Dead Man's Hand (15 page)

Chapter 1
2

The detecti
ves arrived back
after three to a buzzing station.
The room was noisier than usual with gossip and unanswered questions.

Dale threw down his
fast
-
food
lunch and sat at his
messy desk. He opened a drawer and swept every piece of paper inside. The
new case files had been
stacked on the filing cabinet. He grabbed the files a
nd tossed them onto his clean
desk. The forensics, coroner, crime scene
and
street police all had completed their reports. There was a crime scene analysis and a crime scene sketch as well as Grant
’
s bio. But other than the tread marks found on the side of the road
,
nothing
else had yet be
en
discovered
.
The reports offered little cause for optimism.
He had already issued an APB for Grant
’
s missing car.

The phone call was the only promising lead.
It just didn
’
t make sense.

“
Hey
,
Dale.
”
O
ne of his o
fficers approached hi
s desk.
“
Linda Grant has already placed a call to Ace Sanders. Sanders didn
’
t let Linda speak long enough to say anything incriminating.
”
He
started to walk away and then stopped.
“
Oh yeah, the tracking device has been pla
nted
on Linda
’
s chauffeured limo and is operational.
”

Dale thanked his officer, took a long gulp of coffee, powered up his computer
and
grabbed the first fi
le. Then he heard his sergeant
storm out of his office.

“
Has anyone seen Dayton?
”
The sergeant yelled into the crowd at no one in particular.

The detective waited for his name to be called.

“
Dayton, get in here!
”

He
took his time walking
toward
his sergeant
’
s offic
e, picking up Jimmy on the way.

The
sarge
was sitting at his desk watching the television when the detectives walked in. An unlit cigar hung from the side of his mouth.
“
Sit down, you two!
”

Then he grabbed the remote control and turned up the volume on the television. Dale and Jimmy sat back and watched the full report on the Grant murder. The
news crew
did
“
m
an on the
s
treet
”
spots with scared citizens.

Then Dale watched as the
m
ayor was interviewed and said they
’
d have an answer soon.

The sergeant hit mute.
“
Personally I don
’
t like the conniving little prick
,
but I
’
ll kiss his ass any chance I get. We
’
re in the middle of a political disaster. Grant was a major contributor to the
m
ayor
’
s political campaigns
and
a close friend. The Greek was great PR for Vegas.
”
He was making his point by tapping his finger hard on the desk.

“
I
’
ve assigned you twelve officers, Dayton. Here.
”

The sergeant passed Dale a piece of paper. Dale recognized the names on the list. All of the officers were capable investigators.
The latitude and assistance that was being given to him re-emphasized how big this case really was.

“
Now get outta here and find somethin
’
.
”

As
he
was walking out, his boss called him back.

“
Dayton, don
’
t screw this up
. A
nd
get that fuckin
’
thing off my desk!
”
The sergeant pointed at
the
spit cup as Dale
smirked and grabbed it.

Outside the office, ten of the twelve-man investigative team
members
caucused around Dale
’
s desk.

This was it—bumped up to top
-
grade detective, or proof positive he couldn
’
t handle a big case or higher ranking.
This case would be either a career-maker or a career-killer.

He
refocused.
“
Jimmy, let
’
s fill in everyone
.
First, nobody talks to anyone about this case.
Duncan and Parker, take Grant
’
s son, daughter
and
ex-wife. His son, Shawn, has been
running
t
he
Greek
,
so he should be a good source
. What was Grant
’
s
relationship
like with his ex-wife and daughter? Don
’
t be shy, gentlemen.
”

The officers nodded and left the huddle.

He
turned to the next two in line.
“
Harper and Elliot, take Grant
’
s friends and pricey lawyer
, although attorney/client privilege may stop him from saying anything at
all. But seeing as how Grant was murdered,
the lawyer might be authorized, or
feel a moral obligation that most lawyers don
’
t
, to say something
.
But
I
’
m a
ssuming this guy is both Grant
’
s
and
his wife
’
s
lawyer.
”

The
tea
m wrote down their assignment and departed.

Dale gestured toward two officers.
“
Smith and Ramirez,
you take
all
e
mployees
,
from pit bosses to
cocktail waitresses.
”

He paused for a moment and then continued.
“
Sanchez and Lucas.
”
The two stepped forward.
“
Rival casino owners.
”

He
turned to his two remaining officers. Edwards and Morris were Dale
’
s two most experienced members of his team.
“
I need you guys to go to Grant
’
s casino office and strip it to the walls. Go into the walls if needed. All of it comes back here.
He
’
ll have a safe so take Mark with you.
Here, take this
.
”
Dale handed over the sear
ch warrant
.
“
You
’
ll probably have to push Shawn Grant hard with the warrant to get into Grant
’
s office.
”

“
What are we gonna do?
”
Jimmy asked when the room was empty.

“
We, my friend, are going to Grant
’
s private office.
”

“
Hunch?
”

“
Yeah. Hunch.
”
He
picked up the phone and dialed his sergeant
’
s office.
“
I need phone records.
”

Before they left, Dale turned to his youngest officer.
“
Craig, get me phone records from Doug, Linda and Shawn Grant, as well as Calvin Watters and Ace Sanders. I need local and long distance from their home, work and
cell phone
s.
”

Chapter 1
3

To save time, Dale brought a couple
of
members of the LVMPD forensic team.
Having twice as many pros working the same office at the same time would expedite everything.

Dale flashed his badge at the guards, displayed the search warrant for Grant
’
s office
and
made his request. After carefully scanning the warrant and examining the badge, Dale, Jimmy and the two forensic experts were asked to sign in
as the security guard
fumbled for his keys.

“
You two go ahead.
”
Dale indicated to the forensic unit.

The two men followed the security guard across the lobby flo
or and
toward
the elevators.

Dale
checked the name tags on the security guards
’
shirts.
“
Gus, Fred, I was wondering if my partner and I could ask you guys a few questions?
”

The guards
fidgeted.

“
Just relax, fellas. We
’
re all on the same side here. Who was on duty this morning?
”

The chubby one swallowed hard and answered.
“
We were, sir.
”
A
drip of perspiration leak
ed
from the guard
’
s forehead. The man looked as if he w
ere
going to blow a blood vessel.

“
We want to know if a Winston Coburn III had a
nine-thirty
appointment with Grant this morning
and
if he had gone up to the private office.
”

“
He sure did.
”

Quick answer.

The taller guard handed
the guest list to
Dale
, who noticed
the perfect penmanship
. He
gave
the clipboard to Jimmy and continued with his questions.

“
Do you remember what this guy looked like?
”

“
I sure do.
”

He
sighed. Evidently, t
he men had been trained to say as little as possible
.
H
e
could tell that Jimmy was getting impatient
too.

“
We knew you
’
d be coming, so we prepared the video footage. Just come around.
”

The detectives rounded the counter and joined the security guards behind the desk. The monitors, six in total, were mounted on the inside shelf.

“
This monitor is from the front desk camera.
”
The guard used a remote to start the playback. He continued to speak as the footage ran.
“
He never looks directly into the camera,
but as you can see, he
’
s big,
maybe six-four or six-five. He was black.
”
The guard looked at Jimmy.
“
No offense.
”

Jimmy shrugged.
“
That
’
s the color of his skin. Why would I be offended?
”

The guard shook his head as Dale smiled.

“
What
’
s with the clothes?
”
Dale pointed at the screen.

“
Yeah, odd. He wore this big hat and dark sunglasses that covered up pretty much his entire face. Even with that long, thin coat, it was easy to tell he was built
like a bulldozer
. He must have been close to two-fifty. Couldn
’
t see his hair under the hat.
”

Dale
turned to
Jimmy.
“
What do you
think? Could be Calvin Watters?
”

“
It
’
s hard to tell. Like the guy says,
he never looks into the camera
or stands at an angle that would give us a good shot.
”

“
Calvin who?
”
The younger guard asked.

“
Never mind. Did this guy show you any identification?
”

“
Of course. He showed us a pretty elaborate business card. He had a scheduled appointment and passed the security check. Did Coburn kill Mr. Grant?
”

He
ignored
the guard
’
s question
, thinking instead of Calvin Watters. He knew of Watters and this situation didn
’
t fit the collector
’
s profile. Watters had always remained under the radar, even with his job.

“
Wait a minute. Y
ou said that Coburn was in here this morning. Doug Grant was killed last night. Why would you let a guy go upstairs when Grant wasn
’
t in his office?
”

“
Well, we called up and there was no answer. Just assumed since he had an appointment scheduled, that Mr. Grant had stepped out.
”

Jimmy cut in
.
“
I can
’
t hear the words, but it
seems like
Coburn kind of bullied his way up to Grant
’
s office.
”

The guards looked at each other.

“
But you
didn
’
t see Grant go up.
”
Dale let them off the hook.

“
Never do.
”

“
How
’
s that?
”

“
Office owners in this complex have privileged parking passes to the basement. They also purchase special elevator keys for the garage el
evator that takes them straight
to their offices. It
’
s a back way. We never see
‘
em comin
’
or goin
’
.
”

“
So then anyone could sneak in here without being noticed?
”

“
If they have the special key and parking pass.
”

“
How did this Winston Coburn III elude you guys after?
”

“
Don
’
t
know for sure, but we found the security wires to the back exit disconnected. Someone had snuck out. Could
’
ve been him.
”

“
Any video feed in the upstairs offices or this
‘
privileged
’
basement elevator?
”
Dale made air-quotes with his fingers.

“
Afraid not. Our clients like their privacy.
”

“
Of course they do.
”

“
Has anyone been in Grant
’
s office since our guys left this morning?
”
Jimmy asked.

“
No, sir.
”

Dale smiled.
“
Unless they had the special key and parking pass you didn
’
t know about.
”
When the guards didn
’
t respond, he
said,
“
Thanks, guys.
”

The detectives took the elevator to the top floor
,
where their colleagues were already busy.

With no furniture in the first room, Dale understood that Grant had wanted privacy
and
had no need for a secretary. Without a secretary, witnesses would be hard to come by.

Jimmy whistled.
“
This is huge!
”

“
Yeah,
”
Dale agreed.
“
A
lot of expensive and wasted space.
”

The detectives moved their toolkits into the office
,
where they would focus their search.
Without saying a word, they each pulled on a pair of latex gloves, set the large metal cases on the floor and opened them. They removed their contents and began.

S
tart
ing
with the double front doors and doorknobs
,
they
mov
ed
on to a complete sweep of the entire office, dusting for prints and vacuuming for hair and fibers.

While Jimmy was dusting, Dale searched Grant
’
s personal belongings. Grant
’
s desk was meticulously
organized—papers stacked in a neat pile
, drawers conveniently tidied
—
and
the computer had been recently wiped. Linda Grant smiled at Dale from the wedding photo on Grant
’
s desk
and
he
couldn
’
t help but smirk.

Jimmy
stood
by the filing cabinet with all four drawers pulled open.
“
These books are in perfect order. Everything is up to date and thorough.
”

“
Does it look like Grant owed money?
”

Jimmy shook his head.

Dale scanned the numerous books from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, but since Grant
’
s computer was password protected, they would have to take it back to the precinct and have it hacked.

He
explor
ed
the contents
of the desk drawers
. Using a pair of stainle
ss steel tweezers, he
lifted a blue poker chip from the
drawer.
“
Look at this, Jimmy. Property of the
Golden Horseshoe
Hotel and Casino. That
’
s one of
S
anders
’
casinos.
”

Jimmy took the tweezers.
“
Why would a $10,000 poker chip from
Sander
s
’
casino be here?
”

Dale
shrugged and
dropped t
he chip into a plastic ziplock bag.
He knew that p
lastic held
fingerprints better than paper.

As he attempted to close the drawer,
s
omething
obstructed i
ts sliding movement. He
got onto his knees.

“
Now what are you doing?
”
Jimmy asked
.

“
The drawer won
’
t close.
”
He
reached underneath the desk and felt the obstruction.
“
Something is here. Give me your flashlight.
”

Jimmy handed Dale the tiny penlight
and he
squirmed underneath the desk. He flashed the beam across the carpeted floor
and
then in the direction of the inside of the desk.
“
Something is taped to the side of the drawer.
”

“
What is it?
”

He
tore off the strip of tape
and a silver key dangled from it
.
“
It
’
s a key,
”
he announced,
getting up and then
handing it to Jimmy.
“
I also noticed something else when I was down there.
”
Dale shone the light
a
t the finely sculptured carpet.
“
Notice anything?
”

“
You mean the expensive, perfectly maintained carpet?
”