He poked his head into the sitting room. “Constable … ?”
“Jain,” the man replied.
“I see. Constable Jain, would you come here please?”
Jain glanced meaningfully at Ricard.
“He’s a local businessman,” Adamat said. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“Adamat,” Ricard said. “I didn’t know you were …”
Adamat held up a finger to silence Ricard, and then stepped to the side so Jain could enter the bedroom.
“When was the body discovered?” Adamat asked.
“About two and a half hours ago. There was a gunshot from the room, and the concierge forced the door to find Mr. Tumblar holding a pistol in one hand and shaking the body with the other. The concierge had to wrestle the pistol from Mr. Tumblar’s hands. They summoned the police immediately.”
“Where is the pistol now?”
“The concierge has it.”
“Good. When did you arrive?
“Two hours ago.”
“And you’re the only constable here?”
“My partner went out for an early lunch, sir.”
“From a crime scene? Wonderful.” Adamat sighed, then looked around the room once more, searching for the small details. He crossed the room to the window, feeling the cold breeze through a crack about an inch wide. “Was the window open when you arrived?”
“It was.”
“And the blinds?”
“They were open as well.”
“Did the maid do that?”
“I didn’t ask.”
“I see.” Adamat tapped his chin for a moment. “The bed curtains were like that?”
Jain said, “Also open upon arrival.”
“Do me a favor and ask the concierge if he opened either the bed curtains or the blinds after getting the gun away from Mr. Tumblar. Ask if he or any of the other staff opened the window after the body was discovered. Oh, and bring me the pistol.”
“Of course. But begging your pardon, I don’t think anyone climbed in or out through that window. There’s still snow on the sill outside.”
“Good observation,” Adamat said, though he’d already made note of it.
Jain headed out into the hall to find the concierge, and Adamat finally steeled himself to approach Ricard in the sitting room.
Ricard Tumblar was only a few months younger than Adamat himself. He had short, curly brown hair and a prominent forehead that suggested had already started to go bald. Despite that, Adamat knew that women found Ricard’s full features handsome. He had an easy, genuine charm that had gained him dozens of investors and allies even at such a young age, and a natural mind for business that Adamat had seen first-hand during their first semester together at the university.
They stared at each other for several long moments. Ricard was wearing a rumpled evening suit, likely what he’d been in last night, and Adamat could smell the alcohol on his breath and clothes.
Ricard swallowed visibly and cleared his throat. “Hello, Adamat.”
“Ricard.”
“It’s been what, six months?”
“A year,” Adamat corrected.
“Right.” Ricard stared at his shoes. “Wish our meeting was under better circumstances.”
“You know I work just down the street, right?”
“Well, I figured after the thing with Cora maybe you wouldn’t want to see me for a while.”
You were right about that, Adamat thought to himself. “That’s not important.” He waved to the bedroom. “What happened?”
Ricard ran fingers through his thinning hair and stared through the door at the bed. His features contracted, his mouth tightening, and Adamat thought he might begin to weep. He seemed to gain control of himself. “I don’t … I don’t really know. I was out raising funds for a new venture last night. The last thing I remember was Melany half-carrying me up the stairs. I was awoken by a pistol shot. I rolled over to find her like … “
Ricard choked back a sob and cleared his throat.
“You keep a pistol in the room?” Adamat asked.
Ricard nodded.
“Where?”
“The drawer of the vanity.”
Adamat went to the vanity and opened the drawer to find a wooden pistol case. The pistol was missing, as well as one of the eight prepared powder charges.
“The pistol was in your hand when you awoke?”
“Beside me on the bed. I picked it up … I don’t even know what I was thinking.”
“Have you fought?” Adamat asked.
“With Melany?”
“Yes.”
“Lover’s quarrels. Nothing serious. I was thinking about asking her to marry me.”
You’re always thinking about asking someone to marry you. Adamat grimaced and stepped back into the sitting room to find that Constable Jain had returned. “Well?” Adamat asked the constable.
“The concierge said that the window and the bed and window curtains were all open when he came in this morning,” Jain said. “The bag boys that helped him subdue Mr. Tumblar agree.”
“And the pistol?”
Jain handed it over. It was a fine, smoothbore flintlock with engraving on the stock and silverwork around the mechanism. It was a weapon meant to impress one’s friends rather than intimidate one’s enemies.
“Thank you,” Adamat said.
“What do you think happened, sir?”
Adamat glanced at Ricard and hoped that, had the possible suspect been a nobleman, Jain would have the sense not to ask such a question in their presence.
“It appears,” Adamat said, “that Mr. Tumblar awoke in an inebriated fog and shot his mistress.”
“I would never!” Ricard protested.
“Be quiet, Ricard,” Adamat said, feeling a twitch of annoyance. Ricard had always gotten away with everything. The women he bedded, the money he gained and lost on risky ventures. Adamat had always known something about his charmed lifestyle would catch up to him eventually.
But, it seemed, it had yet to do so.
“I said it appears that way,” Adamat said. “Run to the precinct building and tell Captain Hewi that I’ll need four more men to help me with searches and interviews.”
“Should I tell her we have a suspect?” Jain eyeballed Ricard.
“No. Not yet.”
“Sir?”
“Whatever happened here, Ricard Tumblar didn’t kill his mistress.”
Jain’s eyes went wide. “How can you be sure?”
Adamat handed the pistol back to Jain. “Ricard, have you told many people about your prowess with a pistol?”
“I may have boasted about it from time to time,” Ricard said.
Adamat cocked an eyebrow at Ricard.
“Okay,” Ricard admitted, “I mention it fairly often.”
“Now,” Adamat said, “Constable Jain, observe the pan of the pistol closely. Now the barrel. When would you say it was last fired?”
Jain lowered the pistol uncertainly. “I don’t have a lot of experience with firearms, sir. I can’t be certain.”
“I would bet my pension,” Adamat said, taking the pistol from Jain and rubbing his thumb in the pan. It was polished, with no traces of gunpowder or even firing residue, “that it hasn’t been fired since the gunsmith tested it. I think that Mr. Tumblar has been framed.”
“But sir,” Jain protested, “a shot went off in here! The whole hotel heard it, and the door was locked from the inside when the concierge arrived. I could still smell the sulfur of the shot when I came in.”
Adamat tapped the butt of the pistol against one palm. “That’s the problem.”
“Captain Hewi will want to hear something.”
“Tell her,” Adamat said slowly, “that Ricard Tumblar’s mistress was murdered by a powder mage.”
Later that day, Adamat took the short ride to the precinct building to recall everything he knew about powder mages.