Free Dance of Death by Dale Hudson Page B

there had been a struggle. If the knife belonged to Brent, then why hadn’t he used it. Remembering the gunshot wounds to Brent’s head, Altman wondered if he had had time to defend himself at all.
    Grazioso reached down in his bag again.
    â€œOh, and most important, when we were digging in the sand, we found this buried along beside a penny.” Grazioso dropped a small gold wedding band into Altman’s open hand. “We believe it belonged to the victim’s wife.”
    Altman stared at the wedding band resting in his palm. He thought about the value of his and his wife’s own wedding bands. They were certainly worth more than a penny each, and he would at the drop of a hat fight anyone who attempted to wrestle it from his or her hand. But, he wasn’t too sure he would be willing to give up his life in exchange for their rings.
    After talking with Grazioso, Altman did his own bit of canvassing through some of the blue garbage cans that were down in the area. He hoped he might find anything that would provide a clue to this murder. Of course, that had already been done by the other officers, but he went through them again anyway. He wanted to make certain nothing had been overlooked.
    It was important for Altman to get into the right frame of mind and begin formulating his own thoughts and perspective about this case. He had, for all intents and purposes, just been named the lead detective.

CHAPTER 10
    While Renee Poole continued talking with victim’s advocate Mary Stogner, Detective Joyce called Don Myers. Myers was working the security division of Nations Bank and gave him the name of George Ross. He was in charge of the central office and supervised the persons that handled debit and credit cards. Ross made several calls and finally connected Joyce with their Charlotte, North Carolina, office, which was tracking any activity of the Pooles’ stolen plastic cards. There was a flag on any card activity, but so far the cards had not been used.
    Detective Joyce thought it odd that the robber hadn’t used the debit card or a single credit card. In nearly all of these type cases, the robber tries to access the card as quickly as possible to avoid eventual detection.
    â€œAre you sure there’s been no report on any of these cards?” he asked.
    â€œYes, sir. I’ve checked it twice,” the cordial lady in the Charlotte office confirmed.
    Joyce hung up the phone and had just started walking back toward the interview room when he was called back. It was Detective Altman calling to tell him Brent Poole had died at the hospital. The long and thin man hung up the phone and slowly walked to Stogner’s office. He looked as burdened as an old plow horse.
    Renee must have recognized the glum in Joyce’s sullen cheeks when he walked in and closed the door behind him. “How’s Brent doing?” she asked apprehensively. Joyce shook his head, then answered softly, “He didn’t make it.”
    Renee’s stomach tightened. She felt her body begin to shake and heard a voice trying to comfort her. Her head dropped. She hadn’t been told anything about Brent. She knew nothing about what hospital he had been transferred to or that he had been in surgery. Fighting to contain her tears, she didn’t want to believe what she was hearing. It was all still like a bad dream. From the outside, she saw someone that resembled herself sitting in that chair and listening to these people trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t comprehend what it was.
    Renee got sick again and had to go to the bathroom. When she came back to the office, she took a seat in the same chair and found herself staring across the desk at a large, red-faced man with a permanent scowl. She swallowed hard.
    â€œMrs. Poole, I am the Myrtle Beach captain of investigation, Sam Hendrick,” the burly man said quietly, looking at her through rose-tinted glasses. “Is there anyone