Dead Man's Hand (32 page)

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Authors: Luke Murphy

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He
ma
d
e
another call.
H
is mind kept picturing the ne
ws report of the
bomb
underneath his car. Was it Sanders tying
up
loose ends?

I
f anyone had seen anything at his apartment, it wou
ld be his neighbor.

Tim Whitney, an out
-
of
-
work actor, spent many
days locked up in his tiny apartment a
waiting a call from his agent
. They had firs
t met when
he
approached Calvin because he

d
been studying a part
as a street thug. Whitney was the only member of the complex who didn

t have a p
roblem with Calvin

s occupation.
Almost at once they
hit it off
and
he
was
home enough
to keep an eye on Calvin

s apartment.


Hello?


Tim, it

s Calvin.


Hey
, I

ve been worried sick about you, man.


How are you?


Don

t worry about me. What about you?


I

ve been better.


What

s going on with the police?


I didn

t kill anyone.

Whitney blew out his breath.

What are we going to do about this?


This isn

t one of your movies
.
We
are not going to do anything. I just called to ask you a couple of questions.


What do you need, big man?


Have you seen anyone suspicious around there in the last couple of days?


Yeah, I saw him.

Whitney

s
voice lowered.


Who did you see?


A
guy underneath your car.

T
he bomb.
It had to have been
the killer.

Did you tell the cops?

Tim sighed.

I couldn

t. I didn

t know if the guy was working for you or what.


What exactly do you remember?


Well, I saw him snooping around your apartment
and
thought that maybe he was a friend. He had a black canvas bag and went inside
. W
hen he came back out, he had changed into grease-stained coveral
ls, so I thought
maybe he was your mechanic. He walked around your car, unlatched and lifted the hood
.
He studied the engine and parts,
then
check
ed
both sides of the engine block. He pulled on various wires
.
A
fter a
few minutes, he slammed the hood down
and
shook his head
.
Then he
crawled underneath the car.


H
ow long was he under the car
?


Four or five minutes
tops.
Then he left.

Although he didn

t know much about bomb detonation, Calvin
thought four
to
five
minutes to skillf
ully install a bomb under a car seemed
professional.


Do you remember what this guy looked like?


I watched from my window and tried to stay hidden, so I couldn

t get a close-up of his face. But he was lean, all muscle and sinew
,
with long black hair. At one point, I tho
ught that he had
stared r
ight
at me. Like he knew that I was watching him.


Any distinguishing features?

Calvin couldn

t place the man, who would have
stood out
among Pitt

s associates.


Nothing
I could see. He just looked like a normal guy. Until I saw him squirming underneath the car.

Calvin thanked Tim and hung
up.

He
calle
d Mike and gave him the vague
description.
Mike sai
d he might have enough to go on but
Calvin knew he was pretending.


Do you still have those vests I got you?

Mike asked.


Yeah.


Good, because you

re gonna need them now.

 

 

 

Chapter 3
2

 


Wakie, wakie, James.

Scott
sat with the serenity of a corpse
, allowing his captive time to collect his thoughts.

He
had stripped Pierce naked and sat him in the middle of the room straddling a chair, legs spread, his hands tied over his head, the rope secured to a ceiling beam
and
his ankles duct-taped to the chair legs. Duct tape also covered Pierce

s mouth.

After his last conversation with Sanders,
Scott
knew that his time was running out. His reputation was on the line.
He wasn

t worried about Sanders

threat on his life, but i
f he failed again, he would not only be fired, but his two failures would be spread worldwide, damaging his perfect record.


Sorry about the chloroform, James.

He knew Pierce

s head would be throbbing, not to mention Pierce

s increased anxiety once he realized his predicament.

I didn

t think I

d need it after you chugged those first two whisky sours
at lunch
. You made it easy for me
. I can

t blame you though. Most people are less alert to danger at work than they are at home. I

ve bee
n reading over your file.

Scott
held up a sheaf of papers.

Degenerates like you are creatures of habit. You just can

t control yourself. Once I found your place of work, all I had to do was wait. I followed you for a couple of days
and
just my luck—you followed the same routine every
day. You couldn

t wait for lunchtime to get on the phone with your bookie and hit the nearest pub. I guess Watters

last message didn

t get through.

Scott
saw that the mention of Calvin Watters

name had sparked his prisoner. He watched the man

s eyes wander
around
the vacated, gutted building
to
a crumpled body in the corner.


Don

t worry about him, James. His blood-brain barrier has been cr
ossed by a shit load of heroin.

H
e held up a
syringe and tension band.
Like a trained registered nurse,
Scott
pressed the plunger and liquid dripped from the needle.

He won

t be bothering us.

Scott
looked around the room.

It

s a shame they

ll be demolishing this building in a few days. I was introduced to the site by a
local
friend. Pity really, it

s the perfect location for my work.

Scott
watched a rat scamper across the concrete floor, stop at Pierce

s foot
and
then continue across, disappearing into a wall crevasse.
P
ierce

s nostrils flare
d
and his eyes leak
ed
.


Ignore the smell, James. Our friend has been living here for a while
. N
o functioning to
ilet and no change of clothes
.

Scott
rose from his seat and approached Pierce. He circled the victim

s limp body.

Do you know much about the Chinese cult
ure, James? I do. I studied it.

Scott
returned to the table he

d been sitting at, slipped on a pair of rubber surgical gloves
and
opened a briefcase.

Did you know that at one time in China, they used castration
for religious and social
reasons? After
battles, the winners castrated their captives to symbolize victory.

Urine pooled under Pierce

s chair.

Scott
picked up a tool from the briefcase.

This is called
an emasculator. It

s
u
sed on livestock, to simultaneously crush and cut the
spermatic cord
, but I thought,

what the h
ell, if it

s good enough for a horse, it

s good enough for James
.
’”

He set
the tool
down.

From my estimation, you have
twenty-one
minutes before you

re expected back at work.

He smiled.

A lot can happen in that time.
I

m going to ask you a series of questions. If I like your answers, you

ll make your deadline. If I don

t, then I

ll show you how much I learned from the Chinese. All you have to do is
blink once for yes and twice for no. Understand?

Pierce not only blinked once, but also nodded.


Good.
Do you trust I

m a man of my word?

With wide eyes, Pierce
blinked once.


Now, Calvin Watters. Do you know him?

One blink.


Do you know where he is?

Pierce paused
and
Scott
knew his hesitation meant he
was about to conceal something or lie. Scott
shook his head. What kind of hold did Watters have on his victims? It was as if Pierce thought that ratting out Watters was wors
e than losing his manhood. Scott
had to put no doubt in Pierce

s mind that what he could do was far worse than any punishment Watters could inflict.


Don

t worry about
Watters. Worry about me.

Scott
shook his head and went back to the briefcase. He slowly
removed the emasculator.
He fastened
the ends of the clamp over Pierce

s
testicles
and
locked it into place.


Well.

Scott
smiled.

That fits nice and cozy.

Pierce flinched, probably more from discomfort than pain, but maybe also from the anticipation of the perceived future. Trickles of blood ran down the inside of Pierce

s leg and beads of sweat
dotted
his forehead.

Scott
gripped the handle
of the tool
and s
queezed
a little
. Pierce squirmed but couldn

t move.


Again, do you know where Watters is?

Low muffled sounds got past
the duct tape
and
Pierce
began to sob. He swallowed
a large lump in his throat before blinking once.

 

Dale was still feeling the effects of his meeting with Flannery when he pulled into his empty driveway.
He wasn

t sure why he was home. It was as if the old cruiser had steered itself.

Actu
ally
,
he did know why
. There was something he wanted to do, something he needed to do.
He

d been putting it off, hoping that if he didn

t do it, if he didn

t see the actual words, then it wouldn

t
be real—l
ike it was just a horrible dre
am that he would soon wake up from
.

But it was time.

Since his family had left, Dale tried to spend as much time at the office as possible, especially during the day when he

d notice the things he missed the most.
It just wasn

t right. No noise, no smell of home
-
cooked food
and
no toys scattered throughout.

For the first time since Betty

s departure, Dale went
in
to their bedroom. He lay on the bed and buried his face in
her
pillow, where her scent still lingered

lavender vanilla shampoo and coconut lime body wash.

He turned onto his back
,
propped his head up
on
two pillows
and
shoved his hand inside his jacket pocket, where
B
etty

s letter had been for four
days. He

d kept it there, close to his heart, refusing to read it, refusing to admit it was over. Now he was facing that fear head-on.

His name was written
in black marker
on th
e outside of the white envelope
i
n
Betty

s handwriting.

 

Dale,

I hate impersonal letters like this, but
for the last little while
you haven

t been around long enough for us to talk. I think we need some time apart. Sammy and I will be staying at Catherine

s place until we figure things out.

We both know this isn

t working. I knew who I was marrying. You

re a cop
and
a great one, but you

ve changed over the years. Now that we have a son you need to adjust your priorities with work and family.

I want to say that your job is the only problem, but it

s not…and we both know where I

m going. I know I said I

d gotten over your infidelity—that I had put it behind me and moved on. But the truth is that the thought still lingers. Every time you come home late, I wonder if you were with HER. I just can

t live like this anymore.

I still love you and hope we can work this out. I want the Dale I fell in love with and married.

Love
,

Betty and Sammie

 

Dale felt numb.

As he reread the note, he felt a sudden, crushing exhaustion and was brought to a complete halt. How tired he was from too many years on the job, the stress of work and his marital problems.

His throat tightened and he was having trouble breathing. Then Dale did something that he hadn

t done in a long time. He cried.

He removed the snuff in his mouth and put it on the bedside table. He lay down and fell asleep, his head on Betty

s pillow
.

 

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