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. You 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 elevator 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.
Starting with the double front doors and doorknobs, they moved 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 explored the contents of the desk drawers. Using a pair of stainless 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 Sanders’ casinos.”
Jimmy took the tweezers. “Why would a $10,000 poker chip from Sanders’ casino be here?”
Dale shrugged and dropped the chip into a plastic ziplock bag. He knew that plastic held fingerprints better than paper.
As he attempted to close the drawer, something obstructed its 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 at the finely sculptured carpet. “Notice anything?”
“You mean the expensive, perfectly maintained carpet?”
Dale returned to his knees and pointed the light at the carpet. “Now do you see?”
“Why don’t you just tell me?”
“See the indentations in the rug? Someone moved this chair recently. I didn’t touch it and Grant’s been dead for almost twenty-four hours. That means that since his death, someone other than Grant has been in here. We know that a Winston Coburn III did come up here this morning, but since Grant was already dead and not here, Coburn must have left.”
He paused for a moment. “We also know that the caller said the name Coburn was an alias used by Calvin Watters. We’ll find out easy by calling the Atlantic City PD whether there is such a casino owner. If not, that leaves Watters as a potential suspect at least for potential theft and maybe for murder. Did he move the chair, or did someone else sneak in here after he left? We’ve got a lot of checking to do.”
Dale asked the question that had bugged him. “If Coburn is an alias for Calvin Watters, why would he come to Grant’s office after the man had been killed?”
“With Grant dead, Watters could freely search the office for whatever he was looking for,” Jimmy responded.
But Dale had already formed his own opinion. “Maybe he didn’t know the man was dead. What do you make
