Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

Chapter 40

Ace sat at his desk, staring down at the hand he had dealt himself. He surveyed the other three hands and then turned back to his own, the five cards that lay in front of him, face up.

He poured a generous portion of Evan Williams twenty-three-year-old bourbon and drank it in one swallow. Then he poured himself another.

He knew what it meant. Two pairs, black aces and black eights—the dead man’s hand.

His pulse quickened and his breathing slowed. A twitching vein behind his ear pulsated. A deep-seated fear crept into his soul.

Legend had it that on August 2, 1876, in Saloon Number Ten at Deadwood, South Dakota, Wild Bill Hickok had this exact same hand when he was gunned down—murdered in cold blood. Although there were no confirmed accounts of what Hickok’s fifth card was, Ace dreaded the hand. It was cursed.

Four days ago everything had been under control. After hiring Scott, Ace thought the Watters situation was handled. But as one attempt after another failed, he was only exposed to more risk.

From his informant on the Las Vegas police, he learned early this morning that Scott had been arrested. The cops would be questioning him and that made Ace sweat.

He had spent the day pondering his next move, making sure that the time was right. He had no choice now. With the dark of night, he decided to make his move.

The situation couldn’t be worse. Watters was still alive and his hit man was in police custody. Now Ace had to clean up this mess too. He was working hard to get another top hit man to Vegas but that would take time he didn’t have.

Even though he never used his name, paid with cash transfers and had left no paper trail, he knew that someone as experienced as Scott would find it out anyway. The assassin was supposed to be the best and had come from a reliable source. That’s why Ace agreed to pay part of his outrageous fee upfront.

He picked up his secure line.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. I need to see you now.”

“Okay,” the voice answered back.

“Are the cops still outside your house?”

There was a momentary silence. Then the caller came back on the line. “Yes.”

“Okay. Don’t say a word. Just listen.”

He made his plan very clear, going into fine detail. He wasn’t sure the line was truly secure, so he had to make the conversation as unrevealing as possible.

“Don’t be late.”

He hung up and stared at the cards on the desk. He swallowed, closed his eyes, shook his head and got up.

He left his office lights on and turned up the stereo. He radioed down and told his pit and slot managers that he had serious work to take care of and didn’t want to be interrupted for the remainder of the night. He then slipped out the back way of his office and snuck down the back stairs to the employee staff room.

The minute he walked in, the three employees who had been taking their break jumped up from the table and walked out without making eye contact.

Once they were gone, he lifted a set of keys from an employee’s jacket and left the casino through a back entrance, avoiding the cameras.

He marched through the back alley, putting on strong skin-colored surgical gloves. His fingerprints would never be found in the car he’d be driving…or later.

Standing in the employee parking lot, he pushed the disarm button on the key chain until he saw a car in the far corner of the lot light up. After securing the lot, he climbed behind the wheel and sped away. He wasn’t worried, just being careful as always. Ace knew his call to the mayor had abolished any ideas the cops might have about following him.

He gripped the steering wheel. It maddened him all over again that Watters was still a problem when he should have been dead days ago.

Having already sold her share of her late husband’s casino to Ace, Linda just had to wait a few more days while the bank’s substantial check cleared and was deposited into her account.

But she had been promised more than just money. Even if she couldn’t trust her lover, she was going to give it a brief try. She had been promised love too. Even if he had experienced a change of heart, Linda had enough money to escape Vegas by herself and start over in another part of the world.

She took the stairs, stumbling, to the mansion’s wine cellar to return an empty bottle and choose another. She had also been told to use the wine cellar to make all of her “private” calls.

She shut the door and used the phone he’d given her, dialing the familiar number.

“What is it?”

Just the sound of his voice gave her chills. “Ace just called. He wants to meet me.”

“Good, that means he’s worried.”

“I don’t think I should go. You know Ace, he’s capable of anything.”

“Linda, you have to go. This is the plan we’ve been working on. We’re so close, baby. It’s almost over and then we can be together forever.”

“Are you sure?”

“Linda, listen to me. This is it. You need to go meet Ace. This is important to me…to us. Keep him happy. Give him what he wants.”

She smiled. “I’ll be thinking of you like always. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. But we can’t be seen together. Soon.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“That’s my girl.”

Chapter 41

“Well, that was a fuckin’ waste of time!” Watters jammed himself into the narrow booth, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

It was late on a Sunday night and they were at a small diner, having just concluded their six-hour shift staking out Linda Grant.

“I agree,” Jimmy said

Although Linda had been quiet, Dale didn’t feel the new 24/7 schedule on Linda was a total waste. “Sure, nothing happened today. Linda won’t yell to the world that she was a part of a master plan to kill her husband. But the night’s not over yet.”

“Do you really think, with the buzz she put on at dinner, she’ll be leaving the house again tonight?”

Dale shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I’d like to see Rachel soon,” Watters said.

“We can make that happen. We can—” Dale was cut off by the vibration from his cell phone, which had a familiar caller ID. “It’s the department.” He flipped open the phone. “Dayton.”

“Detective, it’s Mitch. Linda Grant just received a phone call.”

“From who?”

“Unknown.”

“What do you mean unknown?”

“The caller used a voice distorter and scrambler, untraceable.”

Dale remembered the 911 call on Wednesday with the same security measures. Whoever set up Watters was calling Linda.

“Thanks, Mitch.”

He hung up and made another call. “Charlie, it’s Dale. Anything?”

“No. The limo dropped her off a while ago and left. Lights are off. Guess she went to bed.”

“No—check that she’s really at home. She just got a scrambled call.”

“What?”

“Get in there! And keep your cell phone on so I can track what’s going on.”

Through the phone he could hear movement and a car door slam. He heard the faint sound of heavy panting and a knock on a door.

The cop came back on the line. “No answer, Dale.”

“Break it down!”

“Don’t I need ‘probable cause’ to go in?”

“The suspicious call is enough.”

He heard them crash through the door and running up stairs, then, “Shit.”

He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He called the department. “Mitch, it’s me again. We lost Linda. Please tell me the GPS is operational?”

He could hear computer keys clicking over the phone.

“It was confirmed that the limo had been parked for the night, but the GPS is indicating that it’s moving again.”

Dale hung up. “Linda’s on the move.”