownership and voting control of the company.

  Melanie would not feel slighted. Doug’s only daughter was in med school and headed for a career as a top surgeon. Non-voting shares plus a stock and cash inheritance would almost equal Doug’s bequest in value, so neither child would feel that the other was favored.

  The remaining twenty-four percent of non-voting shares were divided in half between his ex-wife Beth and Linda. He didn’t want to give Linda a dime, but as his wife she was contractually privileged, even if she had been “stepping out.” That was more than enough for two women who, he had to admit, had never interested him as much as his business did. What was wrong with him? Too late for that. Making the best arrangements and having easy years seemed like the best he could expect.

  Because his ex-wives both had nonvoting shares, Shawn in the end would have one-hundred percent voting control, with certain decisions that would have to be approved by Doug, for as long as he was chairman. He still hadn’t told Shawn that yet.

  Linda was about to lose her entire part-owner share of the Greek stock, because Doug was meeting with his attorney to discuss the processing, filing and serving of the divorce papers. It was her own fault, because Linda had known from the time she signed the prenup that divorce would lead immediately to that loss of ownership. However, she’d found that “car salesman,” Ace Sanders, more attractive and important than all the love and everything else that Doug had given her.

  He should have acted sooner, but filing for divorce required too much energy. Now, he was forcing himself, tired as he was, to finalize the divorce, get it over with and get his life and emotions in order again.

  He slumped deeper in his chair. He was done for the night. He’d already spent too much time thinking about his personal problems.

  There was a rap on the door.

  “Mr. Grant, have you signed off on those papers?”

  He looked up to find one of his night-shift pit bosses standing just outside the door.

  “Darryl, come in.”

  The casino employee entered and Doug handed him the papers.

  Doug walked toward the big office window that looked down on the casino main floor.

  “How does it look tonight?” he asked.

  “Philip called in sick, so I moved Joey to table games supervisor and Nancy is the stickman tonight.”

  Doug nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Is everything all right, boss?”

  He sighed. “I watched my father build this building with his own hands. It has grown from a small, nickel and dime outfit to what it was now, an operation that generates hundreds of millions of dollars annually and is still growing. I just don’t know how much I have left.”

  He saw the employee’s reflection in the window, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

  “What can I do?”

  He turned around and smiled at his employee. He wasn’t going to burden this young man with his troubles.

  “I’m done for the night, Darryl.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He said his goodbyes on his way out of his casino as he did every night, making sure every employee at the Greek felt appreciated. He gave Shawn last-minute instructions.

  “Have you thought anymore about our expansion idea?” Shawn asked.

  Doug nodded. “I’m going to look at some properties tomorrow. See you in the morning.”

  “Bye, Dad.”

  He left the casino thinking about his appointment with the lawyer tomorrow afternoon.

  There was an outside chance that Linda knew he was playing her, but it was all about the money—even if she knew. She’d be on the way out of his life by nightfall tomorrow.

  Ace Sanders sat in his trademark black Ferrari outside the Greek Casino, a few blocks from his destination. He couldn’t believe the long hours that
the sixty-three-year-old Grant still put in at work. Everyone knew the man was a grind.

  Not a big-picture guy like me.

  Ace let his staff do the dirty work. Everyone reported to him daily at eleven and unless there were problems or decisions that needed his direct involvement, their reports were enough. He’d always paid well to recruit top casino executives and for years had left the management of his casinos up to them.

  Once done with details, Ace spent the rest of the day roaming the floors of both casinos, talking to the high rollers and charming them into bringing in new, rich customers. He loved the games, the women and the house’s guaranteed wins.

  Ace watched the front of the casino. No movement.

  As he waited, he shuffled a deck of cards and dealt four poker hands. He dealt the last card and set the remaining cards on the passenger seat between the hands. He picked up his five cards and smiled.

  Three queens.

  He checked the other dealt hands. “This really isn’t your night, Douglas,” he muttered.

  He opened the glove compartment and pulled out the weapon, a smooth, seven-inch, high-carbon hunting knife, a beautiful, shining tool that left almost no evidence at the scene, except for whatever the police could learn from knife wounds. They might figure out the kind of knife that had been used and the cuts would tell them a bit about who used it, but he was sure that nothing would tie him to this. He’d bought the knife from a famous German knife maker who had personally made it for him, so it would never be traced.

  He was about to exchange two cards when he saw his target exit the building. Ace checked his watch. It was after ten. Grant was a classic creature of habit, someone who deserved to fall behind as times changed.

  Grant waited as the valet retrieved his car, then hopped in and moved into traffic.

  Ace waited a moment before turning on his headlights and following Grant’s vintage Jaguar. He remained a good distance behind—he already knew the route the man would take home.