Deadly Negotiation
February 21, 2025
Detective Julia Monroe stepped into the luxury hotel suite, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and gunpowder. On the floor, sprawled near an overturned chair, lay Victor Langston—real estate mogul, billionaire, and, as of tonight, a murder victim. A single gunshot wound to the chest. His silk shirt stained red.
Officer Carter stood near the minibar, shaking his head. “No sign of forced entry. The hotel staff says he was meeting someone, but the guest list is exclusive—no cameras on this floor.”
Julia knelt beside the body. On the table nearby sat two half-finished glasses of whiskey. A negotiation gone wrong? She spotted Victor’s phone on the floor, screen cracked but still lit. A text message draft, unsent: “If I don’t make it out, it was—” The name was missing.
She turned to Carter. “Who was the last person to see him alive?”
Carter checked his notes. “His business rival, Philip Graves. They had a meeting scheduled at 10 p.m.”
Julia’s jaw tightened. “Bring him in.”
Philip Graves sat across from her in the interrogation room, his Armani suit crisp despite the late hour. He gave her a smooth smile. “Detective, I had nothing to do with Victor’s death.”
“You were the last person to see him alive,” Julia countered. “What was the meeting about?”
Philip sighed. “Victor wanted to buy me out of our latest deal. I refused.”
“Did things get heated?”
Philip smirked. “Business is always heated.”
Julia studied him. “Where did you go after you left the hotel?”
“I went straight home.”
Julia leaned back. “Can anyone confirm that?”
Philip hesitated. “No. I was alone.”
Back at the hotel, forensics handed Julia a report. “Victor’s fingerprints are on the gun, but the angle of the shot suggests someone staged it.”
Julia frowned. “Murder disguised as suicide?”
The tech nodded. “And the whiskey glass next to Victor? Had traces of a sedative.”
Julia’s mind raced. The killer had drugged Victor before shooting him.
Philip was still in the interrogation room when Julia returned. She tossed a photo of the whiskey glass onto the table. “Victor was drugged before he was shot. Someone wanted him defenseless.”
Philip barely reacted. “Interesting.”
Julia leaned in. “I think you drugged him, shot him, and staged the scene. The only problem? Victor managed to start a text naming his killer.”
For the first time, Philip’s cool demeanor cracked. “You have no proof.”
Julia smirked. “We pulled security footage from the elevator. You left at 10:45—after the gunshot.”
Philip exhaled slowly. “So what now?”
“Now?” Julia stood. “You’re under arrest.”
As Carter cuffed him, Julia glanced at the crime scene photos. Another high-powered deal, another man dead. Some negotiations ended with a handshake. Others with a bullet.
Case closed.