Dead Man's Hand (27 page)

Chapter 2
7

After
coming back from the hardest part of a police investigation,
talking to the family of the murdered victim, D
ale
sat at his desk reading
reports. One by one
his
team members came to check
in with almost nothing to show for the day. He had to have something to inspire
his aggravated group
.

Parker and Duncan had talked with Pitt
’
s wife.

“
Mrs. Pitt w
as cold and distant. She knew he was a cheating dog
, but
she
stayed with Pitt because of the children.
Also she shows no signs of being employable herself. Anyway—no help from her. She seemed happy that a hooker died. No surprise.
”

“
So she has
a
motive?
”
Dale
asked
.

“
She didn
’
t kill her husband,
”
Parker stated without delay.
“
She has a solid alibi and
is too fragile to do it anyway
.
”

Da
le
agreed, but
like everyone else who gained financially but didn
’
t have the strength for the killings,
she
co
uld still have hired a killer
.
She was just playing the good wife and wanted her sleazy man dead.

Smith and Ramirez reported that Pitt
’
s employees
all
had been hired off the str
eet.
Most of them have a criminal record of some sort, but n
o one
seemed to hate
Pitt
. N
o one
was too sorry he died.
They all had solid alibis.

They hadn
’
t seen
unusual
documents or visitors around the office
. Sanders had made several appearances in the office to talk with Pitt
, but that was routine.

Dale thought
the $3
0,000 in the safe was enough
for Pitt
’
s employees to
kill the boss
. The killer
was definitely
looking for somethin
g in Pitt
’
s office
.

And again, Sanders
’
name came up.
The biggest problem:
Sander
s
’
employees refused to talk while Pitt
’
s couldn
’
t stop.

Lucas and Sanchez reported that many of the prostitutes knew the girl w
ho had been killed and had Pitt as a client themselves
.
But none
had any reason to kill
Pitt
.

“
They called her
‘
Amber
,
’
but n
o one seems to know her real name.
Just for fun, I flashed Watters
’
picture around to see what kind of reaction I would get. One
prostitute
ID
’
d him.
She said
Watters has a soft spot for
another whore.
The streetwalker that I talked with said th
at he is more than just a
client. The two are close. Sh
e goes by the name Chloe
.
”

“
Any luck
finding her
?
”

“
No on
e had seen her all day, which i
s unusual.
”

Dale
just went through the motions. He was sure
Watters
was with Chloe somewhere.
Any man would think o
f his woman first. So why had
n
’
t
Dale
?

Watters was such a good collector that there were few accounts outstanding—killers who wanted to erase a debt.

“
Watters h
ad
left his mark on
the clients. A few were hobbled in some manner and even though they never admitted it, we assumed the injuries were from Watters. The gam
blers were
afraid
to talk. Watters is more scary than jail
.
Even the few who still owe money are accounted for.
”

Edwards and Morris had interviewed private and public bookies. The general consensus was
that
no one liked Pitt
,
but no one felt threatened by his business.

Harper and Elliot showed up before their night shift on Linda Grant. The
lead
officer got right to her report.

“
Linda Grant spends her days in high-end boutiques and her evenings in five-star restaurants
getting wasted from the top shelf
.
She
’
s made very few phone calls—a couple to friends and family, her attorney and one to Shawn Grant to discuss the terms of the sale.
”

Dale wanted more information from this group.
“
Before I pulled you off the Grant
questioning to put you on Watters
’
stakeout, how far did you get with Grant
’
s attorney?
”

“
Like we said before, Grant had made an appointment to see his lawyer for Tuesday morning. The attorney wouldn
’
t say what the purpose of the meeting was. When we asked about a divorce, he couldn
’
t say because as Grant
’
s lawyer, he also represents L
inda Grant.
But I don
’
t think he really knew the purpose of the meeting.
”

W
as
Grant
going to his attorney for divorce papers? Did the killer know about the meeting and murder him before the papers were filed and served
,
which would automatically bring the will into play?
Grant
’
s death made the prenup null and void
, while a divorce would cut Linda out of the will completely
.
His death
,
twelve
hours or so before the appointment with his lawyer
,
wa
s more than coincidental.

“
Okay, team
,
”
said
Dale
.
“
Meet back here first thing in the morning. I hope to have something
for all of you by then. G
ood night.
”

The group nodded and went home.

He turned to Jimmy.
“
Well, partner.
O
ur surveillance team has nothing to report either. We
’
re goin
’
nowhere with this one
and
fast.
”

“
What do you want me to do?
”

“
You go home too. Spend some time with that pretty wife of yours. You and she both deserve a night together and a family dinner.
”

“
What about you?
Maybe you should do the same.
”

“
Don
’
t tell me what I should do
,
”
Dale
snapped, his
pulse quickene
d
,
but he caught himself
.

Jimmy
’
s
wide eyes
answered Dale
.

“
Sorry
,
I
’
ll be fine. I
’
m just gonna finish up some paper work and go home too.
”

“
All right, buddy. Have a good night.
”
Jimmy rushed from the office
.

Dale
was
alone in the detective bureau. He needed to get to
the
“
basement
.
”
The crew had turned up nothing useful from Watters
’
car
,
so he
hoped they could retrieve something from the bomb that
had been
planted underneath. Anything.

He
knew that spending excessive amounts of time on the job was one of the reasons why Betty had left.
This investigation kept expanding at a dizzying speed. I
n less than forty-eight hours, four pe
ople had been murdered.
He
thought
tha
t more people were going to die soon.
Because
forty-eight
hour
s had passed,
his chance to solve
Grant
’
s
murder was, by the stats, cut in half. T
wo weeks
without a break came close to
a zero rate of success.
The clock was ticking very loud.
He still suspected two killers. Someone else had killed the police officer
with a g
un. A knife was
close and personal.
A gun was remote—
it
suited another kind of killer.

He
had to find a break in the case somewhere.
He turned the night lamp off on his and Jimmy
’
s desks
and
followed the long, musty hallway down to the
basement forensics lab.

T
he tech looked up from a microscope and checked Dale out over the bifocals perched on the end of his nose. The man
’
s
hair was greasy and disheveled and his
white lab coat
grimy.
The eraser head of a
pencil peeked
out of his
breast pocket and
another was tucked behind his right ear. After a deferential nod, he went back to his microscope.

While Dale waited, he
checked the dismantled bomb resting on the countertop
.
T
he
pieces lay strewn
about
, each numbered and named.

He was inspecting the blasting cap and C-4 when t
he lab technician
finally
looked up
again
.
“
I
’
ve been waitin
g
for you to come down
.
”
He smacked on gum and blew a bubble.

“
So, tell me about the bo
mb. And no mumbo jumbo bullshit. Y
ou know that I know squat about bombs.
”

“
Great, another simpleton.
”

“
Just tell me.
”

The techie
got up off his stool and walked over to Dale and the bomb.
“
Al
l
right, in layman
’
s terms. A chunk of plastic explosive had been
secure
d under the driver
’
s seat,
because that was the cen
ter of the target—
the driver. The
C4 had a detonator shoved into it
and
the detonator wires had been attached to the ignition wires. The bomb was to go off when the car was
started. Do I need to slow down?
”

Dale considered the explanation. In a sense, it would
’
ve been the perfect murder—except Watters was long gone and not worried about his car.

The tech continued.
“
I fed the information through the FBI Bomb Data Center and the ATF
’
s National Repository, but I couldn
’
t find a signature match to our bomb.
”