Wild Card

by Luke Murphy

  “Oh, don’t worry about your boss. This has nothing to do with him,” Dale lied.

  “Then, what’s it about?”

  “It’s about his dad, Doug Grant. You remember your former boss, I’m sure.”

  The secretary’s eyes moistened. “Of course I remember Mr. Grant. How can I help?”

  “How are your records?”

  “Impeccable.”

  “What about your memory?”

  She smiled. “Even better.”

  “Do you remember making an appointment last year for Doug Grant to meet with a Winston Coburn?”

  Maureen shook her head. “I take a lot of calls. Do you know the exact date?”

  “The meeting was scheduled for the day after Mr. Grant was murdered.”

  The secretary sniffed and wiped a tear. Swiveling in her chair, she then moved to open a small cabinet behind her and pulled out an old binder. She set it on her desk.

  “You don’t have anything on the computer?” Jimmy asked.

  “Mr. Grant was old fashioned. He preferred to keep everything on paper. Shawn is different. The first thing he did when he took over was upgrade the system. Now everything runs through the computer.”

  She searched a little longer and shook her head. “Sorry, there’s no meeting scheduled with anyone by that name.”

  Dale moved behind the desk and checked the book. It was true, nothing written in that time slot. “Is this the only record of Doug Grant’s appointments?”

  “If I made it, yes.”

  “Is it possible that someone else scheduled the meeting?”

  She shrugged. “Of course, anything is possible.”

  “Would Doug Grant himself make the meeting?”

  “Sure, but highly unlikely. Even if he had, I would know about it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, every meeting that was scheduled for Mr. Grant, regardless of who booked it, went by me. I would have to do a thorough background check for Mr. Grant.”

  “So that he was prepared going in?”

  “That, but also we get a lot of wackos calling and coming by, wanting a ‘piece of the action’ as they say. Claiming foul play, they were cheated somehow, or any other reason to get a meeting with Mr. Grant or even attempt to sue the casino.”

  “And the name Winston Coburn doesn’t ring a bell?” Jimmy asked.

  The secretary seemed to take a moment to think to herself. “I can’t place it.”

  “Is it possible that Shawn Grant took the call?”

  “As I said, Detective, anything is possible.”

  Dale looked at Jimmy, who tilted his head. Dale pulled a card from his jacket and handed it to the secretary.

  “Thank you for your time. If you think of anything, please give me a call.”

  They turned to leave and headed for the door when the secretary called after them.

  “Detectives.”

  They turned around.

  “This Coburn, he wouldn’t be a casino owner from Atlantic City, would he?”

  Dale felt a tingle in his arms. “Yes.”

  “Now that you mention Shawn maybe taking a call, I do remember speaking briefly with Mr. Coburn’s secretary.”

  “Maureen, you’re incredible. You mean you happen to remember that one phone call from over a year ago?” Jimmy sounded like he doubted her.

  “Yeah, kind of hard to believe,” Dale said. He wasn’t optimistic.

  “Don’t be too impressed. I only remember it because it was so unusual.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, the minute I got into work that morning, Mr. Grant was at my desk waiting for me.”

  “So, what’s unusual about that? I heard Doug Grant kept crazy hours, first in and last out.”

  Maureen shook her head. “I don’t mean that Mr. Grant. Shawn was at my desk.”

  “Unusual?” Jimmy asked.

  “Very. He was rarely in before lunch.”

  “What did he want?” Dale asked.

  “He told me that he was expecting a call from an Atlantic City casino owner or his secretary, and he wanted the call transferred to him immediately.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “I did what I was told. As soon as Mr. Coburn’s secretary called, I transferred her to Shawn.”

  “And he never told you that he scheduled a meeting for this Coburn to meet with his father?” Jimmy asked.

  Maureen shook her head.

  “So that means he never asked you to do a background check on Coburn either?” Dale asked.

  She shook her head again.

  “Has that ever happened before?”

  “Not since I’ve been here.”

  “And how long has that been?”

  “Since Shawn Grant was in diapers.”

  Dale was pretty good at reading people, and although Maureen never gave any indication or said the words directly, the detective got a vibe that she hadn’t yet warmed to her new boss.

  “Thanks for your time, Maureen.”

  They turned and left.

  As they waited for the valet to bring the car around the front of the casino, Jimmy said, “You know she’s going to tell Shawn about our little visit here this morning.”

  Dale smiled. “I’m betting on it.”

  ♣

  “This is nice.” Dale sat on a park bench, across the table from Betty. “I’m glad you agreed to meet.”

  Betty didn’t look at him. “Sammie wanted to see you. He misses his dad.”

  Dale took her hand. “I miss him too. I think about you guys all the time.”

  She pulled her hand away, but didn’t say anything. They sat and stared at Sammie sitting in a sandbox, dumping sand into a Tonka dump truck.

  Dale felt awkward. He sat at a table across from the woman he loved for the last fifteen-plus years: The woman he’d dated, agreed to marry, spend the rest of his life with, and have a child with.

  But now, as he sat there, he felt as if he was in the presence of a stranger. What had happened? How had it all fallen apart? And more importantly, how could he get them back?

  But he’d stopped kidding himself. He knew damn well what had happened. Only one person to blame.

  He grabbed her hand again, this time squeezing it gently. “I miss you guys.”

  Betty was quiet. A tear slipped down under her sunglasses. Was that why she wouldn’t look at him? Or was something else going on?

  He wasn’t sure what Betty saw when she looked at him, but she had aged. She’d let her hair grow out, but the roots were whitening and she wasn’t worried about coloring them. Her eyes hid behind an oversized pair of Ray-Bans and there were prominent lines around her mouth. Her smile held no warmth.

  “Please, Betty. Tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  She finally looked at him. “I’m confused, Dale.”

  “That’s okay, you deserve to be. Just talk to me.”

  She started to weep quietly. “I don’t know what I want anymore. I thought I knew. But so much has changed.”

  “It’s my fault. Everything. I know that I drove you away. I accept full responsibility and blame for what went wrong, and for what I didn’t say or do. I know I have faults, but I can change. I will change. You’re in charge. I’m totally committed to being the father and husband you and Sammie deserve. It won’t be easy for me, so I’m asking you for just a little bit more patience.”

  “It’s not just you. What about your—”

  “Job? I’m willing to change that, too. I won’t try to do everything by myself anymore. I’m ready to share the load and make the time for you and Sammie. I want to be a family again.”

  Betty didn’t say anything. She looked at Sammie, dabbed her tears and then turned to Dale, shaking her head.

  “I don’t know, Dale.”

  “I know what you’re thinking. All I can say is that I can’t change the past. That was a m
istake. It won’t happen again. You deserve to have your doubts. I can only tell you what’s in my heart. I’m not the same man. These past months without you and Sammie have been hell. But I’ve used that time to become a better person, a better man, and, what I want to show you, hopefully, a better husband and father.”

  “You are certainly saying all the right things. It’s easy to talk the talk.”

  “Then give me the chance to prove it. Let me show you.”

  Betty was quiet again. Dale gave her time to think.

  After a few minutes, he said, “What do you say? Can I come back?”

  “It’s not that simple. I—”

  “Daddy, Daddy.” At that moment, Sammie came running over to them, leaving a trail of sand from his dump truck. “Come play.”

  When Dale looked at his son, he felt like crying. Sammie was adorable and innocent. Betty had let his hair grow, the snow-white blond bangs almost covering his blue eyes. His baby teeth, still not fully developed, had a tiny space in the front and he had a pug nose.

  Dale looked at Betty.

  “Go,” she whispered.

  “Think about it, sweetie.”

  He didn’t wait for her response this time. Dale got up and jogged over to play with his son.

  ♣

  “How’d it go with Betty?” Jimmy asked, as Dale jumped into the passenger’s seat.

  “Hard to tell. She didn’t say much. I couldn’t get a read from her.”

  “Some detective you are.” Jimmy waved at Betty through the windshield. “How’s Sammie?”

  Dale smiled. “Brilliant. What a great kid.” Then his smiled vanished. “He shouldn’t have to go through this.”

  “Did she give any indication about her plans?”

  “No. It’s going to be a slow process. It’ll take time to gain her trust and win her heart back. I’m willing to put the time in and do what it takes.”

  “You’ll do it. I know it. I grabbed you a sub. Didn’t think you’d have time to grab lunch.”

  “Thanks.”

  Even though Dale and Jimmy had been partners for almost ten years, had shared near death experiences, solved more cases than they could count, and had a partner relationship that was much like brothers, this was one aspect of the detective-partner bond that rarely existed. Jimmy had been supportive as Dale tried to rebuild his life with Betty and Sammie, even if the adolescent side of his partner lived vicariously through Dale’s ‘single’ life possibilities. Jimmy was happily married for over twenty years, had two teenage children, and could advise Dale on how to be a good husband. But Jimmy had shown subtle signs that he wasn’t exactly certain of Betty taking Dale back.

  Dale unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

  “Did you call Calvin and tell him we were stopping by?” Jimmy asked.

  “Yeah.”

  After parking the car, they waited to be buzzed in by Rachel, and waved at her as they passed her desk and headed towards Calvin’s office. They could hear Calvin on the phone as they stood outside the door.

  “Listen to me closely, Denny. I’ll say this one time. If you don’t have my money tomorrow, then I’m coming to collect. You remember my reputation with Pitt, well I’m not afraid to come out of retirement.”

  There was silence for about ten seconds, and then Calvin said, “Fine, half tomorrow, the rest by the end of the week. This is your last warning. I won’t be Mr. Nice Guy next time.”

  They could hear Calvin place the phone on the receiver, and thought it was safe to enter.

  He sat at his desk, his head buried in papers, writing vigorously. He looked tired and a little mad.

  Calvin looked up. “Hey, Guys.” He got up and shook their hands. “Wow, seeing you back to back nights I feel like we’re on Sanders’ trail again.” He smiled, but it seemed forced.

  “Is this a bad time?” Dale asked. “Sounds like you’re ready to pull out your old tools.”

  Calvin shook his head. “Just some clients who owe me money. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Should I shut the door?” Jimmy asked.

  “Nah, I trust Rachel.”

  They sat down.

  “So, what did you find out from Grant’s secretary?”

  “Exactly what you told us. The secretary transferred the call directly to Shawn Grant. He booked the meeting, and didn’t ask the secretary to look up Winston Coburn.”

  “So that means Shawn Grant knew it was a set up? Why else would he not have the secretary background Coburn?”

  “Maybe, but we don’t speculate in our job.”

  “Bullshit, maybe.” Calvin slammed his open hand on the top of the desk. “If he’d followed regular protocol, Coburn would have been researched and the secretary would have discovered that there was no such person. But Shawn knew not to do that because he knew the plan. I was Coburn and I was being framed.”

  “It’s hearsay. Shawn Grant could use any kind of reason for not looking into Coburn. He could say he didn’t have time. He could say his father told him not to bother. He could say anything. Doug Grant isn’t around anymore to deny or confirm the testimony.”

  “Okay.” Calvin took a couple of deep breaths. “We have Dixie admitting to making the appointment through Shawn Grant, who didn’t question her about anything.”

  “We have Grant’s secretary”—Jimmy checked off another point on his fingers—“who said that Shawn had been expecting the call and wanted to speak with Coburn’s secretary directly. Then, he didn’t tell anyone about the meeting and didn’t look up Coburn to make sure it was legitimate. And he had Coburn’s name put on the visitor’s list at his dad’s private office complex.”

  “Why didn’t you have all of this a year ago?” Calvin asked, tension in his voice.

  Dale looked at Jimmy and then back to Calvin. “We would have, except our sergeant was blinded by circumstantial evidence and had a hard-on for you. Coburn’s name was on the guest list, so we believed it to be kosher. Plus, we were strictly forbidden to talk with Sanders. Grant’s secretary hadn’t mentioned this at the time, and we didn’t think to ask about it. Someone, I’m not sure if it was Sanders or Grant, or maybe both, had their hand in our precinct’s pocket.”

  “So, what else do we have?” Calvin asked.

  “We have the money transferred into Baxter’s account after Sanders’ arrest. Doug Grant is dead, Donald Pitt is dead, and Linda Grant is dead. The only person alive, who benefits from Doug Grant’s murder, and who has that kind of money, is Shawn Grant. Has Mike had any luck finding out where that money transferred from?”

  Calvin shook his head. “No, he’s hit a lot of security blocks. He said the transfer was carefully scripted, the money going through multiple holding companies in various countries. There’s a reason people use Cayman Island bank accounts. Do you really think Shawn Grant either killed or paid to have his father taken out?”

  “We’re sure Ace Sanders killed Grant. But Shawn was involved, pulling the strings, whether Sanders knew that or not. Shawn Grant was always on my list of suspects.”

  “That’s true,” Jimmy said.

  “But why? He was probably going to inherit everything once his dad died anyway,” Calvin said.

  “That’s a question only Shawn Grant can answer.” Dale pulled out his cellphone and smiled. “Wanna ask him?”

  Calvin smiled. “Smart ass.”

  “There could be a number of reasons.” Dale scrunched his nose in thought. “I remember when our team interviewed Shawn, his sister Melanie, and Doug Grant’s first wife. She told us that Shawn had taken the divorce exceptionally hard, and was upset that Doug hadn’t tried to work things out. Maybe Shawn felt that Doug left his family for Linda, a money-hungry show-dancer.”

  Calvin smirked. “Not exactly a good reason to kill your father.”

  Dale went on. “Shawn had worked for his dad for fifteen years, training to take over, but Doug had shown no sign of retiring. When Linda came into the picture,
maybe Shawn thought his stock had dropped in the food chain.”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. “We thoroughly reviewed the prenup and will.”

  “Until our eyes went blurry. I think Shawn was less concerned about the prenup. He admitted knowing about the changes his father had made in the will. I think that bothered Shawn more, because the changes meant that if Linda was still married to Doug at the time of his death, her share of his estate would include part ownership of The Greek and the freedom to sell that share to anyone she wanted. And she did, selling it to Sanders.”

  “Why didn’t she just sell it directly to Shawn?”

  “To throw us off the scent. That would have been too clean, too perfect, too obvious,” Dale said.

  Jimmy arched his eyebrows. “We’ve seen how quickly Shawn has moved over the last year.”

  Dale nodded. “That’s right. We’ve been watching. He bought his mother’s and sister’s shares of the casino, giving him one hundred percent voting control and almost eighty-eight percent ownership. Once Sanders was sentenced to life in prison and forced to sell his share, Shawn jumped on it, creating a bidding war, and now has one hundred percent ownership of The Greek.”

  Calvin shook his head. “I just don’t buy it. How could someone off their own father? How and when did this plan come into play?”

  “We can only speculate. My guess is that Shawn knew how much Sanders wanted to buy The Greek outright, and how absolute his father had been in refusal. I think that Shawn and Linda worked together to play Ace, manipulating him to take all of the risks and do the dirty work, even if Ace thought he was calling the shots.”

  “Shawn admitted to me that he knew about pictures his dad had of Ace and Linda, and his father was getting ready to act on it. Maybe even divorce Linda. That might have sped up any plan Shawn had,” Calvin said.

  “What was your perception of Shawn Grant? When you called him to form a truce, what did you take from him?” Dale asked.

  Calvin pursed his lips and rubbed his nose. “I was surprised at how quickly he agreed to work with me. I mean, I was the number one suspect for his father’s murder, and he actively participated in and shared information with me. He hardly questioned me. He really wanted us to nail Sanders.”

  “As I said before”—Dale licked his lips—“I don’t know who planned the killings. My bet would be that Ace did it all the way, and Shawn and Linda let it happen. Everyone involved has been taken care of. Doug, Linda and Pitt are dead. Ace is serving consecutive life sentences, without parole. Conveniently for Shawn, Ace murdered Linda before she ever said anything that might incriminate him.”