Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

Dale would track Linda with a GPS mounted secretly on the rear bumper of her car. He rushed back to his desk to get her phone records pulled and the lines tapped.

The search warrants had arrived when he made it back to the front desk. Without further discussion, he hurried outside. When he jumped into the car, Jimmy gave him a doubtful grin.

“Back in a minute, huh?”

Dale was looking forward to questioning Linda Grant for different reasons than his partner who, a married-man of twenty-five years with a sex-drive of a teenager, probably took a little adolescent delight in talking to someone everyone knew was a knockout.

A forest of trees hid the Grant house and a wrought-iron gate secured it. Jimmy said their names into the speakerphone and as the gate swung open, a patrol car followed the detectives’ cruiser inside. A gardener, tending a flowerbed, glanced up as they passed by. The front lawn resembled a putting green.

The house was a castle—a six-thousand-square-foot Tudor-style mansion with five bedrooms, marble mantels, antique moldings and a gym.

The house had been on an edition of Las Vegas Celebrity Mansions as one of the top-ten visited houses in the city.

Dale was expecting a maid but Linda Grant opened the door. She lived up to her pictures—a beautiful woman with a super-model body, at least twenty-five years younger than her late husband. She wore a formfitting, high-waistline dress in a lavender floral print and black ankle-wraparound heels. She had a simple tassel necklace. Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. She threw the detectives an amiable smile.

“Good morning, Detectives.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Grant.”

“Ma’am.” Jimmy nodded.

As they stepped inside, Dale thought her eyes were dark and unreadable. She seemed much more composed for someone who was facing a surprise police visit.

“How can I help you, officers?”

“I’m Detective Dayton. This is my partner, Detective Mason.” They both showed their badges. “We have some news about your husband.”

“Doug didn’t come home last night. He often spends the night at the casino.”

“We know, ma’am. That’s why we’re here.”

Now she seemed a little worried. “Please come in.”

They stepped into a grand oak-paneled entrance hall. She led them past a front room filled with oil paintings and Persian carpets and into a cozy back room, where the warm sun shone through walls of windows. They all sat down around a glass coffee table.

“Mrs. Grant, your husband’s body was discovered this morning in the woods just off highway 515. He’d been murdered.”

Linda brought her hand to her mouth and her body started to tremble.

Jimmy pulled a handkerchief from his coat. “Here.”

She received the offer and dabbed her eyes and sculpted nose.

Dale continued. “He was killed quickly and didn’t suffer.”

“He didn’t come home last night,” she admitted between sniffles. “I just assumed that he’d slept at the office.” She wept louder.

“Get her a drink, Jimmy.”

Jimmy headed toward a wet bar in the corner of the room. Dale watched Linda. She kept her eyes on her lap and twisted a gaudy-sized diamond on her ring finger.

After pouring three fingers of expensive scotch, Jimmy returned with the glass. Linda sipped it.

Dale went on. “Mrs. Grant, everyone with your husband’s prominence has enemies. Can you think of who might have wanted to harm him?”

She shook her head.

“Please, Mrs. Grant. Anything you can tell us would help.”

“You’re right, we all have enemies, but I can’t think of anyone who would have killed him!” Linda said shaking her head. “He was the kindest, gentlest man I have ever known. Just about everyone he knew loved him.”

“What would he be doing in the woods?”

“I don’t know. Doug hadn’t mentioned any new real estate plans. He often looked at property to expand, but he hadn’t said.”

“I know this is a tough question, Mrs. Grant, but one I have to get out of the way. Where were you last night between the hours of ten and twelve?”

Linda held the tissue to her nose and stared at the detective. “Well, I was home, where I always am.” Her hand dropped and her eyes were fixed with rage. “Wait a minute, Detective.” She jumped to her feet and raised her voice. “Are you insinuating that I had something to do with my husband’s murder? Do you think that I could do that?”

Jimmy stood up and spoke in a calm voice. “Easy, Mrs. Grant. We’re not saying that. Please, sit down. We have to ask these questions.”

Linda sat back down and Dale studied her. At least part of what he saw was an act. He was sure of it.

“Was anyone here with you, Mrs. Grant?”

“Just the servants doing their regular prep for the following day. We’re preparing a wonderful birthday party for my stepson, Shawn, next week, so my helpers have been working overtime and did last night, not finishing until after midnight. I was supervising, so all three can confirm that I was here during those hours. They sleep in the other wing.” She pointed to the far side of the house.

That would be easy enough to verify.

“Dale, can I speak with you in the other room?” Jimmy asked.

Dale nodded. “Excuse us, Mrs. Grant.”

When Linda was out of earshot, Jimmy whispered, “Dale, this isn’t an interrogation. We’re just here to make next of kin notification, not start a war. If we piss her off, she has the connections to make our lives miserable.”

“I know, Jimmy, but we don’t get a second chance to watch her first reaction or hear her side. You know that. So let’s see what we can see—don’t be a wimp.”

“Dale, stop jumping to conclusions. We need to do real investigating, not chase theories.”

“I know, you’re right. But let’s at least look around.”

“Is the warrant good for that?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then, but let’s be respectful and professional.”

They returned to find that Linda had moved from the couch and was standing by the window. She gazed into the backyard at the Grecian-style, in-ground swimming pool. A separate spa was nestled into a large deck that allowed an expansive view of the grounds.

“Mrs. Grant, we need to search the house for anything that could help us identify your husband’s killer. There might be something significant here.”

She turned and hesitated, “Detectives, I don’t think that would be appropriate. I―”

Dale showed her the search warrant. Linda grabbed the paper and read.

“I think I’ll call my attorney now.”

Chapter 11

“Rudy, Danny, please escort Mrs. Grant outside.” Dale acknowledged his officers.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Linda snapped.

“Please, Mrs. Grant. It would be a lot easier on everyone if you just cooperated. We might discover something vital to help catch your husband’s killer.”

“Fine.” Linda grabbed the phone and started dialing as she was led outside.

Without hesitation, the detectives went in separate directions, searching each room before Dale discovered a small business office. “Down here, Jimmy.”

Grant’s home workplace was twice the size of the lieutenant’s office at the precinct. A large white bookcase filled with hardbacks covered the back wall. A dustless, new-edition laptop sat on top of a small, gleaming desk. The room smelled of fresh varnish. The desk was cluttered with equipment needed for any businessman to work at home. A beige filing cabinet had been pushed into the corner and a print copy of Rembrandt’s “The Abduction of Europa” hung on the wall behind the desk.

Dale looked down at the two-inch-thick carpet, which was stain-free and dustless. “Does this room look recently cleaned to you, Jimmy?”