Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

“Sanders is a very private businessman. He shares almost nothing with anyone. I know he was mixed up with Pitt. But you probably know that. Sanders was said to be sleeping around with Linda Grant, but that wouldn’t be the first marriage he’d broken up. I wish I could help you more, Cal.”

“This isn’t anything I don’t already know. I need to prove that someone else committed these murders, but so far, I can’t do that. I need something to take to the cops.”

Lockhart’s voice changed. “I might not have proof, but I can tell you this. Sanders is evil and capable of killing.”

“How do you know?”

“Nothing you can use. But remember I told you about that young couple we caught counting cards at the Black Jack table two years ago?”

“I remember.”

“They’ll never cheat again.”

At least Calvin had his thought confirmed by a reliable source. He remained silent.

“Okay, there is one thing. You can’t say who told you because I didn’t tell the police. On the nights of Grant’s and Pitt’s murders, Sanders wasn’t in his office. The first night I saw for myself that he was gone. On the night that Pitt was killed, same thing. But I could’ve sworn that I remember seeing his Ferrari parked in his private spot. I talked to my friend at the Midas and he told me that Sanders wasn’t in his office there on either night.”

Now Calvin knew that Sanders could make the entire staff at the Golden Horseshoe and the Midas lie to the cops. Next, he gave Lockhart the description of the hit man.

“Sorry, Cal, haven’t seen anyone like that. I’ll ask around and get back to ya.”

“Thanks, Geno. That would be great.”

The two men said goodbye.

Sanders could have done it and could have hushed everyone up.

Dale woke with red, swollen eyes, a rotten taste in his mouth and dried tobacco juice on his chin. He noticed juice stains on the collar of his dress shirt and changed into a new one.

As he tied his tie, the mirror showed him pronounced lines around his mouth and eyes for the first time.

Cops’ wives walked out all the time, but how could he have missed seeing it coming?

He knew that his marriage had serious problems that he had not prioritized or tried to resolve with Betty. He had dedicated himself and almost all of his time to his job instead. Even so, he couldn’t believe that it had come to this. He had just assumed that Betty would give him more time to work things out. He and his wife were now physically separated. The two people who mattered the most to him were hundreds of miles away.

Dale checked his watch. He had slept for almost two hours. Now Jimmy would wonder what kept him—and ask.

He went through the rooms and remembered the clothes and the other items they had taken. He felt like he was emptied, not just the house. But the nap had cleared his head a bit…at least enough to push forward. He’d feel better getting back to work.

His cell rang.

“Dayton.”

“Dale, it’s Jimmy. Where the hell are you, man?”

“At home.”

“Somethin’s come up. You better get your ass over here now. I’m on my way to pick you up.”

Dale shut the phone off, finished tying his tie and hurried down the stairs.

It had been four and a half days since they’d left. That seemed to him enough time for Betty to collect her thoughts. Maybe she would be ready to talk.

He dialed Betty’s cell phone number, but it went straight to voice mail. He’d try her sister Catherine.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Catherine, it’s Dale. Can I speak to Betty?”

He could hear his sister-in-law talking in the background before she came back on the line. “I’m sorry, Dale. Betty isn’t ready yet. Maybe in a couple of days.”

He appreciated the apologetic tone.

“Okay, thank you, Catherine. Please tell Betty I love and miss her. And give Sammie a big kiss and tell him the same.”

“Goodbye, Dale.”

He hung up and swiped away a tear. Maybe in two days, with a few lucky breaks, he could tell her he’d cracked both cases. No…that was why she’d left him, or at least part of the reason. What would he be able to say to Betty that she would care about?

Cops had good instincts and as a homicide detective, Dale had to use his intuition and deep understanding of the human psyche to help solve his crimes. He saw his job as a mission and he was a third-generation police officer. Law enforcement was his grandfather’s calling, then his father’s and now his. He’d been raised with those values.

He sat and thought. For the next few days, until it was time to try to reach Betty again, he would put his personal problems aside and focus solely on getting the job done. Later, he’d know what to do. He hoped.

He heard a honk and looked out the window to find Jimmy in the driveway. Dale checked the gun in his shoulder holster. He rinsed out his mouth, tossed his jacket over his shoulder and walked outside. As he approached the car, Jimmy yelled through the open window.

“You look like shit!”

Dale jumped into the passenger seat and did his best to tuck in his wrinkled shirt and straighten his uncombed hair.

Jimmy handed Dale a covered Styrofoam cup. “I thought you could use this.”

“Thanks.” He peeled off the lid, sipped and felt a little better. “What did you tell the Sarge?”

“I told him you were working the assignment. He was not impressed and wants to hear about some progress right now.”

They walked through the crowded lobby and Dale saw a man in a well-cut suit with the sergeant.

As the detectives entered the office, the mayor turned to them. Another visit meant increased urgency and pressure.

“What do you have now?”

Dale knew that the mayor had a minor background in law enforcement, so he realized that Grant’s murder was scary enough, but when cops were also being murdered, it was even worse—especially with possibly two killers hunting people in the city.

“We have some leads,” Dale said. “There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence to follow.”

“What about this Watters character? The sergeant says that Watters has probably already left the city, maybe even the state and country, while you two go around chasing theories.”

“We are following Watters as well as we can, but as you say, he might have fled. We are focusing on those who are here and profited from those deaths. My team is totally dedicated and focused.”

What he wanted to say was that Sanders was his prime suspect and they should be concentrating on him.

“Listen,” the mayor said in earnest. “I want these cases closed. Pick up Watters, connect him to the murders and find the cop killer. And do it now.”

The detectives were silent again. Dale looked at his sergeant, who nodded.

Then the mayor changed his demeanor. “Detective Dayton, whatever you need to help with these investigations is available. Manpower, money—whatever resources you need. I’ll make sure you have it at your disposal. I have talked to the lieutenant about this and he has assured me that everything possible will be done to bring down the killers. You name it, Detective and it’s yours.”

“Yes, sir,” Dale and Jimmy said at the same time.

“Go get our killers, gentlemen.”

The sergeant escorted the two detectives out. As they left the office, he whispered. “Do whatever it takes.”

Chapter 34

Calvin sat in his computer room eating Chinese noodles from a Styrofoam container when movement at the corner of the monitor grabbed his attention. The long black hair that had flashed by the screen sent chills through Calvin’s body. His gut clenched.

He quickly sat upright and placed the container on the desk beside the monitor. He grabbed the remote and maneuvered the joystick, zooming in from another angle. The man was at a distance and somewhat hidden. Any other time, Calvin wouldn’t have warranted a second glance. But Whitney’s description and the man’s actions—continuing to move, circling out wide and returning at irregular intervals from different angles—showed Calvin the man was scoping the place.