A Dallas Suite

Chapter One

A ringing phone at 4:42 in the morning is rarely ever a good thing. When you're a homicide detective, you can guarantee yourself it means something bad has happened.

"Detective Seeks," I grunted into the phone as I propped up on my elbow.

"Sorry to ruin your beauty sleep, Seeks. You need to get down to the Ritz. I know this will be new for you, but you might actually have to do some work today."

The only person who could (or would) insult me before five in the morning is Sergeant Moore; the supervisor over my team of detectives. I've worked under him for two years now and the only consistent part of my job was getting insulted by him.

Moore and I are both Army veterans and we both had difficult jobs while we were serving. He was an Army Ranger and I was a field interrogator that got attached to specialized groups. The friendly banter, or shit talking, is something that is ingrained in those groups. Police work is close to the military when it comes to mentality, but a lot of cops still don't have quite as thick skin when it comes to being constantly belittled. Moore and I loved that we could always give each other a hard time.

"Oh, roger that. I guess I'll have to stop mimicking my superior officers today and earn a paycheck. What's going on at the Ritz?"

"Jason Diggs was just found there in a private penthouse suite. Looks like it was a pretty violent murder. Media's going to be all over it, so I need you there ASAP to start processing the scene. Our team is taking full priority on this one."

I don't know what I was expecting to hear, but Jason Diggs being murdered in one of the most expensive hotels in Dallas wasn't it.

Diggs is a very respected and more importantly, an incredibly wealthy lawyer. He's made his name by defending the wealthiest people in Texas. Whether it's a criminal or a civil case, Diggs finds his way on the payroll when enough money or a big enough name starts getting thrown around. Thanks to his commercials and publicity, he was a common name around Texas. "There's only one lawyer in Texas who can promise to Diggs you out of trouble!" You couldn't turn on a radio station without hearing that slogan.

Moore didn't have many details, so we ended our phone call and I rolled over to kiss Susan. "I have to go, Babe," I whispered as I kissed her cheek and forehead. "It doesn't sound like I'll be home in time for dinner."

She mumbled something, but I knew she wasn't really responding. I'd been married to Susan for five years and I learned right away that she can sleep through anything. I'd have to send her a text later to let her know what was going on.

Coffee is a necessity when woken up before sunrise, so I put my travel mug under the single serving coffee pot while I got dressed. I was out of the door, coffee in hand, in under ten minutes.

The only good thing about being up this early is getting to enjoy the city in its most peaceful state. There was no honking, no traffic jams, no broken down vehicles blocking the roadway. Bright lights flashed and danced around the skyline from the towering buildings overhead. You'd see the occasional homeless person wrapped in blankets sleeping on a bench, but there was nothing moving on the sidewalk. It was relaxing to see the city so quiet after dealing with the crowds and noise for so long.

Driving down Pearl Street in traffic could be a nightmare, but it was almost a pleasant drive this morning. I rolled my windows down and enjoyed the cool summer breeze as I cruised down the road. I wasn't exactly in a rush to get there. Me hurrying wouldn't make the victim not be murdered. I was actually enjoying the drive, until I pulled in front of the Ritz and saw a cluster of red and blue flashing lights. I knew this would be a busy scene, but it seemed like every cop working the midnight shift was at the hotel right now.

I made my way through the front doors and was directed to the lobby elevator by an officer watching the front doors. "They're on the top floor in the Belvedere Suite, Detective."

Stepping in the elevator, I knew right away this was a hotel I could never afford on a detective's salary. The interior was covered in mahogany and gaudy gold plating. The marble tiling that lined the walls in the elevator alone probably cost as much as the floor in my entire apartment. I pressed the button for the top level and had to check the floor counter above the door to make sure it was moving. It's unsettling realizing how relatively poor you are when an elevator is so smooth it impresses you.