Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

Dale’s brow rose, but he said nothing.

“Shawn despises Sanders, as his father did,” Duncan said, “and started hating him more when he kept pressuring his father to sell the Greek. Shawn said he could see how much that was wearing down his dad. He was hesitant at first, but then he mentioned the rumors that most of us have heard that Sanders was having an affair with Linda Grant. Of course, he didn’t have proof. He, as well as the women, thinks Sanders may also have been involved in his father’s murder.”

As Dale listened, he realized Shawn probably didn’t know he was a suspect. He gained too much from his father’s death.

“Shawn Grant’s alibi checked out?”

Duncan nodded. “He was at the casino the night his father was murdered. Melanie is attending med school at Harvard and was seen by many people. All three family members have solid alibis.”

Dale nodded. “But any of them, including Linda, could still have hired a killer.” He steepled his fingers. “You’re next, Ramirez.”

The Puerto Rican woman stepped forward. “Smith and I talked with Grant’s employees, who had nothing but good things to say about their boss. All of the employees were sad to hear what had happened. We ran background checks on each employee. Not one casino employee has a criminal record. The alibis are being checked, but it doesn’t seem like an inside job.” She added an endnote. “There was one thing though. The Greek Casino employees knew that Sanders was bidding to purchase Grant’s casino. The employees were very happy that Grant wouldn’t budge. They didn’t want to work for Sanders.”

He turned back around. “Lucas.”

Derek Lucas sat on the edge of the desk and read his notes with his partner standing behind him. “Lawrence and I hit every competing casino. We have no proof, but no one appeared to be a perfect slasher. Any of them could have paid a killer, of course, and they do seem to hate one another. But nobody slipped up and said something especially bad about Grant. In fact, everyone respected him even though no one liked the competition.

Dale addressed his team. “Right. So now go back and look at who they might have hired—local muscle and out-of-town talent. Check Linda Grant too.”

Dale signaled to Lucas to continue.

“Have you ever met Ace Sanders?” Lucas asked.

Dale knew it wasn’t really a question, but a dramatic way to set up what Lucas was going to say next.

“He’s a piece of work. We weren’t able to interview Sanders himself. He wasn’t in his office at the Golden Horseshoe or the Midas yesterday afternoon. So we walked around the casinos and spoke with some of his employees. They’re terrified of him. A few admitted that at the time of the Grant murder, they were busy working and couldn’t know whether Sanders was really in his office or not. When we went to the Midas, his other casino, same story. He wasn’t there and no one was talking.”

Dale wasn’t surprised. Sanders was cautious and smart. He thought Sanders looked good for this, maybe too good.

“Harper and Elliot?”

The team that had been staking out Calvin Watters’ apartment had nothing to report. Watters hadn’t returned to his home and Dale suspected that he never would.

Watters was the only suspect who had disappeared. That didn’t look good.

“Why don’t you two go home and catch up on some sleep. I’ll call you when I have another assignment. Great job, guys.”

Harper and Elliot nodded, their eyes droopy, and left the group.

Before continuing to his next team, Dale turned to his partner. “Jimmy, find Watters.”

Jimmy went off to work the phones.

Dale went on. “Officer Morris?”

“We searched and dusted Grant’s casino office and I mean we checked everything. Sorry, Dale, but we found nothing. Everything is locked up in evidence with the stuff from Pitt’s office.”

Dale was about to hand out new assignments when he heard his name being barked out from across the room.

“Dayton!” The sergeant stuck his round bald head out the office door. “Get your scrawny ass in here!”

“Oh, yeah,” Craig spoke up. “The sarge wants to see you.”

Dale saw the sergeant through a cloud of cigarette smoke in his glass-partitioned office. Even though smoking in public spaces was banned, the sergeant didn’t look worried about a complaint. He had just returned to work a week ago from a heart attack. His red face, and by the way that he was pacing about, told Dale that he was on the road to another one. The sergeant had started chain-smoking again and was showing no effort to hide it.

“Okay, people.” Dale acknowledged his group. “I know it seems like we have nothing, but we knocked off most of the obvious. Now the real work starts. Good work with your first assignments. I’ll be back.”

“Sure thing, Terminator,” Ramirez said.

Dale walked into his sergeant’s office as the boss held the door for him. After he had entered and took a seat, the sergeant slammed the door.

“Dayton, why the hell hasn’t Calvin Watters been picked up yet?” He spit as he barked out the words.

“Well, Sarge, we haven’t been able to track him down.”

The sergeant was smoking, nail chewing and almost ready to explode.

“It seems that Watters has friends on the street willing to protect him. For all we know, he may have already left town. He could be anywhere on the map. What are you doing about it?”

Dale updated his boss on everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours—a citywide APB on Watters, as well as photos sent out to local, state and federal officials with nothing in return.

“Just get it done, Dayton.” The sergeant said.

“Yes, sir. But he may not be our guy.”

The sergeant eyed his detective. “What do you mean? I talked to Jimmy and he said that we have all we need on this guy.”

Dale thought about turning and leaving, but instead told him about the prenup, the will and his interview with Pitt. He explained why he thought Ace Sanders, Linda Grant, or Shawn Grant could be involved. He had already questioned Sanders’ employees under caution, careful not to make waves.

The sergeant nodded as Dale spoke and then said, “I don’t want theories or conspiracies. I like Watters as our guy. The mayor—that little puke—has been breathing down my neck on this one. Grant was an important man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t ‘yes sir’ me, just do it! I want this guy’s ugly mug on every channel and newspaper in the U.S. The more we broaden the investigation and get the word out to local, state and federal law enforcement authorities and the public, the greater the possibility of good information coming in. Let’s smoke him out.”

Dale was not against searching for tips, but most cases were solved when someone directly involved ratted out a partner in crime. A national publicity campaign would not catch this killer. Dale counted on Jimmy’s snitches coming through.

“Yes, sir.”

He blew air from his cheeks when he left the office. His partner was waiting with a wide grin.

Dale slumped into his seat. “Please tell me that you have some good news. Any luck at all?”

“Yeah, lots of luck, only it’s the bad kind. Sorry, buddy. I used every link. Nothing. My contacts said that Watters was private and cautious. He’s been seen at Cruiser’s Bar from time to time, but no one knows where he conducted his business and no one dares cross him anyway. He could be out of the country by now.”

“Great. Send someone over to Cruiser’s Bar just in case.”

As a public service to a fellow cop, Dale called Joshua Watters at the LAPD.

“Detective Watters, this is Detective Dayton, LVMPD.”

“What can I do for you, Detective?”