Dead Man's Hand

by Luke Murphy

  Dale saw the glint of the blade before it sliced Linda’s throat with the viciousness seen in a snuff film. Blood gushed from the wound as Linda’s hands grasped for it, the blood spewing between her fingers. Her listless body flopped to the ground.

  Sanders stood over Linda, blood dripping from the knife, a sly grin on his face.

  Everyone had their weapons drawn. It all happened so fast that it took a few moments for Dale and his team to fully realize what they’d just seen.

  Sanders shielded his eyes from the lights with one hand. The other one hung at his side, clutching the bloody murder weapon. Linda’s blood spatter had splashed on his clothes and skin. He turned to run, but the squad cars boxed him in.

  The bloody knife flew from Sanders’ hand and soared deep into the woods. But it didn’t matter.

  Chapter 42

  Almost midnight, the precinct was full of cops who came in just to watch Sanders get processed. When word had gotten out, many off-duty officers had left their homes, bars, or wherever they happened to be and returned to the station to watch Sanders, issuing dire threats all the way, as he was guided into the police station.

  Earlier, as soon as Sanders had released the knife, four cops, flashlights drawn, had raced into the woods after it. Now Jimmy carried it into the station, sealed in a plastic evidence bag.

  The sergeant came out of the office, a large smile, apparent relief, on his face. “Great job, you guys. The lieutenant’s on his way.”

  Dale didn’t smile. He was glad he caught Sanders—that’s all. Jimmy and Calvin seemed happy too, but not as if they were happy for the Vegas police.

  After the long and exhausting frustration of leading double murder investigations that were the most important in the homicide history of Las Vegas and with pressure from the mayor on down and absolutely no hard evidence until tonight, Dale felt it all come to a climax.

  But that was short lived.

  Linda had gotten killed because his bosses protected Sanders—no other reason. Dale’s one regret was that they couldn’t have arrested Sanders sooner, which could have prevented her death.

  What stopped him? Not only the perfect murders, which were part of the nature of his work, but in this context, most importantly—the interference by the mayor and sergeant, for political reasons. That was the real tragedy. Politics had kept the real murderer free until he could kill his fourth victim.

  Politics should never have been part of Dale’s investigations, but they were, and that was what he really lamented.

  He would never know really if Linda had helped Sanders kill Grant because the only person alive connected to it all was Sanders himself. Even if he admitted that Linda was behind it, would it be the truth or just some last-ditch effort to save himself from the chair? Did she deserve to die?

  With Watters following them, Dale and Jimmy took Sanders to the booking counter and transferred custody to two officers. They watched until Sanders disappeared from view down the hallway toward the holding cells.

  “He better get used to those living arrangements.”

  Dale turned to find the mayor and District Attorney Robert Flannery standing behind them, wide smiles on their faces.

  “We came as soon as we heard,” the mayor said. “Good work.”

  Flannery spoke. “We have enough on Sanders. His band of lawyers and every legal technique in the book can’t save him now. Assuming he pleads down, we’ll put him away for two consecutive life sentences, without parole. Sanders will never see the outside of a prison again.”

  “Not in this lifetime.” The mayor smiled again. “Let’s go, Robert. We have a press conference tomorrow to plan for.”

  Dale, Jimmy and Watters looked at each other.

  Unable to find words, Dale gestured toward his desk and led the way. He grabbed an empty chair for Watters and sat down. “I’m exhausted.”

  “I feel the same way,” Jimmy said.

  “I’m sure it’ll hit me soon too, but right now I’m still feeling the rush of seeing you capture and arrest Sanders,” Watters added.

  “Want a drink?”

  “In a second,” Dale replied. He removed the chunk of Skoal from his mouth and dropped it into an empty coffee cup next to his computer. He rinsed using old water from a cup that had been on his desk for days.

  Watters and Jimmy, still exhilarated by the arrest, joined a group of officers who were enjoying the victory. The precinct was filled with laughter, storytelling and cheering.

  Dale opened up his desk drawer, pulled out the overstuffed file marked “Casino Case” and opened it up. He spread everything across his bare desk—photos, reports and even handwritten notes.

  Piece by piece, he went over what he had. With a single exception, it was still all circumstantial.

  For Linda Grant’s murder, they already had all the proof they needed.

  Had they sacrificed Linda so that they could arrest Sanders? Dale knew that there was no real answer to that question and that the either/or aspects would haunt him the rest of his life, as he kept second-guessing the decision he had made. And he would never know if Linda had been an accomplice with Sanders in Grant’s murder, or just his lover who hadn’t known of Sanders’ plan to kill her husband. Not knowing if she was innocent or guilty would make the question that would always haunt him even more painful.

  He’d seen the bandages on Sanders’ wrist. There was no doubt in Dale’s mind that when the test came back from the lab in a few days, the skin found underneath the nails of the call girl in Pitt’s office would match a DNA sample taken from Sanders.

  The other three murders?

  How did Sanders murder Grant and Pitt? Baxter saying that Sanders had hired him to kill Watters was hearsay. And they hadn’t had the time to try to get Baxter to confess to the cop killing.

  Convicting one killer for only two of the five murders and being forced to release the other killer to the military made Dale’s brief sense of victory seem hollow. Despite the most massive manhunts in the city’s history, both led by Dale, this was what it had come down to.

  Two out of five was an incredible batting average, but for a homicide detective who’d dedicated his professional life to protecting all of the city’s residents, it was a major defeat, or at least it felt like one.

  But this was Nevada. One of thirty-four states that still practiced the death penalty—lethal injection determined by a jury. There was always the chance that Sanders, being as arrogant as he was, would think his fame and fortune could buy a verdict. He might decide to plead not guilty. Even murder by hire in the state of Nevada was punishable by death. But Dale doubted it would come to that. Not with the evidence they had.

  Baxter, a hired gun, had suffered his own punishment. The ex-Marine had indeed avoided the legal system, but Watters had made sure that the family members of the deceased attained a certain amount of revenge for their loved ones.

  Only indirect punishment.

  Dale felt like a failure. He might get promoted for bringing Sanders down, but he hadn’t solved the crime, not really. He could only accept the praise if he personally felt he’d earned it. By his own standards, he had not.

  He thought about the victims—slimy like Pitt and promising like Craig. He had failed them. What could he say to their family and friends? That’s he’d tried, failed and was sorry?

  Was that worth neglecting his own family?

  If he hung around any longer he’d bring everyone down—so Dale went home.

  Chapter 43

  Calvin had persuaded Rachel into moving into his tiny apartment for the time being. But even though the police had brought in a team that left it spotless, they’d always know that a cop had died there.

  When he heard the front door chime at exactly 4:00 p.m., he smiled. He expected the punctuality.

  He opened the door wide and spread his arms, wrapping his visitor in a massive, affectionate bear hug, though careful not to tear his stitches.

  With his large right arm wrapped
around the man’s shoulders, Calvin pulled his visitor into the small living room and got him seated. Dragging an armchair close to the man, Calvin sat down, leaned forward and said, “It’s really great to see you, Dale. It doesn’t matter why you’re here. I’m glad you are.”

  “I feel selfish asking to speak to you alone when you’ve had so little time with Rachel.”

  “She understands. You know how we both feel about you. She’s meeting friends at a coffee shop.”

  The detective leaned back in his chair and began to relax. It looked like it had been a while. “Thank you. You really love her, don’t you?”

  Calvin smiled, feeling flushed. “I do. Her strength and determination make me want to be a better man. You said you needed to talk about something urgent, but you didn’t say what it was. Is there a break in one of the other murder cases? New evidence? Something I can help with?”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you on the phone. It’s going to be hard enough to do it here in person. The answers to your questions are no, no and yes. What I want to talk to you about has nothing to do with the investigations. It’s only about me, personally and yes, I think you can help me.” Dale shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Before I get to that, Mike Armstrong called the station this morning and confirmed your alibi for the night Pitt and the prostitute were killed. That, along with Rachel’s admission you were with her when Grant was murdered, was persuasive enough that even the chief admitted you are no longer a suspect in those cases.”

  Dale paused, as if strengthening his resolve. “I’ve never had a talk like this with anyone in my life, not Jimmy or my wife. You may not know me well enough to know I’m a very private person. I stay focused on the job and try to keep my emotions to myself.”

  Calvin smiled. “I might know you better than you think. Once Grant’s body had been discovered and you were chosen to lead the homicide investigation, I researched and created a file on you and Jimmy. Your proficiency speaks for itself.”

  Dale grimaced and shook his head. “I wasn’t the same way at home, that is, during the very little time I spent there. For too many years with my wife I was all business—ready to talk about work but not feelings and very little love. I knew I was ruining my marriage, but I didn’t want to deal with the problems. Every time Betty tried to talk to me about them, I’d avoid her and make a quick escape. I’ve made some big mistakes in the past—which I’m still paying for.”

  Dale paused again and Calvin remained silent, giving the detective all the time he needed.

  “Last night, when everyone was celebrating the arrest, I was as happy as everyone else that we could prosecute and convict Sanders for double homicide.”

  “And then I thought about the three other murder victims whose files would go in the cold-case cabinet as unsolved and maybe unsolvable, about the families and friends of those victims and I got very depressed. Three unsolved murder cases for which I, as the lead investigator, have to take full responsibility. I was honest enough with myself to accept the pain of blame and failure.”

  “On top of that—and nobody else knows this—Betty left me a week ago and took our young son with her to Utah to stay with her sister. All my mistakes as a husband and father, which I’d kept denying, caught up with me and it’s my own fault that I’m now alone. When I realized I’d sacrificed my family to be a cop and then failed at that too, I almost broke down.”

  “Then I thought of you.”

  Calvin was astonished. “Me? I…”

  Dale cut him off. “You were an innocent man who’d been put through hell and almost lost his life because of one man’s all-consuming, insatiable desire for power. Look at everything you’ve been through. Four years ago, in less than a minute, you suffered a knee injury that ended your stellar college and certain pro career. You dropped from the top to the bottom. I checked your arrest record, so I know you were trapped at the bottom for a while. But you were on your way back, ready to go.”

  Calvin shook his head. “I did nothing. You’re the real hero. You were the only one in all of Vegas, except for Rachel, who believed I was innocent. If you hadn’t trusted me and worked with me on my plan to capture Baxter, I might be dead now and Rachel too. I owe you our lives. You put your life on the line every day to protect this city.”

  Dale smiled. “Okay, let’s say we’re heroes to each other. You also have a true loving relationship with Rachel and I admire it all the more because I sure don’t have that with my wife.”

  “I appreciate that. But how can I possibly help you?”

  Dale leaned forward, staring straight into Calvin’s eyes, his face, expressions, emotions and heart wide open and said, “Tell me what I should do.”

  Calvin perceived where the man was in his heart and mind and what advice he needed to start moving forward again. “What do I know? I got very lucky. Not everyone would think an ex-hooker and a leg breaker were the elements of an ideal relationship.”

  When Dale didn’t say anything, Calvin shrugged.

  “You’ve already taken the biggest and most difficult step of all, accepting full responsibility and blame for all that went wrong and all that you didn’t do that you should have done. I went through that same step.”

  Dale still didn’t respond.

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Tell her what you told me. Admit your faults and don’t bullshit her about your repentance. Tell her that she is in charge—you’ll do what she asks. You need her now more than ever and you’re totally committed to changing, to becoming the father and husband you should have been and are determined to be now. It won’t be easy for you, but ask her for only a little more patience. Can you do that?”

  Dale dropped his head. “Yes.”

  Calvin smiled. “Don’t try to be the whole police department. Share the load and make the right amount of time for loving your family and being with them. All the other cops admire you. The problem isn’t that you’ll let others down.”

  Dale started to speak but Calvin put his hand up. “I’m speaking the truth. You don’t need to be modest or say anything because that’ll just get in the way of the point I want to make.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “You feel like a failure because you and your team were only able to get hard evidence on Sanders for two murders, leaving three unsolved. If Jimmy, or any members of your team, had said to you that they felt like failures for the same reasons you do, what would you have said to them?”

  The detective sighed. “The only things I could say—the truth. I knew they’d done the very best they could, that homicide investigations are too complicated and difficult to solve and get enough hard evidence on for every case to be broken and every killer arrested and convicted. And that in reality, though rare, there are smart murderers. Therefore, they should feel proud about all they did do and move on with all the value of more experience.”

  “Then why can’t you say it to yourself?”

  Chapter 44

  It had been five days since the arrest.

  On the steps of city hall on Stewart Avenue, Dale stared out into the gathered crowd. As Paul Casey, mayor of Las Vegas, acknowledged the large crowd and blaze of flash cameras, Dale enjoyed peace.

  He’d been able to put what he, as the team leader, had and hadn’t achieved in the right perspective. Take pride in what he and his team accomplished and understand his helplessness in the rest—the perfect murders had been by nature beyond his control and law enforcement mission.

  And the big one—Betty promised to talk to him again. There was hope.

  Now he, Jimmy and Calvin stood before the people of this great city and awaited their medals. Dale and Jimmy were being given the LVMPD Medal of Honor, the most distinguished award the police department could grant. Calvin, as a civilian, was receiving the Las Vegas Freedom Medal, a seldom-bestowed honor for extraordinary public service.

  “Detective Dale Dayton.” The voiced boomed from the speakers.

  A thunderous applause exploded from the crowd
. As Mayor Casey draped the Medal of Honor over Dale’s head and the medal came to rest on his chest, near his heart, he sensed that they were feeling the weight, honor and beauty of the medal as he was.

  He turned to watch and applaud as the mayor bestowed on Jimmy and Calvin their respective awards, beaming with an almost fatherly pride, then he turned back to face the crowd and media again.

  There’d never be any such ceremony honoring what Calvin had done for him. Only the two of them would ever know. That was enough.

  His thoughts returned to his family, the wife and son he loved so much. He was now ready to act on that love.

  “Maureen, hold all my calls and turn away any reports.”

  He brushed through the reception area and closed his office door. Ignoring his office desktop, Shawn Grant opened his computer case, pulled out his laptop and logged on.

  He opened his secure phone and dialed the memorized number.

  “Hello.”

  Shawn smiled. “Good afternoon, Mr. Baxter.”

  “It’s morning where I am.” Baxter’s voice was silky.

  “How are you?”

  “How do you think I am?”

  “You’ll feel better soon. You kept your end of the bargain, so as we speak I’m transferring three million into your Cayman account.” Shawn tapped a few keys and clicked the mouse button.

  “Looks like everything worked out for you.”

  Shawn smiled. “Yes indeed, from beginning to end.”

  “You’re not worried about Watters?”

  Shawn shook his head. “Not in the least. Watters and I were working together to find the real killer.” He chuckled. “It would be inconceivable to him that I had anything to do with it.” He cleared his throat. “Can I trust you, Mr. Baxter?”

  Baxter grunted. “I’m not helping the authorities, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

  Shawn smiled. He knew as much.

  Baxter said, “It shouldn’t be long before I’m released. I’m too valuable to them. They can’t afford to court-martial me, or leave me to civilian arrest.” Baxter said. “I’ll be on my own again soon. And if they don’t release me, I’ll find a way to escape just like last time.”