Diamond in the Rough (Precious Gems)

Diamond in the Rough

A.A.
King

Chapter One

The phone rang shrilly, cutting through the night like a hot knife through butter.  Just hours before, Brian Russell had been wasting away another night watching television and drinking whiskey.  Most nights were spent like this for the thirty six year old detective.  He was married to his work and had no time for the finer things in life. 

What the fuck?
He complained to no one in particular.  Many a good night’s sleep had been interrupted by his career.

Pushing the covers roughly from his body, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and snatched the ringing phone from its cradle, “Russell.”  He growled into the receiver.

“I will be there in thirty…tape off the scene and don’t let anyone in.” He ordered.

Brian rubbed his eyes and blinked furiously, trying to clear the feeling that they were full of sand.  He threw on his clothes and grabbed a soda out of the fridge before leaving for the crime scene. 

The night air was cool and Brian rolled down both windows of his truck and enjoyed the cool air on his skin.  It helped to wake up the still sleepy detective.  Coffee was what he really needed but he knew that it would be a while before he could get a cup. 

           
The scene was littered with people in uniforms walking around trying to look busy.  The media had gathered outside the doors of the stately office complex and Brian had to push his way past them to enter the building.  Microphones were thrust into his face as reporters shouted out questions that he didn’t yet know the answers to.  Brian forced his way through the crowd and walked through the double door as he flashed his badge to the officer guarding the entrance.     “Keep them out!” He demanded as he pointed backward with his thumb.  There was no question that the young rookie knew what he was talking about and nodded as he squared his shoulders toward the entrance.

             
“Jones, tell me what we have here.” Brian barked at the sergeant standing behind the yellow tape.

A white male in his late sixties who appeared to be working late. 
There does not seem to be much evidence around here but the scene is all yours.  I am happy to not have to babysit the tape anymore.” 

             
“Thanks Jones.  Can you see if you can find me a cup of coffee around here anywhere?”

             
Russell ducked under the tape and walked through the door of the office.  On the door was a name tag for Charles Wingate. 

             
Goddamn, this is going to be huge,
Brian thought to himself.  Charles Wingate was the owner and patriarch of Wingate Drilling which happened to be one of the largest independent drilling companies in the South.  He was a millionaire several times over and that tended to complicate things. 

             
Brian Russell’s brows furrowed together as he contemplated what lay ahead of him.  Any murder brought upheaval into the lives of the detectives investigating them, but the murder of someone wealthy added a whole different twist on an already difficult situation.  Everyone who knew the victim became a suspect because everyone had a common motive; money.

             
“Jones, where’s my coffee?” Brian called out.  The sergeant walked briskly toward the detective with a Styrofoam cup in his hand.  Brian reached for it as steam billowed from the top of the cup.  Putting it to his lips, he took a sip and quickly pulled the cup from his lips.  It had burned him but was worth it considering how badly he needed the hot liquid. 

             
“Have you found anything of use so far?” Sergeant Jones questioned.

             
“I have not walked past the door yet.  The name on the entry caught my attention and I knew that this wasn’t going to be cut and dried.  We are going to need a photographer and finger print specialist in here ASAP.  This is going to be huge and we need to make sure that all of our I’s are dotted and our T’s are crossed.”

             
“I can get a print specialist in here now and I will get my camera and be with you in a minute.”

             
“Sounds good Jones.  Let’s get cracking so we can get this scene wrapped up before employees start coming in for work.”

             
After finishing his cup of coffee, Brian walked into the office.  Aside from the desk, everything in the office looked pristine.  Nothing seemed out of place.  The desk was a different story.  A silver haired man lay with his head on it and a pool of blood soaking the papers underneath.  The desk looked to be very expensive.  Made of mahogany, it had ornate carvings running the length of the legs.  Blood had soaked them, but Brian could tell that they were very detailed.  Sergeant Jones followed behind him, snapping photographs when Brian pointed out something of interest.  The filing cabinet was opened and much of its contents spilled onto the ground.  A coffee cup was on the desk along with a crystal tumbler of brown liquid.

             
“Where is the finger print technician?”  Brian said as he turned to Jones.

             
“I am right here.” Chirped a mousy haired woman who looked to be no more than twenty.

             
How did she get a job here?  She
is just a kid!  She appeared to be far too excited to be at a murder scene for the detectives taste but he could not control who the lab sent over.

             
“Please lift prints from the filing cabinet first and then try to pull some from the crystal tumbler.  Also, Jones, please make sure that the contents of the coffee pot, the cub and the tumbler to the lab for testing.”

             
After walking through the remainder of the office building, Brian decided that the scene was contained to the office of Charles Wingate.  He waited until the coroner removed the body and ordered the scene to be cleaned up.  The employees would be getting there in the next two hours and Detective Brian Russell wanted to be prepared for their arrival.

Chapter Two

Jason Turner lunged across the desk.  Detective Brian Russell instinctively placed his hand on his service revolver as he said, “Mr. Turner, I know emotions are running high, but I advise you to sit back down and answer my questions.”  Jason slowly lowered himself back onto his chair but perched on the edge as if he were getting ready to spring across again. 

“Are you accusing
me of something, Detective?”  He said as his eyes narrowed to mere slits on his face. 

“I am simply tryi
ng to get the facts, Mr. Turner,” Russell replied coldly and methodically.  A smirk forming at the corners of his mouth.

Sometime during the night, Charles Wingate had been murdered.  He was the patriarc
h and owner of Wingate Drilling and had been found slumped over his desk with a single gunshot wound to his right temple.  Once the employees had been let back in, Detective Russell had questioned all except, Jason Turner. 

On this
particular morning, Jason had been late to work.  As the company’s Chief Financial Officer, that would not have normally been an issue, but on this morning it would be catastrophic for the young executive.   Jason’s late arrival had drawn suspicion from the detective who was now questioning him with vigor, demanding to have a full accounting for his activities.

Both men stared each other down as though they were wild animals ready to fight.  The detective’s eyes narrowed and one fist was clenched by his side while the other hand rested at the ready on his revolver.  Jason remained ready to pounce and so combative that he had almost bit a whole in his lip.  The two seemed to be natural enemies from the start.  There was an animosity that was pretty apparent, as it shimmered through the air, and the room vibrated with energy. 

“How did you
begin working for Mr. Wingate?” Russell growled.

  Jason thought for a moment and replied, “I was a floor hand on one of Mr. Wingate’s rigs when I was seventeen.  He saw more in me than I did in myself and he took me under his wing.  As I moved up in the company, we grew close to each other, and he soon felt that he needed me to work in the office the rest is history.”

         “Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Mr. Wingate?” asked Russell.

         “No,” Jason replied as he balled his hands in a fist so hard that his knuckles turned white.

 
      “Mr. Turner, this is off the record, but I can tell that you want to hit me.  Your fists are balled up in plain view.  Anytime you feel like getting that out of your system, please let me know.  I would be more than happy to oblige you.  Punks like you make my job fulfilling and keeps me on my toes.”

       
“Where were you last night between one and three a.m.?”  Jason’s expression grew angry again.  Detective Russell sensed that he had struck a nerve. 

       
“Mr. Turner, I will ask you again where you were.”

        “I was home alone, asleep,” Jason stated. 

After a moment to absorb the information, Detective Russell decided to let Jason be for now and ended the interview. 

“If you
can think of anything that may help us, please call me.  My number is on the business card that I left with your assistant.” Brian Russell was in no mood for games.  He rarely had time for foolish antics but today he was especially touchy.

“Also, do not leave town.  I may have more questions for you.”

Brian was about to leave when he turned and asked, “By the way, we are trying to locate Mr. Wingate’s next of kin.  Can you help us with that?” 

Jason eyed the detective for a moment “No.  Charles did not have any family.  His parents died years ago and he was an only child.” 

“Then, he never married nor had any children?”  Detective Russell questioned.

“No.  No
t to my knowledge.” Jason added after thinking for a second. 

With that, Detective Russell l
eft.  He had gotten nowhere.  No one knew or saw anything; at least, nobody was telling him anything.  This was the part of the job that he liked the most. He could sense that there was something that he was missing. He would figure it out.  He always did. 

Brian
decided to take his lunch break, and then headed over to Charles Wingate’s home to search for answers.  When he pulled into the driveway, the sight of the estate took his breath away.  The ranch was magnificent.  He drove the half mile of the willow lined drive to the home and got out.  Stretching his legs, he got out and walked to the front door.

  Before he could ring the
door bell a petite woman appeared.  She was clearly the maid; her black and white starched uniform gave her away. 

“I am Detec
tive Russell from the HPD.  I ‘m sure you have heard that Charles Wingate was found murdered in his office early this morning.  I would like to ask you a few questions if you have a moment.”  The maid stood at the door for a moment eyeing the handsome detective. With a look of resignation she said, “Questioning me will not be necessary.” Detective Russell eyed her intently and he had a feeling that she knew exactly what he was looking for.  Introducing herself as Maria, she invited him in and gestured for him to have a seat.  She quickly disappeared from the room.

So
, this is how the other half live,
he thought, as he sank into the velvety overstuffed couch.  The maid returned with two glasses of iced tea.

  She
took a seat directly across from him after serving him the iced tea. 

“
I believe I have information that will help.”  It was as if a weight had been lifted off of her small shoulders as she continued to speak.  “For twenty five years I have taken care of his home and personal affairs and through the years I have also kept his secrets.  Although I never agreed with keeping her away, Charles has…I mean had a daughter who would be his next of kin.”

He digested
the news as she started talking again.

“However, despite me telling him to go meet his only child, Charles had never met his daughter.
  He never even laid eyes on her.  Although he wanted to, he had a constant fear that his money would make her a target, and she would be in danger.  The decision was made twelve years ago, when he told me that it would be best to never contact her.  But he knew that he need to find someone to leave his company to in the event of his death.  He knew that we all have to go sooner or later and he was a man who liked to always be prepared.  It became a huge quest for him.  He was obsessed with searching for the perfect person who could run his business in his absence and after a while he found Jason Turner.”

Brian thought it odd that a maid would be privy to Charles Wingate’s affairs and his secrets, especiall
y one as large as this.