Dead Man's Hand

by Luke Murphy

  Jimmy nodded. “I’d say. To a tee.”

  But forensics could still find something.

  “Okay, I’ll take the desk. You check the rest of the room,” Dale said.

  First, he checked the call list on the phone, but it showed mostly calls to the casino. Then he read each item on the papers stacked on top. “Hey, these pages are out of order, like someone rifled them and hurried to straighten them.”

  “What are they?”

  He shrugged. “Bills and accounts. We’ll just take it all in.” He opened the desk drawers and thumbed through the contents. There was very little.

  “Something’s not right, Jimmy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve heard about Grant. He was obsessive with his work and a conscientious man to the point that he didn’t even have a CFO or business manager. He only trusted himself and his son. There should be boxes full of bills, receipts or documents from the casino around here. This was swept clean.”

  “Maybe he does all that somewhere else?”

  “Like the office where Watters was supposed to have been this morning. You find anything?”

  Jimmy removed the Rembrandt painting. “There’s a safe back here.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. “Glen, it’s Dale. Send a forensics team over to the Grant home. I need a full sweep of the office plus a safe cracked. Pull it all into the station. The search warrant we have covers repeat searches. Hurry!” Dale hung up. “Let’s go.”

  The detectives walked outside and joined Linda Grant and the two officers, who were standing near the edge of the flower garden.

  Linda had the phone pressed to her ear and dropped it when the detectives arrived. “Find anything?”

  “I don’t know. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Grant. Some people will be coming over. Please cooperate with them. Again, our deepest sympathies for your loss.”

  When Linda had entered the house, Dale turned to his patrol officers. “You guys wait here until Glen arrives. I don’t want our number-one suspect to destroy any evidence.”

  The cops nodded.

  Jimmy backed out of the driveway and through the gate opening. They drove thirty feet before stopping next to a car parked across the street. Dale rolled down his window and spoke to the man sitting in the driver’s seat. “All right, Johnny, you and Stan are up. Don’t let that woman out of your sight and report anything unusual. You have your thick soles on just in case the pursuit ends up on foot?”

  “You got it, Dale.”

  He handed his colleague a GPS unit. He was hoping that Linda Grant was not as cool as she looked and would contact whoever killed Doug Grant. That was all he could do for now.

  As they headed back to the station, Jimmy was silent. Finally he said, “Ace Sanders and Doug Grant weren’t best friends.”

  Dale nodded. “For more reasons than one. We know he kept bugging Grant to buy the casino. But do you think the rumors are true that he slept with his wife too?”

  Jimmy smiled. “This is Vegas, right?”

  “I deliberately didn’t mention Sanders to see how Mrs. Grant would respond to my line of questioning, what there was. We know that Sanders and Grant have been feuding over the years. The hatred between the two is well documented and we also have heard rumors about Sanders and Linda.”

  “How did she do?”

  They traded a look, but Dale didn’t answer. He only smiled. Linda had acted exactly as he had thought she would. Linda Grant was at the top of his current suspect list, but Ace Sanders was a very close second.

  Linda slipped into the master bedroom with her cell.

  “That son of a bitch! The nerve of that man to keep me on hold for this long. I’ll have him disbarred before he can even say the word lawsuit.” She slammed the phone down. Her first order of business was to fire her attorney.

  She opened the entertainment unit, which was just a TV monitor feed from the hidden camera at the front of the property. A parked car sat across the street from the gate.

  She turned off the screen and got down on her knees, reaching under the bed. Opening up a trap door, she removed a cell phone box and carried it into the separate dressing area of the master suite. She locked the door. Unwrapping the box, she dialed a number.

  “What?”

  “It’s me.”

  “I know who it is. You better be using the phone I bought you.”

  “I am.”

  “What do you want?”

  “The cops were just here.”

  “So?”

  “So? You told me I’d be protected. You said nothing would happen to me as long as I followed the plan. Now I have cops here asking me where I was when Doug was killed.”

  “Is this the Linda I know? Take a deep breath and calm down. This is like a cop show. Suspect the wife, immediate family, blah, blah, blah. As long as you don’t do anything stupid, they have nothing. The LVMPD is on a fishing expedition.”

  “What should I do?”

  “Call Ace.”

  “What?”

  “Call Ace and tell him you’re worried because the cops were there. Go hysterical. And Linda?”

  “What?”

  “Make sure to call him from your landline.”

  She disconnected the call when there was a rap on the door. “Mrs. Grant, we need you to come out.”

  “Hold on, I’m not dressed,” she called back.

  She picked up the portable phone. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and thought about what she would say. She punched the number to the direct private phone line in his office at the Golden Horseshoe Hotel and Casino.

  “Ace, it’s me. Two homicide detectives were just here. They questioned me for half an hour before searching the entire house. But I don’t think they found anything. The lead detective grilled me. He thinks I killed Doug. Cops are sitting outside now watching the house. They…” Her words were fast and her breathing rapid.

  He cut her off before she could say more. “Listen, Linda. I can’t talk now. I will contact you when I can. Don’t call me. Hang up now and wait for my call.”

  The call was disconnected and another knock came on the bathroom door.

  “Mrs. Grant, we’re supposed to keep you in sight at all times.”

  She applied lipstick and mascara, rolled the top of her dress down, exposing just enough cleavage to draw attention, then whirled and opened the door.

  “Here I am, boys.”

  Chapter 12

  The detectives arrived back after three to a buzzing station. The room was noisier than usual with gossip and unanswered questions.

  Dale threw down his fast-food lunch and sat at his messy desk. He opened a drawer and swept every piece of paper inside. The new case files had been stacked on the filing cabinet. He grabbed the files and tossed them onto his clean desk. The forensics, coroner, crime scene and street police all had completed their reports. There was a crime scene analysis and a crime scene sketch as well as Grant’s bio. But other than the tread marks found on the side of the road, nothing else had yet been discovered. The reports offered little cause for optimism. He had already issued an APB for Grant’s missing car.

  The phone call was the only promising lead. It just didn’t make sense.

  “Hey, Dale.” One of his officers approached his desk. “Linda Grant has already placed a call to Ace Sanders. Sanders didn’t let Linda speak long enough to say anything incriminating.” He started to walk away and then stopped. “Oh yeah, the tracking device has been planted on Linda’s chauffeured limo and is operational.”

  Dale thanked his officer, took a long gulp of coffee, powered up his computer and grabbed the first file. Then he heard his sergeant storm out of his office.

  “Has anyone seen Dayton?” The sergeant yelled into the crowd at no one in particular.

  The detective waited for his name to be called.

  “Dayton, get in here!”

  He took his time walking toward his sergeant’s office
, picking up Jimmy on the way.

  The sarge was sitting at his desk watching the television when the detectives walked in. An unlit cigar hung from the side of his mouth. “Sit down, you two!”

  Then he grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume on the television. Dale and Jimmy sat back and watched the full report on the Grant murder. The news crew did “man on the street” spots with scared citizens.

  Then Dale watched as the mayor was interviewed and said they’d have an answer soon.

  The sergeant hit mute. “Personally I don’t like the conniving little prick, but I’ll kiss his ass any chance I get. We’re in the middle of a political disaster. Grant was a major contributor to the mayor’s political campaigns and a close friend. The Greek was great PR for Vegas.” He was making his point by tapping his finger hard on the desk.

  “I’ve assigned you twelve officers, Dayton. Here.”

  The sergeant passed Dale a piece of paper. Dale recognized the names on the list. All of the officers were capable investigators. The latitude and assistance that was being given to him re-emphasized how big this case really was.

  “Now get outta here and find somethin’.”

  As he was walking out, his boss called him back.

  “Dayton, don’t screw this up. And get that fuckin’ thing off my desk!” The sergeant pointed at the spit cup as Dale smirked and grabbed it.

  Outside the office, ten of the twelve-man investigative team members caucused around Dale’s desk.

  This was it—bumped up to top-grade detective, or proof positive he couldn’t handle a big case or higher ranking. This case would be either a career-maker or a career-killer.

  He refocused. “Jimmy, let’s fill in everyone. First, nobody talks to anyone about this case. Duncan and Parker, take Grant’s son, daughter and ex-wife. His son, Shawn, has been running the Greek, so he should be a good source. What was Grant’s relationship like with his ex-wife and daughter? Don’t be shy, gentlemen.”

  The officers nodded and left the huddle.

  He turned to the next two in line. “Harper and Elliot, take Grant’s friends and pricey lawyer, although attorney/client privilege may stop him from saying anything at all. But seeing as how Grant was murdered, the lawyer might be authorized, or feel a moral obligation that most lawyers don’t, to say something. But I’m assuming this guy is both Grant’s and his wife’s lawyer.”

  The team wrote down their assignment and departed.

  Dale gestured toward two officers. “Smith and Ramirez, you take all employees, from pit bosses to cocktail waitresses.”

  He paused for a moment and then continued. “Sanchez and Lucas.” The two stepped forward. “Rival casino owners.”

  He turned to his two remaining officers. Edwards and Morris were Dale’s two most experienced members of his team. “I need you guys to go to Grant’s casino office and strip it to the walls. Go into the walls if needed. All of it comes back here. He’ll have a safe so take Mark with you. Here, take this.” Dale handed over the search warrant. “You’ll probably have to push Shawn Grant hard with the warrant to get into Grant’s office.”

  “What are we gonna do?” Jimmy asked when the room was empty.

  “We, my friend, are going to Grant’s private office.”

  “Hunch?”

  “Yeah. Hunch.” He picked up the phone and dialed his sergeant’s office. “I need phone records.”

  Before they left, Dale turned to his youngest officer. “Craig, get me phone records from Doug, Linda and Shawn Grant, as well as Calvin Watters and Ace Sanders. I need local and long distance from their home, work and cell phones.”

  Chapter 13

  To save time, Dale brought a couple of members of the LVMPD forensic team. Having twice as many pros working the same office at the same time would expedite everything.

  Dale flashed his badge at the guards, displayed the search warrant for Grant’s office and made his request. After carefully scanning the warrant and examining the badge, Dale, Jimmy and the two forensic experts were asked to sign in as the security guard fumbled for his keys.

  “You two go ahead.” Dale indicated to the forensic unit.

  The two men followed the security guard across the lobby floor and toward the elevators.

  Dale checked the name tags on the security guards’ shirts. “Gus, Fred, I was wondering if my partner and I could ask you guys a few questions?”

  The guards fidgeted.

  “Just relax, fellas. We’re all on the same side here. Who was on duty this morning?”

  The chubby one swallowed hard and answered. “We were, sir.” A drip of perspiration leaked from the guard’s forehead. The man looked as if he were going to blow a blood vessel.

  “We want to know if a Winston Coburn III had a nine-thirty appointment with Grant this morning and if he had gone up to the private office.”

  “He sure did.”

  Quick answer.

  The taller guard handed the guest list to Dale, who noticed the perfect penmanship. He gave the clipboard to Jimmy and continued with his questions.

  “Do you remember what this guy looked like?”

  “I sure do.”

  He sighed. Evidently, the men had been trained to say as little as possible. He could tell that Jimmy was getting impatient too.

  “We knew you’d be coming, so we prepared the video footage. Just come around.”

  The detectives rounded the counter and joined the security guards behind the desk. The monitors, six in total, were mounted on the inside shelf.

  “This monitor is from the front desk camera.” The guard used a remote to start the playback. He continued to speak as the footage ran. “He never looks directly into the camera, but as you can see, he’s big, maybe six-four or six-five. He was black.” The guard looked at Jimmy. “No offense.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “That’s the color of his skin. Why would I be offended?”

  The guard shook his head as Dale smiled.

  “What’s with the clothes?” Dale pointed at the screen.

  “Yeah, odd. He wore this big hat and dark sunglasses that covered up pretty much his entire face. Even with that long, thin coat, it was easy to tell he was built like a bulldozer. He must have been close to two-fifty. Couldn’t see his hair under the hat.”

  Dale turned to Jimmy. “What do you think? Could be Calvin Watters?”

  “It’s hard to tell. Like the guy says, he never looks into the camera or stands at an angle that would give us a good shot.”

  “Calvin who?” The younger guard asked.

  “Never mind. Did this guy show you any identification?”

  “Of course. He showed us a pretty elaborate business card. He had a scheduled appointment and passed the security check. Did Coburn kill Mr. Grant?”

  He ignored the guard’s question, thinking instead of Calvin Watters. He knew of Watters and this situation didn’t fit the collector’s profile. Watters had always remained under the radar, even with his job.

  “Wait a minute. You said that Coburn was in here this morning. Doug Grant was killed last night. Why would you let a guy go upstairs when Grant wasn’t in his office?”

  “Well, we called up and there was no answer. Just assumed since he had an appointment scheduled, that Mr. Grant had stepped out.”

  Jimmy cut in. “I can’t hear the words, but it seems like Coburn kind of bullied his way up to Grant’s office.”

  The guards looked at each other.

  “But you didn’t see Grant go up.” Dale let them off the hook.

  “Never do.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Office owners in this complex have privileged parking passes to the basement. They also purchase special elevator keys for the garage elevator that takes them straight to their offices. It’s a back way. We never see ‘em comin’ or goin’.”

  “So then anyone could sneak in here without being noticed?”

  “If they have the special key and parking pass.”
r />   “How did this Winston Coburn III elude you guys after?”

  “Don’t know for sure, but we found the security wires to the back exit disconnected. Someone had snuck out. Could’ve been him.”

  “Any video feed in the upstairs offices or this ‘privileged’ basement elevator?” Dale made air-quotes with his fingers.

  “Afraid not. Our clients like their privacy.”

  “Of course they do.”

  “Has anyone been in Grant’s office since our guys left this morning?” Jimmy asked.

  “No, sir.”

  Dale smiled. “Unless they had the special key and parking pass you didn’t know about.” When the guards didn’t respond, he said, “Thanks, guys.”

  The detectives took the elevator to the top floor, where their colleagues were already busy.

  With no furniture in the first room, Dale understood that Grant had wanted privacy and had no need for a secretary. Without a secretary, witnesses would be hard to come by.

  Jimmy whistled. “This is huge!”

  “Yeah,” Dale agreed. “A lot of expensive and wasted space.”

  The detectives moved their toolkits into the office, where they would focus their search. Without saying a word, they each pulled on a pair of latex gloves, set the large metal cases on the floor and opened them. They removed their contents and began.

  Starting with the double front doors and doorknobs, they moved on to a complete sweep of the entire office, dusting for prints and vacuuming for hair and fibers.

  While Jimmy was dusting, Dale searched Grant’s personal belongings. Grant’s desk was meticulously organized—papers stacked in a neat pile, drawers conveniently tidied—and the computer had been recently wiped. Linda Grant smiled at Dale from the wedding photo on Grant’s desk and he couldn’t help but smirk.

  Jimmy stood by the filing cabinet with all four drawers pulled open. “These books are in perfect order. Everything is up to date and thorough.”

  “Does it look like Grant owed money?”

  Jimmy shook his head.

  Dale scanned the numerous books from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, but since Grant’s computer was password protected, they would have to take it back to the precinct and have it hacked.