A permanent room at the Biltmore didn’t come cheap, and it would’ve been way out of my league but for a sweetheart deal I fell into by happenstance. A few years ago, I’d prosecuted the man who’d murdered the Biltmore CEO’s wife in the underground parking lot of the hotel. During the trial, the CEO had given me a room so I could stay near the courthouse. After I got the conviction that put the killer away for life without parole, the CEO offered to let me stay on as a permanent resident for a deal no sane person could refuse. And so I’d moved into the Biltmore for good. Last year, he’d upgraded me to a suite with two bedrooms because it got so little use. That meant it was easy to accommodate overnight guests, like Toni and Bailey. It hadn’t yet meant Graden.
We headed for our respective bedrooms, and Bailey warned me we’d be starting the day bright and early. The downside of Bailey as an overnight guest was that when she said “early,” she meant the crack of dawn. She’d yanked me out of bed in the past, and let me tell you, it’s bracing. I set my alarm for six thirty to make sure I didn’t give her the chance to do it again.
I woke up before my alarm, which tells you how much I didn’t want to relive the Bailey Shake. I put on my robe and walked onto the balcony to sample the weather. The sky was an unmarred powder blue and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze. An early harbinger of yet another cooker of a day. Damn. I’d planned to wear a dress, but that’s such a pain when I’m running around in the world, as I knew I would be today. I pulled out the lightest pair of cotton slacks I could find, a sleeveless buttoned blouse, and a light cardigan to combat the blast of air-conditioning I’d be in and out of all day.
When I came out to the living room, Bailey, who’d left some clothes behind when she’d had an extended stay at my place during our last case, was already dressed and digging heartily into her breakfast. It was a tantalizing stack of pancakes with a side of bacon. Bailey is tall and lean and one of those obnoxious people who can eat anything and not gain weight; and she loves to rub my nose in it every chance she gets. Toni and I have plotted her demise on many an occasion. I noticed that Bailey was dressed in similar attire to mine, except she wore a jacket to hide her shoulder holster. Personally, I preferred to carry my gun in my purse. It accommodated everything from my little.22 Beretta to my.44 Glock.
