Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

Dale liked his initiative. “Okay…” He reached into his desk drawer. “Here’s the search warrant for Calvin Watters’ apartment. Secure the area and wait inside for us to arrive for the full search. Be very careful, Craig. This guy could have already killed three people. Call for backup if you see him.”

The young man grabbed the paper and hurried away.

Dale and Jimmy shared a laugh as they watched the excited officer exit the building.

Another folder was then thrown onto Dale’s desk. Tommy had been up late going over the phone records.

“Doug Grant’s only long-distance calls were to Atlantic City casinos and his daughter in Boston. Locally, he only made a few calls home, to Shawn’s house and his ex-wife. Ace Sanders and Linda Grant call each other all the time,” Tommy said.

Dale had been sure they had a thing going and maybe a plan too.

“Another interesting thing,” Tommy said. “That number you highlighted and wanted me to check into from Sanders’ phone? I tracked the out-of-state calls to a public phone booth in a remote area down by the docks in New Orleans.”

Dale blinked. “New Orleans? Why would Sanders be calling New Orleans?”

The officer shrugged.

Jimmy had a clueless expression.

“Tommy, call the New Orleans Police Department and see if they’ll dust the booth and see if they can place surveillance on it. Don’t expect much.”

After Tommy left, Dale shook his head and glanced at Jimmy. “We don’t have the manpower to deal with this.”

Book Three: Circumstantial Evidence

Chapter 23

Mike Armstrong arrived at Calvin’s hideout almost on time. He’d meant to be there at nine, but he decided overnight to outdo himself with the best system he’d ever assembled.

Calvin watched out the window as Mike circled the neighborhood four times before coming in—caution on the edge of paranoia and overkill that might bring notice instead of safety. Not now, but Mike needed a talking-to. “Did you get everything?”

“Not a problem. You are getting all the extras.”

With the aid of a ramp and a trolley, they rolled in a backup generator and a backup for the backup. Calvin did most of the heavy lifting. Mike assured him that the generator was not loud and would not attract attention to the house. It was only for emergencies.

Once they had all of the equipment inside, Mike disappeared up the stairs for a couple of minutes and then returned. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He set up monitors and cameras for every inch of the two-story house and motion detectors with camera feeds to multiple viewing screens.

No system had value unless used expertly, so Mike briefed him on how to take out any threat before it became serious. At least that was the plan.

They’d arrived at the bank later than they’d hoped, but Dale hadn’t anticipated that there’d be so much to do at the station first. He had obtained the legal authorization from the sergeant through a circuit of phone calls and Jimmy had already called his wife to confirm with her manager. With the key found at Grant’s office, Dale and Jimmy entered the Sun West Bank at 5830 West Flamingo Road.

Tina met Dale and Jimmy just inside the door. “The manager said you can go ahead in.”

“Thanks, Tina.”

Dale had to act before lawyers or the Feds would demand access to Grant’s safety deposit box and whatever it contained. He prayed that Linda didn’t know anything about the box.

He followed Tina into the back room, gave her the key and waited. He didn’t have access to a number or password, so Tina looked it up on the computer, brought the box back and set it on the table.

“If you need anything, let me know.” She winked and left the room.

When the key slid in the lock, Dale’s heart began to race. He lifted the lid and peeked inside at a stack of black-and-white eight-by-ten-inch photographs. He picked them out and spread the pictures across the oak conference table. The photos were professional and showed Sanders and Linda doing what could only be referred to as the “nasty.”

Busted!

As stupid as attempting to grab both things was, he could see why Sanders wanted Grant dead so that he could have both the girl and the casino. Then he remembered the financial motives. With Grant dead, Linda would get much more money than she would as an ex-wife. Unfortunately motive wasn’t proof.

The photos alone did not tie them directly to the killing. But now that he knew all the players a bit better, he could not be sure who was really playing whom. Did Linda fool Grant and Sanders? Did Sanders fool Linda?

The detective put all the photos inside his coat pocket, closed the empty box and left.

Ace got to his office after working the casino floors for hours. He was delayed by a bimbo he’d had sex with in a variety of interesting locations in the club. She seemed to need a little flattery to calm her down—every once in a while a girl threatened to sue him before he had one of his beefy security people talk to them in clear terms.

“Excuse me, Mr. Sanders?” The pretty redhead’s voice quavered and the glasses on the tray she held clinked.

“Yes,” he said, in no mood to talk with this dimwit.

“I just thought you should know.” She glanced around the casino.

“What is it…” he looked at her name tag, “Samantha.”

“The police were in here yesterday asking about you.”

“Really?” Now she had his attention. “What kind of questions?”

“They said they were conducting an investigation on the Doug Grant murder.”

He relaxed. “Thank you, Samantha. Don’t worry, the police questions are routine procedure because Doug Grant was a local casino owner. I’ll look into it further.”

“I can’t lose this job, Mr. Sanders.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen. I promise.”

He double-timed it to his office. He couldn’t help being a little disturbed. Maybe the cops were not quite as stupid as he assumed.

He was sure that the police must have done the same questioning at his other casino. What bothered him more than the questions was that he’d heard nothing about the cop visit from the Midas and Golden Horseshoe staff. Overpaid idiots! Heads were going to roll! Maybe the redhead wasn’t just a good lay. Maybe she had half a brain too.

He brushed past his secretary. “Hold my calls, Sylvia.”

The more he thought about it, the madder he got. He had been buying off cops since he was a teenager. What had gotten into them now?

The truth was that he had anticipated such questioning, but he didn’t like it and would have stopped the police at both casinos if he’d known. Now, it was time for damage control.

Rather than using his secretary, he dialed a number and a calm female voice answered.

“Mayor Casey’s office.”

“Yes, I would like to speak with Mayor Casey, please. Tell Paul that it’s Ace.”

“One moment, Mr. Sanders, while I put you on hold.”

The mayor came on the line without making him wait for more than a minute.

“Ace, it’s been a long time.”

“Hi, Paul. Yes, it has. Too long.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I need a favor.”

“Shoot.”

“Yesterday, the police interrogated all the employees at both the Golden Horseshoe and the Midas. I was away chairing a meeting with the board of directors and none of my miserable executives told me when the cops came in. I just found out this morning. The cops and their questions are making my people think that maybe I’m a murderer and it’s shaken them up. It’s an outrage and abuse of police authority.”

“I’m sorry, Ace. I had no idea. Why would they suspect you, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s no deep secret that I did not like Grant and wanted to buy the Greek. Listen, I know you’re a very busy man, but this hurts my business. It’s a public humiliation.”